groupon ([personal profile] groupon) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2017-03-17 08:17 am
Entry tags:

Ghost love scor

sleeping with ghosts —

You can't help who you fall in love with. But what if the person you fall for is no longer a person? Perhaps they were, once; those days have gone. All that's left is a memory. Is that something you can put to rest, or will you keep them with you and away from their final resting place?

  • Comment with your character and preferences. Mention if you'd prefer to play the living, the dead, or either.
  • Reply to others. You can use the RNG or not, if you'd wish. Make up your own additional prompts, scenes, scenarios, and such.

  • Dead Lover — No wonder they have unfinished business with you. You were theirs in life, and they're not about to let you go.
  • Tethered to You — In life, you didn't know each other, but now their ghost is connected to you, and you to them.
  • The Sight — You're the only one who can see them, the only one in the world to them, now.
  • Haunted Home — There's something wrong with your house. Can you reclaim it? Do you want to get rid of your companion?
  • Peace to the Vengeful — All you wanted to do was do a kind deed and help them achieve peace, not become eternally grateful.
  • Remember — Both of you are bound and determined to find out who you were as a living mortal. The knowledge might tear you apart.
  • Different Time, Different Place — This ghost is of a person who's a bit...antiquated compared to you. Careful, they may want to court you. It certainly makes things awkward when they see how you dress.
  • Jealousy — Lights burst, glass cracks, and the whole place goes cold when someone with a pulse smiles at you.
  • Protection — You'll risk your afterlife for the one you love.
  • Confession — If you can communicate vocally, confessions are easy. If you can't talk, that's a whole other kettle of fish.
  • The Challenge of Intimacy — Ghost makes it look so easy. You want to reach out and touch them, but you can't always do that.
  • Manifestation — Your emotions have temporarily given you a physical form.
  • Keeping You Here — The living's affection keeps the dead in the mortal coil.
  • Decay — The longer they stay with you, the more of a violent wraith, disconnected from their past, they become.
  • Passing — You have to let them go, even if they don't want to.
  • Just Like Heaven — You'll work together to find a way to bring you back to life.
18th_century_rockstar: (Ray of Sunshine)

Wolfgang Mozart | Amadeus

[personal profile] 18th_century_rockstar 2017-03-17 01:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[The dead one]
im_gonna_heal_u: (because sex appeal!)

Konoka Konoka | Mahou Sensei Negima | OTA

[personal profile] im_gonna_heal_u 2017-03-17 02:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[[Either, with slight preference to being the living. More likely to have romantic inclinations towards women. Creativity with smut should you choose it is encouraged.]]
round_tones: (Default)

Ianto Jones | Dr Who/Torchwood | ota

[personal profile] round_tones 2017-03-17 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[most likely the ghost]
questionablewit: (Default)

Hawke | Dragon Age series | M/F

[personal profile] questionablewit 2017-03-17 04:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[Either, open to cross-canon/AUs]
upswing: (55.)

prompto argentum . ffxv

[personal profile] upswing 2017-03-17 04:37 pm (UTC)(link)
( willing to play either role! )
pains: (♚ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀʟᴇss ᴡɪʟʟ)

[personal profile] pains 2017-03-18 10:16 am (UTC)(link)
(Yo! Any preference between the sight, decay or passing?)
upswing: (Default)

[personal profile] upswing 2017-03-18 03:41 pm (UTC)(link)
( hey!! and oh boy uh... i like all three? though i do like the idea of the decay prompt! or passing for Supreme Angst )
pains: (♚ ᴏʀ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ)

[personal profile] pains 2017-03-19 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
(I figure combining both should be doable, so let me know if this works!)

[With time comes familiarity. With familiarity comes anguish when the people who’ve become staples in your life begin to fade– mentally, emotionally, physically.

These days, Prompto isn’t entirely the man Noctis has come to know him as. Time has numbed them both to the incremental changes that shape them both day by day, but between them, something has begun to deteriorate. Their friendship is something Noctis has never had any doubts over. The meek boy who’d turned and fled from him when they were only children is the man who’d claimed a spot in Noctis’ heart as his best friend– irreplaceable, and very much a part of himself.

And that man has begun to fade. Washed out, Prompto’s eyes aren’t the vibrant blue they once were. He still looks like himself, but he doesn’t look right, a detail Noctis can’t help noticing with every wayward glance. Every day that face becomes a little less familiar, and every day the memories they’d spent years building together ring fewer and fewer bells to the man Noctis considered himself closest to.

Painful. The realization that he recognizes Prompto less and less with each passing day is painful to say the very least. The suggestion that their friendship might fade is an inevitability now.

Noctis has lost enough over these twenty years of life to begrudge the very idea that Prompto might very well disappear one of these days along with all the others. Call it a trick of the eye, but there are days Noctis swears he can stare right through Prompto’s body, swears he can see him fade out of the corners of his eyes. It’s a haunting, haunting feeling. One he’ll refuse to consider the implications behind.

And with that denial comes anger. Noctis hadn’t risked closeless since he’d become aware of the rift between them, but he can’t help the urge to snap his fingers around Prompto’s wrist and tug at him– even if he fears his fingers might only grasp the empty air. Swallowing his doubts, Noctis does just that, reaching out to grab him.]

Talk to me, Prompto. How long do you think you'll get away with ignoring me?

[Days going on weeks. There’s no avoiding confrontation now.]

You’re not– not acting like yourself. Knock it off already. This... isn’t like you.
upswing: (62.)

[personal profile] upswing 2017-03-19 08:47 am (UTC)(link)
( it's perfect! c: )

[ the hand doesn’t meet air. noctis’s fingers close a ring around his wrist, and the contact jerks him back into being. and he blinks rapidly in a way that’s almost comical, before looking down to the points of contact, where he should feel the warmth of the grasp. feel something. but he doesn’t. ] Huh? I wasn’t— [ ignoring you. he doesn’t mean to not pay attention to noctis, but it’s become harder and harder to keep focused. like it takes energy that he doesn’t have to stay here, at his side. which is… all that he’s ever wanted really. the memories, they’re starting to blur, to fade at the edges— memories of watching the prince grow up from behind the lens of a camera, memories of them together at an arcade all bright lights and noise and laughter as noctis failed another level of a shooting game, memories of a train ( falling, being pushed, does it matter? ). they’re all starting to fray, unravel, so he keeps to what he knows. that he’s to stay with noctis, that they’re best friends, that they don’t really do confrontation like this. that they’re supposed to be… his role is to cheer him up, not to make him look like this. the lines of the other’s face reading anger, upset.

so he smiles. in a way that he hopes is reassuring. in a way that he hopes is familiar. ]
Sorry, Noct. [ he flexes his fingers, which have started to become indistinct. he thinks that should be concerning, that he should feel some kind of alarm, but he only feels an echo of what the emotion should be. a detachment. ] You know I wouldn’t ignore you on purpose.

[ what kind of friend would he be, if he did that? but then there’s the other half of noct’s words, ‘you aren’t acting like yourself’. and the implications cause the smile to dim when he thinks about them— he hadn’t realized he’d been acting any differently. but if noctis says that there’s something off about him then…

he’ll just have to try harder. to be more like himself. in the memories he has still, the ones that are clear, untarnished yet he’s laughing. so he does now, huff a laugh, and attempts to pull his wrist out of noctis’s grasp. ]

What’s not like me? I’m as me as I’ve ever been.
pains: (♚ ʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍᴇ)

[personal profile] pains 2017-03-19 05:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's almost worth laughing over, the notion that he'd been so terrified that reaching out to snare Prompto by the wrist would be met with nothing to show for it but a fist full of air and and more remorse than Noctis can stomach. His grip is met instead with a fullness that lacks warmth, lacks the heat that comes part and parcel with contact. He'd taken a hold of Prompto, but the weight wrested in his grasp is only that– an arm heavy and lukewarm where Noctis makes a poor imitation of a shackle around it, binding the hand he'd only ever felt free to take in his own before.

That smile on Prompto's lips might've set something off, a downturn of Noctis' lips in turn, the settling of hard lines at the edges of his eyes. Normally, Noctis would be inclined to match that grin with one of his own. Normally, Noctis wouldn't look upon that smile and wonder how hard it must've been mimicking the kind of mirth that came so easily to Prompto before.

Be this some cruel trick of the gods, divine punishment, or be it karma– it's one hell of a shitty joke and it's one that's drawn on far too long. Denial and anger again and again in a loop unending.

So Prompto tries harder. He tries harder to conceal that he's fraying at the seams, becoming less of who he's always been and more a hollow image of who he had been with each passing day. It ends here. It has to end here, because the grief that assails Noctis isn't a weight he can bear any longer than he already has.

This ends here and this ends now. No more lies, no more excuses. No more nightmares over the idea that one day he'll wake and Prompto will no longer be perched right at his side like he always had been for years upon years.]

Bullshit. You're not you and you haven't been for– weeks now. Months. Hell, call me blind, but you sure don't look like you're all here. [I can see it happening right in front of me, dumbass. You're fading away.] And you're cold, too. Don't lie and tell me you're sick.
upswing: (54.)

[personal profile] upswing 2017-03-19 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ there’s no precendent, in his memories for this. how to act with noct pinning him with a stare that’s weighted— he had been afraid of this once. held a different fear that noct would find out where he was from, that he was an outsider, that he would be cast aside. what he feels now is similar, a fear that he’ll be cast aside because he’s not… he knows he doesn’t belong here. not anymore. not with noctis, who is warm and rooted in this world. but he’s been trying so hard, to stay, to keep the memories he has from slipping like sand through his fingers but it’s not enough.

he’s ready to lie, to say that he’s sick, that he’s just a bit under the weather, that everything will be fine— but noct puts a stop to that with his words. and really, there’s no point in trying to lie when he can’t sell it. there was a point, where he thought he was sick. that the lack of warmth, the lack of feeling, the way his camera slipped from ( slipped through ) his fingers was something curable. but he can’t… he can’t even make himself believe that, not anymore. not when he can’t remember what the laughter of his adoptive parents sounded like, not when he had awoke one morning to stare at his wrist, the black lines there, and had wondered why he’d have gotten such a weird tattoo. it had taken him a minute to remember, that it was a part of him, and he had stumbled up and to the nearest bathroom. almost upheaved ( what was happening to him? ) and looked in the mirror and told himself to get it together.

he knows now, that it isn’t possible. that the hollows under his eyes are only going to get deeper. he’s afraid that he won’t wake up one day, or worse wake up and stare noctis square in the face and not know him.

the smile isn’t something he can keep up, under the scrutiny, and it fades like he thinks the rest of him will. his shoulders slump, posture caving inward, and his gaze moves from noct’s face to the ground. there’s really no salvaging this, huh? his laughter only served to make noctis more sure that there was something wrong… and he doesn’t know what else to do. to say.

there’s always the truth. that he feels like he’s being pulled somewhere else. that the distinction between them now isn’t one of class. of prince and commoner, or even the royalty of lucis and some escaped experiment. it’s something simpler. alive and— ]
You’re not blind. You’re not wrong, either.

[ it would be better, if he could actually feel cold. it would be better to be freezing, then to be stuck with nothing. ] I’m not sick.

[ and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, a gesture that he used to do when nervous, a habit that hasn’t yet disappeared though the sting of the action is gone.

he doesn’t want to say it, that would make it real. instead : ]
Say Noct, would you— would you miss me, if I disappeared? I’m not [ he repeats noct’s phrasing, because there’s enough of the truth in it ] all here, but I’m still something, right?
pains: (♚ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀsᴛɪᴄ ᴘᴀssɪᴏɴs)

[personal profile] pains 2017-03-21 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
[And that smile, vulnerable and thin, doesn't remain long on Prompto's lips. Of course it doesn't. Maintaining a smile so forced isn't something that comes easily to Prompto and he's never been a natural liar in all the years Noctis has known him.

Helplessly honest, to put it another way. And that honesty is something Noctis sought out in Prompto early on, a factor in allowing the once skittish and quirky boy to weasel his way into Noctis' life. No matter how vain the world may be, no matter how material and how vapid, there's a good reason behind why neither he nor Prompto meshed with their peers as seamlessly as they did with each other.

Because that's an ability the two of them lack– the ability to lie with a straight face. The ability smile through what their heart knows to be a lie. Just as Prompto can't hide the worst of his self-hatred by cracking jokes and pulling on forced smiles, he can't hide the fading tips of his fingers from Noctis' scrutiny.

And denied of those smiles and those self-deprecating jokes, Prompto is left raw. Eyes sunken to the ground, teeth troubling his bottom lip until it's gone white under the pressure.

So this is the real Prompto. Whatever's left of him.]


[You serious? The question begs itself but can't crawl past the tight clench of Noctis' teeth. What hurts more? Hearing Prompto acknowledge, confirm that he's slowly ebbing away? Or does it hurt more hearing him beg a question he should already know the answer to?

Prompto should know. Know how significant his place in Noctis' heart is, know how irreplaceable he is– But he doesn't. He doesn't, and perhaps Prompto has never known. Noctis never thought to say as much before. Never thought he needed to.]

You think I wouldn't? [I don't know what the hell I'd do if you up and disappeared. The sentiment remains lodged in Noct's throat much like the lump he fails to speak over, squeezing down on Prompto's hand like that'll somehow stop the inevitable.] Look. You're not going anywhere, you hear me? You're–

[There isn't a damn thing Noctis can do, and the pessimistic thought keeps asserting itself over and over in the back of his mind. Not a damn thing. Again– denial and anger. Over and over and over again. Noctis can't bring himself to believe the finality in Prompto's words and all the weight they hold, so he fervently fights against them instead. Like a cornered mutt, it's all he can manage now.]

–You're staying right here with me, damn it. You promised. Always, you said. Remember that, way back in high school?

[The answer very well be Noctis' undoing. If Prompto's forgotten that long-standing promise along with so many other things, he's certain he won't be able to stand it.]
upswing: (52.)

[personal profile] upswing 2017-03-21 06:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ it’s enough of a reassurance, that noct will miss him, will maybe mourn the space he’s left behind. the press on his hand, the clench of his teeth, it’s more than enough. he doesn’t need the actual words. and… maybe it should make him happy, that he’ll be missed, that noct will look over his shoulder for him once in awhile— but where that minute amount of relief should be, there is only an absence. how could… he feel anything akin to relief, when noct is like this. a bit wild eyed, desperate.

he can’t suppress it, the sudden grief that wells up at his best friend’s appearance. the inverse of noct’s anger. the emotion brightens his eyes, where they had been dull ( for days, for weeks ) before.

he thinks that maybe this is it. that he should… leave now. now, while there’s still some of him left. he knows that it’ll be sooner rather than later, that the majority of his memories will be gone. it’s started happening faster, as of late. the ebb of them. he remembers looking through his photos, running his thumb over their glossed surfaces, uncaring of the smudges ( evidence that he’s still here, corporeal ) he left behind. fervently trying to remember when he took them, where they were, what they were doing. coming up with blanks, where memories should be.

noct’s question, it adds a layer of dread to the grief, sickening and curling. he closes his eyes, and tries, tries to remember. to go back and find the memory of him promising always. he would remember something like that, wouldn’t he? he can conjure up images of noctis in uniform, the two of them walking together, a bounce in his step as he slapped noct on the back but there’s no— ]
I’m sorry, Noct. [ his voice is small, a waver in the words, and his shoulders start to shake with sadness ( for who, he isn’t sure. for himself? no, he’s not the boy in the memories he has anymore. maybe it’s for the person he used to be, who at some point quietly slipped away leaving a husk of himself here. )

he doesn’t want to look, at the result of his words. the consequence of the admission that he doesn’t remember. but he forces himself to, opens his eyes, and blinks past the blur of a sudden film of tears. ]
I don’t. [ but he’s quick to add, as though it will soften the blow of it ] I know that I must have, I know that I would promise that. In a heartbeat. I still… [ does it matter, if he still wants to stay? who would want a pale imitation of their best friend sticking around, becoming more and more unrecognizable as the days pass? until he, what, just pops out of existence one day. it sounds terrible. awful. he doesn’t want that for noct, to have to watch him disappear.

he’s something, but he’s not enough.

he shakes his head, trying to clear it. he thinks it was easier, the detachment, the fading, then having to face this head on. ]

I… maybe I’m not the person who said that, anymore.

[ maybe the person noct wants to hold onto is already gone. ]
pains: (♚ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ)

[personal profile] pains 2017-03-22 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
[A moment drawn out into an eternity– and the question just barely makes it past Noctis' lips, but it's heavy and leaden, so much hinging on the answer. Regret follows shortly after those pressed out words. Noctis knows long before Prompto can urge himself to reply, past the gloss overtaking his vision and the quiver of his lips. Long, long before.

And Noctis wonders– is it better to expect the worst or be crushed under the weight of the truth? How much better off would he be had he never asked?

Regret comes far too late. That apology, heavy and damp, is all Noctis needed to hear. There's no pretending anymore– no lying to himself, no hiding, no use in feigning optimism to keep himself from spiraling out of control. No, it isn't quite that. Not when Noctis had no control to begin with.

That apology has Noctis choking on a curse, a lamentation, dropping his eyes from where they bore so heavily into Prompto's. Even now when he can't stand to face him (to acknowledge the truth that Prompto won't remain long at his side), Noctis doesn't let the man out of his sight. From the corner of his eyes, he's terrified of what may happen if he does.]

...God damn it.

[This isn't fair. This isn't fair and there isn't a damn thing Noctis can't do about it. No better than the child he'd been those many years ago, Noctis yanks his hand away from where he's grasped at Prompto's. A tantrum, then, would be a fitting descriptor.

Grieving would be another.]

I know you knew, but you don't remember now. Not when it counts.

[It's a miracle Noctis hasn't felt the onset of tears yet, bleary and stinging, but they're an inevitability. If not now, then long after Prompto has departed and the last traces of his presence have deteriorated. Maybe then. Seems to be the way things go these days.

Noctis drops to the ground on crossed legs and with his chin cupped in his hand– no different than how he'd so often forfeit against Gladio when they were much younger, give up their sparring sessions when he knew he had only a slim chance of winning. Now, the chances of winning against Prompto's inevitable fade are slim. Nil, even.

But he hasn't given up entirely like he had all those sparring matches years back. Not entirely. Not when that desperate fool inside of himself keeps begging for another way. For the impossible to become possible.

Denial tears out of Noctis' throat like a scream half-realized and all the more bitter for it. Even now, fingers curled and knuckles white where they lance into his knees, Noctis keeps Prompto in the periphery of his vision. He can't stand to let him out of it.]

...Fine. Forget about it. Wasn't that important anyway. [A breath, heavy, and then silence, long and ringing.] So what do you remember, Prompto?
upswing: (53.)

[personal profile] upswing 2017-03-25 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ noctis’s expression falls, he curses, and he knows it was important. the promise and the memory. it feels like a failure, that he can’t remember it, on top of everything. a test that he couldn’t pass, one that wouldn’t fix the situation if he had ( he doesn’t think anything can ) but would at least pull it back from this. from noctis starting to look at him like he might blink out of existence at any moment. will, if he looks away for a second. though, it doesn’t seem like he’s given up on him yet— sitting down and resting his chin in his hand.

at the question he takes a shuddering breath, presses at his eyes with the heel of his hand, squeezes them shut for a moment and tries to will away the tears. if noct hasn’t given up yet, then maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to do so either. there was a time when he wouldn’t hesitate, to cross into noct’s space, to sit close enough that their shoulders brush— but he does so now. makes an aborted move towards him, before thinking better of it. stops in his tracks, and decides to sit where he is in an uncharacteristic show of reservation. the hesitance born out of a fear of being rebuffed. ]
Not as much I should. [ obviously. he swallows heavily before continuing ] Not… a lot. [ he knows that things are missing, that there are spaces ( too large ) between the memories he has. he pulls his knees to his chest, the action only serving to make him look smaller, to look less. his eyes drop to a space to the floor, lose focus as he tries to think. ] The earliest I remember, really remember is after high school. Before that, it’s a blur. I don’t— [ know how to say this. doesn’t know how to make noctis understand. ] The memories I do have, it’s going to sound strange, but. It’s like… they’re not really mine. [ his eyes flick from the ground, to the white of noctis’s knuckles, his face. a huff of what is supposed to be laughter, but is too tight, the sound strangled— ] Weird, right?

[ detachment. maybe that’s the right word for it. for the movie-like quality the memories he has left have taken on, the way he feels separate from them. there’s a moment of silence, where he considers stopping there. because… it’s not right, to dump this on noct. he’s already carrying so much ( the crown, the responsibility of it ) he doesn’t need anymore, doesn’t need his burdens added to the pile.

but he doesn’t want to lie anymore, even if it’s by omission. ]

Sometimes… it feels like, If I don’t concentrate on being here, on remembering that I could just disappear.

[ which is what he’s afraid of. what he’s ashamed of being afraid of. he wishes he could be brave, in the face of this. like he thinks that noct would be if the situation were reversed. but instead he’s painfully afraid, not just of going, but that no one will remember him when he does. that he’ll be erased completely. idly he moves his hands to rub at the skin of his arms, friction to create some kind of heat, but it doesn’t work. he’s still as cold as ever. he shouldn’t have expected anything else. ]
pains: (♚ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴇʏᴇʟɪᴅs ᴄʟᴏsᴇ)

[personal profile] pains 2017-03-26 07:50 am (UTC)(link)
[Like a joke without a punchline, this. The one person Noctis thought he’d never be free of was the boy who’d spend his Friday nights taking up space on his couch and indulging him in movie marathons and schoolyard gossip. The boy who’d always manage to find him no matter where Noct had snuck off to during lunch period, whether it was under the shade of a tree or the heights of the school rooftop.

No matter where he went, Prompto was never far out of his reach. Between them, there may as well be worlds now for the distance Noctis feels so palpably, weighing so heavily in the air, on his shaking, shivering shoulders.

Hell, maybe he’d feel better if he could manage tears. Crying, at least, would mean Noctis could acknowledge that Prompto isn’t going to be around by his side through the rest of his life. He’d been a fool to not only hope, but expect he would be. For all the days, months, years they’d spent by each other’s sides, it’s only natural Noctis would’ve deluded himself into thinking he’d never lose someone who’d become so irreplaceable.

In the past, Noctis wouldn’t have hesitated to toss an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and yank him into close proximity, but he does now. Hesitations and fears are all he has now. Prompto, settled close but not nearly close enough, doesn’t lack for that same reservation, either. A mutual fear that neither man can acknowledge.

Resignation, then– this is what they’re left with. Fuck, so be it. Prompto doesn’t remember and Noctis doesn’t want to for fear of each ache every lingering memory brings up. If only it were that easy to stop himself from thinking about it.]

Weird– [Another drawn out breath. This is going to be one hell of a long night.] If that’s what you want to call it.

[There’s a headache forming behind Noct’s eyes, an ache harsh enough to justify dragging a knee up and pressing a temple to it, eyes shuttering closed. Prompto probably, likely, doesn’t want to talk about it. Understandable. Who the hell could blame him?

But Noctis, for every wound inflicted by his own hand, can’t keep himself from asking. When you’ve fallen this hard, you can’t get much lower.

So Prompto doesn’t remember, or he’s forgetting, or he’ll forget in time. There’s no fighting the inevitable. What Noctis questions, then, is something the boy across from him shouldn’t need to wrack his fading memory to answer. Something much more poignant, something much more important.

A question that, with any luck, may hold an answer that’ll ease Prompto’s troubled mind some– and Noct’s in turn.]

...Are you cold, Prompto?
doctor_terror: (Default)

Scarecrow | Batman Arkham Knight | ota

[personal profile] doctor_terror 2017-03-17 06:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[Either role]
barre_none: (listening with intent to not care)

Grace Ford | OC | M/F

[personal profile] barre_none 2017-03-17 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[Either works!]
dustless: (don't want this)

Frisk | Undertale | OTA

[personal profile] dustless 2017-03-17 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)
//Either role's fine.
mantras: ((normal au) Who gave me this haircut?)

Raven [ Teen Titans ] OTA

[personal profile] mantras 2017-03-17 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
( Either role. )
Edited 2017-03-17 20:10 (UTC)
utulien_aure: Nirnaeth Arnoediad (death)

Fingon | The Silmarillion

[personal profile] utulien_aure 2017-03-17 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[Probably houseless spirit; inadvertently making loved ones' lives worse.]
iisupergirlii: (Default)

Kara Danvers | Supergirl | OTA

[personal profile] iisupergirlii 2017-03-17 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[come love on her, ghosts]
beatriceprior: (i don't trust this)

Tris Prior | Divergent (book series) | OTA

[personal profile] beatriceprior 2017-03-17 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[as the ghost]
onlyeverdoubted: (Default)

Bodhi Rook | Rogue One: A Star Wars Story | OTA

[personal profile] onlyeverdoubted 2017-03-18 12:31 am (UTC)(link)
hondoyota: (Default)

Adam Parrish | The Raven Cycle

[personal profile] hondoyota 2017-03-18 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
[Either role.]
springlocking: (Default)

Charlie | FNAF: The Silver Eyes | OTA

[personal profile] springlocking 2017-03-18 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
[Sure, why not have this kid deal with more freaking ghosts? Yes, please, definitely the human here.]
angelboots: (iii)

Licht Jekylland Todoroki | Servamp | ota

[personal profile] angelboots 2017-03-18 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ Dead and stubbornly convinced that you are the one who's a ghost and not him.

Open to shipping and gen! ]
fuckbot: (176)

mettaton | undertale | m/m

[personal profile] fuckbot 2017-03-18 05:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ the ghost. ]
sir_metaknight: (Default)

[personal profile] sir_metaknight 2017-03-18 11:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ Could be interesting if you fancy it? Given how Meta Knight typically is very knightly and stoic he wouldn't be very vocal/expressive in his feelings which could be hilarious/fun to play against Mettaton's natural flair! ]
fuckbot: (188)

[personal profile] fuckbot 2017-03-19 07:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ Definitely interested! Would you like Mettaton to be in his actual ghost form or as a ghost inhabiting his robot body? And which prompt are you feeling? ]
sir_metaknight: (Relaxing)

[personal profile] sir_metaknight 2017-03-19 08:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ I rolled a One, but Tethered to You, Peace to the Vengeful, Remember and Different Time, Different Place could all work c: Depends what you think would work with Mettaton too! ]
fuckbot: (197)

[personal profile] fuckbot 2017-03-19 09:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ I like either Dead Lover or Peace to the Vengeful, whichever you like best! I'll have him be in his ghost form! For either prompt, we could say he had inhabited his robot body at a point but had to go back to his original form, and thus he still uses his current pronouns and name (if you're familiar with his backstory at all). ]
sir_metaknight: (Happy and Proud)

[personal profile] sir_metaknight 2017-03-19 10:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ I think I like Peace to Vengeful best! Meta Knight thinks he's helped Mettaton and doesn't expect to see him repeatedly appear. And oh, I'm familiar c: Mettaton's one of my favourite Undertale characters! Do you want me to start the prompt, just after Mettaton's helped fend off some mean Dreamland enemies? ]
fuckbot: (199)

[personal profile] fuckbot 2017-03-20 08:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ Awesome!! And oh, great! If you'd like him to be Hapstablook and go by they/them pronouns we can do that, then! I'm also good with him having been Mettaton and then became a ghost, though! And yes, please, if you don't mind! ♥ ]
sir_metaknight: (Fighting stance)

[personal profile] sir_metaknight 2017-03-20 10:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ Nah, let's go with him being who he truly is, the Superstar of Humanity/the Underground Mettaton~! Hopefully this opening is okay ]

Meta Knight had been enjoying a casual patrol when he came across the scene. What seemed to be the remains of...some kind of armour? Not far from it was what seemed to be a round, pink creature, hovering slightly above the ground. And approaching it were two Mutant Scarfies, chomping at the air with large teeth bared towards the creature. It didn't take much to reach a conclusion.

Throwing out his cloak, Meta Knight's cape transformed into bat-like wings as he dashed forward, slashing at the Scarfies. Thankfully it only took a few, lightning fast slashes of Galaxia to dispatch them. The enemies dealt with, he turned to the creature to check that they were alright. They didn't seem familiar, but Meta Knight was used to meeting people from various worlds and galaxies.

"Are you hurt?"
clarets: (o13.)

cheryl blossom | riverdale

[personal profile] clarets 2017-03-18 08:23 am (UTC)(link)
burgerlfriend: (Default)

[personal profile] burgerlfriend 2017-03-18 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[care to be haunted by a guy who isn't jason but may have met jason in the ~*afterlife*~? we can go gen or shippy, whichever you prefer!]
Edited 2017-03-18 23:27 (UTC)
clarets: (o8.)

[personal profile] clarets 2017-03-19 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ ahh! yes that sounds lovely. i'm totally chill with gen or shippy!

hit me with your best shot. c: ]
burgerlfriend: (Default)

I'm good with both as well, so I figure we can just see where things go! :D also, sorry it's long!

[personal profile] burgerlfriend 2017-03-19 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ Looking back, Jughead should have known that he'd be stuck in Riverdale even after he died.

It happened like this: he dug too deep, got carried away with his investigation, and before he really knew what was happening he'd been... shot? He couldn't really remember; things were blurry in there for a while. His next memory was standing in the middle of the woods, looking down at himself and wondering why there was blood all over his precious beanie. Then they found him, and he began to realize what he'd become.

He couldn't talk to them, or touch them, or do much of anything. Sometimes, if he really focused, he could move things around, but that was about it. For the first little while (was that right? it was hard keeping track of time now that he never felt tired, or cold, or hungry) he sort of just hung around, unsure of why he was still there instead of... wherever he was supposed to be.

And then he caught a glimpse of that unmistakable red hair, flitting behind a building, then in a booth at Pop's, then down at the river. He looked whole and unblemished and somehow more beautiful than he ever did when he was alive.

But they never spoke, never really got close to one another. Maybe it was some sort of ghost magnetism keeping them apart. Whatever the reason, Jughead was left to figure things out on his own. Being dead didn't keep him from continuing his investigation, although it was more difficult now because he sometimes lost track of himself. Being unable to feel things made the afterlife tricky.

One day, for no real reason other than the fact that he'd seen Jason hanging around, he drifted over to Cheryl's house. Things there were as gloomy as ever, with the curtains drawn and the soil in the graveyard still fresh. Jughead had figured he'd just wander around, but then something happened, something different - something he could feel.

He wasn't sure why he did it. She just looked so alive, so warm, despite the sadness on her face. He'd reached out to touch her hair - he'd tried stuff like that before, with Archie and Betty, to no avail - but unlike them, she noticed. She turned around.

She saw him. ]
upadly_aniol: (pic#10479236)

Mitsunari Ishida | Sengoku Basara | OTA

[personal profile] upadly_aniol 2017-03-19 06:50 am (UTC)(link)
[Either role.]
likeabirdie: (Default)

Chidori | Ninja Girl and Samurai Master

[personal profile] likeabirdie 2017-03-19 06:51 am (UTC)(link)
[Either role, too.]
lefey: (073)

Morgana | Merlin / Arthurian | OTA

[personal profile] lefey 2017-03-20 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
[Happy to be either]
unaccustomed: (10_098b)

Kaworu Nagisa | Neon Genesis Evangelion (manga)

[personal profile] unaccustomed 2017-03-20 06:40 am (UTC)(link)
(Most probably the ghost, but the other way around could be interesting as well.)
made_of_stars: (Default)

jyn erso || rogue one || ota

[personal profile] made_of_stars 2017-03-20 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ooc: either/or. both have the potential for so much HURT i am a bad person for how much i like the pain.]
imahologram: (ninety.)

[personal profile] imahologram 2017-03-20 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
More nights than not, Leia's exhausted when she finally gets back to her quarters on Hoth. She always feels like she's excusing herself in the middle of work, because there's always more work to be done. Head out on this mission, brief someone on that mission, manage inventories, discuss strategies, help dig out collapsed hallways--it's hard to believe they've only been here three months.

Tonight, she's tired enough that, as she sits down on her narrow bed and starts unpinning her hair, there's a faint light at the corner of her sightline. She groans, pausing with a braid half-hanging down her back to rub at her eyes. Starting to see things. You'd better take your full eight hours.

The only problem is, that pale, almost bluish glow remains when she draws her hand away. Leia turns toward it, her brow furrowing as she tries to find its source.
thesefirststeps: (Default)

Rey | SW: TFA | OTA

[personal profile] thesefirststeps 2017-03-26 04:59 pm (UTC)(link)