thread ghosts

anonymous asked:

can u please write something about dealing with trauma

if the heart is scattered
as pearls from a snapped
string. if spring aches
like a moon cleaved in half.
if you live with writhing ghosts
threaded in your veins.

when they ask you what this
is like, tell them: sometimes
i am all teeth. often i am nothing
except for trembling hands.
but i know how sweet poplar
honey tastes & how bright

wilds roses look in bloom.
the sea can’t always be without
storms, but we both belong
to ourselves, & that means
we can work with the sky to find
our own way of healing.


kaitouphantom1412 said:🔮

Send 🔮 to encounter my Muse as a Spirit!

Ghost Hakuba AU appearance is being used

Hakuba frowned as he walked up the path hands in his pockets. He had ‘woke up’ in his house after blacking out at the end of an important job against the head of an arms ring. He was fighting him high up on scaffolding, and the man held a briefcase with a bomb that he and Hakuba were cuffed to but Hakuba couldn’t remember how it had ended. He had tried to grab his pager at home to call for help but his hand had gone through the pager! Then he tried to open the door to the base and his hand went through the handle! He had climbed out a window to get out and was now walking trying to calm down and figure out what to do, unaware of the large red stain on his shirt or the gaping, grotesque hole in his face. He was so unaware he didn’t even realise he was wandering towards someone as he stared at the floor thinking.

Modern Haunted House AU (Cont.)


“Come with me.” she told him nervously as she took his hand and led him back to the mirror. 

“This… This is the gentleman I was telling you about. He’s caring, funny, modest, charming and by far my favorite person to be around.” she said from behind him, her face burning up. “He’s very considerate and is always there for me if I need him. He’s the only one I’d want to impress.” she finished, trying to hide how nervous she was. “Do… Do you understand now?” she asked, fidgeting with her hands in anticipation. 

To Catch a Chill

@rangerintherain [ from ]

“….Father would be irritable if I were alive or dead. The only difference would be that I would not be able to hear his grumbling…although, I’m sure his anger can break the barrier between this life and the next.”

        ❝ You know that is not my point, young one―though I must admit that you are correct. His irritability is of a caliber that I have not seen in generations. ❞ Fíriel smiled wryly, looking about her grandson’s room for more suitable attire.

        ❝ It will do no good for anyone, especially not yourself, if you fall victim to the cold. ❞


Ashlin adjusted the aperture and checked his light meter again. “Ready yet, Zola?” he asked. She’d promised to have a surprise for him to photograph this time, and he was looking forward to it. He had a brand new lens he was testing, too, and some new lens filters to try. There was something about the effect of on-lens filters that he liked over the digital ones. Of course, he used a DSLR camera, but that was as much for the ability to take lots of shots and simply delete the ones that didn’t come out well.

Setting his beloved camera down carefully, he went to check on his beloved muse. “Zola? Do you need help?”

anonymous asked:

'have you made me a liar?' - dugpas


“No.”  He can’t believe it.  Can’t stand this conversation.  Everything is starting to weigh in on him now that they’re driving steadily away, and every bump of the road makes him want to lurch.  “No, you’ll make yourself a liar.  Because I am not writing that on my report.  Windom, I refuse to fabricate events in order to make myself look better.”  He shot a man.  Three times.  Three shots that were unnecessary.  Two that didn’t make sense.  One wasn’t enough?  One to anywhere but the chest wasn’t good enough?

He killed a man.   He killed a man.   He killed a man.   He killed a man.     
He killed a man.   He killed a man.   He killed a man.   He killed a man.     
He killed a man.   He killed a man.   He killed a man.   He killed a man.   
             He killed a man.   He killed a man.   He killed a man.  
                                          He killed a man.  

“I could have- I could have shot him in the leg.  The arm.  The fffu- cking wrist.”  His voice gets shrill there, torn, and it cracks.  He doesn’t do this.  This isn’t who he is.  How could he.  For God’s sake, his marksmanship is impeccable.  Has been since he was a kid.  Dale Cooper, age 14, showed an agent how to better improve his aim.  Lean into the pistol more to compensate for the kick.  What excuse has he for shooting him THREE TIMES in the chest.  “Why?  Why would I do that, Windom?”


The morning had started out like any other at first. Wake up, feed the cat, get ready, walk to the cafe for a cup of coffee, and go to work. That had been the cycle for weeks which was not much different from what it had been before just with the added bonus of the cute barista who served him every morning also leaving him with A KISS when he grabbed his order.

The morning had started out like any other… but just a few minutes before noon when Keith was prepping to take a break he got a call. A call from a man whose voice he hadn’t heard in YEARS. A voice he’d never wanted to hear again because the last words he’d heard from it were ‘I’ll see you in a few days’ only for it to have been A BLATANT LIE which left a five year old boy alone and to be raised by strangers until the law deemed him old enough to take care of himself.

Thumb pressed hard on the end call button without having said a word in response, Keith already up and out of his seat as his legs carried him foward of their own accord, his mind struggling to catch up. He just needed to get out- GET OUT- and go… where?

He wasn’t sure, not until a few seconds later he was left wide-eyed and staring vacantly at his boyfriend over the counter, fist which wasn’t holding his phone in a white-knuckled grip clenching and unclenching at his side.

❝ Shiro… ❞

If he was getting any strange looks he didn’t pay them any mind, standing STOCK STILL just a few feet in from the doorway. He shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be bothering someone like this with his problems that nobody cared about.

This wasn’t where he should be and yet HE COULDN’T FIND IT IN HIMSELF TO LEAVE.

Anakin had never given much thought to what death would be like. He’d been so preoccupied defying death that he hadn’t thought to consider the inevitable regardless. For a time, he’d be sure it was not inevitable. But now here he was, part of the Force. He wouldn’t call it peaceful, exactly, since it was more in tune with it than ever, but it didn’t hurt the way being alive did. He was free here, which he’d never known in all his human life. But with it and the infinite quiet of eternity came the heavy burden of seeing more clearly everything that he’d done. And he, in less than fifty years, had done so very, very much.

It had made him hesitant to come here, to face his younger child, but he couldn’t stay away from her forever. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t know what he’d see in her eyes when she looked at him. He expected hatred, and he wasn’t sure what would be worse - having that expectation fulfilled or being offered some lesser sentence. He tried to calm his mind, but even now he couldn’t do it the way he’d been trained to - not really. He’d never spoken to Leia - at least, not apart from capturing and torturing her, which only made the anticipation worse.

She looked so like her mother that it ached. Padmé wasn’t with him, but he could swear he felt her in Leia’s presence. Maybe that was why he finally let her see him, and reached out through whatever fragment of a connection he could find between them, linked in their blood, that would tell her he was there. But even now she could see him - or so he believed she could - he didn’t know how to begin. “Leia….” But that was as far as he could get, and he couldn’t look at her when he said it. He’d faced whole armies alone undaunted, but already dead and untouchable, he couldn’t start a conversation with his only daughter. Typical.

@princessorganc liked for a starter from anakin.

(( Continued from here; @cartoonifiedcartoonist ))

Wally jumped a little upon Henry’s shout. Though it was hardly anything he wasn’t used to from his own family, he had forgotten just how loud Henry could get! Grinning and shaking his head the toon watched as the ghost floated over.

Wow, he… Really was a ghost, then? Pie-cut eyes watching the man’s feet for a moment, he quickly perked back up when introduced. He was grateful that Henry did it for him, that made his life an awful lot easier. With a warm smile and a wave Wally honked a greeting.

Although, the same thought that Henry had didn’t cross Wally–at least not until he already had his hand out for a shake. Well… The offer was already out there, it would have been rude to retract it now, he thought.

“Several years back I was with some friends of mine taking care of a neighbor’s cat. Friend 1 (call her N) was the person who was actually in charge of this, but asked Friend 2 (A) and I to come with her. We didn’t really understand why, but she said that the place just gave her weird vibes, and that was good enough for us to come with her.

We get into the house and it’s an old place, really creaky and already kind of… off, I guess. N shows us where the cat’s food dish is and she asks A to get the food from the other room. N then asks me to find the cat. I go off, looking around the house for this cat. I’m not exactly a cat person, so I really wasn’t looking so much for the cat but looking around the place. There’s all the things you’d expect in an elderly lady’s house, knitting stuff, old pictures, paintings, etc. Nothing really that out of the ordinary.

By this time A had gotten the cat food and the two of them were waiting for me to come back with the cat. The lady had given us specific instructions about feeding the cat, making sure it was there and stuff. I go back to the kitchen where the food dishes were and tell them that I’ve checked the entire first floor and upstairs, but I can’t find the cat. A then asks if I’ve checked the basement, to which I say no. N leads us over to the basement, opens the door and turns on the light. It already looked sketchy as hell, and I wasn’t gonna go down there. I say this, and N agrees. A shrugs her shoulders and starts going down the stairs. This is when shit goes down.

To the day, N and I swear we saw the same thing. People have tried to convince me it must have been something else, but I know what I saw.

A’s walking down the stairs and this lady appears in the doorway N and I are standing in. She’s dressed in a long white dress and is extremely pale, and she seems to have this glow around her. She takes a step down towards A and looks back up at N and I. She brings her finger up to her lips like she’s telling us to be quiet, then turns around and pushes A down the stairs. Hard. A goes flying down the stairs, screaming. N and I are frozen in place, chills going through our body. A lands at the bottom and turns around and sees the lady. The lady smiles and walks past N and I and disappears. A gets up slowly, clearly in pain. She gets up and turns around, asking if she has any bruises on her back.
There were two dark hand prints on her back.

N and I nodded our heads and said we’d show her after we got the hell out of there. We decided fuck the cat, we’re not coming in this god damn house ever again

To this day I have no explanation for that. N and I swear we saw the same thing.”

-Aquamaureen24 (What is something scary that has happened to you that you cannot explain rationally?)