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halloween-sweets · 2 days
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snaileer · 2 days
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Time Unsolved
Dp Unsolved
“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”
Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.
But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?
“What a name!” Shane cut it immediately, yellow words typing themself across the screen. Ryan laughed.
“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.
Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.
“Uh, /he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”
Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”
“That’s okay. /I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”
“Alright then.”
The screen was lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.
“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.
They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”
“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?” Shane cut in.
“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.
-People move, Ryan.-
-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-
Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.
The images came back.
“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”
There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “
-You ever own a Swiss watch?-
-Nope-
-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-
-Yep.-
-…-
“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”
The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.
“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”
-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-
Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-
-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-
-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-
-Yeah!-
“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”
The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.
“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.
He returned to his shop soon after.”
Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.
“With later evidence statements regarding Charles stating that he was an ‘odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’
This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”
-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.
-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-
-He’s advertising, ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’-
Ryan laughs.
“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”
Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.
While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’
Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.
It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.
“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”
“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?!”
Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.
“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”
Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.
“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.
Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.
Something that had never happened before.”
The word ‘before’ faded into red.
“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer be deliver, as they could not be guaranteed it would not be stolen.
At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.
It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.
But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room.
It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.
Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.
Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.
A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.
The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.
However, despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”
The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.
“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”
Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“
“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.
Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”
“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”
“What???”
“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”
Ryan wheezed into his elbow.
Danny laughed quietly.
Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”
Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”
Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.
“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.
Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.
This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.
In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.
This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.
Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.
Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”
The screen switched.
Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”
Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”
“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”
“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”
“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”
“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.
Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.
“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.
This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”
“Or in a grave.”
“You really think he was mafia?”
“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.
“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.
This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.
None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”
Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.
“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.
Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”
“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”
“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”
“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.
“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”
Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.
Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.
“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.
This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.
Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”
“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.
“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“
Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.
“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.
This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”
“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.
Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”
“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.
And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:
Unsolved.”
Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.
No way.
No freaking way.
He lurched upwards, eyes wide.
Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.
Oh mygod!
Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”
He dove for the ghost portal.
Holy frick!
Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!
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alexisntedgy · 14 hours
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sure this has been done before but i still had to just in case
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“Then what’s wrong?”
I’m dying
Drew a scene from a @lexosaurus fic
Biggg fan you guys should check it out
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cyberianpunks · 2 days
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ghosts and gods
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furiarossa · 3 days
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Doctor Mad meets Madam; same prompt, two different worlds, two different Maddie Plasmius!
When, thanks to the interactions on Mad's presentation post on Tumblr, we spotted someone else that had an halfa Maddie AU going on too we already knew we wanted to make a little interaction between them (hope that's alright, her storyline is so intriguing)! These two would make a fearsome Evil Science team... RIP little ectopus.
Mad Plasmius (right) belongs to us, while Madam Plasmius was created by @lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks and we drew her with an heavy inspiration from @redrobin-detective's design for her! 
[Oh, and a lot more of our Danny Phantom fanarts: Here’s our tag!]
★ Instagram|Facebook|FurAffinity|Deviantart|Commission prices★
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catchingdaydreams · 3 days
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[Un]welcomed Guest
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Shadow Miguel x Reader
Chp 1 Lost His Ways
You didn't mean to get lost in the woods that weekend camping trip with your college friends. And you certainly didn't mean to bring back an unwelcomed guest. But from then, wherever you go, you now have two shadows following you.
Warnings: Murder, Drug use, Slight mentions of depression
[10 Years Ago]
As two cars pull up along the beach of an emerald lake, a group of conspicuous looking men step out. A gruntled yet muffed shout came from the back of one of their trunk , only to grow louder as they opened.
"Line him up over there", one of the men demanded. Grabbing the bound males body before chucking him onto the rough gravel. A low yelp of pain erupted from the male as the rocks dug into his skin. Coming to his bearings the man gets up into his knees, his blind fold losed from the the fall. His burgundy hued glare was calculated, filled with hatred and wrath towards the unopened car in front of him.
One of the men opened said door, reviling a rather slimming gentleman in white, doaned in gold rings and a chain. He ignored the man's gaze in front of him as he lit a cigarette, breathing in only to let out a wheezy cough. Whether it was years of smoking or the coldness of this winter morning, it didn't matter, his voice carried a raspy undertone as he spoke.
"Mike, Mike, Mike", he repeated, taking a drag once more before he continued." Or should I say Miguel O'Hara, am I correct?". The gentleman finally meets Miguels gaze. Seeking some form of gratification from a surprise reaction, however was challenged by his unwavering cold stare.
The gentleman tisked.
"Miguel O'Hara, by day a renowned geneticist at alchemax, by night you steal their very own rapture and sell it directly to our...'goods and services". The man waffles as he begins to walk round Miguel slowly.
"It was simply a story to follow, so simple Miguel".
"But that was until you decided to change scripts on us and sell those shitting contaminated knockoffs!" He yells, flicking his cig at the tanned males face. The gentleman finally meets back to face Miguel, crouching down to meet at eye level.
"Can't have my clients dropping dead so quickly, really put at dint with my mens numbers too."
" But I like you Migs, I really do. It would be ashamed to get rid of such a valuable young man like yourself. And what if a few people ended up as food for the rats, it's just business" He chuckles.
He placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder as he continued.
"whatever "this" is can easily go away you know. You can go back and keep retelling your same story over and over for us. If you only just tell me where the real drungs are." The man firmly gripped onto Miguel shoulder, nails digging in just enough to give pain through his shirt. Yet Migs cold gaze continues to remain.
"Tell me, cause as lord as my witness I know you still have them. Where's the real rapture".
"Go.To.Hell" Miguel spits with venom.
"Oh believe me I'll be there soon" Then weakly laughs, before coming to a coughing fit. But he manages to recollect himself. " Ah well then, I actually really hope it would come to this". He smiles wickedly.
For the first time, Miguel broke his facid, confusion crossed his face as an uneasiness begins to fester looking at the man before him.
The gentleman snaps his fingers.
"Boys"
A group of men shuffled through the backseat. Emerging out they cradled a small, limped child. From the moment Miguel first saw her body, he lost it.
"Gabi?, Gab!!!" Miguel shouted as he tried to run to her, but he couldn't even get the chance to stand as two men held him down. Frustrated he grunts and curses bursted out as he called out to her. Yet meet with no response. Not even a stir.
"Let's try this again-"
"What did you do to her you bastard !??" Miguel shouted, tossing and kicking his way free proved frivolous. Merely it served to delight the gentleman. A sadistic grin edged his face. Finally he got to see the fear in the young man who betrayed him.
"She's drugged. Simply asleep at the moment. Don't worry Miguel I ain't that heartless for a child to experience these things. I just need her here to make you more compliant."
His henchmen placed the child into their boss's right arm, while his other hand being free, reaches into his pocket.
"You wouldn't want anything to happen to your daughter. Best not to test me Miguel. My hands... Are shaky with age." He says as he grabs a knife to her neck, pressure applied to her skin yet not enough to slice it.
Miguel frivolous struggle came to a hault. Jaw tensed out of needed compliance, gritting his teeth with a mixture of frustration and worry. He needed to be calm and collective, for his daughters sake.
"Good, good". The boss was pleased at Miguel's commitment to restrain himself. He waited for Miguel's response.
"I don't have them." Miguel says plainly.
"Oh?!" The man says in fake shock, as he flicks the knife as a gesture for Miguel to cut the crap.
"Im telling the truth. I gave you your rapture to your lackies as usual. I didn't cheap you out. Why would I? There's no benefit in double crossing you, every crime lord in this city and the next knows that. Look whatever happened between shipments doesn't concern me, I don't have no control over your men." Miguel tries to reason with him. Though rather poorly. He was never a good at controlling the way he phrase things to make it sounded more sweater or the the other persons liking. He does spend most of his days in his private lab after all.
But Miguel was in fact telling the truth. He never would have thought he would end up as a supplier to a well known underground criminal syndicate. But that all changed when his daughter fell ill. Despite his law biding job paying well, it wasn't enough to cover all her medical costs. He was desperate. Rapture leaking into the market too early anyway, becoming a very popular drug; and so he had to do what he though it was right by any means necessary to save her. But what good did that do. He couldn't protect her from his other life. Despite everything, he never knew it would lead to this.
Whoever double crossed him had to know that he was going to quit this side gig. And no one's quites this. Miguel wanted to leave the cesspool of the city once Gabi was getting better. And had to be sneaky about it. Until the time being, he was stuck being someone's drug mule.
He just hoped the boss believed his words.
It didn't.
"Don't you think I've looked into it on my side. Everyone that day had an alibi. Camera checked. All the sorts. But when I'd looked into you, do you know what I got? Nothing. Causes everything you did that day was wiped off every system. No camera, no signs of transaction. Heck it looked like you didn't even go to your job to even get us our goods Miguel."
All Miguel could do was just stare at the boss, he had nothing to say. What could he have said?
The man signed
"Oh I'm sorry Miguel"
"Para, oh Dios, no, no, no!!"
And just like that, time slowed down for Miguel. To witness the absolute horror no father should experience. To be so utterly helpless in protecting his child.
With one swift motion the man sliced her neck, blood spewing along skin, dripping pearls down onto the ground.
"Gabi !" Miguel cried. He tried to, anything, to go to her. He struggled. He tugged against his constraints as well as the men holding him down. But it only lead to gravel being kicked around. She was just out of reach.
"But really this is all your fault". The gentleman drops her limp body without a care. She tumbled over, landing a few meters before her father. Whatever universal grace Miguel got in this situation was that her face was shielded away from his sight. He never got to see her tears.
His body trembled as he slumped down. Not once did he took his eyes off her. His own heart beat drums out the wheezing laughter from her killer.
A million thoughts traveled his head in a matter of seconds. 'He should have never got into this business'. ' Who double crossed him'. 'Why did they have to kill her?' 'Shes innocent'.
'Its all his fault'
'Its his fault'
'Its his fault'
'ITS HIS FAULT'
"Get on with it then" He says in defeat.
"Oh no no Miguel, I won't be so merciful with you." He says as one of his henchmen delivers a brief case.
Opening it he reveals a large injecting gun filled with cloudy green liquid. He flicks the gun, looking at the way the liquid sloshes back and forth, before meeting back to Miguel gaze.
"I think you know what this is." He snarks as he walks up to his defeated form and stabs is arm. Miguel does not retaliate, why should he. He lost the very thing he cherished the most. There's no point in trying to escape when he has no need to live anymore.
Miguel hisses from the jap as the green liquid drains from the syringe into his veins. Almost instantly the effects take affect. Miguels heart rate increases as his breaths get shorter and shorter, as if lungs were clogged. The boss signaled his henchmen to let go of him. There was no need to restrain him, the scorching heat burning throughout his body cause him to curl in pain. An agonizing screams spewed out amongst his gasps. The agony felt like hours but carried out in just minutes.
As his vision was going black, barely, just barely he glaces at his daughter that lays beside him on the gravel.
"Ga-gabi." He whispers.
Whatever little strength he had left he used it to drag his weakening body across the dirt. With each movement the serum flowed through his blood stream faster, burning his insides. But he did not care.
"Lo siento mi hija".
He manages to reach out, shaking fingers ghosts her hand, trying all his might to hold onto hers. But his strength wasn't enough.
He remained holding her hand.
Until his spark finally burned out.
"How touching" The gentleman sneared as he wiped the blood off the knife with a handkerchief before waking back to his car.
"What should be do with the bodies, boss" one of his men questioned.
"Tisk, dump them in the lake for all I care, just make it look like a bloody accident." He waved off.
This was not how the story was supposed to go but I like a bit of a back story for our sad spooky guy. I haven't proof read this so I'll re-edit once I push out a few chapters. The next chapter will be reader centric. If you have any ideas how you want the story to go feel free to suggest it, I like sharing ideas and providing a different view on things.
Thanks for reading!!
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https-hunter · 3 days
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Jay discussing Isaac’s life | “The Silent Partner”
requested by anonymous
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JULIAN FAWCETT MP (DISGRACED) HAS BEEN DEAD 31 SLUTTY SLUTTY YEARS !!
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weirdlookindog · 2 days
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"No one walks there now; Except in the white moonlight the white ghosts walk in a row"
Florence Harrison (1877-1955) - White Ghosts Walk in a Row
Illustration from the "Early poems of William Morris", 1914
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marinah2oblue · 3 days
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Ghosts 3X5
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halloween-sweets · 10 hours
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innerenigma · 18 hours
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Love my fanfic authors with a passion🤍 Y'all are the only fools that inspire me to draw anymore
danny imagines by KristieChick
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Thorfinn:”This year, Thor lost his lovely girlfriend, Flower”
Flower:(yelling from the well she’s stuck in) “STOP TELLING EVERYONE I WAS SUCKED OFF!”
Thorfinn:”Sometimes Thor can still hear her voice”
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vexypest · 2 days
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hear me out…
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Alex Brightman save me
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furiarossa · 7 hours
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Oh, the wholesome bond between a giant ghost dog and his little human master!
Tenth submission for the @green-with-envy-phandom-event! This is a collab: the lineart was created by @foxyteah, while we did the color.
[Oh, and a lot more of our Danny Phantom fanarts: Here’s our tag]
★ FurAffinity|Deviantart|Commission prices|Tapas|Pillowfort★
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