Anthony 'Ghost' Jonsson @thx-ghxst - Tumblr Blog

open to: m/f/nb, 30+, some sort of bounty hunter muse

verse: period/fantasy/supernatural

plot (depends on the verse, you decide!)

period: alina is a master con-artist, though she looks innocent and sweet. your muse has been tracking her for weeks. finally, y/m tracks her down to a large pond. we can plot it out! perhaps an eventual enemies to lovers? reluctant friends?

fantasy/supernatural: alina is a witch who's stepped out of bounds one two many times! y/m is a witch hunter or bounty hunter!

under the water, the world is calm and quiet. the only sounds alina could hear are the sound of her heartbeat and blood rushing through her ears. she wishes she could stay down there and disappear from it all, but her lungs begin to scream. the blonde emerges from the crystal water and takes in a few breaths, turning around at the sudden presence. "so you finally caught up to me...took you long enough."

thx-ghxst

Ghost did not take pride in his job, he was good at it just like he had been in the military. Hunting down souls like hers was taxing work, but he was good at it and it paid well enough. While his time in service hadn’t crossed any lines with the supernatural, he found he had a propensity for finding people like that. His body was sensitive to magic.

A skill he was still dialing in, the con artist he was trying to find was a grand prize of sorts. She did well to blend in both magic and non-magic communities. She seemed to find his hunt a fun game.

A game that ended at the waters edge. When she came up for air, he stood by her things, though his hands are empty his side arm was easy to see. “ how would you like to do this? “

thx-ghxst

@brooklynislandgirl

Tony figured he should feel some shame about the way his life was going, a decorated soldier dealing with street-level criminals for extra cash. To some extent, it kept a low-level amount of adrenaline in his system and kept his mind from wandering to darker places. The joys of partaking in the underbelly came and went. The car business was consistent enough with very minimal risk. His papers ran clean, and the shop didn't look too much one way or the other to get anyone's attention. At least until that day. The shop had been raided once a year prior; the cops were looking for an employee, not a stolen Maserati.

The day had started as normal as it could, one hiccup that would be paid in full soon enough.

Tick, tick- another pen clicked aimlessly- tick. Tony felt on edge; the client was late- no call. Nervous wasn't the right word, he was teetering closer to anger than fear. It was a waste of his time and the shops, getting a set of fresh tags as fast as they requested was closer to a favor than a normal happen stance.

And they were late. Tick-

Hearing the door swing open, he broke from his trance, pushing off the car he leaned on. The individual was not who he was expecting;, the surprise was communicated in a rise of his eyebrow. "Are you here for an appointment?" She hadn't dropped a car off for maintenance and she wasn't anything like the folks his client had sent before. Turning while she answered he shut the hood of the jeep he had been pretending to work on, kept his hands busy and his eyes off the clock.

"We don't have any openings for oil changes or tire checks," Tony had no idea how off his guess was.

brooklynislandgirl

There are days that you'd swear you'd peed in some divine entity's Wheaties, and as the kids say, now you're Finding Out. Beth doesn't really get what she did wrong; she'd gotten almost a whole five minutes of sleep between closing down the bar last night, and getting up for an early double work-shift, a whole sixteen hours on her feet in the emergency room. Normally she wouldn't have to do that on her own but Andy's back in New York, dealing with the Admiral so someone had to take up his slack. That someone is almost always her. Not that she minds; the bar's clientele are mostly off-duty and retired police officers so she's not in danger of being robbed or hit up on. Andy's reputation has made its way through the various precincts, or whatever they call the stations out here. But somewhere between exhaustion, L. A. traffic, and some jackass who didn't even leave a note, she now has one week to find, replace, repaint part of Sally and make her look like she never got a scratch while Beth was driving her, or… Or is being murdered the minute after he steps up to his car and sees the damage. If he loves anything more than her, it's his Mustang. She'd been given the name of four shops. The first three were all the wrong ones, either not having the right parts, not willing to do business with her, and the last one… well, she knows enough to know what a chop shop is and how unlikely it would be for her to walk out if she went inside. This last one on her list gives her the same vibe, but now she's running on desperation. The guy peels himself off the car and there's the invariable look on his face of…disappointment. She gets that a lot but now is not really the time for her to care about what he sees or doesn't see in her. "Not an appointment, exactly. But lissen t' me very carefully. I will give you a ridiculous amount of money to find an original front right quarter panel for a sixty four an' a half Mustang. An' if you can install dat, make sure her frame is perfectly straight, an' painted same-same midnight black as da rest of her in less dan a week? I will make my original offah look like spare change you find in da couch." She holds up her hands. "I'm even willin' t' pay half up front, but…I'm pretty sure ya shop's about to be raided by da mob. Dere's a suspicious amount of guys out front in dark cars. You expectin' dem, or do I gotta find someone else?" The flash-bang grenade breaks glass behind her.

thx-ghxst

Ghost personally didn’t believe much of a higher power, he would never adamantly deny the possibility that it existed. He had just lost faith that it really cared. The woman before him must have believed in something, because there was no real reason for her to be in his shop, Maybe God had a sense of humor after all. She barely came up to his chest, looked like she wouldn’t weigh more than a pair of boots soaked in rain. He wasn’t stupid enough to consider her harmless, it was a small sharp blade that could always fit between the ribs.

The stress was written on her features, and her tone told him that there was either a very angry boyfriend or possibly a dad involve whatever had gone wrong. The distinct lack of a black eye visible bruises made him think of the latter. He could picture the car she was talking about, and configure that her luck could run out at every other shop. Before he can be begin to entertain her request, the mention of men outside trigger reaction that likely save both of their lives. The sound of shattering glass followed by a deafening bang let him know that the client had just arrived. His movements are instinctual as both of his ears ring, dashing toward the woman. He pushed both of their bodies towards the office. Away from windows. A small barrage of bullets break the glass and dent the garage doors as I spread across, a heavy weapon and an untrained hand.

While he cannot hear them. He does see the shadows cross the threshold of the front door. Certain her hearing is no better, Ghost put a hand on the back of her head, shoving her under his desk. There isn’t time to argue. With the civilian in a decently safe space ghost turn to the drawers of his desks ripping one open. His service weapon gleamed back at him as he picked it up, he knew it was loaded and he knew it would be enough for the time being. He can feel the disruption in the air of a few shots going off, dust lurching off of the upper rails of the exposed ceiling. His first shot is clean, downing the first individual around the corner towards the office. Lowering himself, he crawled to the entryway, two more shots and two more bodies. A quick count tells him that there are three more two hanging back towards the front and one taking in the carnage displayed before him.

While, it would’ve gotten him reprimanded by Price Ghost was guided by feeling. Stepping from the office threshold, he fired one more shot taking out the man in front of him before he had a chance to scream. The last two were out the door before they even catch a glimpse of his face. Part of him considers, letting them leave, run back to whatever idiot sent them there and tell them what happened. The gun fire would be drawing the police though, a car speeding away from the scene wouldn’t look good. With that his feet are carrying him towards the front, whatever vehicle had brought them there, attempting to turn around in the tight lot. He lets them get on course, exposing the driver’s head through the rear window. One last shot rings out for the car rammed into the back of another vehicle in the lot.

Not wasting time, he closes the gap between the passenger door and the shop quickly catching the last of them as they had tried to escape.There’s no begging, there isn’t a chance to ask him to spend their life. Tucking the weapon into the back of his waistband he took their head in his hands, the motion is swift, and they dropped his feet. Within minutes of the flash bang, one planned funeral and turned into five. He is distinctly aware that his time is limited to hide what he can until he can pay someone to clean the shop. A tarp over their vehicle would be enough if the cops came poking around, all he’d have to do now is lock up the shop. Realization dawns over him though And his feet are carrying him back to the shop, right back to the office where she should be.

“ I can fix the car. I need a favor in return. “

noheroessarge

muse: Leo Barnes (The Purge) open to: 21+ only please / mutuals and non-mutuals / other canon horror muses, multifandom crossovers, OCs, whatever! triggers: canon-typical, including mentions of death/dead bodies, genocide, guns, violence, classism, racism, ableism, police, grief

21ST MARCH 2028

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EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM

WEAPONS OF CLASS 4 AND LOWER HAVE BEEN AUTHORIZED FOR USE DURING THE PURGE. ALL OTHER WEAPONS ARE RESTRICTED.

GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS OF RANKING 10 HAVE BEEN GRANTED IMMUNITY FROM THE PURGE AND SHALL NOT BE HARMED.

ANY AND ALL CRIME, INCLUDING MURDER, WILL BE LEGAL FOR 12 CONTINUOUS HOURS.

POLICE, FIRE, AND EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES WILL BE UNAVAILABLE UNTIL 7AM WHEN THE PURGE CONCLUDES.

BLESSED BE OUR NEW FOUNDING FATHERS AND AMERICA, A NATION REBORN.

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07:26:03 LEFT OF THE ANNUAL PURGE

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With one exception, Sarge had never cared for Purge night. It went against everything he'd sworn to do as a police officer. Protect and serve. It had been hard to argue with the results those first few years though because it seemed like it worked. Overall crime did go down in the country, and it stayed down. His job got easier. Then his world ended, and he believed in the Purge a lot. The Purge kept him going that whole first year. The Purge would get him the justice he'd never see in a courtroom. The Purge would set him free.

Yeah, grief could mess with a man's head like that. It wasn't until that night that he started to see it for what it was. Who was mostly likely to be a target. (Not him.) Who suffered the most on those nights. (Not him.) And who stood to benefit the most from things staying exactly as they were. (Not. Him.) It was unfairly stacked against people of color, people of low income, people who couldn't protect themselves. And, naturally, the New Founding Fathers liked it that way. Crime wasn't lower because people got to purge their darkest impulses once a year. It was lower because it cleared out all of society's "undesirables," and the government no longer had to pay to protect them. And when the Purge wasn't effective enough on its own, they sent their own people to help.

He would know.

He hadn't been able to stomach going back to the force after that night. He'd worked on the edges of private security for a couple years but hadn't yet decided if it was going to work out. Nobody needed a bodyguard more than on Purge night, and he wasn't quite willing to give this up. He'd been warned to stay out of it, warned not to play hero, but shit, it wasn't illegal. Nothing was tonight. The worst they could do was kill him, and that could happen just as easily if he was sitting at home as out here in the thick of it. (Maybe not just as easily. But he'd rather be a dead hero than a sitting duck.)

It wasn't that hard to tell the government Purgers from the regular population if you knew what you were looking for. They were better trained and better funded. Sure, you'd get the occasional rich asshole on a murder spree, with piles of fancy or custom weapons they had no fucking idea how to use, but more and more these days, the rich preferred to Purge in the privacy of their homes. Get someone old or sick or dying to come on Purge night, pay their family an enormous sum of money for their sacrifice, and never risk a damn thing. You could bet the government would be extra and trained. He fucking hated those semi-trucks with the automatic weapons in the back, take out a whole block at once like it was a goddamn genocide. (Wasn't it, in a way?)

He'd gotten lucky that first night. Few people had ever dared to fight back against that kind of weaponry. He'd caught them off guard. They were prepared now, but he was too. The explosion had knocked the semi on its side and left a crater in the street, and it was a chaos of gunfire and screaming. His team might not be well-funded or ex-military, but with a sniper rifle at that range, they didn't really have to be. There were plenty of people who hated the Purge even more than he did, and they were more than willing to hit back in any way they could. A little strategy, a little target practice, a little contracting, and you got this, a little street guerilla warfare.

When everyone with body armor, gas masks, and automatic weapons was on the ground, dead or dying, he stepped out from his cover but didn't holster his gun until it was clear he wasn't being shot at. Most of the people who had been hauled out of their tenement buildings to be slaughtered had already fled at the first opportunity, but a few had stayed behind, too shocked or injured to run. All of his team wore the same matte black mask, featureless and invisible in the shadows. It was an extra precaution; they'd already thrown out a signal jammer for the cameras. Everything might be legal on Purge night, but there were 364 other days in the year where "accidents" might happen to people who fought back.

He pushed it up to reveal his face as he knelt by a girl, maybe eight, frightened and bleeding. "Hey, it's alright. Can I have a look at that?" He nodded toward her arm, gently inspecting the three-inch gash in it, likely from being pushed to the ground. "It'll be okay. Hold it up like this to stop the bleeding. You got somewhere safe to go?" This he directed at the woman who had joined them. Mother, aunt, older sister? He had no idea. When she shook her head no, he produced a business card with a single address printed on it, no other information. "Memorize it. Head that way and take a left on 5th. There are weapons and medical supplies. You'll be safe there until morning." The card disappeared back into a pocket, and he nodded a goodbye as they started down the street. He needed to move too, before the next wave, before all the noise brought vultures of a different kind down on them.

It was instinct that had him pointing the gun before he even understood what the threat was or if there was one. He couldn't see clearly enough in the shadows of the alley to tell whether it was victim, threat, or something else entirely, but he hugged the building for cover and kept his aim steady.

"Come on out of there. Slowly."

thx-ghxst

Ghost had seen societies that lived like the Purge every night, war lords that reveled in their cities chaos. The states seemed to be on the same path, it surprised him more and more with each year that they managed to keep it to one night. Their own government had turned against them, giving weapons to the best trained to remove those deemed lesser. It was disgusting. 401 had stayed out of it as much as they could, rolling out to Prices ranch a few days before to fortify themselves and wait it out. The acres around the ranch kept them far from any real danger, Soap was a better shot than any no matter the distance. This year things were different, they ere called to action by a government none held loyalty toward. Under the guise of ‘private contractors’ no doubt the states had seen what they could do.

Price had turned them down claiming an old war injury and a sick wife were too much. Soap and Konig followed Ghost. They had a different plan and were glad to relieve the fucked up system of a few weapons. It wouldn’t stop the Purge. But, they’d use what they could to help those who needed it most. Tasked as support for the semi truck fleet 401 stayed right behind it, knocked clean off the block when the explosion went off. Unwilling to take a bullet for the corrupt the men managed to dodge the heat backtracking down an alleyway.

Some victory cries and sprinting innocents alerted them to what happened. Deciding to try and wait them out Ghost moved closer to the alleys mouth to get a vantage. The ring leader had peeled off his mask, a poor choice in his own opinion as he adjusted his. The small group backed down the alley as he approached, holstering his weapon ghost waited raising his hands. As the man rounded the corner he spoke gruffly, “You’re more ready than most. Guessin knittin wasn’t your day job.”

bluegiragi

wraith.

early access + nsfw on patreon

#au-tony

corvidamned

Kira gasped, startled to see another living soul in this godforsaken mansion. "You're alive! Here, you're not bit, are you?" She fussed, hands hovering to assess any damage. "There's people in this house, but they're not cannibals. They come back if you don't destroy the remains."

thx-ghxst

His heart was racing, the pounding of it drowning out most any of the noise in the mansion. Eyes scanning every shadow, the man stumbled his way into the library, one of the few rooms it seemed was untouched. His hand gripped his service weapon tightly, finger resting outside of the trigger well. Just in case.

When the woman gasped, he turned, keeping the barrel to the ground. She sounded human. While she patted him down, he shook his head, tugging at the bandana showing his face. "I'm alright. How the hell did you get in here? The place is crawling with them."

manufactoredxbyxdesign

No amount of time spent working beneath those bright fluorescent lights has made him impervious to the white glow. Everything from the walls to the table where he sets his notes is the same shade of white. Even now, he appreciates just how pristine it appeared. The labs of Umbrella were meticulous - sterile in ways even the finest hospitals would never reach.

When the door clicks across the room the corner of his mouth tightens, undeterred by the company. But not pleased by it either.

In his presence so many of the others turn into ghosts. They move without speaking. Discreet and refraining from disturbing the tall, pale creature leaning over a table in the core of the room.

He is so adjusted to it that even the heavy footfall draws his focus - a noise that he is not used to hearing in this environment.

Though annoyed, he does not speak. Choosing instead to pause and discreetly close the notebook he has been writing in while he waits for them to speak.

thx-ghxst

Private contracts were something Tony never pictured himself taking on when he was given his papers. The shop had been his dream and for a few years; it was his baby. However, with the people he had trusted to work under his roof, things ran just fine without him. The boredom lead to plenty of poor choices, anything to challenge himself or chase a small dump of adrenaline.

The map of choices he had made to end up in that lab was something even he didn't understand. But, there he was. His old gear fit like a glove, his heart fluttering as he dawned the same haunting mask. Behind it Tony could fade away, Ghost could take charge.

Ghost's eyes scanned the pale man twice before he started to scribble on a piece of paper. "Higher-ups told me to find you. Guess there are some loose ends that need tying." The man's accent was fading but clung coat tails of a few words.

@brooklynislandgirl

Tony figured he should feel some shame about the way his life was going, a decorated soldier dealing with street-level criminals for extra cash. To some extent, it kept a low-level amount of adrenaline in his system and kept his mind from wandering to darker places. The joys of partaking in the underbelly came and went. The car business was consistent enough with very minimal risk. His papers ran clean, and the shop didn't look too much one way or the other to get anyone's attention. At least until that day. The shop had been raided once a year prior; the cops were looking for an employee, not a stolen Maserati.

The day had started as normal as it could, one hiccup that would be paid in full soon enough.

Tick, tick- another pen clicked aimlessly- tick. Tony felt on edge; the client was late- no call. Nervous wasn't the right word, he was teetering closer to anger than fear. It was a waste of his time and the shops, getting a set of fresh tags as fast as they requested was closer to a favor than a normal happen stance.

And they were late. Tick-

Hearing the door swing open, he broke from his trance, pushing off the car he leaned on. The individual was not who he was expecting;, the surprise was communicated in a rise of his eyebrow. "Are you here for an appointment?" She hadn't dropped a car off for maintenance and she wasn't anything like the folks his client had sent before. Turning while she answered he shut the hood of the jeep he had been pretending to work on, kept his hands busy and his eyes off the clock.

"We don't have any openings for oil changes or tire checks," Tony had no idea how off his guess was.

#beth #ghost #on-the-run

newaccount-loscriimiinales

open starter : don't be fooled , i'm the devil in disguise !

KIERAN BEAUCHAMP was taught at a VERY young age that life was not easy and would not be easy for him either , the last time that he had seen his mother was when she sold him for a quick fix. by some kind of miracle he ended with no other than momma beauchamp, she was everything that his mother wasn't ; kind, nurturing, optimistic, bright . . . . yes, BRIGHT. as crazy as that sounds, she was the one thing that always gave him some hope. FAST FORWARD , years later kieran beauchamp is the king of the irish mafia. ❛ you do what i say because i told you to , you walk because i give you permission, you breath air because i grant it and the second that i choose otherwise, you become useless to me, do you understand ? ❜

thx-ghxst

Tony's jaw flexed and relaxed as the man spun to face him, his face remained stone-cold as he let the man finish. It was his job to fall in line, just as it had been when he served. Now he served a man instead of a country, "Yes'sir," the word came out as a mumble as he pushed off the wall.

"Who's the car for? I need to get the paperwork in order," it was why he had interrupted the man. He had been given a heads up that the shop was getting looked at being raided, meaning they needed to clean up. "I need to get them on the road today."

#on the run verse

sevenxtenxthriteen

@thx-ghxst

Yara chuckled lightly to herself as she watched her husband working to put the children to bed. She'd made a bet that if he could finish before she finished her nighttime routine they could try for baby number three. He was failing spectacularly. But she was sure enjoying watching him try after all the time he had to spend away from them.

"She won't go to sleep unless you tuck in her bebe mi amor." She explained as she took her last bite of strawberry yogurt and rose to her feet. Their little girl was a terror when it came to bedtime unless everything was done just so. Warm milf with cinnamon, a story, and her doll tucked in next to her. "Are you sure you want another one of those running around here?"

thx-ghxst

sevenxtenxthriteen:

@thx-ghxst

Yara chuckled lightly to herself as she watched her husband working to put the children to bed. She’d made a bet that if he could finish before she finished her nighttime routine they could try for baby number three. He was failing spectacularly. But she was sure enjoying watching him try after all the time he had to spend away from them.

“She won’t go to sleep unless you tuck in her bebe mi amor.” She explained as she took her last bite of strawberry yogurt and rose to her feet. Their little girl was a terror when it came to bedtime unless everything was done just so. Warm milf with cinnamon, a story, and her doll tucked in next to her. “Are you sure you want another one of those running around here?”

Did he know he was in over his head? Yes. The man had survived covert ops he couldn’t dream of telling her about, but he was about to be bested by a crafty two year old. She simply had to show him every toy or clothing item they had acquired since his last visit home, all before she could be bothered to get tucked in.

Or, that had been his assumption until he was being told otherwise by the angel that had gifted him the pair. “The doll- mi vida- how could I forget?” he hummed before throwing a smile her way, “I would suffer this night a hundred times over. With as many as you’ll allow me.” Ale had wanted a big family since he was young, a dream he figured was long gone before Yara had entered his life.

Tucking in the doll and the small one he smirked, ‘A treat for my suffering,” he finished off the glass of milk their youngest had downed when he brought it to her. Standing and turning off the light he shut the door behind him, “Am I too late?”

thx-ghxst

@sevenxtenxthriteen

@thxhornxdonx

thx-ghxst

thxhornxdonx:

The woman liked to keep tabs on the many men her parents tried to marry her off to. With the princeling being the one who lasted the longest she had a decided interest in him. When she finally found out went missing a brief wave of worry crashed over her. The giant of a man was kind, not overly ambitious or full of himself. And if she had to be tied down to one man it might as well be him.

Within 30 minutes she had called her brother and told him everything asking him to take care of it. As she had done for him when it came to his only lovely future wife. Kaguya knew that he himself could not go but could tip off his team who were no doubt looking for him with the location she had gathered. She had never met them personally but that would change when he returned safely.

Kazuya a given her the contact information of the team leader; Price. She shot him a quick message with any updated information she had received since talking to her brother attached/

‘We do not know each other but we have a person in common. With your background, I hope that with the information previously provided and the stuff I just sent you can locate him. When you are headed home please reach out. If I don’t hear from you in 48hrs I will assume that you have failed and will proceed with a contingency plan.

Kaguya’

“I’ll give them one thing- they’re good,” Price muttered, reading over the additional letter for the hundredth time. Who else was Konig in bed with? The Capt wondered as he adjusted the coordinates on the map, “He aint far.” The team was champing at the bit for the extraction. If the intel was any good- which it was looking like it was, the 48hr window would be a breeze. Ghost and Aaron were closet and stood to grab their bags as soon as Price gave them the nod, go time.

The copter was in the air within the hour, they were kicking the door in not too long after. What they found was nothing short of hell on earth, Konig was torn apart on the table from what Price would guess was a botch torture attempt. The man had some fight in him as Aaron patched up what he could in the field, the rest would be up to a doctor in a proper hositpal. A flight to Germany was arragned, it was the most nuetral territory that Price could figure. Part of him hoped whoever it was would show up, at least put a name to a face. He’d get hell for the meeting, it was all as under the table as he could make it without risking the team getting court martialed over it.

With Konig sedated enough to travel the team was visibly calmer, Price could feel the knot in his chest losening. After the message returned he messaged Stella.

Unknown: We have him. Attached is the hospital coords. Thanks for the tip.

Stella: We found him. He’ll be treated in Germany, we’ll be home within the week I’d guess. Call you soon.