#Danny doesn’t want anyone to die because of his inventions

[mkarchin713]

Okay this was just getting ridiculous.

When Joker found out about a mad scientist selling his wares cheap on the internet, hey support local business owners and bought a whole bunch of Ray guns.

They where great. Well balanced, low environmental impact, locally sourced and packed a punch.

Let it never be said Joker didn’t care about the environment and supporting local commerce. He couldn’t burn the world down if there was no world after all.

There was just one little problem with all the Ray guns he bought

“Living Entity Detected in Target Direction, for Safety the Trigger is now Locked”

Every single damned time.

Every single damned machine.

Every single time he tried to shot someone those accursed words rang out and his jokes fell flat.

Joker had tried everything to turn the damn safety off but every time he he succeeded he made the ray gun unstable.

How was a guy supposed to give someone One Bad Day using weapons sold at reasonable prices if the damn thing didn’t fizzle out right before the punch line.

It looks like he had no choice but to kidnap the Domestic Mad Scientist and get him to turn off the safeties on his accursed ray guns.

Halloween prompts year 2 day 12

Danny moves to Gotham for college, much to Jazzs horror. To be fair he got a good scholarship that payed for his entire tuition and 80% of his living expenses. He was still on his own for a lot of stuff like clothing, furniture and text books.

So Danny, being the son of mad scientists who sell thier inventions, begins making mad scientists things like shrink rays and cryo guns whatnot for domestic use and selling them to the general public. His parents are so proud when they hear and Danny is doing everything he can to stay on the legal side of things.

Half the bats are convinced hes evil and the other half are browsing his online store (actually tim is doing that regardless of which side he's on) and buying stuff.

Danny wasn't making much at first but after people found out they were legit and were safe to use and have built in things to prevent them from harming people, they began selling out fast. All of them are too weak to be used as weapons but can be used for things like instant ice cubes, shrinking/growing furniture for moving or just making it more comfortable, ect.

Aka Danny becomes gothams Domestic Mad Scientist

[five-rivers]

Detection (true version)

This is the second version of this prompt I've written. I decided I liked this take better. Like the other one, it is a loose continuation of Flight Simulation.

Prompt by @faedemon: Ghosts are naturally drawn to death. When people die in Amity Park, Danny keeps finding the bodies. (PR263)

.

"You know," said Detective Collins conversationally, "if most of these guys hadn't been dead longer than you've been alive, I'd be wondering if you were some kind of serial killer."

Danny hunched his shoulders.  As a… whatever he was, he had some powers.  Intangibility, invisibility, overshadowing, transformation, ghost sense, and now… this.  He guessed it might be an extension of his ghost sense.  After all, both had to do with finding dead people.  

"What is this one, the sixth?"

"Fifth," corrected Danny, although that didn't make him any less miserable.  He stared through the trees at the swarm of forensics people.  This was the fifth dead human body he'd been drawn to since the Accident, not counting the incidents at the cemetery and the hospital.

Collins scribbled something on his notepad then snapped it closed.  “Okay, off the record?”

“Huh?  Uh, sure?”

“Is this some new thing from your parents?  Did they make a dead body finder and scrap it because it didn’t find ghosts?  Because, if so, the department would definitely like to get our hands on one.”

“What?”

Collins sighed, slightly, and continued at a slightly slower pace.  “If the reason you’re finding all these bodies is that you’re using one of your parents’ inventions, the police department will buy it from you.  Heck, we’d commission a dozen from your parents.”

“It isn’t an invention,” said Danny.  “But, I mean, that sounds like a good idea.  I don’t know how it’d work, but if it did, I could see it.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he wanted to punch himself in his face.  A perfect excuse, and he just hammered it to pieces.

“Pity,” said Collins.  “But this,” –he pointed at where Danny had found the skeleton– “isn’t normal.  Finding five bodies like this by coincidence is unheard of.  Did you get cursed or something?”

Danny shrugged.  Honestly, he might as well be cursed.  “My ancestors on my Dad’s side were witch hunters way back when, so it wouldn’t really surprise me, but…  I haven’t heard of any curse?  That doesn’t mean that I would have heard of a curse, even if there was one…”

“Hm.  Think you’re haunted?”

“My parents are ghost hunters,” said Danny.  “They aren’t always the most observant, but–”

“Danny!”  There was a crash near the park entrance.  Danny winced and blushed.  Marley Park was one of the biggest and wildest still in Amity Park’s services district, but they weren’t actually that far from the entrance.  It was very easy to recognize the sounds of his father’s driving.  

“Did anyone tell them this was an active crime scene?” muttered Collins, flipping his pad back open.  

“Probably multiple times,” said Danny.  Collins flinched a little, having probably not intended for Danny to hear.  Oh, well.  

Danny’s parents thundered down the path, followed by a lot of shouting.  

“Danny, baby!” said Maddie, throwing her arms around him.  “What happened?  What are you even doing all the way out here?”

“He found a body,” said Collins.  “Specifically a skeleton.”

“What?” said Maddie.  “Again?”

“Ohhh,” said Jack, almost growling.  “I know what this is!  This is some blasted ghost trying to make our Danny look bad!”  He pulled out a bazooka.  “When I find it, I’m gonna–!”

“Mr. Fenton,” said Detective Collins, “please, there are no ghosts here.  We took ectoplasm readings when we got here, first thing.  This is a crime scene.  You need to put your weapon away.”

Jack grumbled, but did so.  The other policemen in the area, who had put their hands on their weapons, slowly relaxed.  

“Anyway,” said Collins, “this is an older body, so we…”  He trailed off and made a face.  “I think we all can agree this isn’t a coincidence anymore, but it’s safe to say that Danny wasn’t involved in the actual death of this person.”

“Of course,” said Maddie, who was still checking Danny over, as if the years-dead skeleton could have hurt him.  

“Anyway, if you, any of you, ever figure out what’s causing…”  He gestured at Danny.

“Right,” said Maddie.  “We’ll let you know.”

Danny shrugged, because he sure wouldn’t.  

“And our offer to refer you to a therapist still stands.”

“Thank you,” said Maddie.  “We’ll talk about it.”

Danny was bundled down the path and into the back seat of the GAV.  He slumped, feeling exhausted.  

“Danny,” said Maddie, after Jack had started the engine.  “Why were you out here?”

Jack backed up enthusiastically, and Danny used his need to adjust his position as an excuse not to answer right away.  “I was just walking,” said Danny.  

“Without your friends?” pressed Maddie.  “Or did they just leave before the police showed up this time?”

“They weren’t there,” said Danny.  

Of course, the reason they weren’t there was that they hadn’t been able to keep up with the ghost fight once it started to go through walls.  And then, of course, Skulker just had to pick Danny up and rub in the fact that Danny couldn’t fly.

Jerk.  

Danny much preferred Technus.  At least he only trapped Danny in video games and acted like an avuncular and completely out of touch mad scientist.  Dealing with him was almost fun, if completely terrifying sometimes.  

(Pac Man was an abomination that should never have been created.)

Anyway, Danny had, eventually, managed to get Skulker back to ground level and fish him out of his stupid helmet.  By that point, though, he’d been in the park, and then he had to get out of the park and that’s when he’d noticed the pull.  And there was only one thing that particular pull led to.

Danny couldn’t just leave the body once he’d found it.  That would be… Well, illegal, probably, but considering he was a kinda-sorta vigilante whose existence was illegal under the Anti-Ecto Acts, he didn’t really care about that.  It was more about leaving a person forgotten and unmourned.  Not given proper rites, whatever those were for the person in question.  

Maddie sighed at him.  Danny squirmed in his seat.  

“They really weren’t with me at the park.”

“But you still haven’t said why you were there.”

“I was just walking.”

“Mhm,” said Maddie, dubiously.  “But why there?”

“Why not there?”

“Because it’s all the way across the city!” said Maddie.  

“You’d tell us if you knew you were being haunted, right, Danno?” asked Jack.

“Yeah,” said Danny.  Well, if a ghost was really harassing him, he might.  He’d told them about Johnny.  He hadn’t told him about Skulker, though.  Was what Skulker was doing really haunting, though?  

Attempted murder, though, sure.  Danny didn’t think he could leave without his skin, after all.  

Maddie sighed.  “Alright.”

That signaled the end of the conversation, and Danny slid his phone out of pocket to text Sam and Tucker.  

Danny: im w my prints

Danny: left the park

Sam: u ok

Danny: ye

Tucker: u sure? skulker got u rely good that time

Tucker: and he picked u up. still p sure u cant fly

Danny: shut up

Sam: yeah tuck thats the thing hes sensitive about

Danny sighed and put his phone away.  It was over and done with.  Everything was going to be fine.  

At least, until the next time he found a dead body.  But how many missing dead people could there be in Amity Park?

.

The next time they went on a field trip, Danny wanted to beat his head in for even thinking something like that.  

“Uh, Danny,” said Tucker, “you’re eying that wall really intensely.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, “that’s because there’s a corpse in it.”

“What.”

“Yeah, that was my reaction.”

“Hey, guys,” said Sam, walking up behind Danny and Tucker.  “I hate to interrupt your contemplation, but the art’s hung up over there.  Why are you both staring at a wall?  Are you turning into cats?”

“Well, Danny can already detect ghosts–”

Danny elbowed him in the side.  “There’s a dead body in the wall,” he muttered.  

Sam’s eyebrows went up.  “In an art museum?”

“That is where we are.”

“You know what I mean.  What’re you going to do?”

Danny ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.  “I don’t know.  It’s not like there’s any,” –he waved his hand at the wall– “evidence, so I can’t just call.”

“Didn’t that one detective dude give you his phone number?” asked Tucker.  “Maybe he’d believe you.”

“I don’t know…”

“You could come back as, you know, and phase it out,” suggested Sam.  

“My alter ego has enough problems without being associated with murder.”

“Maybe you could be an anonymous tip,” said Tucker, fiddling with the power button of his PDA.  “I could look up how.”

Danny made a face.  “They all know who I am.”

“All of them?” asked Tucker, skeptically.

“You try calling in five separate skeletons while being the son of ghost hunters.  Yes, they all know who I am.”

“You could still leave a letter.”

“You could ‘accidentally’ put a hole in the wall,” said Sam.  “Or you could phase something halfway in, and then when they have to clean it up, they’ll find it?”

“Doesn’t do much good when they might be the people to put it in in the first place,” said Danny, making a face.

“Could you tip someone off as… you know?”

“Same problem phasing it out of the wall.”  He covered his eyes, feeling the approach of a headache.

Ugh.  He was going to have to punch a hole in this wall.  

He’d have to do it soon, too, otherwise the tour would move on and he’d have to try something else.  

“Mr. Fenton, Miss Manson, Mr. Foley,” called Mr. Lancer, “we’re– Mr. Fenton!  Catcher in the Rye!  Why would you punch the wall?”  Over his shoulder, the tour guide and a security guard started jogging over.

“Uh,” said Danny, cradling his hand, because punching through drywall with his stupid unprotected human hand hurt.  “Because… There’s a skeleton in it?”

Why did he feel the need to tell the truth in stupid, stupid situations like this?

“Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer, thunderously, “stop making up–”  Danny knew the moment Mr. Lancer actually looked into the hole in the wall, because his face went the color of milk.  “The Cask of Amontillado,” he said, then sat down.  

.

“So,” said Detective Collins, looking at the wall.  “You want to explain how you knew this one was there?”

Danny didn’t have to fake the tears of frustration in his eyes.  His powers were so stupid sometimes.  

“Well,” said the detective.  “This is sure going to be a murder mystery and a half, then.”

.

“So, are we off to solve a murder?” asked Tucker.  

“Why would we be solving a murder?” asked Danny, dropping his backpack on the floor of the bus, where they were waiting for the police to be done with all of them.  

Tucker blinked.  “Because you just found a dead body.”

“It’s hardly the first time,” said Danny, quietly.  He didn’t exactly want something like that to become common knowledge among his fellow students.  Not that he expected it would stay quiet or anything.  

“Well, yeah, but those were just, you know, accidental deaths.”

“We don’t know that.  We don’t know anything about solving murders, either.  Why are you suddenly so gung-ho about this?  I thought dead bodies freaked you out.”

“Sure do,” agreed Tucker.  He shrugged.  “Murder mysteries are cool, though.”

“Wow,” said Sam, looking up from her paperback.  “You aren’t okay with hospitals, but murder–”

“Look, it happened a long time ago, okay?  Guy was a skeleton.  Whoever killed him must be long dead by now.”

“Yeah,” drawled Danny.  “Long dead.  Because length of time spent dead is a good indicator of how much of a problem someone is going to be.  How long have Desiree and Poindexter been dead?  How about Technus?”

Tucker opened his mouth, closed it, went through a variety of emotions, then pushed himself to the end of the bench, muttering.  

Danny leaned back, too.  Rumors at school and his bruised knuckles aside, this was almost peaceful.  

“HEY!” bellowed Dash from the front of the bus.  “CORPSE SNIFFER!”

Aaaaaand there it went. 

[redrobin-detective]

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image. 

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!” 

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes. 

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race. 

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable. 

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form. 

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur. 

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy. 

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams. 

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. 

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice. 

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head. 

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless. 

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.” 

[datawyrms]

Ghostly Mystery Tour

For Phic Fight 2021! dey’s lovely prompt c:

On Ao3

Maddie and Jack had fully prepared for their adventure into the Ghost Zone—or so they thought. The fuel on Specter Speeder had fizzled out about a mile in. They're stuck. At least, until Phantom comes by, offering help.

“I just don’t understand it Maddie, I swear I charged it just this morning!” Jack’s voice managed to be louder than his frantic jabbing at the fuel gauge in the enclosed space, the sickly green glow outside making him look ill instead of agitated.

“I’m sure you did honey, but we need to think of a plan.” Maddie was already trying to think of what they could use. They weren’t too far away from the portal home, with how quickly the Speeder ran out of power. They had plenty of gear and weaponry packed in for their research trip, but the Specter Speeder wasn’t powered with something they could just toss in a gas can and bring along. “Maybe we can hook some of the ropes to the floating land masses and tow it?”

“Oh! Great idea!” Jack brightened, shoving the previous problem aside, hands now occupied with measuring the distance of the nearby rocks. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can get back to work!”

The problem about how safe it actually was to breathe in the air when in the realm of the dead had been accounted for, but if they had to waste the air tanks just to get back- well they wouldn’t get to have nearly the amount of time to actually explore on foot, let alone gathering samples. They could learn so much about the ectoplasmic terrors from the world they clawed out of, weaknesses they didn’t need to fear on Earth even! So to have their expedition, a trip that had been months in the making derailed like this in mere moments hurt. At least Jack could keep his eyes forward, his positive attitude the only thing keeping her from screaming from the absolute unfairness of it all. “Just run the best options past me before you open the hatch, okay darling?”

“You betcha!”

She was still going to enable the Fenton Child Safety Lock as a precaution, he could get a little over eager when he saw an opportunity. It was just a matter of what tools could be repurposed into a makeshift claw or skewer to actually keep hold of the rocks. What would be the smallest loss?

The sound of something hitting the roof of the speeder halted her thoughts, turning to look out of the windows, drawing up her hood in case they’d be fighting so soon. Even Jack had stopped with his mental calculations, pulling a weapon from under the seat. “Company already? Guess we’ll show em what for, eh honey?”

“Well it is the Ghost Zone, they’re probably braver here. Not that it’ll be any problem.” A little boasting could help keep morale up, even if the situation was less than ideal. Stranded with a ghost already trying to take advantage, typical.

“Well one little zap with this baby and it’ll scoot right on back!”

If the ghost could hear them, maybe it would be frightened off just by their voices. Whatever had hit them hadn’t shown itself near the window, or hit their vehicle again. It didn’t feel right. There might be no evidence for whatever it was lurking around, but sometimes you had to follow your intuition. Jack was inquisitive, but didn’t ask out loud as his wife stood to knock the ceiling herself.

“Sooo are we doing knock knock jokes, or do you need a tow?”

She should have known. Of all the ghosts, it would have to be the one that always managed to get her hackles up, pretending to be helpful so people trusted him. A ghost that even tried to have a human name to fit in, not that she’d ever call this thing ‘Danny’. It was an insult to her baby boy, quite frankly. “What are you up to now?”

“Asking you if you need this thing moved. Duh,” the ghost snorted, the metal clanking as he knocked it again. “Talking at you from the roof feels dumb, you gonna shoot if I go to the front?”

“Depends on what you do, ghost scum!” Jack had looked pensive for a moment, but spoke up quickly on spotting Maddie reaching for a notebook. He just had to give her time to think it over, and he was great at distractions.

“Is scum what you call all people who help you out, or am I just your favourite?” A white haired head appeared at the top of their window, looking down with an amused smirk at the pair. Still playing innocent when they were at a disadvantage.

“You’re a ghost ‘claiming’ to want to help.”

That earned a frown, though the ghost stopped half hiding to float in front of their stranded speeder. “Riiiight. Put it that way, whatever,” he paused, as if studying their faces. His green eyes lingered on the weapon, notably so even as he went back to jabbering. “I’ve got some stuff to do, but I can drag the s-that thing back to the portal. So?”

The hunters shared a glance, unsure how to handle it. Phantom liked to claim he liked humans and protecting them, but he was a ghost. There had to be something he wanted out of them in return. Or might get violent if refused in the wrong way. At least he shouldn’t be able to see the quickly scrawled message to Jack. ‘You play the doubtful one, I’ll pretend to trust him- it’ll underestimate us’

“As if, spooky! Jack Fenton doesn’t need any ghost’s help!”

The ghost bought the open hostility without a second thought, eyes rolling to a sky that wasn’t here. “Really? I heard tow trucks were expensive out of state! Can’t imagine the out of dimension costs.”

It was going to be difficult to stay civil when it would be so much easier to just demand the ghost stop playing around. “We’re listening. So what do you want?”

“Awwww Mads, we don’t need this punk’s help! He doesn’t even have toes!”

The passion Jack had put into his moping managed to baffle the ghost. “Wait, what? Of course I do! No, stop, why does that matter? I know tows and toes are different things! I’m not that bad of a student, sheesh.” He seemed quite thrown, which was good. If the ghost forgot what the plan had been he might just get lost.

“Yeah, and you don’t have either Phantom!” Her husband managed to keep from laughing, but the shake in his shoulders showed it was a near thing.

Phantom glanced down at the black wispy tail that made up his legs, muttering something. “Well okay I don’t right now, but I normally do!”

It was a bit fascinating that Jack had distracted the ghost from his goal so completely. They’d have to think about an invention that could replicate the effect. “Can we focus please? I already said I’d listen to what you wanted.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” he coughed, a strangely human expression of embarrassment. “I don’t actually need anything? I just have some stuff to do so you’d need to wait a bit.”

Oh right. Sure, the most dangerous ghost in town wanted to help the ghost hunters that wanted to destroy him ‘just because’. Just wait here while he goes to get some friends to attack them! Honestly, did ghosts think they were stupid? “Then why not tell us when you’re done? We’re not moving very quickly.”

“Cus he wants to make us think we’re safe before WHAM! Outnumbered by cowardly ghosts!” Jack expressed her true feelings effortlessly. “Not that it’d help em!”

“No way, you think I’d leave you guys here where anyone can try something?” The ghost still seemed confused, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. “You guys are here to study or whatever anyway, right? So you can look around while I get my errands done. And you know, you don’t get attacked. Most of the little guys leave me alone.”

As if that was a surprise! A ghost of Phantom’s strength could destroy smaller and weaker entities without effort. Perhaps it was a subtle threat slipping through his mask of ‘helpful child’. The idea of going deeper into the Ghost Zone, completely at his mercy was...well absolutely idiotic. Even if they could probably overcome him...being able to still get some studies done would make it not a complete waste of a trip. “So you think it’s likely we’ll be attacked here, so close to the portal?”

“Yeah, by him!” Jack looked tempted to grab his weapon, but refrained. “So what if we say no, huh?”

“Then I guess you can float here? Up to you, I guess.”

It was strange, to see the cocky ghost a bit hesitant. Even if there was an obvious threat he wasn’t mentioning. “Well if you could pull the Speeder, you could take it even if we don’t want you to.”

“I think that’s called kidnapping.” Phantom’s cocky smirk returned “Which is weird, you’re not kids! Adultnapping? Nah, that sounds dumb.”

“Ah cut the innocent act, we’re not falling for it!”

“Hey, I said it’s up to you! Either you agree to come along and I get you back home, or I just leave you guys to do whatever you plan to do. Even if yes, I could totally just drag the ship anyway. I’m not, because I’m trying to help, remember?” A hint of frustration slid past the confidence at ‘remember’, but the ghost folding his arms behind his head as if kicking back to relax did defang most of the threat. “I don’t have all day here.”

“We don’t have all day either Phantom. We have family to get back to, and no idea how long you plan to be ‘on errands’.” Maddie pointed out, still unsure what they should do. Trusting him was stupid, but he had showed his hand. Refusal might be met with the same result anyway, but ‘agreeing’ might trick the ghost into thinking they fell for his ‘trustworthy’ act.

“Like an hour or two? Not too long.”

“Well I’d use my Fenton Stopwatch! So don’t think you can pretend it’s a shorter time than it is, ghost!”

“Yeah yeah, you do that D-Jack,” he stumbled over the ghost hunter’s name, but otherwise didn’t move from relaxing. “It’s not gonna kill you to trust me for a bit.”

Even though it very much could kill them. He really was a smug bit of ectoplasm, thinking he blended in with humans well enough to be considered one. “So only a few hours, and you won’t stop us from researching or taking samples? Or lead us to a trap?”

“If I wanted people to get threatened by ghosts, I could just take some days off. No trouble, cross my heart. I’d swear to die but I got the jump on that bit,” he snorted at his own joke, but otherwise left the family to consider.

It was just safer to say ‘yes’ so the ghost thought they were fools. It had nothing to do with wanting to salvage something out of this disaster of an expedition. “Yes. We’ll accept your help, this time.”

“And you aren’t getting any thanks until we’re home, got it?” Good, ghost hunter, bad ghost hunter. An easy enough trick. Even if she wished Jack was the ‘trusting’ one. Yelling would feel nice.

“Yeeeah, kinda expected that too. Rude.” The ghost only shrugged before flying up and out of sight. She half expected to hear the ghost grab the Speeder, but they only really noticed when they started moving. Moving very, very quickly.

She couldn’t help it, her curiosity tamped down some of the fear she should be feeling, pointing out interesting landmasses as they passed, Jack just as enthusiastic to discuss what caused them, if the ghost built them or they were simply generated when a ghost squirmed into existence. A great castle that seemed familiar, an island with some sort of skull as a decoration and thousands of doors. Most ghosts they only could get sparing glimpses at, even when carrying an entire vehicle the ghost boy was fast. Ridiculously so. She thought it was his small figure that contributed to how quickly the pest could move- how the ghost could just vanish out of range in moments. That most of the power behind his physical attacks came from the speed they were delivered with instead of raw strength. Clearly that was an incorrect hypothesis, moving this quickly and carrying so much extra weight without any real difficulty. They slowed near what seemed to be another castle, though it was much less foreboding looking then the other one.

That sinking dread returned after they landed. She had some landmarks, but this much distance would be a big ask to get back. That, and this castle seemed more...occupied, judging by some humanoid ghosts loitering near the gates. One even waved. To them, or the ghost carrying them?

“Okayyy so. Ground rules? Don’t shoot anyone. None of these guys even go through the portal, they’re not the fighting type. Other than that? Have fun, I guess?” He’d stopped floating, standing on the ground beside their stalled craft. He didn’t look as if preparing to fight, which is what she’d assumed the ghost meant by ‘errands’. So what was he up to?

“We won’t do anything if they don’t.” A lie, honestly, but the ghost nodded.

“Wait, what’s that stuff for?” White gloves pointed at the masks the ghost hunters were pulling from under the seats. “Like you can hear me, there’s air out here.”

“It might be safe for ghosts, but we aren’t ghosts.”

Phantom opened his mouth as if to protest before shutting it with a frown. Strange, it was hard to get him to shut up most of the time.

“Nice try, we’re not gonna choke on ghost air today, Phantom!” Jack chuckled, adjusting his mask before popping open the hatch.

“I wasn’t expecting you to- oh whatever. Just don’t embarrass me,” he sounded like a sulking kid, only glancing at them for a moment before kicking off the ground to fly closer to the castle. Off to fight whoever ‘owned’ this area, perhaps?

“Well look at that! Regular plants!” Jack shook her from her pondering, crouched over what looked like a tended to flower bed near the walls. “Well, ghost plants that aren’t trying to attack. Think we should sketch em for the kids?”

“Well Jazz has been more interested in ghosts lately, I suppose.” It was interesting, but she was more curious about the ghost meandering past the walls. They seemed docile, almost like people just walking and apparently talking with one another. Not attempting to fight for territory or resources. Perhaps they were just repeating the memories of their lives over and over? Yet none of them had reacted badly to Phantom zipping past either. A different breed of ghost, perhaps? Or ghosts often had ‘kings’ that kept the lesser ones from squabbling. The large brute of a ghost that stole the town had claimed to be a king of sorts, and this was another castle...but she didn’t want to test anything by getting their attention. They might only act savagely towards humans, being jealous of those still alive after all.

“Yeah, she has! Danno might not like em, but that goth chick he’s eyeing might like em too!” He was already sketching away, quickly getting the basics. He’d fill in the details from memory back home. “You want to try seeing if those ones talk? Not sure how the ghost kid thinks we could embarrass him, ha!”

“Oh he was probably just trying to insult us. He likes to pretend to be a teenager,” she waved that question away, double checking her weapon was easy to reach in case of an emergency. No reason to make their predicament worse by being unprepared. While still considering to go near those ghosts instead of safely observing from a distance. Jack’s enthusiasm was too infectious, really, but that’s how they made so many discoveries!

The ghosts didn’t object to her moving closer, but she kept off the busier paths to be safe. So many stalls of what seemed to be goods, clothing and paintings, rugs and nick knacks. Well, the ghosts didn’t need anything to live, so it would make sense for them to prioritize other items first, but the art was strange. What did the dead know of creativity? Were these all recreations of something found in life? No, some of the paintings had the green skies of the Ghost Zone, implying at least some ‘new’ thought. They were strange, very unlike the wild animals that often attacked the town, or the showy inhuman mimics that tried to claim world domination. They just looked like greener, more transparent people. Barely any of them even floated much. They’d need new categories, they broke too many rules that stayed true on Earth.

“Oh that’s a lovely shade of blue! I wish I could make something like it.” The voice echoed, but it wasn’t growling or mocking. In fact, the ghost woman who had paused beside the hunter was smiling warmly, despite the dead red eyes. “Are you just visiting for a bit?”

“We’re mostly stuck going wherever the ghost boy is taking us, our ship broke down,” Maddie struggled not to frown, her natural inclination to get away from the still potentially dangerous ghost strong with so many fights. She could tell it the truth, in a sense. Phantom was far more likely to be dangerous then this waif of a woman. How she could move in so many ruffles was baffling.

“Oh dear! Well if he’s any trouble you can let Dorthea know, she’s a caring ruler. A human helped her get her rightful throne back, so I’m sure she’d be happy to help!” The ghost tittered a little, as if expecting that to be obvious.

So the ghost did know she was human? Far more alarming was the idea some other human had been dragged this far from home, possibly trapped. Maybe this would turn into a rescue mission. Unless it was too late for them, a distinct possibility. “Oh really? How did that happen?”

“Oh I don’t really know the details, but it was a human that inspired our good Queen that she didn’t need to fear that tyrant and she could fight back. I wish I’d seen it!”

It was disquieting how human the ghost sounded, a friendly sort of gossip. If only she had a way to record it. “The human got back home after helping, right?”

“Well I assume so, she had no intentions of staying here very long, that’s for sure!” She laughed easily, apparently blind to Maddie’s confusion and apprehension, or just unable to see it past the mask and goggles. “I’m fairly sure Sir Phantom took her back, you could ask him.”

Sir? That town terrorizing scoundrel was respected around here? And had been taking humans out of the ghost zone? Probably because he made whoever it was get here in the first place, just to rescue them. Was that why he was here? To stage some new act with this ghost queen? “Right, I might do that.” Would she? This morning she hadn’t expected to talk to ghosts, let alone multiple.

“Oh! If you see any of those angry blobs you can just run back towards the guards and they’ll deal with it. It’s their job, and they’re quite good at it. I actually considered doing that job for a bit, but I like looking after the plants more. Maybe I’ll switch in a decade or two!” The ghost kept talking, apparently taking Maddie’s lack of further questions as permission to keep chattering.

“Can’t you deal with them yourself?” Attacking ghost blobs was something she knew about, and if this ghost was strong enough to mimic humans, shouldn’t it be able to deal with the much less sophisticated tactics of blobs?

“Me? Oh no, I’m not not trained. Do you still have lions on the other side? It would be like trying to fight one of those with a stick!” She laughed, but not unkindly.

“You’re both ghosts though, aren’t you?” Perhaps they differentiated themselves by name in the Ghost Zone? It would lend some evidence to the ‘different breeds’ of ghost hypothesis she was rapidly stringing together.

She tapped at her chin for a moment at the question. “I suppose we are, but they’re more like animals. They might have always been animals, or never alive at all! It’s perfectly safe here though, they usually fight more among themselves.”

Well that was fascinating. Some ghosts didn’t instinctively know how to fight and had to be taught? Yet didn’t consider themselves completely separated from the more animalistic ectoplasmic terrors. Perhaps the more ‘domestic’ setting here made the ghosts less feral and more reliant on their previous memories. Well, the ghost could be lying, but she couldn’t see the benefit she’d gain from deception here. “So you’re kind of stuck here then? We saw a lot of those outside of this place.”

“No no, we’ve got safer ways to travel than just flying around! Not all of us are that brave, dear. Though I don’t think I’d want to stay somewhere else very long anyway. Here it’s safe, all my friends are here and we have one of the largest markets in the whole Ghost Zone. Other ghosts come to us!” There was a hint of pride as she spoke about her ‘home’, gesturing over to some of the stalls Maddie hadn't had time to look at before getting interrupted. “I was really hoping to get something from the seven armed bloke over there, but he’s not very interested in my clothing. Maybe next time.”

Said ‘bloke’ had far too many eyes to go with the arms, and a collection of honestly terrifying little statues with strange designs that made her head hurt if she looked at it too long. A clear outsider to the more human ones, but not causing a stir. So much for constantly fighting out groups, but they barely had anything in common either! Not to mention engaging in some kind of simplistic trading. “So this happens often?”

“Pretty much. It’s fun to make new things, but you get bored of just your own stuff after a few centuries you know? So we swap and find new things.”

Well of course, it’s not like the ghosts needed to trade for something vital to existence. Swapping ‘things’ made more sense in that context. So why weren’t any trying to trade strength or favours? Or simply taking what they wanted? Was it related to having a queen? She had so many questions that knowing what ones needed to be asked was next to impossible. “I suppose you would. How can you tell if a ghost that comes is peaceful?”

“Asking!” She laughed again, apparently finding the question funny. So they didn’t deal with constant attacks from spectres like Phantom trying to ‘take over?’ Why?

“Oh geeze, I’m so sorry if she said anything about trying to-” Phantom’s voice interrupted her thoughts, the ghost suddenly floating beside the other ghost and sputtering.

“Sorry? She’s been perfectly lovely! Haven’t you- oh I’m so rude, I didn’t even get your name!” the ghost tisked at herself, once again strangely apologetic.

“Wait, she has?” His doubtful tone made the ghost hunter scowl. As if he had any room to judge them.

“We’re scientists, not uncontrollable monsters.” Like him. She was fairly sure he caught the implication when the boy muttered something she couldn’t hear.

“Cool. Anyway, got another stop, then I’ll get you two back home.” He still hovered, glancing between the two of them a few times. “Oh. Maddie, that’s her name.”

“Lovely speaking with you Maddie! Had a good trip back, I’m Guenivier if you’re ever in the area again,” she smiled and gave another wave before somehow drifting back into the crowd without displacing even a bit of that dress.

“Who said you can give out my name?” Maddie hissed, once certain the other ghost was out of earshot.

He leaned back on teenager mannerisms, scoffing and heading away. “Because she wanted to know and thinks you aren’t a total ghost hater? It’s not gonna hurt anything.”

“How can I know you don’t have a way to locate people by name?”

He was rolling his eyes again as if she was being ridiculous. “You live in a house with a giant glowing sign. Not exactly subtle.”

“That isn’t in the ghost zone.”

“It’s attached to the ghost zone, it totally counts.”

It really was like arguing with a teenager when he bantered on like this. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Yes ma’am. Sheesh.” He hopped on top of the speeder, kicking his heels against the side. “Hey Jack, you coming?”

“Coming!” he bellowed back, jogging over from the patch of plants she’d left him at. However, he wasn’t just carrying his notebook, but a folded glowing bit of cloth. Some sort of tapestry judging by all the stitching? “Just wanted to get a few more lines done-” he broke off after spotting his wife, apparently reminded that he shouldn’t be so chummy with the ghost. “I mean I leave when I want to, you can’t boss Fentons around!”

“Oh come onnn, can you pretend you don’t hate me for like five minutes? I’m not even doing anything!” Phantom complained, flopping backwards onto the Speeder. “You were totally having a good time”.

“How did you get that, dear?” Maddie chose to ignore their sulking captor and instead look at what Jack managed to gather besides sketches.

“Oh, one of the ghosties liked my pictures and asked to trade for one! So I gave em a page for this! We can study how they made it back home, neat huh?”

Apparently he hadn’t been too worried about it being a trap, but a picture he’d just sketched wasn’t a big ask for something that could teach them a lot about the ghosts in here, so it was a good trade nonetheless. “You did great sweetie. Just make sure to store it safely, just in case.”

“Already on it sweet cheeks!” He was indeed, already pulling out a large sample bag to store their find before opening the hatch again.

“Ew. I changed my mind, go back to threatening me. Sappy is worse.”

Well, at least the ghost regretted his actions a bit. He’d be more sorry if he tried anything, but this did just seem to be something to sooth that hero complex it had. So far, anyway. She was tempted to ask the ghost what it had been up to at the castle, but it didn’t really matter. He’d just lie anyway, he clearly wasn’t the same sort of ghost as the weaker ones back there.

“Ha, he crumples in the face of our love Madds!” Jack laughed, hugging his wife and they got comfortable back in the speeder. “You think he’d take us back home if I said how much I love ya?”

“I so don’t need to hear this.” He was muffled, apparently still flopped on the speeder. He didn’t add anything before the Speeder lifted from the ground and resumed speeding through the strange green expanse.

“Clearly he buys his own teenager delusion.” Maddie mused, content to rest against Jack and look through his sketches. “Did they seem strangely lifelike to you too?”

“Oh sure! They just talked and didn’t even seem interested in going to the human world! Even though one was very jealous of how bright my jumpsuit is.” He leaned a bit to flick a few pages forward. “I sketched a couple and got their names, so we can see if we can look em up. See if they’re similar to their old selves according to history and all.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t get a complete name, but apparently they have jobs? Not like the wilder ghosts, and they do have a queen…” she paused, remembering the ‘human’ Phantom apparently ‘helped home. “Hey! You did help someone home from the ghost zone before, did you?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, she’s back safe. Wasn’t even a whole day.” He sounded distracted, or at least surprised by the question.

It could be a valuable lead. That, and the human might need help after such an experience. Who knew how ecto contaminated they might be! “Who was it?”

“How should I know? Just because I’m in town a lot doesn’t mean I know everyone’s name.”

She frowned, glancing at Jack who only shrugged. So he hadn’t heard that story, only her. “You know ours.”

“Because you shout them at me and shoot at me a lot? Pretty easy to remember!”

“Ghost kid’s got a point.” Jack admitted, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll just find who it is ourselves! Just an extra project.”

“What, and just make their life weird again by bringing up ghost stuff? Leave em alone.”

Well now they absolutely had to look into it, if Phantom wasn’t keen on the idea. Better to let him think they agreed though. “True, it could just lead you back to them.”

“Hey! This is all you, not me!”

Jack chuckled. “You’re really good at riling him up. Almost sounds like our Danny like that, getting all touchy about fun family activities!”

“Well he probably copies behaviour from local teenagers,” she didn't like that comparison though. Their children were nothing like life destroying ghosts. It was better to turn her attention to the passing green and how the amount of doors seemed to dwindle as masses of ice started to become the most prominent detail. That made more sense, actually. Phantom had started using ice in addition to ectoblasts, if he came from somewhere with this sort of climate it seemed less out of place with his other abilities. Even if he was otherwise ill suited to snow and ice with how he insisted on looking like a kid.

The next stop felt more like a mistake, with only hills of untouched white powder and ice to see, but the crunch of snow below confirmed they were no longer moving. Good thing they came prepared with heated coats!

“Not a whole lot around here! If it wasn’t for all the green we could pretend we were in Alaska.” Jack chattered as he shrugged a coat on, still apparently too excited to look around to keep his suspicion up. “They don’t all like castles, or maybe it’s a hidden one!”

He better not be thinking Santa had an ice castle. That was probably what he was thinking of, but she didn’t really want to bring up their annual argument at the moment. He could be wrong today, there were more important things to do. “You do realize it’s a frozen wasteland you’ve stranded us on?”

“It’s not that cold.” Phantom objected, circling the Speeder idly.

“Easy for a ghost to say, you’re always cold ghost kid!”

He stopped at that, glancing back at Jack. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“Only because we brought warm clothing. Jumpsuits aren’t enough for the living.” Maddie huffed, looking at the snowfields to find anything worth looking at. The structures of ice were somewhat interesting, but not inherently ghostly.

“Well you guys can stay here, I guess.” The ghost bit at his lip, playing up the concern now that they pointed out a frozen wasteland was cold. Honestly, how did anyone fall for Phantom’s act if he made mistakes like this? “I don’t think Frostbite’s people come out this far…”

“Oh, are they dangerous? We can take any of your little ghostly pals!”

Phantom looked as if Jack suggested exploding a building. “No! Don’t fight any of them! They just look scary, okay? Just ignore them, if any show up.” He didn’t wait for a response before flying off this time, apparently in much more of a hurry this time.

“Sounds like he’s worried about what we can do to his little pals, huh?” Jack elbowed his wife with a grin. “Well, maybe we can find something weird about the ice here!”

It was better to try getting some of the ghost ice instead of doing nothing, though she doubted it would be very different from regular ice, beyond the ectocontamination. Now what would a ghost think is ‘scary looking’? He hadn’t given such a warning when close to all of the other ghosts, after all. It was a bit of a mystery, and none of the ice here had any identifying marks or hints of another odd little ghost ‘civilization���. ‘Frostbite’ wasn’t much of a name either, perhaps they were more like the wild sort that came to Amity?

“Oh hoh! Look at this!” Jack yelled out, pointing to something below him as he waved her over.

A large, clawed footprint left in the snow, and fairly deep. So something monstrous after all, as expected. “Maybe we can get a cast of it?” They had supplies for it, but she wasn’t certain if it would work in the ice correctly. The tracks didn’t go for long, but following them wasn’t a very tantalizing idea. Better to keep a distance and be well armed if they wanted to tangle with whatever left this. It wasn’t as distracting as the previous stop, but the sound of crunches increasing in volume had the couple back on edge and wary.

“Seriously, we should just go-”

It sounded like the ghost boy was near wherever the crunches were coming from, which didn’t improve her mood one iota.

“Nonsense! I have been asking to meet them for how long?” A deep, growling and carrying voice came in response as Maddie readied a weapon.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. You don’t want to, trust me.”

“Seems he doesn’t have a very high opinion of ghost hunters, eh Mads?” Jack was less noticeably readied, still half crouched near the footprint, but his hand hovered where a weapon was concealed. She focused on her breathing as the sound grew louder, eyes narrowed as she spotted a large figure cresting the nearby hill. With the little white haired ghost boy completely at ease near it. Nothing like his regular behaviour, let alone the talking. Why would this huge beast know of them?

“What did I say about not shooting people?” Phantom actually seemed to blush on seeing her holding the weapon, smacking his face. “Okay, you saw them, bye now!”

The large furred creature ignored how the smaller ghost pushed at their shoulder, instead waving with a horrific ice claw, bones gleaming from within as it seemed to rip at the very air. “Well our first meeting was hardly perfect either, I can manage.”

“Yeah but I can’t just pull a ‘won’t shoot a big yeti’ icicle out of their jumpsuits!”

For a human loving ghost, Phantom was certainly very concerned about this giant horned monster being harmed by ‘mere humans’. More proof of his act, at least. Though the large creature did have a cloak of some sort and clothing. He spoke well, if you ignored the fanged mouth and growls. A strange contradiction of appearance and intent. That wasn’t a normal thing for ghosts either, you could gather a decent amount about one by how they looked. So why was this one chatting and apparently interested in seeing two humans? “So, you’re the ‘Frostbite’ he mentioned?” She hazarded a guess, but wasn’t going to put the gun away.

It showed its fangs, maw wide and unnerving. “Yes, I am! It is an honour to meet you” The furry head bowed slightly, as if trying a sort of nod of respect. “Your work assisted the Great One in vanquishing Pariah Dark, we all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Please don’t call me that. Especially in front of them!” the green eyed ghost practically squawked, somehow flushing even harder when he didn’t even have blood.

Maddie’s mind almost flipped over from the sheer confusion of what this terrifying ghost said. They had ‘helped’ vanquish something? More likely, Phantom had stolen something. So why did this ghost still give them credit? That wasn’t even starting to touch why the ghost boy would be considered great in any aspect. “Assisted him? Do you mean with that ghost who took our town into the Ghost Zone?” She wasn’t sure if that was what the ‘king’ ghost was called, but it made more sense than anything else she could think of.

“Indeed. The King of All Ghosts would have sent the infinite realms into chaos and conflict. Of course we are grateful for your help in preventing that.”

“That’s when you stole the Ecto Skeleton!” Jack spoke up, no longer tense. “You never brought it back.”

“That’s not my fault, that thing almost wasted me! It was gone once I woke up!” The boy objected, but seemed to settle down when the larger ghost ruffled his hair. “I wanted to bring it back.”

“I’m sure now they understand how vitally important that technology was, for your world and ours.” The ghost’s yellow eyes watched them expectantly, the unnerving void of pointed daggers thankfully closed now.

“Well it did get Amity back where it belonged.” Losing the Ecto Skeleton had been a blow, but an acceptable one to get back to normal. The fact that more ghosts seemed to know and care about their part of it was somewhat unnerving. She very much doubted Phantom just ‘lost’ it either. Jack suffered from the demands of the suit, but the ghost was just ectoplasm and electricity. Quite unlikely he could be drained that much, it wasn’t meant for ghosts to use in the first place.

“Your world? Doesn’t the kid live here?” Jack asked, making his wife blink. She hadn’t noticed that odd phrasing.

“No, no. The Great One prefers the human world and his friends. How are they doing?”

He froze up, eyes flicking to the hunters and back to the yeti. “Fine. They’re great.” He darted closer to the two hunters, gesturing at them to move. “Okay let’s go.”

How much interacting was this ghost doing with humans to have ‘friends’ it told other ghosts about? They could be in danger, or used as targets! “No no, we’d love to hear about your friends.”

“Nope, you don’t, gotta get home right? Big hurry, don’t trust me, remember?” He was practically pleading with them.

Frostbite’s ears twitched as he tilted his head. “Don’t trust you? Surely they’re the ones who taught your friends how to drive that craft of yours?”

Phantom had the gall to turn invisible.

“We were unaware anyone other than us was using it, actually.” Maddie didn’t bother to keep the frost from her voice.

“Ah, well at least the good news is I already knew how to make a replacement battery for it when the Great One came asking for help.” His tail twitched, as one of the great claws scratched at his furry chest. “It should be good as new once you can install it.”

So not only was this ghost stealing technology and bringing humans to the ghost zone, it was teaching other ghosts how it worked! The second that ghost was in their grasp, he’d have some serious answering to do. “Do all of you call him that?” It was the only question she could ask without wishing to spit acid, quite frankly.

“All of the Far Frozen recognize him as such, but not all ghosts are the same. He should be proud of the title, a savour of two worlds.”

“Frostbite I’m begging you, stop! It’s embarrassing!” The ghost dropped his invisibility, still looking more like a flustered kid instead of the heroics seeking fame junkie he was.

“Well if it helps your relationship with these ghost hunters, I think it is important that they know.”

“Yeah no. Let’s not.”

It felt like there was something the two ghosts weren’t saying. That, and the fact Phantom didn’t seem to like being hailed as a hero here in the Ghost Zone didn’t make sense. Why all the grandstanding in Amity then?

“Well we’ll be glad for the lift home. You shouldn’t steal from us, kid.” Jack tried a stern approach, and the ghost actually flinched from the rebuke.

“You’re not the only ones who want to map this place out, that’s all,” he didn’t really seem to be answering them, more talking to himself before launching himself at the Speeder again. “You can shoot at me about it back home or whatever.”

“Travel safely! Do try and explore your other half more often, Great one. You’re always welcome here.” His great furry head watched them all easily, seeking out the ghost hunters eyes as well. "I understand you are less interested, but you are welcome to see the realities of my home as well. It may surprise you, in a good way."

She desperately wanted to ask what that monster of a ghost meant by that, but managed to hold her tongue. If all the ghosts here saw Phantom as some sort of godlike hero, chewing him out here wasn’t safe. Jack’s small nod of agreement and warm hug helped, but it couldn’t stop her mind churning. They’d seen and hurt so much, and none of it made any sense! This Frostbite just threw in several more wrenches in the works with only a few sentences, but with how agitated Phantom was getting now wasn’t the time to push their luck. Perhaps when the shoe was on the other foot, and the boy needed their assistance.

He didn’t speak up or grumble this time as they left the frozen land behind. Though that might be them as well,m sitting close together and considering the notes and samples they had taken. That and the huge list of questions Jack had scrawled down in the margins of a sketch of Frostbite. How could a ghost like Phantom truly manage to stay in the human world most of the time? Did it have to do with this ‘other half’ that ghost had mentioned? Would knowing what it was reveal a weakness in the ghost? So many questions, but no answers. Why had Phantom even let them speak to any ghosts, considering how badly he’d reacted to some of the information given? He couldn’t genuinely be wanting to help.

The inviting glow of the portal appeared sooner than either of them could expect, the ghost dropping the ship on the lab floor with a loud clunk.

“See? Home. No ‘evil plan’” he floated into view, and she was fairly sure he only did so to make those air quotes with his hands.

“So you say, ghost kid. Don’t think we won’t be checking for tricks!”

“Yeah sure,” he shrugged, grinning after a moment. “Oh hey, by the way, you do know what the Speeder is powered with, right?”

Maddie didn’t actually know how to take that question. “Of course we do, we built it!”

“Uh huh.” His grin widened as he kicked back, legs vanishing into that strange tail. “All you had to do was take the cover off. It’s the Ghost Zone! There’s ectoplasm everywhere! I just had Frostbite make a backup.”

...Had they really- They had. They’d been dragged around by a ghost for no reason at all! “Why you little-”

He kept laughing before turning and getting out of the way. “Thanks for flying with Phantom Zone Tours! I’m out.” A jaunty wave and he was gone, leaving two baffled ghost hunters behind.

“I think some fudge is in order after that!”

She couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe fudge could make sense of that whole affair. All that for a prank? It didn’t add up. They’d have a lot of work to do.

[bubblegumbeech]

Haunted Towers and Hidden Truths

Phic Phight prompt by @lexiepiper

Write a more traditional ghost story. How would things change if ghost powers weren’t super powers, but closer to old horror movie tropes?

“We shouldn’t do this Danny,” Sam said, ever the voice of reason. “This place isn’t like our usual haunts.“

But Danny shook his head, “No Sam, I have to do this. I have to know what that dream meant, if it was really a dream or something else.”

He moved to take a step forward when his other friend, Tucker, grabbed his arm, “I don’t know man, I think she’s right. There isn’t a possessed item to destroy, or an overactive ghost to try and calm down, heck even Vlad has a weakness we can exploit, we don’t know anything about this place. What if we don’t make it out of this one?”

“Come on Tucker,” Danny argued, his own confidence nothing but a mask, “It can’t be as bad as the haunted video game right? You die in the game you die in real life!”

Tucker didn’t laugh, “this is serious Danny, I know that dream had you messed up, but what if it was just that? A dream?”

“Or,” Sam cut in, “What if it’s a trap? Remember how Desiree tried to get us with that monkey’s paw when she realized we were getting involved with every scary story and urban legend in town and she didn’t want us to find out about her?”

There was also the time a ghost discovered Danny’s secret and decided to haunt him personally and make his life a living hell until he and Tucker were able to exorcise it. It had involved a gorilla, a lot of research into dead safari hunters, and one of his parent’s inventions that they rigged to do what they needed before destroying it so it couldn’t be used against Danny himself. 

“We made it through all of those things together, remember when we first saw Cujo? And we thought he was to blame for Valerie’s mother?” Danny said.

Sam deflated, “and then we did research and discovered that Cu Sith only foretell death, not cause it… But Danny, we tried to research this place, remember? We found nothing. It’s like it doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah man,” Tucker scratched the back of his neck uncertain, “I couldn’t find so much as a blueprint. No building plans, nothing. The only thing we have to go on are stories from reckless kids trying and failing to spend the night.”

“You don’t have to follow me, the last thing I want is to put you both at risk. Especially after last time.” 

Tucker groaned, “Danny you know we aren’t going to let you do this alone right? Especially not after Walker’s prison. Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t come in and save you?”

Danny smiled, “I probably would have starved to death to be fair, but yeah, I’ll try to avoid getting locked in any metal cages, deal?”

“To be fair,” Sam said, returning his smile with one of her own, strained though it was, “you probably would have died of thirst first.”

Chuckling at his friends' attempts to lighten the mood once they realized his mind wouldn’t be changed, Danny finally let himself look up at the place in question. It was a tall, crooked looking clocktower with old, brittle wood and peeling paint. In the low light of the evening it looked almost purple and with the dust and cobwebs covering it, it was clear no one had been inside for quite some time. 

The Clocktower was a recurrent presence in his dreams, the ones he’d started having since the accident that made him the way he was: different from any person, but not quite anything else. It was always there in the background, but he’d never gone inside. 

Once, during a particularly dull recurring dream where he relived the life and consequent death of a warehouse worker, he’d walked away from the endless piles of boxes and tried to go inside the clocktower instead. But no matter how far he traveled, it was always the same distance away. He just couldn’t get to it. 

Danny couldn’t shake the feeling though, that something inside might have the answers he’s been searching for. So he stepped forward, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, of course, and  Danny almost felt foolish doing it, but also, ghosts and spiritual beings all had their own rules and perceptions of what is or isn’t polite, most of which Danny had stumbled into learning the hard way, and it really didn’t hurt to check.

“No answer,” Sam said and Danny nodded, turning the handle. It was old and brass and when it turned it made a loud grinding noise that vibrated along his arm. But it did open, and without Danny needing to persuade it, so that had to be a good sign right?

Unless it really was a trap. 

“Maybe we should leave someone outside, in case it really is like Walker’s prison.” He offered, but both of his friends shook their heads and stepped past him. It was dark, musty and smelled in a weird way, like a library. If a library had locked its doors and not let anyone enter for a good century or so. 

Sam took the lead, her flashlight catching on unfamiliar shapes and shadows. “Do you know what we’re looking for?” she asked, her voice uncertain. 

Danny shook his head, “Not really, just… answers.”

They looked around the ground floor at first, but if it held anything particularly supernatural or important, it wasn’t going to be found. “This just looks like my grandma's living room.” Tucker complained, taking the sheet off of one of the couches, “we need to go further in if we want to actually find something.”

He wasn’t wrong, Danny looked over to the spiralling staircase in the back of the room, and then to the other doors that surrounded it on the first floor. “It’s probably better to do this systemically right? Go through every room on each floor and move our way up?”

“You mean like in a video game?” Sam asked, “sure, we can do that.”

They started on the left, but that room wasn’t much better when it came to finding any kind of clues. It held a kitchen, a very old kitchen, with a stove and oven that Danny had only ever seen in period movies. But…

“Why does it smell like cookies?” Danny asked, turning to his friends who both looked at him like he was crazy.

“Cookies? Yo, Danny this place smells like straight up death. Not cookies.” Tucker said, backing away from the oven and starting to open up cabinets. 

Sam rolled her eyes and did the same on the other side of the kitchen, “it doesn’t smell like death you dolt, it smells… like a graveyard.”

Danny walked to the middle of the room, towards the oven- he always made sure to be the one seeking out the more dangerous or suspicious things in the haunts they went to- while the two of them bickered. They tended to start these smaller, petty arguments when they were scared, it took the edge off. 

“Duh?” Tucker said, and Danny heard him slam one of the cabinets shut, “graveyards are death? What does it smell like to you? Your Mom’s perfume?”

“No, it smells like someone dying, you know all hospital chemicals and gross stuff.”

There wasn’t anything in the oven, but oddly, Danny had felt a wave of warmth when he opened it. Almost like it had just been used. But, ghosts didn’t need to eat, right? And there couldn’t have been a person living here, they’d notice that. At least, Danny hopes they would notice that. After being in dozens of life or death scenarios hinging on whether they noticed important but minute details, they’d become pretty good at that kind of thing.

“Ugh! Don’t talk about hospitals, I’m still not over North Mercy, that was horrible,” Tucker turned to Danny, leaning on one of the counters and ignoring the cabinet he opened right behind his head. “What do you think death smells like Danny?”

Danny walked over and closed the cabinet, he didn’t want something to suddenly appear inside of it all twisted limbs and empty eyes or for something to crawl out and scare them, or even have it slam shut on Tuckers head, like some ghosts were known to do. He didn’t have to put much thought into his answer, “It smells like burnt flesh, electricity, and polished wood.”

Tucker paled, “oh… right. Sorry.” 

He shrugged, “anything yet?”

“Not unless you count cobwebs, dust, and deteriorating cooking books,” Sam answered, walking over to both him and Tucker. 

Danny looked around at the kitchen, it looked normal, even some dying light shone in from the one window along the outer wall. The only thing weird was the shape and that was because it was at the bottom of a spiralling clocktower. There was nothing particularly scary about the place, and frankly Danny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Let’s move on, this place is giving me the creeps,” Sam said, crossing the room and going to the next door. 

Danny and Tucker followed, unwilling to be left behind, or to let her go on her own. The next room was the same size as the other two, but it had an extra window and was crammed absolutely full of books. Just books. Stacks and stacks of them where they didn’t fit on the shelves, which were completely packed themselves, and Danny had the thought that this was probably what he was smelling when they first walked in. 

It was a library. A personal one, but without any room to sit or anything to sit on despite the genuinely impressive display of books and Danny found himself gently stroking his hand against the cover of a book on the top of the nearest stack, When Ghosts Speak: Understanding Earthbound Spirits.

“Please tell me we aren’t reading all of this,” Tucker whined. Danny frowned, why wouldn’t he want to read these? It was a treasure trove of information, these books could have countless, researched, answers to questions they’ve been asking since the start of everything! 

What if one of these books could tell them why Amity Park seemed to attract the supernatural, why they seemed to gain power within the city’s boundaries, why Danny wasn’t dead. He wanted nothing more than to grab any one of these books, walk into the next room, with the couches and comfortable chairs, sit down and read and read until he found something, anything he could use. 

These books might even be able to help him deal with the supernatural threats that plagued their town. Mostly they’ve been surviving through luck and half baked internet searches with the occasional trip to the town library. And while it had been enough so far, Danny was practically salivating at the thought of being properly, genuinely prepared for something for once. 

“Of course we aren’t,” Sam said, dragging Danny out of his fantasies of maybe knowing what he was doing, “they’re completely deteriorated. If we even tried to open one it would probably fall apart.”

Danny frowned, and then looked down at the book he’d subconsciously grabbed. It didn’t seem as bad as Sam was describing, but he also didn’t want to risk it either. He’d realized early on there was a difference between what he was seeing and what was actually real. He set it down gently and looked around the rest of the room with his friends. 

“Are we so sure this place is haunted?” Danny asked. By then, the sun had set entirely and the only light left was their flashlights. High powered and with fresh batteries they were still little use against the encroaching dark and Danny wanted to move on to the next floor already if he wasn’t going to be able to open a book. 

Tucker stood up from behind a precariously leaning shelf and dusted himself off, “Dude you’re the one that said there was something here and we needed to investigate. Remember, like an hour ago when the two of us were trying to stop you from going inside?”

Danny scoffed, “that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” Sam asked, stepping closer so she could meet his eyes. There was something in her expression, curiosity or suspicion, Danny couldn’t quite parse. 

“I…” Danny stopped to think, what did he mean? Was it just that the place didn’t feel haunted? There wasn’t anything here trying to scare him away, no ominous winds or loud knocking, but they’ve gone into haunts before that took a long time to start actually reacting to them. “There’s no, I don’t know how to explain it. Usually when we go somewhere haunted, that a ghost has a claim to or whatever… there’s this feeling that I’m trespassing? I don’t feel like I’m trespassing here.”

That probably didn’t make any sense, and despite everything they didn’t usually act on Danny’s gut instincts as a group without evidence. The issue with the circus and it’s terrifying owner was a lesson too well learned after all. 

True to expectations neither Sam nor Tucker looked convinced. They shared a quick ‘what now’ look between each other and Danny resisted taking a step back and sinking into the wall. Not that he could do that, as far as he knew he couldn’t do that. Only actual ghosts could do something like that and despite everything Danny was still human- well, still had a physical form. 

Permanently. 

“Let’s move on upstairs,” Sam reasoned, “if Danny’s right there won’t be any harm in it, and if he’s not we’ll find out once whatever’s here starts actually reacting to us, right?”

Perfectly reasonable and logicked as always. Danny nodded and walked to the next door, if he was right it would lead into the room they had first entered with the staircase that twisted and climbed higher and higher into the heart of the tower. That was the next place to go. He knew that.

Tucker gently patted his shoulder as they walked towards the base of the stairs, “yeah, maybe the ghost doesn’t consider this bottom part his haunt? Maybe he just likes the clock on top?”

Danny smiled, “like the hunchback of Notre Dame?”

Smiling back, Tucker nodded, “exactly! Oh man, we gotta find out if that guy is real one of these days.”

“We have our hands a bit tied with Amity Park without going after disney characters,” Sam said, pushing the two of them from behind so they’d actually go up the stairs. “Now let's get a move on, I want to be back home before breakfast so my parents don’t realize I snuck out again.”

There was something Danny could say but he bit back the comment about how at least her parents would notice and quickly walked up the stairs instead. As soon as his feet touched the first step a bubbly feeling lifted in his chest, and it made him want to go higher as fast as he could there was someone up there waiting for him-

“Danny!” Sam called out, grabbing him by the arm, “calm down!”

Her grip on his arm was tight and Danny looked down to see what had her panicked only to find his feet had left the stairs entirely and he’d started floating upwards instead of walking. Like a human. Like his friends. Like what he was supposed to be. 

He swallowed and let himself sink back down, forcing the feeling in his chest back as much as he could. It was like trying to kill the fizz in a shaken soda by screwing a cap back on it and he struggled with it for a moment. He’d never felt like this before- sure, most ghosts and other supernatural entities tended to broadcast emotions to a higher degree than humans, and with them also being natural empaths and Danny’s unfortunate situation it often led to him being overtaken by emotions that weren’t necessarily his own. 

It’s just, they’ve never been this overwhelmingly positive before.

Even with Vlad, as human as he was, his emotions were always tinted with obsession and desperation. His need to have Danny and his mother for his own colored every interaction he’d had with the man and it often left a bitter, strained feeling in his chest. Right now, Danny felt almost giddy. And he wasn’t even sure it wasn’t just his own emotions, reacting to the environment around him. It was a nice environment after all. 

But Danny was good at ignoring things like that. 

“My bad. I’ll try and keep my feet on the ground from now on.”

Sam looked conflicted, “Danny you know we don’t mind you using your powers,” Danny nodded, they’d told him so many times over and over again, “But we don’t want to lose you to them. You promised to stay with us, remember?”

Danny smiled, “I remember. I won’t end up like that, I promised. That’s why we’re here right? To stop it?”

Sam nodded and let him go. 

The second floor was similar to the first, in that it had three rooms leading into each other with the spiral staircase in the center. Danny started with the door on the right. It was a study. There was a desk, paperwork, and a bottle of ink with a quill and Danny found himself wondering just how old this clocktower really was. And how long it had been since its occupant was truly here, alive, if ever. 

They split up and started looking around, eagerness exposed in their movements. This was the most likely place to have something useful, especially if whoever spent their time here was as studious as the lower floor suggested.  Danny went for the desk. 

There was a note on it, in perfect, looped handwriting and the ink was still glistening, fresh from the bottle if the smell had anything to say about it. Danny ran his hand across the words hoping to smudge it, but it had dried already, if barely. 

It’s nice to meet you, little anomaly.

Danny grit his teeth. 

“Guys,” he called out, holding the paper, “It knows we’re here.”

Sam and Tucker rushed over, and Sam grabbed the paper from his hand to read for herself. “Little anomaly? Isn't that kind of insensitive?”

“Yeah,” Tucker agreed, “you just have weird ghost powers right? Vlad’s the same way it’s not like you’re the only person on the planet like you.”

Hesitant to correct him, Danny bit his tongue. It was true that Vlad was a person who had unfortunately gained the abilities of a ghost, things like floating, making objects move with his mind or using his spirit to control people while he slept safe and sound at home. And he’d gained them in a similar way to Danny as well, trusting the wrong people and delving into things he never fully understood and still didn’t. 

It was just … less true for Danny was all. 

But he wasn’t going to tell them that, he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. So how did whoever, or whatever this was, know? Or was it just saying things to get under his skin, that was pretty par for the course when it came to ghosts. So why wasn’t it doing anything else? Trying to get them to leave? Was Sam right? Was it really a trap this entire time? What would happen if they went back downstairs and tried the door, would it open?

He grabbed the paper and shoved it into one of his jackets pockets, there was plenty of time to freak out over it later after all. “Let’s keep looking around, there has to be something here that it’s trying to distract us from.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything more useful than there had been downstairs. Just what one would expect from a normal office. What papers he did find had detailed extensive notes, yes. But they were in a language Danny couldn’t read and neither Sam nor Tucker even recognized. It was infuriating!

Almost like whoever was haunting this place, was telling them it had all the answers they wanted but wouldn’t give them any. He just wanted to know how - Danny shook his head. There had to be something. He wouldn’t have been led all the way here, had all those dreams, if there was nothing he could do at all. 

He threw one more frustrated look around the office before he threw the stack of papers he’d been digging through on the floor and marched over to the next door. It was unlocked, again, just like all of the others and it only served to increase Danny’s frustration. 

“Wait, Danny,” Sam noticed him leaving and quickly followed, the door slammed shut behind them, locking Tucker inside the office.

“No,” he whispered, this was all his fault, he shouldn’t have let this ghost get in his head like this! He never should have let his emotions take him over, he knew better. It led to bad things. Horrible, terrible, things. 

There was a loud bang on the door, someone was pounding against it and Danny flinched. Was the actual haunting finally starting? Was everything really just a way to lure them deeper into the tower and away from each other? 

“Guys?” he heard Tucker call out from the other side of the door, “did you seriously just leave me behind? Don’t we have like, a rule against that?!” 

Danny sighed in relief, it was just Tucker. “Are you okay Tuck? Did anything happen over there when the door shut? Any oozing walls or flying papers-”

There was another thump, probably Tucker banging his head against the door, “I know what to look for Danny I’ve been doing this the exact same amount of time as you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny acquessed. “Just get to the stairs and we’ll meet you there.”

He exchanged a glance with Sam, she was glaring a hole into the side of his head and he felt guilty for being the cause of everything going wrong, again. So he apologized and ignored her exaggerated eye roll when she said he should have known better, because well, he did. But what was he going to do, apologize twice?

The room they were in was a simple one, likely some kind of storage space that he and Sam could dig through for hours on end, but it was more important to get to Tucker than to try and make sure they didn’t miss anything. 

Which, in hindsight, was probably exactly why they’d been separated. 

A cold breeze tickled at Danny’s hair and he felt himself relax despite it all. It felt nice, the cold, and Danny liked when the haunts they went to leaned towards the chillier side like this. Sometimes, especially if Vlad was involved, it felt like he was walking into an overwarm swamp when he entered a haunt and it made him itchy and uncomfortable the entire time. Vlad never seemed to notice, and his friends complain equally about both, so Danny had mostly kept it to himself. 

The entire tower felt nice, cold dry air, the smell of books, ink, and cookies, even the playful, excited feeling that seemed to permeate throughout the tower. Like someone had designed it to appeal in every way to both sides of Danny’s instincts. 

It was unnerving. 

He followed Sam out of the room and back into the middle where the stairs were, but Tucker wasn’t there. 

Sam pulled out her phone, and Danny held his breath as it rang, once, twice, and then a click and Tucker’s familiar, annoyed voice came through the speaker and Danny sighed in relief. “Uh guys? I couldn’t get out the door so I tried to climb out a window, and there was uh, a ladder. So I’m outside right now. Come get me?”

Danny met eyes with Sam and nodded, they headed back down, “we’re coming Tuck,” he said.

“Cool, cool, actually rather than coming to get me, can we just go home? Come back later, like in the day time? How come we never do these things in the daytime?”

“You know that’s not how ghosts work Tucker.” Sam said, bored, as they walked to the front door. Danny felt a tug, something like a hand on his shoulder and turned to see what was behind him. There wasn’t anything there. 

He turned back around to see that Sam had already walked outside, and was holding the door open for him, one of her eyebrows raised. Awkwardly, Danny jogged a little, so as to not hold them up too long. But before he could actually walk outside the door slammed shut.

Sam screamed.

“Danny! Are you okay!” Tucker asked, his voice panicked and muffled from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine,” Danny said, gritting his teeth and turning around. The room didn’t look or feel any different. There was nothing screaming at him to get out or anything else malicious. If anything it seemed even cosier than before, and Danny didn’t really know how to react to that. 

He looked back at the door. There was a way, no. He couldn’t do that. Danny pinched at the bridge of his nose, the only thing to do, really, was to see who had invited him in. That’s what it was right? Some kind of weird ghostly invite?

“I’m going to go check upstairs,” he called out to his friends before walking back towards the staircase. 

They pounded on the door, “Danny don’t you dare go up there without us! Just wait, we’ll find a way in! It’s dangerous alone!” 

Ignoring their protests Danny took the stairs two steps at a time, fighting the rising excitement in his chest and firmly planting his feet against the polished wood. There were answers waiting for him, he knew there were. He just had to find them. 

The third floor had a bedroom, it was nice, cozy and the bed even looked inviting. Danny didn’t bother to stay long. Whoever it was that called him here wasn’t in this room, nor were they in the next or the one after that. Just two bedrooms and a bathroom on that floor and Danny quickly made his way to the next. 

This room was different from the rest. For one there were windows, everywhere, that seemed to play different scenes of different people from all over the world. If Danny strained his ears, he could even hear them speaking different languages. On the other side from the windows was an entire wall of clockwork that chimed and churned as the gears moved, keeping the face of the clock on the outside ticking along in sync with the rest of the world. 

When Danny stepped into the room properly the carpet sunk easily underneath his feet and he felt a nice, cold breeze that came from a purple flamed fire housed properly in a fireplace in the middle of the room. He hadn’t even noticed a chimney from outside. 

There was a man in front of the fire. He was tall and hooded and he carried an equally tall and gnarled staff in one of his gloved hands. Danny felt himself freeze, he had never seen a ghost this solid before. There was always a little bit of transparency, no matter how powerful, they didn’t have physical forms afterall. Not like Danny.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was dry and soft and Danny was thankful when it didn’t crack on his question. How embarrassing would that have been? 

The man turned around, his face changing as he did from old and aged to a younger one, closer to his parent’s age, a large jagged scar marking it’s way through one of his eyes and down his cheek. He smiled, “I am Clockwork, Master of time. All that was, All that is, and All that will be. I understand you have many questions for me. I hope to answer them.” 

A thousand questions ran rapidly through his mind, why did you call me here? Did you call me here? Why get rid of my friends? What are you and why haven’t I seen anything like you before?

“How do I prevent myself from becoming that.” Danny asked the most pressing question first, desperate. The man-ghost-Clockwork, sighed and gestured for him to sit. There was a comfortable looking couch with an equally comfortable chair across from it and a plate of cookies set on an elegantly carved coffee table between the two.

“That’s easily answered, sit, have a cookie.” Clockwork floated over, crossing his legs and settling into the chair before grabbing a cookie for himself. 

Danny glanced at them, uncertain, before taking a seat. The couch was even more comfortable than it looked and he found himself sinking back into it, confused. The room was a nice, cold, temperature as well, despite the fire clearly burning in the fireplace. 

He grabbed one of the cookies, “can I eat these?” he asked, looking over at his host.

“Of course,” Clockwork smiled, taking a bite of his own before leaning back, “I made them for you. Though your friends would have to be more careful, I’m not sure what food like this would do to a human.”

“I am human,” Danny argued, placing the cookie back on its plate. He had to, denial was all he had left at this point. 

Clockwork frowned, “yes, well, I suppose we’ll get there next. You wanted to know about your dreams.”

Finally, Danny nodded, “they’re different ever since- uh well… ever since the incident.”

“It’s natural to not want to talk about one’s death,” Clockwork said, he leaned forward and tilted his head, “or one’s birth.”

“My dreams,” Danny asked, avoiding that conversation with all the grace of a blind hippo, “why are they different. You know right?”

Sighing, Clockwork nodded and leaned back, “yes, I know everything. They’re different, frankly, because they’re dreams. It’s unsettling to you because it’s new, you’ve never dreamed before.”

Danny scowled, “that doesn’t make any sense, I had plenty of dreams when-”

Clockwork interrupted him, disappointment plain under his hood, “You can lie to your friends Daniel, but I already know the truth. Just as you do.”

“I was astral projecting. Like what Vlad does… but then why-?” Danny bit his tongue. He couldn’t say it, not outloud. It was too difficult, he’d spent too long hiding it, pushing it away and doing everything he could to keep anyone from noticing. 

“Why can’t you do it anymore?” Clockwork answered for him, Danny nodded. “The simple answer is that you aren’t like Vladimir, despite what he believes and would like you to believe as well. But that’s something else you already know. Ask me a question you don’t have the answers for.”

Danny grabbed another cookie, biting into it fiercely just to have an excuse not to speak. It tasted really good, better than anything he’d had in a while and Danny wondered if maybe there was something in it meant to sate his less human cravings. The thought didn’t help his inner turmoil. 

Clockwork smiled softly at him though and sighed, “Fine, in order to answer your question, first I have one of my own.”

“Didn’t you just say you know everything?” Danny mumbled before shoving more cookie in his mouth. 

“What good is a teacher that only lectures?” Clockwork said in retort, “do you remember how you died?”

He did, of course he did. “Kinda hard to forget that. Lab accident, electrocution, nothing fancy.” he said, curling in on himself. Clockwork had been right before, it was painful to talk about. But he wanted, no, needed the answers to his questions. He’d survive this. 

“Well, that’s where your first mistake lies. Yes, that is what stopped your heart, and likely the most memorable part, but you didn’t die from that Daniel. What killed you came after.”

Danny frowned, “that doesn’t make any sense? What happened after?”

“Your spirit was never particularly bound to your body in the first place, likely due to your parents dabbling where they shouldn’t for as long as they did before you were ever born. There was a summoning, I think you remember, that your parents were holding when your accident happened on the floor below them.”

It was frustrating, that he was right. That he knew it. “I remember them recognizing me, my spirit. I remember them finding my body and shoving me back in. I remember the pain, and waking up and seeing-” Danny choked on the realization. It couldn’t be...

“Seeing the world in your dreams?” Clockwork asked, “the way you saw it when you were a spirit, free from the confines of your body, correct?” He floated over the table, sat next to Danny, and placed a hand on his back. Danny realized he had been shaking. 

He grabbed the fabric of his jeans in a tight grip and tried to stop, “It’s all real, right? It isn’t… I’m not still dreaming? Please, I need to know.”

The hand on his back pulled him close, tucked into Clockwork’s side and Danny felt comforted despite himself, he fought to blink away tears that had been building behind his eyes as he tucked himself into Clockwork’s side. He was so solid, unlike any other ghost Danny had ever met and he seemed to radiate comfort where most just gave off fear and hurt. 

“You’re not dreaming Daniel, you never were. The world is different when you see it  through our eyes, that is all. When you woke up, you weren’t human anymore. Of course you wouldn’t be limited by a human’s sight.”

Danny curled into himself tighter, despair clouding around him and likely leeching unpleasantly into the air. It would be a wonder if Clockwork didn’t feel it. “So I’m a ghost.”

“Hardly,” Clockwork said and Danny stopped breathing, “Do you think the world is so simple it is split between what is ghostly and what is not?”

“I…” Danny had actually assumed that. So far everything they’d dealt with so far, short of Vlad, had either been a ghost or spirit of some kind, or a human that used magic or ghostly artifacts. Even Vlad had simply been a person who had learned how to control his own spirit the way a ghost would. If Danny wasn’t a human, and he wasn’t a ghost, then what was he?

Clockwork ruffled his hair, “I suppose you’re young. It is easier, afterall, to think of it that way. But Daniel, ghosts don’t have physical forms. They can possess one, or control one, and sometimes even mimic one, but they are spirits.”

He sighed, “you are something entirely different. You’re something remarkable.”

Danny leaned back, using the sleeves of his hoodie to quickly dry his tears so he could look Clockwork in the eye, “What am I?”

“You’re new.”

Danny shoved him, “Agghh, I knew that you jerk!” It was probably a bad idea to attack or antagonize someone as clearly powerful and knowledgeable as Clockwork, but really he’d been asking for it. And Danny’s patience was only so strong. 

Clockwork didn’t fight him back though, nor did he get offended. Instead he just smiled that soft smile that Danny was starting to realize was affection, and said, “did you? Weren’t you trying to read my books to find out if there was anyone else like you?”

“Well yeah-” Danny stopped, “Oh. There wouldn’t be anything would there? If I’m the first?”

He groaned, that really was just his luck. He’d never figure out anything at this rate. Clockwork, the bastard, just hummed and grabbed another cookie, offering it to him. “No there wouldn’t. But you’re not the only one who was the first or only of their kind. Who had to figure out on their own, who and what they are.”

“You mean Vlad?” Danny asked, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth, wow he really hoped he didn’t mean Vlad.

Clockwork’s smile turned brittle, “I don’t mean Vlad.”

Danny chuckled, his thoughts turning mischievous, “I don’t know, he seems pretty unique, what with all those different abilities he has and the way he can choose to be human or ghost-”

“Oh please,” Clockwork interrupted, “there’s plenty of humans like Vladimir Masters, you were fully capable of astral projecting like that from birth, no black magic necessary. Just because he found a way to twist-”

He stopped, then looked down at Danny who was trying and failing to hold back a shit eating grin. All at once the air seemed to leave him and he deflated, the irritated look on his face replaced with open and honest affection and Danny felt it sing in the air around them.

“You were messing with me.”

“To be fair I didn’t think it would work, all knowing and everything.” Danny said, unable to fight the bubbling feeling in his chest as it rose to meet the affection around them. Usually it sucked having the empathy of a ghost and being near one or at least, something with the same traits. The negative emotions tended to bounce between him and them and amplify and it always made Danny struggle to parse his own emotions from theirs. But right now, in the top of a clock tower with the most powerful entity Danny had ever met, he felt happiness and joy to a degree he’d long forgotten. It was dizzying. He was almost giddy with it.

Clockwork patted him on the head, purposefully messing his hair, “yes well. I think in time, it will be more obvious just how different you truly are, how crucial every small coincidence was that came together that night to create you. But until then, you had another question? I can answer it now.”

Danny frowned as he realized what Clockwork meant, “You! I asked that question first! How did you only answer the one you wanted to!!”

“It was important,” Clockwork said, relaxing into the couch next to Danny, “to answer that question I had to be sure you knew what you were.”

He sputtered, “But I don’t?! I’m just something new! Something different!”

“Something physical that exists with the laws of the spiritual.”

“Yeah!” Danny said, “Wait, what?”

Clockwork nodded his head, “a physical entity that exists within the realms of spiritual possibility. It must be such a struggle, to deal with both sets of instincts like that.”

Danny’s head hurt, it was too much to try and understand the details of all of this. Maybe Tucker was right and he should just have let it be, learn to live with the new normal his life was now. Wasn’t that kind of what Clockwork was suggesting anyways? Then again, unlike Tucker, he did seem to thrive off of all of Danny’s questions, whether he actually answered them or not. 

“Yeah, I have to fight my more ghostly instincts all the time. It’s exhausting.” he said, leaning into Clockwork. It should have been embarrassing, seeking comfort like that, but he’d already cried into his shoulder and there wasn’t really any way to come back from that so Danny did as he pleased. 

He felt Clockwork’s hand return to his back, a solid comforting presence, “Now why would you do that?”

Danny tilted his head in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Why would you fight against one half of yourself so thoroughly? But embrace the other side entirely?” Clockwork elaborated. “Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences in fighting against your nature?”

“But,” Danny struggled to speak, pieces of the puzzle he’d thought hopeless putting themselves together in ways he had never expected and didn’t quite understand, “my nature is bad.”

Clockwork frowned and turned to look at Danny properly, “Daniel, it’s your nature. There is nothing good or bad about it. It is only as it is. Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

This was too much, Danny sat up fully and turned entirely towards Clockwork, “are you saying, the way I become that thing from my nightmare, is by… doing what I’ve been doing to avoid becoming that thing?!”

“Yes,” Clockwork answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He blinked, the answer really couldn’t be that easy. “But in my dream, I, my instincts-”

Clockwork grabbed a cookie and placed it in his hands, “even humans react poorly, when they starve themselves. As you exist now, you simply need a different kind of sustenance. One you’ve been denying.”

Danny felt dread crawl down the length of his spine, “what kind of sustenance?”

“Spirits exist for reasons, and they exist differently from humans. In order to keep existing they need emotions, experiences, something to keep them held together. A spirit that has no reason to exist will simply disappear, you’ve seen such before it is relatively common after all. But you can’t do that, since you are physical in a way that they are not. You can starve yourself endlessly, into madness even if you’re desperate enough.”

“I do it to myself?” Danny asked, flustered and frustrated. It was true then? He really was his own worst enemy? 

Clockwork shook his head, “it is not inevitable Daniel. As you were, it was the most likely path forward. Yes. You would have noticed the symptoms, seen yourself losing control and then, in reaction, suppressed yourself further. Starved yourself further.”

Danny cringed, yeah, that sounded like him. “How do I stop it then? I just embrace what makes me ghostly? What about my parents? If they think they failed the resurrection, that I’m not human anymore, they’ll kill me for real! Or worse!”

“That is indeed troublesome, and the paths of the future where they know your truth are twisted and sharp, every small decision every tiny change causing a greater effect on their reactions as a whole. But you do not need to reveal yourself to your parents to live your truth.”

Relieved, Danny fell back into the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he’d floated off of it, was that good? Bad? He shook his head, this was all too confusing. “How then?” He asked, maybe this time he’d actually get a straight answer. 

Clockwork ruffled his hair and stood up, er, well, floated up and over towards the fire. “You continue doing what you’re doing with your friends, protecting your town and interacting with the truth of the world around you. And…” He turned around, “you can come visit me. It’s quite lonely in the clock tower they trapped me in, and there is much I can teach you about becoming. I had to learn such things about myself once after all.”

“You’ll let me come back? To visit you?” Danny didn’t know what to say. He could come visit, ask more questions, get more answers. It seemed too good to be true, and Danny found himself eager and excited at the prospect. 

For some reason, the entire conversation, he’d thought this would be a one time thing. That the clocktower would disappear behind him and leave any question he didn’t ask unanswered. To find out that wasn’t the case, that he had somehow, against all odds, made some kind of ghostly ally, was beyond expectations. “You’ll help me?”

The answering smile had Danny floating out of his seat, “Of course Daniel. I’ll even bake cookies.” 

[mst3kproject]

The Ape

In the vein of movies that should not be confused with eerily similar previous entries, The Ape is distinct from The Ape Man... but not by much.  Both feature a slumming horror superstar, glandular secretions, and a stupid gorilla suit.  All these things also showed up in early seasons of MST3K, of course, and The Ape Man also has a surprise bonus.  Apparently, the guy in the gorilla costume is none other than Crash Corrigan, of Undersea Kingdom!

Long ago, Dr. Adrien lost his daughter to polio, and ever since he's been obsessed with finding a cure.  That sounds pretty noble, but unfortunately, Adrien is a mad doctor, so the cure he comes up with requires killing healthy people to drain them of their cerebralspinal fluid!  In order not to arouse suspicion, he kills and skins a gorilla that escaped from a circus, and wears its hide when he murders people... you know, as one does. To nobody's surprise but his, he ends up getting shot, but hey, at least he cured beautiful young Frances' paralysis!

This is a weird, dumb movie but one thing I can say in its favour is that everybody seems to have given it a good try.  This material was far beneath Boris Karloff but he takes it seriously and actually gets a couple of decent moments, as does Maris Wrixton (who was also in The Face of Marble) as Frances.  Nobody else is even close to Karloff's level, being just bland 40's actors who talk too fast, but none of the main cast are phoning it in, either.

Conversely, the worst thing in the movie is its truly horrendous gorilla suit.  The puppet face shows the actor's eyes and can curl its lip, which is cool, though the features don't look very gorilla-ish.  The rest of the suit, however, is terrible. It's way too shaggy and in order to give it a gorilla-like silhouette, they stuck a big hunchback on it.  This might have worked if Corrigan had tried to walk on all fours like gorillas actually do, but instead he waddles along upright like a toddler with a full diaper, which ruins it.  The people who made the movie also appear to think gorillas are nocturnal which, for the record, they are not.

Gorillas were kind of a big thing in movies of the 40's and 50's.  The species had been scientifically described a century earlier, but hadn't really been studied until the 1920s and most people had never seen one outside of King Kong. Films of the period were not kind to the gorilla.  One of the first gorilla movies was 1930's Ingagi, which purported to be a documentary about gorillas kidnapping women as sex slaves.  That kind of set the tone, and subsequent movies depicted gorillas as creatures prone to violence and rape.  Examples from this blog alone are numerous: The Ape Man (1940), Panther Girl of the Kongo (1955), and Bride of the Gorilla (1951) for starters... Robot Monster (1953) might also count.

The Ape has a slightly more nuanced approach to gorilla behaviour.  Yes, its gorilla does maul people to death... but the first victim is its trainer, who has been shown mistreating it.  Another circus employee even tries to tell him that he'll catch more flies with honey.  When the ape batters its way into Dr. Adrien's house, it does so in order to get at the trainer's coat, which Adrien left draped over a chair when the dying man was brought to him for treatment.  We see far more fear of the escaped ape than we do of the animal itself, and it does not commit near as many murders as Adrien does while dressed in its skin!

So that's halfway progressive for the 1940s.  We can also look at the treatment of Frances, the wheelchair-user partially paralyzed by polio.  She is clearly meant to be an object of the audience's pity, and Adrien is obsessed with making her able to walk again – as he could not do for his own daughter.  To some extent the movie infantilizes her, as she is clearly dependent on her mother, unable to have much of a social life, and her boyfriend Danny professes his willingness to 'take care of her'.  When she regains movement in her legs at the end of the movie, she and her mother immediately burn her wheelchair.  Apparently she's not allowed to build up her stamina slowly... if she walks ten minutes from home and then can't continue, she's just gotta sit there until she recovers or somebody finds her.

On the other hand, Frances' family aren't trying to force Adrien's possible cure on her, but let her choose it for herself. Her mother doesn't mind looking after her, and Danny is happy to accommodate her by, for example, hiring a cart so she can accompany him to the circus.  Danny in particular is very suspicious of the fact that the injections Adrien gives to Frances are causing her pain, and takes the doctor to task for it, telling him he would rather have her disabled and happy than walking but in pain.  “I'd rather carry her around all my life!” he says.  Her loved ones are willing to try for the cure, but it doesn't seem like anyone will be miserable if it fails.  Frances herself wistfully admires the acrobats at the circus, but shows no anger or bitterness that she cannot be like them.

Frances is even allowed some initiative, as she hurries down the road in her wheelchair calling to Dr. Adrien and trying to warn him that the gorilla is in the area.  This, ironically, is what leads to Adrien getting shot, as it attracts the attention of the posse hunting the animal.  But as Adrien lies dying, he gets to see Frances standing for the first time in ten years, so I guess we're meant to think this was all worth it.

But was it?  Several people died in order to provide the spinal fluid that helped Frances heal.  The movie shows them as terrified of Dr. Adrien and/or the gorilla, but other than that it is oddly uninterested in their fates.  None of the deaths are presented as tragedies, with families left in mourning... the only family we hear about for the gorilla trainer is a father who is already dead, and another one of the victims was an asshole who told his wife if she didn't like him cheating on her she could always drown herself(!??).  So... are we supposed to think they don't matter?  That their deaths are acceptable because they helped Frances – who was not dying or even deteriorating, and was satisfied with her life as it was – to a cure?

It is notable that we do not see what happens when Frances finds out that people had to die for her to be able to walk.  She would have to reassess her opinion of Dr. Adrien, whom until now she has thought of as a loving father figure.  She would have to figure out what this means for her future and perhaps need reassurance that she is not culpable.  Her unconcerned happiness at the end suggests that nobody bothered to tell her, and that she has not yet made the connection herself.  This is really quite unfortunate, because it deprives Frances of her only real chance to be a character rather than a plot point – which is ultimately all she is here.

Nobody else is shown dealing with the aftermath, either.  The town has long mistrusted Dr. Adrien because of rumours that he was experimenting on his patients, and a recent spate of missing dogs is shown to be his fault.  An early scene shows a group of boys bothering the doctor by throwing rocks at his house (which made me wonder if toilet paper hadn't been invented yet. According to Wikipedia, it dates to 1857, so there's your Fun Fact for the day). Seeing their worst fears realized really ought to have some effect on the people.  Even if nobody bothers to tell Frances how her miraculous cure was effected, others will surely figure it out and have to weigh up what he achieved versus the crimes he committed to get there.

Yeah, I know: this is a movie about a guy killing people while wearing a dead gorilla.  I'm thinking too hard.

Finally, I want to note some interesting possible connections between The Ape and a number of other movies I've seen.  Both The Ape and The Ape Man appear to have been inspired by the 1932 movie Murders in the Rue Morgue, which also features a gorilla and injections of bodily fluids in the name of mad science, and did not feature very much resemblance to Edgar Allen Poe's story of the same name.  I don't know if these films directly inspired each other, and it's been ages since I saw Rue Morgue... but the combination of plot elements here seems weirdly specific to be something different people came up with independently.  I should watch all three again and see if I notice any more similarities between them.

There are also interesting likenesses between The Ape and another Boris Karloff movie, 1945's The Grave Robber.  The latter is the story of a doctor who needs fresh corpses as part of his research, which culminates in surgery to allow a paralyzed girl to walk again.  The doctor in this film is more a victim than a villain, himself, as he finds that the man he's been paying to rob graves for him is actually murdering the homeless, and he can't expose this criminal without jeopardizing his work and incriminating himself.  It's been a long time since I saw this movie, either (as I mentioned a few weeks ago, I've had some shit going on and I haven't had a lot of time for movies, bad or otherwise), so I can't actually say if it's better than The Ape, but it's definitely less silly.

Anyway, the moral of this story is vaccinate your fucking kids or a gorilla will kill you.

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (40)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Aaaaaah.... what a beautiful night. A clear sky, stars dosing this beautiful black sky, A full moon, well round, very bright. If werewolves existed, it would be a perfect full moon for them, an ideal evening of blood and chaos for them. But even though he's not a werewolf, tonight is a perfect night for Danny. Finally.... FINALLY, he will be able to kill Hoggins. Finally, he will be able to finish what he started so long ago. Finally, he will be able to turn the page. What to do next?  Keep killing of course. But here or elsewhere.... that is the question. He couldn't wait to see you too. But not tonight.

The question that everyone must ask themselves is: but how could he go out with all his equipment, and above all, what will he be able to tell you, given that you live together? well the answer is very simple, and luck is definitely on his side. For the answer, he will simply find a great excuse, out of his awesome and insane mind. And as for luck, you are not at the apartment tonight. No, you spend the evening at Melina's, the latter having invited you to come and watch horror movies at her house. Danny really has a very good star over his head, although he would have had no trouble finding an excuse to go out tonight: being a journalist can be a curse for sleep but also a blessing for murder.

Danny was posed against his van as usual, observing the home of his future victim and revenge: Richard Hoggins. Good god it burned his whole body to go there now and massacre him without any mercy, without any strategy, just... a good bloody murder. But he must remain calm, this is not the time to be spotted and suspected by the police. And amazingly, even Jed, who is only Danny's alter-ego, an identity he had created from scratch, even he wanted to kill him.

“A beautiful night to kill, isn't it? Well... only you can see it.” said Jed inside Danny’s mind.  

“I expected you to give me yet another lesson in morality as you know how to do so well. What's going on Jed? Would I have ended up rubbing off on you?” responds Danny chuckling.  

“Don't claim victory too quickly. I would never endorse what you do, but let's say I'm going to make an exception for this asshole. He has to pay for Carla.”

“You talk about Carla as if you were the one who lost her forever. Whereas you are just an invention. A simple name. You don't know anything and you don't feel anything.

“You created me the very second you needed me. I may not be real, but I am a part of you, your good side, your past innocence. And also, your psychologist in a way. And I will continue to exist, as long as you need another identity. Involuntarily, you let me access your life, and now we are two sides of the same coin. People would say that... I am your imaginary friend. That looks like you like two drops of water.”

“Oh, shut up...” replied Danny, sighing and looking away.  

“... What will you do, when (y/n) learns the truth. Are you going to kill her or are you going to let her live?” said Jed looking at Hoggin’s house.  

“It will depend on her reaction. If I could leave her alive.... that would suit me. But if she confronts me or tries to call the police... I will have no other choice.”

“Will you only be able to... that’s the question.”

Danny got up, looked at the house one last time before putting on his mask and taking his knife. It’s time. Let us not make Hoggins wait any longer. The house was just as guarded as McKellan's. But that's not what was going to stop Danny. Far from it. The harder the victory, the more delicious the reward will be. He walked to the side of the house where Hoggins' office was located. The window was closed at first glance but it is better to check.

As usual, he will use the equipment he finds on site. One of Danny's golden rules is never buying any equipment. Otherwise, the police will be able to trace him via his bank account. Beginner error. He climbed up to hoggins' office window and effectively it was closed. But the one in the next room, on the other hand, was not completely. It was an archive room, surely where he kept his contracts, press articles, and anything else that could interest him.

“Well... a real library... I am sure that even the police archives room is not as large and as full of documents as this room... Hoggins protects a real time bomb. If anyone stumbles upon all this... His entire family over thousands of generations will be dishonoured.” Said Danny looking inside the drawers.  

And why not take a look? it won't hurt anyone. And with a little luck... Danny opened each drawer and looked at the different files until he found the one looking for: the file recounting the events of 4 years ago. The juicy little contract he had made with Dr. Pheels was to vomit. Certainly, he gave funds to the hospital for each death... but he recovered the double because he took 3/4 of the state aid that Pheels gave him. In the end everyone was a winner. And Hoggins even more.

“Motherf*cker. I hope you have taken advantage of this money, asshole. Because you're going to pay a lot tonight.”

Danny put the files away before passing the door that linked the archive room to the office. The office was empty, Hoggins was not there yet. Perfect. This gave him time to inspect the room. No camera. No alarm. Nothing. Good. The ropes of the curtains could be used to tie Hoggins. Or even more. Compared to McKellan, he did not exhibit artifacts or sharp objects in his office. Fortunately, he had taken his own knife. The office stinked of luxure, we saw that it was made to measure and at a price ... to fall to the ground.

Danny really wonders if he paid for it with "clean money". Rotten as he is, Hoggins may well have paid workers with dirty money, or not paid at all. It's possible with men like him. They are so stingy, so conceited, that they are able to do anything to keep a single penny. Noises were heard in the corridors. He’s coming. Danny got to the door and when Hoggins arrived, he did not see the latter hidden by the door.

“These cop bastards are seriously starting to hit me on the nerves to take care of my business! And that journalist... this Olsen.... if I could make him disappear... I thought I wouldn't fall back on him here. Maybe... maybe I could swing everything on him. After all,... I know who he really is.” said Hoggins before drinking.  

Danny quietly advanced behind Hoggins ready to knock him out. The latter still drank a few sips of his glass of whiskey before turning around and falling face to face with Ghostface. The latter did not give him time to do or say anything that he punched him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground, knocking him out instantly. Danny sneered at the inert body before taking a chair and the ropes from the curtain, then lifted Hoggins up to tie him up on the chair. He locked the door of the office and then returned to the archives room where he found a closet in which there were boards, nails and an electric nailer.

He prepared the scene by nailing the boards together, took the remaining curtain ropes and installed all his work in such a place and arrangement that when the police enter, Hoggins' body will be the first thing they will see. And if it could be Willhelm first... the pleasure will be all the greater. Hoggins woke up after a few minutes without panicking, without trying to free himself. As if he knew what lay ahead.

“Well, well... McKellan had acted like you at the beginning... you want to play the big hard... but you are only little girls.” Said Danny chuckling.

“It's funny coming from a man who doesn't take responsibility for his crimes and hides under a Halloween ghost mask. But we have to believe that criminals are all bad guys who want to play the big tough.” responds Hoggins before taking a punch in the face.  

“You have more mouth than the other idiot. But you will quickly regret it, it’s me who tells you.  You forget who I am.”

“Oh no... I know exactly who you are... Jed Olsen ... or you'd rather I call you... Danny Johnson?”

“...I see that you have done some research... and you have learned your lessons well. After all, you've had plenty of time for 4 years. But you're going to pay for it. Up to the last litre of blood.”

“All this for a poor little girl who was going to die anyway? You're resentful Johnson. You could have simply turned the page and avoided poking your nose into my stuff. I was very saddened to learn of the tragic death of Pheels...”

Danny punched him again before pulling out his knife and planting it in Hoggins' leg. The latter groans in pain before falling with his chair to the ground. Danny put himself on top of him and chained the blows more and more loudly. He lifted Hoggins by the hair and dragged him for meters to place him in front of a wooden cross large enough to hang a man on it.

“You see my dear Richard... this "poor little girl" as you call her had a future. And she could have got away with a treatment. The problem is that Carla had the misfortune to stumble upon you and your dear partner, Pheels. And YOU have decided to let her die in the name of profit. What's stupid for both of you is that you're falling on me. Young journalist... and crazy to bind. She was the only thing that helped me stay upright and you killed her. Pheels paid his share. You're going to pay yours. But for you the bill is going to be heavier. You know why? Because you're also going after MY girlfriend. And that... you should never have.” said Danny, preparing the electric nailer.

“When she learns of it, your little café boss will swing you at the cop. Anyway, you're screwed. I have a whole file on you and when Wilhelm sees it and read it...” said Hoggins with a sneaky smile.

“Oh. Are you talking about that?” replied Danny by exiting the folder. “You've done some really good research tell me. I loved rereading all these things about myself. You could have made it a novel even. Too bad this file disappears with you. At least it's going to burn. You... I'm reserving you for something more... artistic. I hope you are ready to meet your creator. Because you're going to join him right now. And in the same way as him. Or rather in a bloody way than him.”

Danny took the electric nailer and equipped it. He began by shooting Hoggins in the legs, who groaned again in pain. Unfortunately for him no one could hear him. He shot again, but this time in the arms, then in the torso. Blood was dripping from everywhere and Hoggins was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. Danny detached him and put him on the cross where he nailed him like Jesus.  

“You are...completely twisted. You will burn... in hell.” Said Hoggins.  

“Maybe. But for now, it's you who's going to rot in hell. Suck the devil’s d***, you son of b**ch.” responds Danny before killing him with a nail in the head.  

A demonic smile stretched over his face. That's it... He's dead. But it's not over yet. Much remains to be done. Danny used the curtain ropes to tie Hoggins to the wooden cross. Then with the little one remaining, he created a kind of crown with nails, which he fixed to hoggins’ head. Then he bombarded the whole body with nails, causing it to bleed from all sides.  

He then nailed Hoggins' hands and legs to make sure he did not fall and turned the cross over to make the symbol of the devil. This is a very successful work of art. However, one or two small details are missing. It's not bloody enough for his liking. He used his knife to eviscerate Hoggins, then slashed an angel's smile. Danny used Hoggins' blood to write a message on the wall and backed off to admire his work. There... there it’s better. There is only one thing left to do: to make this folder disappear. And the only way... it's to burn it.

But Danny is not stupid, he is not going to put the fire at home. He will burn it outside in the garden. He observed his work one last time, took a picture in order to have a proof to show you, then he left the place. Once away, halfway between the van and the house, he pulled out a lighter and set fire to the folder. He let go of the latter, watched him burn for a few minutes, then went to the van and left the place to go home.

“Finally... It's over. I will be able to turn the page...” said Danny, looking at the road.

“Yes. But you're going to keep killing. And that's not cool.” responds Jed sitting on the passenger seat.  

“Did you honestly believe that I was going to change after that? Oh no, obviously I'll continue... but I would no longer be alone. I hope you enjoyed the show from my mind.”

“Make Hoggins the counterpart of God and crucify him? I must admit that I loved it.”

“This is normal... you are me.” replied Danny looking at the passenger seat before focusing on the road again.

Danny arrived in the parking lot of the building. He changed in the back of the van, put his suit in his bag and went up to the apartment. When he opened the door, he noticed that it looked empty. He walked to the bedroom which was also empty. You hadn't come back yet, it was perfect. He went to his office to put down his bag, take out his suit and put it in the washing machine. Once the latter was washed, he began to dry it in his office, which he locked. He took a shower, put on his pyjamas, and threw another washing machine. At the same time, you return, all smiling, exhausted but delighted from your evening. Danny took you in his arms, kissed you and guided you to the room so that you could both go to bed.

What you didn't know yet was that the job was done. Finally, Danny could turn the page on his past. And he shot it in the most beautiful way.

An inverted cross on the photo of a demon.

***

(My first injection of the vaccine is only next Tuesday! I'm a little stressed because I don't know how I'm going to react to this first injection of vaccine. So, I prefer to warn in advance that this could delay the release of the next chapter of DSS. But don't worry! I'm solid so everything should go well! As I told you, I will try to do a small teasing post for fanfic re8, but it is complicated to summarize something without telling too much. And I always struggle to find a title. I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)

[echoghost1]

The Paleontologist and The Princess

Word Count: 2218

For: @aggressivelyclueless

Summary: Danny had one true passion; Paleontology. So can anyone really blame him for getting excited when he thinks he comes face to face with a dinosaur? Even if it isn't a dinosaur after all.

You can read it on AO3 or down below the cut

"Actually, Dad? I wanted to be a paleontologist." Danny admitted as he tried not to squirm in his seat. Sitting this close to the portal felt weird.

It felt like all his hairs were standing on end and that he’d jumped into an ice-cold pool at the same time.

“You know, dinosaurs?”

Just because both of their fields involved dead things, didn’t mean he was at all interested in ghosts. The closest he wanted to be to death was the bones of the ancient creatures who used to roam the earth, not the spooky floating scary things that went bump in the night.

His dad prattled on about the inventions that might not even work. Completely ignoring him, as per usual.

Of course, ever since Danny had got the portal to work last month, his parents had decided that meant he was their lucky charm and he needed to be around when they turned on any and all of their inventions from now on.

He hated it.

Mostly because they were right and everything just worked better, or at all, with him around. Probably because the inventions kept picking him up as a ghost.

Somehow his parents just kept thinking it was a fluke. That he only had some minor contamination and it would wear off eventually.

He was pretty sure that wasn’t true.

Especially given how he had fallen through his bed this morning and had gotten his hand stuck inside his doorhandle when it had partially phased through and then resolidified before he could pull it back out.

That had hurt.

He flexed his hand at the memory and really just wanted all of this ghost nonsense to go away.

================================================

It had been almost two months since his accident and his powers had only gotten stronger. They definitely weren’t going away anytime soon.

Although, he was starting to see the silver lining now. With his abilities, he could explore underground areas and discover fossils and specimens that no one could reach before without disturbing a thing. That was definitely a positive with such ancient and delicate things hidden deep within the earth. It was like they were waiting just for him.

So now whenever his parents called him down to the lab to show off their newest invention he’d just think about how cool and easy spelunking would be with the perks of ghost powers.

“Hey, Danny! Want to try out the Fenton Fisher?”

“Fenton Fisher?” he echoed looking from his dad’s fisherman get-up to the open portal.

“Yeah! I figured fishing and hunting aren’t too far off and I already enjoy the sport anyway. Might as well combine it with my work, am I right?”

Danny just chuckled and shook his head. You couldn’t say his dad wasn’t creative.

“Here, hold this. I’ve gotta go!” his dad said as he jumped up from his seat, pressed the fishing pole into Danny’s chest, and raced up the stairs.

Danny readjusted his grip on the pole and stared into the portal. The swirling green was somehow both super off-putting and oddly inviting.

He wasn’t sure which thought was worse.

Before he could truly think that over, Danny gasped as his ghost sense went off, “Oh no,” there was a tug on the line

The line went taut and he felt the vibration and tug of something very large.

Without enough time to react, Danny just stood there, in the open lab completely exposed, as two large clawed feet stomped out of the portal. Then a large reptilian head emerged from the vortex. Its glowing blue scales shining brightly more from the light the creature produced than from the shine of the scales as they reflected the lights of the lab.

Danny blinked at the massive creature before him. He hardly reacted at all when it spit out the hook onto his head and snarled at him.

All he could think was that there was something that looks suspiciously like someone had mixed a Tyrannosaurus Rex with a Triceratops in his basement. Or at least, the ones depicted in movies anyway.

There was a real-life dinosaur in his basement. Or a real ghost dinosaur anyway.

He didn’t know dinosaurs could be ghosts. Or that ghosts could be dinosaurs?

He couldn’t suppress the manic grin spreading across his face as the beautiful creature snorted hot breath through its nose at him.

He was so going to die.

If Jurassic Park taught him anything it was that being eaten by a dinosaur was the S-tier death.

The creature took another step forward revealing that it had large leathery wings sprouting from its back.

“You’re a dragon!?”

Forget being dino-chow, dragons were way cooler!

The dragon tilted its head at him. Like it could understand him.

It could understand him!

“Hi. You’re amazing! Did you know that?” Danny said full of awe and wonder as he dropped the fishing pole and just took in the absolute beauty of the literal dragon before him.

The dragon’s features went from confusion to surprise and suddenly instead of a dragon, there was a girl.

She wore a blue dress that went down to almost the floor, or it would have touched the floor if not for the fact that she was floating a good foot above it.

Her blonde hair was done in a braid and her bright red eyes looked over him with a mix of confusion and apprehension, “You do not fear me?” she asked with an accent that reminded him of that old Shakespeare movie Mr. Lancer had played in class two weeks ago. The movie was so old that it was only on VHS.

He shook his head, “Why would I?”

“But I’m a cursed beast.” she implored almost as if she wanted him to be afraid of her.

“Well, who told you that?”

“My step-mother.”

“That wasn’t very nice of her.”

The ghost girl looked away, “she rarely spares me any kind words.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still,” Danny took a step forward but stopped when she took one back, “If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”

If he didn’t have to fight he would gladly take that option. Fighting was exhausting and he always ended up getting knocked into a wall or something and his back was not at all enjoying the experience.

“You really wish to hear of my troubles? You don’t even know me?”

“That’s an easy fix,” he smiled, “I’m Danny, what’s your name?”

“Princess Dorathea of Mattingly,” she replied as she cautiously took his offered hand and just stared at their clasped hands as he initiated the handshake.

“Wow, I’ve never met a Princess before.” he chuckled as he let her hand go, “Or a dragon, but before today I figured my chances of meeting royalty were a bit higher despite not living in England.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Danny.” she curtsied and he scrambled to give a quick little bow back. “I do apologize for appearing here when I was so distraught. I do try to keep my temper in check, but sometimes it gets the better of me.” she clutched the amulet on her neck as her gaze went nowhere in particular, “But such is the curse.”

“You turn into a dragon when you’re upset?” Danny asked hoping he was interpreting what she was saying correctly. This fancy English was a bit difficult for him to translate.

“Yes.” she dropped the golden amulet back onto her chest, “But you are the only person outside of my family that does not fear the sight of my enraged form. Why is that?”

“Dragons are cool?”

She cocked her head to the side, “Cool?”

That was right, she spoke fancy English, she probably didn’t use modern slang. “Neat? Uh, awesome?”

“Do you find my other form more appealing?” she asked and her pupils flashed momentarily into reptilian slits.

“No, no! Both forms are great! You look pretty either way.” he said in a rush as he realized his earlier eagerness to die had left and he very much did not want to die in his basement.

Again?

“You think I’m pretty?” she asked as she blushed.

He blushed too because he’d never just said that to a girl before. Even if he had thought it. “Yeah.”

“That’s awfully forward of you.”

“Sorry! I don’t normally say stuff like that.” He wasn’t even sure why he had in the first place. “I just, uh, weren’t you upset about something?”

He grimaced at just how terrible of a transition that was.

“Oh right. Honestly, I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

“It’s okay to be upset about things.”

“Not if your me. Not if your anger makes you dangerous. And all over a silly ball.”

“Ball?”

“Yes, there was this wonderful ball I wanted to go to but my horrible stepmother forbade me to go.”

“Ah, I see she’s really trying for the Mother of the Year award.”

Dorathea just stared at him.

“Sorry. Sarcasm doesn't always work. My bad.”

“It’s quite alright. I just didn’t realize it was a joke at first. I think I get it.” She thought for a second and then smiled, “Yes. It’s funny because she’s terrible?”

“Yeah! It’s ironic.” he shrugged, “I really like puns and wordplay. Sarcasm is like my default setting.”

“There’s nothing wrong with using one’s wit. ‘Tis better to disarm thy enemy with a quick tongue than a hidden dagger.”

“Well ain’t that the truth!” he said with a smirk and a finger gun. Then he quickly dropped the finger gun, because it was both, kind of lame, and also she probably didn’t know what that gesture meant anyway.

He had a feeling that the Princess wasn’t just wearing that outfit because she was into vintage fashion.

“So a ball is like a dance, right?”

“Yes, there is dancing, and food too.”

“How come your step-mom said no to the ball? Besides just being the worst.”

“I had no escort. But it’s all moot now. The ball was ages ago. I’ve long since missed my chance to go.”

“There’s a dance at my school this Friday. It’s not the same, but-” he was cut off when she gasped.

“Are you asking me to go with you?”

Was he? “Yeah? I mean if you think she’ll let you. I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

“Tell me everything!”

He walked over to the chair his Dad had previously occupied and pulled out a flyer from his backpack, “Everything you need to know is on here!” he said handing over the page.

She beamed in excitement and hugged the paper tightly. “Oh, I can’t wait! Thank you so much for this Danny!”

“Meet you here at 6?”

“It’s a date!” Then she flew off back into the portal.

================================================

The next morning Danny walked up to his friends and attempted to show off his best smile.

“What have you done this time?” Sam deadpanned before he even had a chance to get a word in.

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“No one enters this building with a smile that big. Now spill.”

“I,” he hesitated, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you did do something, didn’t you,” Tucker added.

Who’s side was this guy on?

“I just have some news.”

His friends just stared at him.

He may be half-ghost but they certainly could give him the spooks, or Sam could anyway.

“You know how there’s a dance this Friday?” he started, hoping if he just came in real gentle they would be super understanding and not laugh in his face.

“Go on,” Sam said as Tucker looked between the two as if expecting a showdown.

“Well I got a date and I think it would be really neat if you guys came too so you could meet her.”

He smiled again and tried not to think about how much it felt like a grimace.

“Wait, when did this happen?” Tucker asked at the same time that Sam glared harder.

“Who is she?”

“Dora? She’s not from around here. I think she’s British?” he put a finger to his lip in thought, “Or at least I think that’s where she’s from. I didn’t ask, but she’s got the accent.”

“When did you meet a potential British girl?”

“Last night.”

“I thought you went home after school?”

“I did. That’s where I met her.”

“You meet a girl and immediately asked her to the dance?”

“Was she wearing a Land Before Time shirt or something?”

“No!”

How dare his friends think he was shallow enough to only ask a girl out if she happened to be into one of the best-animated movie series ever made. Although he probably would, now that he’s thinking about it.

“So what is it about her that’s so mesmerizing?”

“I didn’t say that! She was just upset because she missed this big dance a while back and I just invited her to ours to cheer her up. Plus she’s really nice.”

“And?” Tucker asked knowing him far too well.

“And she has this nasty little habit of turning into a giant dragon when she’s upset.”

His friends just stared at him.

“Also she’s a Princess.” he bit his lip and finally added, “and a ghost.”

[currentlylurking]

Phic Phight: Still Better Than Google Translate

Danny asks Vlad if he could teach him Russian. It gets… a bit out of control.

(Based on a Phic Phight 2020 prompt by @ecto-american)

(WC: 2389)

Still Better Than Google Translate

Vlad was decidedly impressed when he saw that his next appointment for the day was with Daniel Fenton. Typically, when the boy wanted to challenge Vlad’s latest ‘evil scheme’ he’d burst in and start shouting. This showed some forethought that had absolutely come from his mother’s side of the family.

“Daniel,” he said with a grin. “Please, close the door and have a seat.” Danny did, with a surprising lack of protest. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Danny took a deep breath in. Vlad wondered which of his so-called schemes Danny had uncovered this time.

“Will you teach me Russian?”

That… wasn’t any of them. “Excuse me?”

“Ugh, fine. Will you teach me Russian, please?” Danny huffed, crossing his arms.

Vlad had dreamed of the day Danny would ask him to train him since the boy turned him down that first time. As they grew apart, that dream had seemed more and more unlikely – and yet, here they were.

With one glaring flaw.

“What makes you believe I know Russian?” Vlad asked.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Uh, your name is Vlad and your ghost form looks like it crawled out of Transylvania? It’s not exactly calculus.”

“I believe the term is ‘rocket science.’”

“Whatever. Look,” Danny sighed, and ran a hand down his face. “I tried looking stuff up online, but then there was that whole thing with Technus and the duolingo owl escaping the internet, so that was a bust. I know you know it, and I know you want to teach me other junk, so will you do this one thing, with no strings attached, please?”

“Of course,” Vlad said automatically. “I’m just curious as to why you want to learn Russian.”

“…You have to know English and Russian to be an astronaut.”

Vlad smiled. “Of course. Clear your schedule for Monday after school, and enlist your little friends to handle any ghostly interference. We’ll meet at my mansion.”

“Wait, seriously?” Danny said, standing up. “You’ll do it? And you won’t be weird about it?”

“Of course, Daniel,” Vlad replied. “We’ll consider this a trial run so you can get a feel for my methods, and I can see how you learn best. It’s clearly not in a classroom setting, if your grades are anything to go by.”

“Annnd I am leaving now, goodbye.” Danny said, automatically switching to his ghost form. He floated out of the chair. “See ya, Vlad. You’d better not turn around and attack my dad after this.”

“I would never hurt my biggest political supporter,” Vlad said. “And use the door, Daniel. My assistant saw you come in.”

“Oh. Right.” He returned to his human form and dropped, landing on his feet beside the chair. “…See you Monday?”

“See you Monday, Daniel.” He waved the boy off, and waited until the door was closed.

He had much to prepare – namely, learning Russian.

Despite the weight Danny’s theory held, Vlad was not Russian. He was a third-generation American citizen, with ancestors on both sides of the family who had both come from western Europe, not eastern. His mother, allegedly, had simply been a fan of the name Vlad. Vlad himself was fluent in French and Spanish, due to the copious amount of time he’d had alone after his accident.

He wasn’t sure if he even knew anyone who spoke Russian.

.-.

Vlad had to scour half the Ghost Zone for the ghost he was looking for. Apparently, he’d been released from Walker’s prison and then moved his manor so he wouldn’t be disturbed. It was incredibly inconvenient.

After a few wasted hours, Vlad finally found the manor and invited himself in. The ghost met him in the foyer.

“Hello, Ghostwriter,” Vlad said.

“Get out of my house,” Ghostwriter said.

“There’s no need to be rude,” Vlad said, “I’m simply here in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Knowledge for what? How to release more tyrants from prison? Get out before I turn you into the side character in an Agatha Christie novel.”

Vlad relented, and took a step back. He wasn’t sure how Ghostwriter knew about his quest for the ring and crown – but now was not the time to ask. “I wanted to ask if you knew of anyone who could teach me Russian.”

“Absolutely not. Go away.”

“Come now. I thought you wanted to spread knowledge.”

“Yes. The knowledge that I don’t want anything to do with hybrids again.” Ghostwriter said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If this results in anything of mine being broken, I will report you to the Observants for releasing Pariah. Why did you want to learn Russian? And why did you come to me, instead of any human tutor?”

“Daniel asked me to teach him.” Vlad said, and smiled at the other ghost. He did not smile back. “I had to agree. Our first lesson is on Monday.”

“So, you agreed to teach him a language you don’t know, and your first lesson is in four days.” Ghostwriter said, deadpan. “Impressive. You’re an idiot. You don’t need my help; you need a miracle. Have you tried tracking down a Timekeeper?”

“I don’t have time to chase down a fairy tale,” Vlad replied, and Ghostwriter rolled his eyes.

“Learning a language well enough to teach it in four days is a fairy tale. You’re an idiot.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your opinion of me crystal.” Vlad said. “What can you teach me within four days?”

Ghostwriter scoffed. “I won’t be teaching you anything. I don’t like you. I understand that you’re too fancy for words like that, so let me rephrase; I despise you. I find your personality and face revolting.”

“So you have said,” Vlad seethed. “I came here on peaceful terms. I am a very patient man.” Ghostwriter snorted, “but if this continues I will make you regret it.”

His threat was clearly effective, because Ghostwriter dropped the attitude. “You can’t learn a language in four days. That’s not physically possible. I could try and see if I know anyone willing to teach you the basics, but that’ll take a couple of days. I could trap you in a Russian novel and you can learn on the fly?” Vlad scowled. Ghostwriter shrugged. “Otherwise, I think your best bet would be some translator contacts and a lot of lying.”

“I’m not teaching Daniel through google translate.”

Ghostwrite took a long, unnecessary breath in. “These are a ghost invention. They don’t use ‘google translate,’ they use an actually functional language database created and catalogued by the Observants. Just – here.” He pulled a glowing contact case out of his jacket pocket and offered them to Vlad. “Just use these.”

Vlad grinned and took the offered artifact. “Thank you for your time,” he said. He left, feeling rather satisfied with himself.

On the other side of the closed door, Ghostwriter rolled his eyes. “What a dumbass,” he said. He’d have to get another gag gift for his brother now – and, much more urgently, move his manor once again.

.-.

“Megan?”

“Who even is that?”

“Redhead girl, freckles, glasses?” Tucker elaborated. “Kind of cute?”

“Obviously it’s not someone he doesn’t know, Tuck.” Sam said.

“That’s just what he wants us to think,” Tucker said. “What about Wes? That guy probably knows Russian.”

Danny swung his backpack over his shoulder and closed his locker door. “Who the heck is Wes?”

“Yeah, if you don’t know we’re not telling you.” Sam said, deadpan. She took a step back to avoid being hit by Danny’s overfilled backpack. “Seriously, Danny, is your tutor human or ghost?”

Danny gave a vague hum which, really, could have meant a lot of things.

“And he wonders why we’re concerned,” Tucker said dully. “Do I need to break out the boo-merang in case you get kidnapped?”

“…Potentially,” Danny admitted, “but I’m not leaving Amity, so I think it’ll be fine.” He checked his phone, “I have to go, guys, I’m gonna be late.”

“Don’t die,” Sam said.

“Don’t crash Duolingo by releasing an evil owl on us again,” Tucker said.

“No promises!” Danny called, already running out the door.

.-.

Vlad put in the contacts right before Danny phased through his door instead of knocking and managed to avoid jabbing himself in the eye. They got settled on either sides of a table, the spread of paper between them.

“Now,” Vlad said, and opened his own book. Beside the English word, he could see the proper pronouciation. “I thought it’d be beneficial to go over some basic sayings before we delve into the grammar. For example, ‘hello’ is pronounced ‘unbju.’” Ah, apparently the contacts helped with speaking as well. Fascinating.

Danny frowned. “I thought it was, uh,” he cleared his throat, “zdravstvuyte.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Vlad said. “It’s unbju. Repeat after me: unbju.”

Danny did.

Vlad grinned. “Very good.”

He’d have to pay the Ghostwriter back for the contacts – perhaps he could set the ghost up with some human publishers.

.-.

Danny phased through his sister’s door and flopped down on Jazz’s bed.

“Who’s there?” Jazz said, not looking back from her computer. “Oh, Danny? Thank you so much for knocking, come on in –”

“Does Vlad know Russian?”

Jazz looked back with a frown before she turned back to the computer. There were a few clicks. “The internet says no. Just English, French, and Spanish.”

“Ugh,” Danny groaned, putting his hands on his head. “Knew it.”

“Did you ask him to teach you?”

“He agreed,” Danny huffed. “Then what the hell was he telling me? We just spent the past few hours learning stuff like how I introduce myself with ‘yeban’ko maloletnee’ and how Mom’s ‘Baba jaga.’”

“I think that last one’s a type of witch that eats children,” Jazz said, and turned to face him. “That, at least, might be Russian?”

“Survey says: not comforting,” Danny propped himself up on his elbows. “Do you think it’s a ghost thing? Like, some sort of ghost language or whatever?”

“…Huh,” Jazz said, and tapped her chin with an uncapped highlighter. “It could be. But have you heard any other ghosts speaking in a weird language?”

“There was Wulf and Esperanto, and uh… nope. That’s it.” Danny groaned. “I could’ve been learning real Russian, and instead I’m stuck with stuff like ‘Jri govno i zdohni’ and whatever ‘Otlez’ gnida’ means because I’m pretty sure it’s not ‘goodbye.’”

There was a knock on the door. Both siblings automatically fell silent. Jazz looked Danny over, confirming that he was fully human.

“It’s open!” Jazz called.

Surprisingly delicate for a man who’d smashed a chair over a ghost owl less than a week ago, their dad slowly opened the door. “Hey, uh, Danno,” Jack said. “My Russian’s a bit rusty, but you were uh, saying so pretty harsh things there.”

Danny stood up. “You know Russian?”

“Those were Russian?” Jazz asked.

“Russian swears,” Jack said. “You know how your old Grandpa Fenton studied languages, I picked up some from him. Why, Danno? You looking to learn?”

“You need to be fluent in both English and Russian to be an astronaut.” Danny said, “Can you teach me dad, please? I’ll do all my chores on time and get home an hour before curfew every night!”

Jack laughed and clapped Danny on the back. He nearly fell over. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Danny-boy! I’ll have to brush up, but I’ll see what I can do. And hey! If you decide you don’t want to be a spaceman, it’s great for catching ghosts!”

Danny heard a distant, ominous hoot and had to disagree.

.-.

Vlad jabbed his thumb into his eye. Durak neschastnyi, he thought, which was a horrible sign. It meant this was spreading.

He’d tried to pull the contacts out after the lesson was finished. When he’d had difficulty, he’d decided it wasn’t a major issue. He’d had an important video conference, which halfway through this cursed artifact had ruined his business deal. Now, he couldn’t get it out. Contacts were supposed to be removable! When he found Ghostwriter… oh, nu vse, tebe pizda.

His wall exploded. Danny had returned.

“You taught me the wrong Russian!” Danny said, and threw his hands in the air. “Dude, what gives? I came to you nicely, why’d you have to – why is your hand in your eye?”

“Past’ zabej, padla jebanaja,” Vlad growled, whatever that meant.

“Rude.” Danny said. “Dude, I already know you don’t know Russian. Turns out my dad does, though.”

Jack? That Balvan? “Poydi k chertu,” Vlad said.

“Yeah, yeah, bless you. Anyway, if you want to learn and need a study buddy, then I’m willing to pretend that this,” he gestured to Vlad, “didn’t happen. Also stop with the eye thing dude, that’s weird.”

“Otlez’ gnida,” Vlad growled.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘goodbye’ to you too. I’ll go.” He held up his hands, “Once you say something in English. Like a cheesecake swear or something. I get it’s another language and all but dude, this is weirding me out.”

Vlad huffed, and grabbed a piece of paper. He scribbled a simple message on it – Find Ghostwriter.

Danny took it and raised an eyebrow. “Uh,” He turned it back to Vlad. He’d written in English, and somehow it had ended up in the Russian alphabet.

“Ti menia dostal,” Vlad growled.

“Yeah, now I’m kind of worried.” He waved a hand in Vlad’s face. “Hey, Vlad? You understand me, right?” Vlad smacked it away. “I think that’s a yes. Is this a ghost thing? Nod if it’s a ghost thing.”

Vlad nodded.

“…A normal ghost thing or –” Vlad shook his head. “Oh. Yikes. Well, have fun with that!” He started to fly out the hole he’d left in the wall – Vlad grabbed him by the ankle.

Ghostwriter was a zjulik and he would pay!

.-.

Ghostwriter sat down with a nice book on his sofa, a steaming hot cup of coffee beside him. Today was a good day. Plus, he really liked the location his lair was in now – it was close enough to Undergrowth’s garden that he could get fresh beans! Really, today was a very good day.

And then his door was kicked in.

“Ghostwriter!” Phantom yelled.

“Popal!” Plasmius screamed.

Ghostwriter took a sip of his coffee and set his book down. “Ah,” he said, “shit.”

***

Prompt: Astronauts have to know English and Russian. In hopes of getting ahead of the game, Danny asks Vlad if he could teach him Russian.

No, I don’t know how I got this from that either. I’ll reblog this in a second with a link to where I got all the russian swears from, so feel free to dig through that.

[stovetuna]

Stony for 30 or 40? I LOVE U SO MUCH UR FICS GIVE ME LIFE 💛💛👏

AHHHH YAY LIFE!!! you and an anon both requested #30, so here’s some classic tony!angst and protective!steve :3 — I PROMISE THERE IS A VERY MUSHY, VERY HAPPY ENDING

#30: “You’re not worth it.” (TW: child abuse, references to alcoholism, Howard being a shitty human being [but what else is new]) 

***

It’s Wednesday, and Wednesday means movie night at the mansion. A time-honored tradition that goes all the way back to the Avengers’ inception, back when Steve was still finding his way out of the ice—literally and figuratively—and Iron Man and Tony Stark were two different people. 

It’s been a long time since those early days, Tony thinks, watching the new team assemble on the couches, loveseats, beanbag chairs, and blankets strewn around the in-home movie theater. The screen isn’t excessively massive, per Steve’s wishes, but the sound is as good as it gets, per Clint’s; Tony updates the hardware year over year to keep up with the times, especially as film goes the way of digital (much to Steve’s chagrin). 

But tonight is Steve’s pick for movie, and Tony wonders if it was planned that way the moment Luke Cage asks what they’re going to watch and Steve gets that glint in his eye. The one that Tony can recognize from a mile away now without even trying, the one that screams “Steve Rogers is a little shit” and that very few people seem to be able to hear. 

Tony groans the moment Steve grins and says, “Home movies!” while revealing two armfuls of reels from behind his back, some of which are so dusty and small, Tony wonders if they’re Steve’s. 

The team settles in with enough snacks to put a rhino in a coma while Tony and Steve head to the back of the room where the vintage projector Tony pulled out of storage for the occasion awaits. 

“Next week, you can pick the movie,” Steve whispers conspiratorially, bumping Tony with a friendly elbow. Tony has to hold himself back from leaning into Steve in response, the way his body feels primed to do and has done for literal years, ever since—god, since always. But Tony knows his interest and affections are very much one-sided, and Tony doesn’t need to flagellate himself over it any more than he already does with everything else in his life. Plus, watching Steve with each of his girlfriends is more than taxing enough.

He’s had years of practice keeping his feelings for Steve from the man. He can handle an elbow and a wink. That shit’s practically child’s play. 

“If footage from my sweet sixteen made it into this lineup, we’re watching all three Die Hards,” Tony replies with a saccharine smile that makes Steve blanch. 

“Tony, no.” 

“Tony, yes.”

“The last time we watched Die Hard, Clint wouldn’t stop talking with a fake German accent for a week.” 

“I know! It was hilarious, and I want to get it on camera this time so I can send it to Alan Rickman. He’ll hate it.” 

Tony giggles at Steve’s huff, which is really a laugh disguised as exasperation, another one of Steve’s tics Tony knows by heart. The pain and joy of knowing that secretly splits Tony right down the middle—the joy of knowing Steve is a much bigger troll than anyone realizes, the pain of wanting to grab him and kiss him for it—but he hides it all with an elbow to Steve’s ribs and a muttered “jerk” under his breath. 

He’s spent the past ten years and change like this—halved by a love that makes him feel whole, which is an equation that shouldn’t work, but does, because Tony’s math is always right—so what’s one more night? In the grand scheme of things, not much, and every second of it is more than Tony could have ever hoped for. 

Together in the darkest part of the room he and Steve work in tandem to load the first reel onto the projector and let it run: it’s early footage of the first Avengers team, recorded off of a news broadcast. Down in front, the rest of the team throws popcorn and jeers, laughing themselves hoarse at the costumes, the villains, the dialogue—“‘He’s a real ball of fire!’” Clint wheezes from his beanbag before Natasha pelts him with Milk Duds—while Steve and Tony sit back behind the projector, shoulder to shoulder, running their own private commentary all the while:  

“I miss that armor.”

“Shut up, no you don’t.” 

“It’s true! Anyways, isn’t vintage all the rage these days? You should bring it back.” 

“I’m not bringing back Pointy-Faced Iron Man and his Roller Skates of Doom, Cap.” 

“Not even for me?” 

Tony slides Steve a look out of the corner of his eye, face still directed toward the screen, a classic are you fucking kidding me? if there ever was one. Steve bats his eyelashes in response, because of course he does. Unfortunately for Steve, Tony is mostly immune to that tactic by now. 

Mostly. 

“Let us watch Die Hard next week and I’ll consider it.” 

“Ugh, Tony…”

“Hey, heart-eyes! Next reel!” someone (see: Bucky) shouts. Not for the first time, Tony’s glad to be concealed in relative darkness back here—even Steve’s enhanced vision won’t be able to make out the blush Tony’s knows is all over his face right now. He also gets a reprieve from sitting so close to Steve, hyperfocused on his warmth and all of the sensory trappings of home that come with it, while he swaps out the old reel for a new one. New-er, rather. He doesn’t look at the case or look at any frames before feeding it through the projector. 

“Alright, you rabble-rousers, pipe down,” he shouts as the image on screen flickers to life. 

“‘Rabble-rousers’?” Steve quirks an eyebrow at him as he sits back down. Tony folds his arms over his chest and shushes him. 

“Don’t start.”

“Ooh, is that you, Tony?” Wanda coos from her place on the loveseat next to Vision. 

“Look at all of that hair! Danny Zuko’s got nothing on you, Stark,” Clint laughs. Tony nails him with a popcorn kernel right in the ear.

The footage unspools, harmless—albeit embarrassing—at first: it’s a home movie from when Tony was young, no more than eight or nine. He’s wearing what looks like the remains of what was once a nice suit, something his parents forced him into, probably, but devolved into undershirt and slacks and suspenders hanging down past his knees. He really was a gangly kid, wasn’t he? 

Tony laughs along with everyone else, warmed by Jarvis’ voice offscreen telling “Young Master Anthony” to show off his latest invention for the camera. He feels Steve’s eyes flicker over to land on him whenever young Tony smiles at the camera or laughs at something Jarvis says, but Tony ignores it. Mostly.

“He reminds me of Steve,” Bucky tells the room when young Tony is shown with a replica of Cap’s shield, posing triumphantly to the sound of Jarvis’ delighted laughter. Jess aww’s. 

“He does, kinda, doesn’t he?” 

“How have I never seen these before?” Steve whispers, leaning closer as he does. Tony swallows hard against the shiver that ricochets down his spine hearing that low voice in his ear. 

“A lot of things of mine you haven’t seen, Cap,” he replies, too late to stop the innuendo from slipping out. He looks at Steve after he says it and almost, almost lets out a gasp: when did Steve get so close? And why is he looking at Tony like that? All intense and considering? 

“Oh, here’s someone else I remember,” Bucky laughs. Tony turns away from Steve, grateful for the excuse, and starts to release the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

It gets caught in his chest the moment he sees himself filling up the screen, young Tony standing alone in Howard’s office, having perched the camcorder on the big oak desk to record himself with Cap’s shield—the real one this time, not a toy. On screen, Tony has his back to the camera, the vibranium shield clutched in his too-small hands. He has to perch it on the floor, its weight just enough to counterbalance Tony’s, but holding it…even now, he remembers the thrill of that first time. The cool touch of vibranium humming under his fingers, the knowledge that he was holding his hero’s greatest treasure…his adult fingers clench against his thighs at the memory. 

But then, the image shifts into a sharper memory still, and Tony feels something old and awful claw its way from somewhere deep in his chest, remembering all too well what comes next. It tastes like bourbon and cigar smoke and the metallic taste blood leaves on the tongue after you’ve been smacked in the mouth. Tony’s hands fly out to clutch the sides of his chair and stick there; he can’t move them to stop the projector in time. It just keeps playing out, each frame worse than the one before. 

Of course he remembers this moment. He remembers it perfectly, because it was the first time Howard really hurt him. Not with his hands, although the bruises did linger longer than usual, after. 

This was the moment when Tony, so tender and impressionable even at that “advanced” age, learned what his father really thought of him. 

That old, awful feeling feels a lot like drowning when he thinks of Steve seeing what’s about to happen, let alone the rest of the team.

“I’m Captain America and I’m here to save you!”

“You’re not saving shit, boy.” Howard stumbles into frame like a bad Vaudeville performer, slurring Tony’s name like an expletive. “Put that down, you fucking brat. You’re not worth it.” 

The blood rushing in Tony’s ears drowns out the sound of voices past and present. All he can see is Howard filling the frame in that horrible tan suit, gripping a bottle of bourbon by the neck. The image catches on young Tony’s terrified expression, the way he hides behind the shield that’s almost as big as he is. He watches his own mouth move—Cap will save me, he’d cried, so confident, so certain that his hero would come and put Howard through the wall and carry Tony away to safety—and then down the bottle comes…

“Turn it off! I said turn it off!” 

Something hits the projector hard enough to not only knock it off the table it was sitting on, but send both hurtling across the room. They smash to pieces against the far wall with a noisy clatter that almost stops Tony’s heart in his chest. 

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the thwap-thwap-thwap of film smacking the floor as the reel spins on and on until coming to a feeble stop. He can hear breathing, heavy and labored and sliding quickly toward panic, and he realizes with a shuddering gasp that it’s him making that sound.

Tony looks up and sees Steve standing where the projector once was, cradling his bleeding hand. The man looks stricken, pale and horrified, worse than if he’d seen a ghost; behind him, the team has inched closer, all of them wearing varying expressions of distress and pity and guilt and sadness, and suddenly Tony can’t bolt out of his chair fast enough. He can’t get away fast enough. He follows his feet out of the room into the corridor and down, down, down to the workshop where it’s safe, where he can’t get in, no one can, not unless Tony lets them. 

Someone is calling his name, but Tony disappears down the stairs before he can figure out who. He bursts through doors he can’t see and staggers over to the closest workbench, sucking in deep, ragged breaths like he can’t catch up to them. Is that a screw loose in his chest cavity, he wonders, gasping, because that rattling sound seems to indicate something has come undone that shouldn’t have. Howard’s dead, Tony reminds himself, over and over again. It’s a fact as true as any algorithm, so why won’t it take? 

JARVIS’s voice moves gently through the noise in Tony’s brain: “Sir, Captain Rogers is asking permission to enter.” 

Steve. 

Tony can’t decide if the thought of Steve seeing him like this helps or worsens the rattling in his chest. Either way he feels like shit, but only one of those ways ends up with Captain America pitying him, or worse. 

He’s so caught up in thinking about all the ways this could backfire he doesn’t realize JARVIS has let Steve into the workshop, regardless of Tony’s feelings on the matter. The realization sets in when Steve’s voice appears close to his ear, soft and low with a frisson of urgency, like he too is slightly out of breath. 

“Tony, it’s just me. It’s okay. I’m going to put my hand on your back.” 

Warmth spreads from Steve’s fingers through Tony’s shirt and into the skin high up on his back between his shoulders. Steve can probably feel how fast Tony’s heart is racing, but spares him his overt concern and instead keeps telling Tony what he’s going to do before he does it: a hand on Tony’s forehead, an arm around his back, asking JARVIS to turn the lights down to thirty-five percent. 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay.” 

Tony sags into Steve’s touch, his large, warm hand cradling Tony’s head like something precious; the deeper dark quiets the room around them, makes it less overwhelming, less full of ghosts waiting to cast their own opaque shadows on the empty walls. Tony and Steve are left standing in a dim light Tony knows makes him look sallow; he wavers on his feet, left to borrow from Steve’s strength because he can’t find his own. Lucky for Tony, Steve is right there, braced and ready for anything. Like always.

The rattling has settled somewhat, but Tony still has to rely on Steve to tell him when to breathe and how deeply. He forgets, sometimes, that Steve has experience dealing with panic attacks, which so often came before an asthma attack. Steve once told him that even years removed from his sickly days, he still remembers what it’s like to lose that grip on reality, feeling the heart too acutely as it beats against too-brittle ribs.

While Steve draws on those memories often enough with others on the team, it’s a rare occasion for Tony to be on the receiving end of Steve’s nursing hand like this. Jokes or angry silence over cuts, breaks, and bruises, sure, but this? Tender hands and a voice pitched low and soothing, lullaby-soft, speaking words of gentle encouragement? Tony’s head feels light with it. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Steve asks. Tony shakes his head against his palm. “Okay,” Steve whispers, his voice the only one in the room, which makes for a funny kind of one-sided conversation. Then, before he can think better of it, Tony turns toward Steve, wraps his arms around the man’s impossible waist, and hugs himself close to Steve’s radiating heat. He’s too gone for shame, and too weak; a soft, gentle Steve is hard to resist, even on good days. And this just became a no good, very bad day.

Fucking Howard.

Steve, for his part, takes the hug in stride like they do it every day. Tony likes to imagine it, touching Steve like this whenever he wants to, but that’s all it is—a fantasy. Just like being with Steve is a fantasy, one Tony has entertained for far too many years to count. He satisfies himself with Steve’s friendship, tells himself it’s enough, and if he happens to sleep with the occasional look-alike, that’s nobody’s business but Tony’s (and JARVIS’s, and in one deeply unfortunate instance, Pepper’s). 

Strangers want Tony Stark, the celebrity; Steve wants Tony as a friend and teammate. That’s all. So Tony steals his nice, platonic hug as he trembles and breathes his way out of a panic attack, being careful to avoid nuzzling the soft notch at the base of Steve’s throat the way he wants to. Badly.

He’s so preoccupied with holding all the disparate parts of himself together and hiding them so Steve can’t see, he doesn’t notice Steve’s hands start to rub his back in long, soothing strokes until Tony is half-melted in his steady arms, weak-kneed at how comforted he feels. Steve doesn’t say anything—just keeps moving his hands, up and down Tony’s back, across his shoulders, along his arms, and over again. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, without motive, ulterior or otherwise; his skin feels warm down to his toes.

“Better?” Steve murmurs. Tony nods against his chest. He doesn’t let go. Neither does Steve, who seems to fold himself over Tony until they’re more like one person than two, standing there breathing together in Tony’s darkened workshop. 

Slowly, thoughts of Howard, of hurt, start to melt back into the shadows. In their place is Steve, filling up all of Tony’s empty spaces with light, even some of the ones he didn’t know he had. For such a strong man, Steve is unbearably gentle, handling Tony the way he might handle spun sugar or thin glass. Tony has never felt so genuinely cared for, and the fact that he can’t pull back and thank Steve with a kiss smarts a little in the face of it. 

That is, it does, up until the moment he feels Steve brush a kiss against where Tony’s hairline meets his forehead, soft and uncomplicated, but lingering, like Steve wants to stay there. To do more. Tony knows that move because he’s imagined doing the exact same thing to Steve, god, thousands of times.

Tony wants so much. Too much. Asking Steve for this would tip things precariously toward the latter. But the question is taken out of Tony’s hands the moment one of Steve’s perches itself under his jaw and tilts his face up.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. 

“It’s ancient history,” Tony replies, maintaining eye contact through sheer willpower when all he wants to do is look at Steve’s mouth, now so close to his. 

“Not to you, it isn’t,” Steve counters, and there’s not much Tony can say to that. “I’ll talk to the team. They might have questions, and you shouldn’t have to answer them. Not tonight, anyways.” 

“I know you’ve got big shoulders, Steve, but you don’t have to take on my baggage on top of everything else.”

As they talk, their bodies never move an inch apart; chests pressed flush against each other, Steve’s fingers splayed along the side of Tony’s neck. All of it—the proximity, the tenderness, the intimacy—feels as natural as the breathing they just did together. Ten-plus years of friendship will do that. But then, the way Steve is looking at him doesn’t really scream friendship. 

It kind of screams I love you. 

Steve gives him that little smirk and says, “Maybe I want to.” Tony scoffs, flicking one of the shoulders in question for good measure. 

“God, how are you still such a horrible liar, Cap? Is there something in the serum that makes it impossible for you to keep a good poker face?”

“This is my good poker face,” Steve replies, and there it is again, the same look Steve gave him earlier before the night spun out like a race car with its wheels blown off: intense, considering, and so, so close. 

Tony swallows nothing but air. Steve, never breaking eye contact, cards his fingers through the hair on the back of Tony’s head and holds them there. 

“If I kiss you right now, will you have another panic attack?” he asks quietly. Not even a blink. The part of Tony’s brain—a scant centimeter, at best—that isn’t currently blasting a hundred sirens at full volume is actually kind of impressed.

“I doubt it,” Tony replies evenly. “I’ll probably just pass out.” 

The smirk becomes a full-blown grin. Steve squeezes his other arm around Tony’s lower back and hums, deep and resonant, in his chest as he leans down to brush his lips feather-softly against Tony’s. 

“You fall, I’ll catch you,” he whispers before dipping in for a proper kiss that floods Tony’s head with incandescent light. It’s chaste and measured and burning with mutual restraint, tastes faintly of the buttered popcorn Steve ate earlier, and the only way it could be better is if it never ended. 

Tony tightens his arms around Steve’s waist, and when Steve pulls away to speak, he doesn’t go far, seemingly content to stand there in Tony’s embrace in the middle of the dimly lit workshop. 

“Still breathing?” he asks. Tony smiles; Steve smiles back. 

“Takes a lot more than that to knock the wind out of me, Cap.”

The way Steve’s eyes darken at that little remark is definitely something Tony intends to investigate further, later. For now, he leans into the hand now resting on his cheek and sighs. 

“We’ll test that theory another time,” Steve husks before leaning forward to press a kiss to each eyelid. Tony hums happily, sinking further into Steve’s arms. “Can I carry you to bed?” 

Tony gives him a look. “I’m heavy,” he says. 

Steve just smiles, kisses Tony like he’s been doing it forever, and replies: “You’re worth it.”

- - - 

see? happy endings. fuck howard. 

[flowerfan2]

Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text)

McDanno, T, A03, 6k so far

Summary:  After Steve leaves Oahu to go find himself, Five-0 starts a group text to keep in touch while Steve’s away.  Picks up after the end of Season 10.

Notes:  This story is set in the present, following 10x22, but there’s no COVID in it...  I wanted it to be fun.  The story is complete and will be posted over the next few weeks.  Many thanks as always to my awesome beta, @perryavenue.

Chapter 3

June 25, 2020

JR:  What’s the name of Steve’s vet, the one he sort of dated?

QL:  If you and Tani were considering a threesome you could have let me know.

TR:  News to me.  But I suppose we could talk…

JR:  Shut up.  Eddie’s hurt, do you know the vet’s name or not?

TR:  Oh no, what happened?

JR:  I’m not sure, we just got back from a run and he’s limping a little.

DW:  Don’t go anywhere.  Keep Eddie still, I’ll be there in ten.

JR:  Shouldn’t I take him to the vet?

DW:  Just called them.  Stay right where you are.

JR:  Danny, Eddie’s fine, I can just put him in the truck.  He probably just stepped on something sharp.

QL:  Is he bleeding?  You should elevate his leg.

JR:  No, he’s not bleeding, it’s not that serious.  

TR:  Can you tell which paw it is?

JR:  Of course I can tell, it’s the foot he’s holding up when he tries to walk.

DW:  Did you not understand the part about keeping him still?  Walking is not keeping him still.  Sit with him, don’t let him move.

 JR:  We’re sitting on the couch, don’t worry, Eddie is fine.  He’s licking my face.  Normal Eddie behavior.  I think he actually forgot about his foot.

 TR:  Doesn’t hurt to be careful.  Junes, where did you take Eddie anyway?  Just the beach?

 TR:  Junes?  You there?

 JR:  Sorry, had to let HPD in.

 TR:  Wait, why is HPD there?

 JR:  Apparently Danny sent them.  With flashers and sirens.

 TR:  Of course, that makes sense.

 JR:  Um, no it doesn’t.  Eddie is fine.  And Five-0 isn’t supposed to use HPD for personal stuff.

 TR:  Yeah, we never do that.  

 SM:  What the hell happened to my dog?

  July 5, 2020

 LG:  I hate all of you, but especially Tani.

 TR:  It was just lemonade, Grover.

 LG:  No, it was iced tequila with one lemon slice floating on top.

 TR:  Party lemonade.

 LG:  It’s not very patriotic to get your elders drunk.

 TR:  No one said you had to drink it.

 LG:  Pretty sure you said anyone who doesn’t taste my lemonade has to go home.

 TR:  I had already had some lemonade when I said that.  I can’t be held responsible for my actions.  Face it, you’re a lightweight.

 LG:  Clearly not true.

 TR:  Then why did Renee make you leave early?

 LG:  We had another party to go to, as I told you last night. Where is everyone, anyway?  I thought Junior and Quinn were on today.

 TR:  I’m sure they’ll turn up any minute.

 LG:  Junior is still asleep, isn’t he?

 TR:  The lump under the blankets just cursed at me when I thumped him, so no, not totally asleep.

 LG:  Tell him to get his ass in gear and get to work.

 TR:  He says his head is exploding and he wants to die.

 LG:  Requesting a sick day, then?

 TR:  I’ll come in instead.

 LG:  Seriously?

 TR:  It’ll be better than listening to Junior puke all morning.

 LG:   I didn’t need to know that. How come you’re all chipper?

 TR:  I drank a bunch of water before I went to bed.  Like you’re supposed to.

 LG:  Hey, did Danny ever show up last night?

 TR:  Nope.  

  July 11, 2020

 LG:  I’m at the dock, which way should I go?

 DW:  Towards the boats.  The big floating things.

 JR:  I can see you, keep going the way you’re facing, then head south when you get to the end of the

row.

 LG:  South?  Sorry, forgot my compass.  

 DW:  Just listen for the music.

 TR:  I can’t believe you know the words to Taylor Swift’s greatest hits. At least my music is relatively current.

 DW:  Grace was just the right age.  It got stuck in my head.  

 JR:  And now it’s stuck in ours.

 <i>TR has changed the name of the group text to</i> <b>Shake It Off Dance Party</b>

 QL:  Be there soon.  Just found Jerry wandering in the parking lot.

 JG:  I wasn’t wandering, I was organizing my gear.

 TR:  What kind of gear do you need for a boat ride?

 LG:  You do realize you are asking Jerry this.

 JG:  By the way, thanks for including me today.  I’ve missed you guys.

 DW:  We miss you too.  But if you could all hurry up, that would be great.  I’d like to leave the dock sometime before it gets dark.

 QL:  Do you guys do a Five-0 summer outing every year?

 TR:  Nope, first time.

 QL:  Really?

 TR:  Yeah, generally we get enough excitement at work.  And Danny has some issues with boats.

 DW:  I actually enjoy boats, when there isn’t any gunfire, or sharks, or poison. I only have issues with <i>Steve</i> and boats.  Steve isn’t here, so we’ll be fine.

 QL:  So much to unpack there.

 JR:  Didn’t Steve set this up?

 LG:  He surely did.  The boat belongs to a friend of his.  I think he thought we all needed some cheering up.

 TR:  You mean he thought Danny needed cheering up.

 DW:  If Steve wanted to cheer me up he wouldn’t have sent me on a boat trip with all of you.

 LG:  Ouch.

 JG:  We may have a slight delay.

 TR:  What did you do?

 JG:  I didn’t do anything.  But Quinn was texting and walking at the same time and tripped.

 DW:  Is she ok?

 JG:  She didn’t fall in the water.  But her phone did, and she’s kind of pissed.

 LG:  Well we’ve got beer, that might help.

 JG:  Now’s she in the water.  She’s trying to find the phone.

 JG:  Quinn can hold her breath for a really long time.  Kind of impressive.

 LG:  For pete’s sake, what’s the point?  She’s never going to find it, and it’ll be ruined anyway.

 JG:  I said the same thing, but she didn’t listen.  Now she’s going to talk to the harbormaster.

 TR:  To report a dropped phone?

 JG: I don’t know, she just told me to wait while she went to talk to the harbormaster.

 TR:  It’s not like we need our phones for fishing.  We probably don’t get service out there anyway.

 DW:  Hardly matters.  At this rate we’re never leaving the dock.

  July 17, 2020

 SM:  Send help to this address ASAP. My phone’s dying.

 DW:  WTF Steve?

 SM:  Tow truck kind of help.  Flat tire.

 DW:  It’s four in the morning here.

 SM:  Oh, sorry.  Got up early. Not that early.

 DW:  Way to give me a heart attack.

 SM:  Sorry, didn’t mean to.  You okay?

 DW:  Course I’m okay.  I’m in bed, asleep.  Or at least I was asleep.  Now Eddie’s awake too and thinks it’s time to get up and go for a walk.

 SM:  Wish I was there.

 DW:  What?

 SM:  In bed, I mean.  Instead of stuck on the side of the road.

 DW:  Where are you, anyway?  You haven’t mentioned lately.

 SM:  Near Yellowstone.  Been camping. Did some hiking into the backcountry.

 DW:  Sounds suitably outdoorsy.

 SM:  Yeah.

 DW:  Your phone doesn’t seem all that dead.  You could have called AAA yourself.  

 SM:  I wasn’t sure how long it would hold out.

 DW:  It’s okay.  I miss you too.

  July 18, 2020

 JR:  So we’re all ignoring that conversation, right?

 TR:  Yes, because we work for them, and we have better things to do today.

 TR has changed the name of the group text to Luau Luau Luau

 JR:  Good to know you’re excited.

 TR:  Just cross your fingers there aren’t any murders in the next six hours. I want to be there when the pig comes out of the pit.

 SM:  You guys are doing a real luau?

 TR:  Yup.  Kamekona dug the imu.  Or had someone else dig it, probably.  But that sucker’s been cooking for hours already.

 JR:  Hey Commander, how’s it going?

 SM:  It’s good, Junior.  Thanks. How’d you get Kame to cook you a pig?

 TR:  It’s to thank Danny for helping him with some kind of permitting problem for his new place in Kapolei.  Kame found out Danny had never done the whole pig in the ground thing, so he decided to show him how it’s done.

 SM:  You’re telling me Danny got up at dawn to put the pig in the imu?

 TR:  I can’t swear to it, I wasn’t there.  But that was the plan.  

 LG:  I was there.  And no, Kame didn’t do any actual digging, he got Nahele and his friends to do it.  We did have to carry some rocks.

 TR:  What do you think, Lou?  Pretty cool, right?

 LG:  I am in favor of anything that combines fire and meat, you know that about me.

 SM:  Danny must not have gotten any sleep at all.

 DW:  That’s why they invented coffee.

 SM:  How much did Kame charge you for it?

 DW:  Nahele brought us all coffee from Island Vintage.

 SM:  What, did he come into some money?

 DW:  I paid him back, you dunce.

 SM:  I can’t believe you guys are putting together your own luau.

 DW:  Makes you miss home, doesn’t it?

 SM:  Sure does.  Danny, you’ve really never been to a luau?

 DW:  Not really.  Seemed kind of touristy.

 TR:  That’s why you have to do it yourself.  I made chicken long rice last night, and Junior’s bringing the lomi lomi salmon.

 JR:  I wanted squid but Tani likes salmon better.

 SM:  Good luck getting Danny to eat squid unless they’re deep fried.

 DW:  I’ll have you know I haven’t had a fried fish in ages.  I’ve been grilling mahi almost every weekend.

 SM:  You have?  That’s awesome.

 JR:  He does a good job with it, too.  It’s never dry.

 DW:  Thanks, Junior.

 SM:  Clearly my healthy eating has finally made an impression on you, Danny. I’m so proud.

 JR:  I think it was his doctor that forced him into it, but whatever.

 SM:  What do you mean?  What’s wrong?

 DW:  Nothing’s wrong.

 SM:  High cholesterol?

 DW:  Shut up, I can eat whatever I want.  I’m just choosing to be more aware of what goes in my mouth, that’s all.

 LG:  Right, that’s why you banned malasadas from the office.

 TR:  Maybe he’s just trying to maintain his girlish figure.  

 JR:  Are you really trying to lose weight, Danny?  Because you’re as thin as I’ve ever seen you.

 LG:  I’m not sure they sell those slacks in extra-slim, you better be careful.

 DW:  Can we please stop talking about me?  

 SM:  Seriously, is everything all right, Danny?  

 DW:  You guys are ridiculous.  See you later at the beach.  You can ogle me there as I stuff my mouth with kalua pork.

  July 21, 2020

 JR:  Tani, you up?

 TR:  You know you can just come home and get into bed with me, you don’t need to say dumb stuff like that.

 JR:  Honestly I just wanted to know if you were awake.  It’s one o’clock in the morning.

 TR: LOL sorry.  Yeah, Quinn just left and I’m trying to clean up.  We tried to make fancy margaritas and it looks like Whole Foods’ fruit section exploded in my kitchen.

 JR:  What’s a fancy margarita?

 TR:  You know, you add in something that tastes good and something that tastes bad.

 JR:  That can’t really be the recipe.

 TR:  It seemed like it.  Grapefruit and rosemary – who wants rosemary in their margarita?

 JR:  Ok true.

 TR:  Strawberry and jalapeno was pretty good though.  But we put too many jalapenos in.

 JR:  Sounds dangerous.  How many have you had?

 TR: A good amount.  When are you coming home?

 JR:  Don’t know.  Adam and I are still parked down the road from the restaurant where the victim died yesterday.  Danny thinks whoever was responsible, the assistant chef probably, will break in tonight.

 TR:  Sounds fun.

 JR:  I’m bored out of my mind.  Ran out of things to talk about with Adam about two hours ago.

 TR:  Let’s play fuck, marry, kill.  

 JR:  Okay.  But let’s text just us, okay?

 TR:  Smart.  Okay, you go first.  Celebrities, fuck, marry or kill.

 JR:  Any celebrities?  That’s kind of broad.

 TR:  Ok, celebrities named Chris.

 JR:  You’re really making me go first.

 TR:  You’re the one who said you were bored.  I could just throw all this crap into the sink and go to bed.  But I’ll go first if you want.

 JR:  Okay.  

 TR:  And obviously no getting mad, right?

 JR:  Obviously.

 TR:  Fuck Chris Hemsworth, marry Chris Evans, kill Chris Pratt.

 JR:  That was fast.

 TR:  I may have thought about it before.  Now you go.

 JR:  Fuck Christina Aguilera, marry Chris Evans, kill Chris Noth.

 TR:  Very enlightened.

 JR:  Everyone wants to marry Chris Evans.

 TR:  Agreed.  Okay, next. Marvel characters.  

 JR:  That’s kind of an overlap, isn’t it?

 TR:  Only with a few of them.  We’ll say no repeats.  You go first this time.

 JR:  Fuck Wonder Woman, marry Black Widow, kill Loki.

 TR:  Sure you didn’t reverse Wonder Woman and Black Widow?

 JR:  Nah.  If I’m going to spend my life with somebody I want her to have some depth, you know?

 TR:  I’ll revisit that when I’m less drunk.  Okay, fuck T’Challa, marry Tony Stark, kill Fury.

 JR:  Fury?  He’s a good guy.

 TR:  I didn’t like the way he faked his death.

 JR:  You confuse me sometimes.

 TR:  I think that’s okay.  Any sign of the assistant chef?

 JR:  No.  And Adam seems entranced by some game on his phone.

 TR:  Animal crossing?

 JR:  I think it’s some kind of card game app.  Jerry mentioned it.

 TR:  Why play cards on an app instead of in person?

 JR:  Maybe because you’re stuck at work at one in the morning.

 TR:  Fair.

 JR:  Okay, let’s do another round.

 TR:  Fine.  Five-0. Present or former members.

 JR:  No way.

 TR:  Come on, you must have thought about it.  

 JR:  No getting mad?

 TR:  Obviously.  And we can’t say each other.

 JR:  Obviously.

 JR:  You go first.

 TR:  Fuck Steve, marry Danny, kill Catherine.

 JR:  Again, you do this really fast.

 TR:  These answers aren’t hard.

 JR:  Didn’t know you hated Catherine so much.

 TR:  She screwed over my imaginary fuck buddy and my imaginary husband, so, yeah.

 JR:  I feel like you know more about this situation than I do.

 TR:  As with all things.  Come on, your turn.

 JR:  This is hard.  And very unprofessional.

 TR:  You cannot leave me hanging.

 JR:  Fuck Quinn, marry Steve, kill Adam.

 TR:  He’s that boring?

 JR:  He’s that boring.

 TR:  You know Danny thinks I’m just like Steve.  In the good ways.

 JR:  I’m aware.

 TR:  You only said Quinn because you couldn’t think of any other women on Five-0, didn’t you?

 JR:  Ok fine.

 TR:  Be honest, who would you pick?  Really?

 JR:  There’s no way you’re getting me to put that in a text.

 TR:  It’s just us, come on.

 LG:  No it’s not.  

 TR:  Oh shit.

  July 22, 2020

 DW:  Ok, regarding last night’s text message fiasco, I’m incredibly disappointed and have no choice but to run this by HR.

 TR:  Wait, we have HR?

 DW:  No, actually.  But I talked about it with Steve and we laughed our asses off.  Try to rein in the sex talk just a bit, okay?  And maybe don’t mention actually killing people in our group text.

 JR:  Sorry, sir.

 TR:  Sorry, boss.

 DW:  And Junior’s right.  Everyone wants to marry Chris Evans.

[thevoilinauttheory]

30 Day Character Challenge, Days 4 through 19.

This is a long post, and so the entire thing will go under the cuts!

Day Four— Family: Does your OC have a family? If not, who do they consider to be family to them, even if they’re not really family? (26/27) Valere Voilinaut has a lot of family - starting with his brother, Maximiloix. Making him the grand-uncle of Lothaire and Honorie. He also has seven other siblings besides him. He is the third oldest child. Besides his siblings, he also has a wife, Yue. Whom he loves with all of his being, next to his son and his daughter. As for family that aren’t blood related, he has gotten along well with Solaire and his husband, as well as Sabeloux and his wife. 

Day Five— Friends: Does your OC have any friends? Do they belong to a friend group? What do they do with their friends? (18/27) Solaire does not have many friends - for good reason too. He’s not the most friendly person in the world, quick to judge and even quicker to assume things. Being Caromont’s ex-fiance makes it hard for him to see him as a friend when he feels cheated on, but is slowly moving past those feelings with the help of his husband (whom is his best friend). He is, however, fairly good friends with Raymond and his husband, as well as Valere and his wife. Though other than that, he has a hard time making long lasting friends without ruining the friendship himself. He doesn’t do much - as he makes a living as an adventurer, painter, and carpenter - he doesn’t have much time to put aside for any of the friends he does have, aside his husband, whom he does everything with. If he does go out with friends, it is usually joining together for a dinner.

Day Six— Guilty Pleasure: What does your OC like to do that they never tell anyone that they do? Does anyone ever find out? (7/27) Orpheux would probably find a way to kill himself if anyone found that he not only enjoys embroidery, but flower arrangements and tea-making as well. Not because his ‘masculinity’ would be at stake, but rather his visage of destruction among most people. He isn’t known for calm behaviors, and finds enjoyment in causing as much damage as humanly possible - from war crimes to property damage, to purposely attempting to break treaties. These rather domestic activities would definitely ruin his image. He would never tell a soul - and no one has caught him yet, not even his brother.

Day Seven— Casual Outfit: Give examples of what your OC wears on a normal day, with nothing special planned. (2/27) Berenger usually wears nice clothing even when the situation doesn’t call for it - the best dressed at any occasion. Though on a casual, common, and usual day, he may be found in a restaurant uniform with an apron - even though he owns his own storefront, he prefers to cook the food himself. Outside of work, he is usually found in a nice vest and slacks.

Day Eight— Formal Outfit: Give an example of something formal your OC has worn/would wear. How often do they wear this outfit? Do they have any others? (25/27) Maximiloix wears his casual outfit at the same time as his formal outfit - which is to say, he doesn’t change at all. Well, he does, just to wash his clothes, but he wears the same thing regardless. A long white robe, tight pants, and heels. His sense of style is very… *very* flamboyant, and even if he were to wear something else, it would be less modest and more colorful than his robes.

Day Nine— Spirituality: Does your OC have a religion? What do they believe happens to people when they die? What superstitions do they have? (17/27) Genevier isn’t a religious woman, though her patron deity is Halone, growing up in a religious city. However, despite that, she is a very, VERY, superstitious person - black cats? Avoids them at all costs. The numbers 4, 9, 13, 17 - she avoids them at all costs? Down to 4 arrows? She breaks one so her luck and aim aren’t affected in her hunting. You will never see her pass a match to another after using it; she will avoid priests that walk openly on the streets; nor will she ever accept a clock as a gift. She’s careful around mirrors, keeps umbrellas outside, and never uses a ladder. Her salt shakers have weights at the bottom so they don’t fall over.

Day Ten— Broken Temper: Your OC with their anger out of control. How did this happen? Does this happen a lot? (11/27) Quinn doesn’t get angry easily, not in the slightest. He’s very calm and collected with himself, though when he does get angry, it’s like the hells themselves erupted. He doesn’t have the physical strength to beat anyone down, but he does trash rooms and break apart his inventions just to keep himself from hurting anyone. However, the chances of him getting that angry are far slimmer than winning the lottery. Though, the quickest way to piss him off is to yell or shout around him - he’s very skittish about loud noises.

Day Eleven— Get the Sad Out: Your OC is in despair. What would cause them to be like this? How do they express their sadness? Do they cry? Does this happen a lot? (20/27) M’nhea being in despair is like a fire but cold. He never seems to have it in his heart. Or at least, at face value. For someone of very little brain, he is very good at hiding his emotions - the loss of his friends and family, and his homeland, hit very deep with him. He will never show his sadness in front of anyone save for a couple of people, most of it is spent in an inn room sobbing. He screams and cries and begs to gods for everything to be given back, knowing full well that’s not how it works. After a good solid half a bell of crying, he will either clean himself up and return to what he does best, or promptly pass out until the next morning.

Day Twelve— Argument: Your OC gets into an argument with somebody. Is it somebody they know well? Does this happen a lot? Do they get angry or do they remain calm? (25/27) People tend to avoid arguments with Maximiloix - not because he’s vicious or on top of people screaming, but because he’s very calm and collected. His ‘arguments’ are… arguably more like debates. He shows hard facts and rarely lets his emotions on the subject get the better of him. However. Any attempts at an argument with his own husband immediately gets shut down. Why? Caromont is always right, and he will never be told otherwise - whatever they’re arguing about isn’t worth their relationship. (It’s usually small things though, mostly about Max’s health. ‘You need to eat’, ‘go to bed’, ‘brush your hair’, ‘drink water’ - while Max usually wants to argue, he knows he shouldn’t.)

Day Thirteen— Fist Fight: Your OC is challenged to a fist fight! Who would do this? How would your OC react? If accepted the challenge, who would win? If they declined, how would they get away? (12/27) The fact that the randomizer chose Danny for this question is pure coincidence, I swear. Danny gets into *a lot* of fist fights. He’s the epitome of the “pick your battles, wait that’s too many put some back” post around here. If he was challenged to a fight, it would be from Wood Wailers and it wouldn’t be much of a challenge, he’s mostly attacked on sight - hands are his weapon of choice despite using magic. Another that would ‘challenge’ him would be his now worst enemy and rival, @shangomango​ ‘s Tobias Finch. Except. I highly doubt it would be with their fists, though that would be an interesting fight if they both cast aside magic. (To answer the last question, Danny would never decline nor run from a challenge to fight - which may end up being his downfall.)

Day Fourteen— Injured: Your OC got injured somehow. How did they get injured? How do they handle it? Does anyone help them recover? (5/27) An interesting prospect, considering that Eulan is a pocketwatch. He probably got injured by being stepped on for the thousandth time. And unfortunately, he’s usually stuck like that until his usual caretaker, Theolaud, can backtrack and find him. Theolaud has become skilled in repairing watches because of this.

Day Fifteen— Anticipation: What makes your OC impatient? What can’t they wait for? Why? (23/27) Camilla can’t wait for her training to be over, she can’t wait to get out into the world and help it herself instead of watching her parents do the work she wants to. She is very impatient, not only in terms of waiting for her life to begin but with other things as well. She definitely can’t wait until dinner is ready either, she is a very hungry child.

-- Day Sixteen— FREE SPACE: Congrats! You’ve made it more than half-way! Draw/write about your OC doing anything. For my free space, I’m going to just… I guess list how all of my characters are related, since some of them have pre-established relationships. Knowing one might accidentally introduce you to another. Amosis: Only one relation - Eulan Arcambault, though it’s unknown how they’re related or what they have to do with each other. Though it wouldn’t be unlikely that he knows of Maximiloix or Lothaire with their studies into Allagan history. Berenger Allard: Younger brother of Caromont, older brother of Raymond. Is familiar with Solaire, but does not know him well. Caromont Allard: Older brother to both Berenger and Raymond; married to Maximiloix. Step-grandfather to Lothaire and Honorie; brother in law to Valere, and good friends with Jadeinne and Mayve. Darian, Zacharie, Alvisaix, Gwenael, and Quinn were all his students currently or at one point. Familiar with Theolaud, does not know him well; same with Eulan. Solaire is his ex-fiance, they’re still working on their friendship. Raymond Allard: Younger brother of both Berenger and Caromont. Good friends and co-study with Theolaud, pupil of Eulan. Good friends with Solaire, Valere, and Quinn. Eulan Arcambault: Professor over Raymond and Theolaud’s training. Familiar with Caromont’s work, but doesn’t know him personally. Has some form of relationship with Amosis, but it’s unsure what it is exactly. Sabeloux Boucher: Younger (more mature) brother of Orpheux; Lothaire’s ex-fiance. Really, really does not like Camilla. Somehow friends with Valere, despite being terrified of his brother, Maximiloix. Familiar with Jadeinne, only as a business partner. Orpheux Boucher: No relation to anyone besides Sabeloux, being his older brother. Gwenael Corbeau: Jadeinne and Mayve’s cousin, Danny’s second cousin; student of Maximiloix and Caromont. Childhood friend of Quinn, Honorie, and Lothaire, one of Lothaire’s exes but still remained good friends. Jadeinne Corbeau: Mayve and Gwenael’s cousin, Danny’s birth mother. Good friends with Maximiloix and Caromont; business partners with Sabeloux.  Honorie Fauvier: Maximiloix and Caromont’s granddaughter and cousin to Lothaire. Camilla is her second cousin, whom she absolutely adores. Student of her grandfathers for a short time. Childhood friends of Quinn and Gwenael. Quinn Grangier: Student of Maximiloix and Caromont’s; childhood friend of Lothaire, Honorie, and Gwenael. Good friends with Raymond, Solaire, and Valere.  Danny Harold: Son of Jadeinne, godson of Maximiloix. Student under Maximiloix; second cousins to both Mayve and Gwenael. Doesn’t know of his birth family. Good friends with Lothaire. Umeko Malaguld: No relation to anyone besides Olsso, her fighting partner and close friend. Mayve McRae: Cousin to Jadeinne and Gwenael, second cousin to Danny. Likes scaring Maximiloix. Good friends with Caromont. Has met Lothaire, but doesn’t know much about him. Olsso Oronir: No relation to anyone else besides Umeko, his fighting partner and close friend. Zacharie Proulx: Childhood friend of Darian, grew up with her much like a brother. Student of Maximiloix and Caromont. Decent friends with Alvisaix and Camilla, though they are a little young to be too close to him. Knows of Lothaire, hasn’t met him. Genevier Rafale: No relation to anyone else. Solaire Rose: Ex-fiance of Caromont; good friends with Raymond, Quinn, and Valere. Knows of Berenger, but attempts to avoid him. Loathes Maximiloix. Darian Rosseau: Childhood friends with Zacharie, grew up with him much like a sister. Good friends of Camilla and Alvisaix. Student of Caromont and Maximiloix. Has met Lothaire all of once. M’nhea Tia: No relation to any one else - though in my own head-world and plot that’ll never be , he’d likely be familiar with Raramlah and Maximiloix.  Alvisaix Vairemont: Student of Maximiloix and Caromont. Best friends with Camilla, good friends with Darian and Zacharie. Has met Lothaire on several occasions, but prefers Maximiloix’s teaching style. Theolaud Vauquelin: Good friend and co-study of Raymond, pupil of Eulan. Doesn’t really like Solaire much, mostly because he reminds him of himself. Unfamiliar with anyone else. Camilla Voilinaut: Best friends with Alvisaix, good friends with Darian and Zacharie; Lothaire’s adopted daughter, and Maximiloix and Caromont’s granddaughter. Student of both of her grandfathers. Honorie is the best aunt/second cousin. Lothaire Voilinaut: Grandson of Maximiloix and Caromont, cousin of Honorie, father to Camilla. Good friends with Danny, Gwenael, Solaire, Raymond, and Quinn. Slightly scared of Valere. Ex-fiance of Sabeloux. Doesn’t like him at all.  Maximiloix Voilinaut: Grandfather to Lothaire and Honorie, great grandfather to Camilla, older brother to Valere, married to Caromont. Teacher of: Quinn, Gwenael, Danny, Alvisaix, Darian, and Zachaire - not including his own children. Good ‘friends’ with Raymond and Jadeinne. Tentative about Solaire and Berenger. Loathes Sabeloux. Terrified of Mayve.  Valere Voilinaut: Younger brother to Maximiloix. Friends with Caromont, Quinn, Solaire, and Raymond. Does not like Theolaud much. Raramlah Ramlah: No relation to anyone else. --

Day Seventeen— Pet Peeves: Your OC’s biggest pet peeve. Are they vocal about it? Or do they keep their annoyance to themselves? (7/27) Orpheux will let people know if they are annoying him as they are annoying him - if he feels he can’t do anything to utterly ruin their lives, he will tell them how annoying they are, then walk away. If he can get away with murder, he will. Unfortunately, he is a very simple man when it comes to it.

Day Eighteen— Caught in the Rain: Your OC gets caught out walking in the rain without an umbrella. How would they react in this situation? Would anyone want to offer your OC an umbrella? Would they accept? (26/27) Valere doesn’t…. care. He likes the rain quite a bit, though prefers snow more. He’d politely decline an umbrella if offered to him, assuming he didn’t scare potential people off with the dead expression and weird tattoos on his face. If he got caught in the rain, he’d just keep on walking, without regard for what he is wearing or holding.

Day Nineteen— Relaxation: What does your OC do to relax after a long day? Do they get to do this often? (27/27) Raramlah relaxes by going bar hopping. Drinking is their strong suit, alongside fighting. Drinking is a very common thing for them, and if they aren’t found in the colosseum in one of their matches, they are drinking at the Quicksand. Sometimes they’ll make their way out to Western Thanalan just to watch people come and go from Vesper Bay.

[ramajmedia]

It's Always Sunny: 10 Episodes That Hit Too Close To Home

It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia is pretty well known for the antics of its character. The gang never falls short when trying to find new ways to make money or just complicated shortcuts that end up putting them down the hole. It’s easy to not really feel any empathy for the characters because of the many horrible things they’ve done on screen in the name of their personal benefit. But underneath those despicable personalities, there’s a good bit of trauma responsible for it.

RELATED: The Wire: 10 Storylines That Were Never Resolved

In this list, we’ll go over 10 of the saddest moments that really hit us throughout the show.

10 The Christmas Episode

Christmas is supposed to be fun for everyone, but unfotunately, some bad luck meets every member of the gang in a pretty sad fashion. Well, except for Frank who rolls up with a Lambo at the beginning of the show. It also shows that Frank hasn't gotten Dee and Dennis Christmas presents... again.

RELATED: Veep: Ranking Selina’s Best Employees

Charlie finds out about his mother’s promiscuous past, and it really gets to the guy, as he throws a fit in the mall and even fights a mall Santa out of anger. And then Mac learns that his family used to steal presents from other families as a child and that his parents never really cared about him at all.

9 The Great Recession

Frank is an interesting character. He came into the show a very depressed, but extremely successful, businessman. He looks to give up his rich lifestyle to get closer to his kids, Dennis and Dee. Little does he know that Charlie is also his kid, which is revealed later on in the show by Charlie's mom. In this episode, Frank tries to kill himself because he is still unable to find a way to be truly happy.

While attempting to hang himself, his weight forces the noose to snap, preventing him from going through with the deed. This moment really opened up the audience’s eyes into his mental state.

8 Dennis Rips Macs Letters

Mac’s desire to grow closer to his father is referenced somehow in almost every episode. Charlie and Mac even go as far to try and smuggle in drugs for Mac’s dad, and their failure to do so only makes the father and son rift grow wider. With the gang being locked up in the holding cell of a cruise ship after getting into trouble, the cell starts to fill up with water, and it doesn’t look good.

The gang began to disclose their secrets to each other, where Mac learns that Dennis has been ripping up his father’s letters to him. This understandably angers Mac with the fact that he lost numerous opportunities to grow closer.

7 Cricket Leaving The Priesthood

If you know just how bad Cricket gets it in this show, the moment he leaves the priesthood is a really sad one. He went from a clean-cut man of God to a street rat that sells himself out for hard drugs. He does this because of Dee, who consistently manipulates the man into doing what she wants. Their run-ins happen time and time again.

RELATED: Dee Reynolds: 10 Funniest Quotes From Always Sunny’s Golden Goddess. 

His slow descent into being a crack addict spans a few seasons, with the later ones showing him at his absolute worst. He gets the chance to clean up his act, and that too fails as a way out of the life he currently lives.

6 The Joke's On Dee

Dee is always the butt end of the jokes in the gang. Absolutely no one gets it as often or as bad as she does. When Dee starts to agree with the gang’s harsh words, they start to wonder if they went too far. Dee takes her self-pity back into a comedy club that she visits a few times a week and starts to slowly gain more fans from her routines.

RELATED: IASIP: 10 Ways The Gang Has Changed Since Season 1

She meets a promoter who offers to fly her out to do a big show and get her name out there with promises of being famous. She goes, being led blindfolded back to Paddy’s Pub, where the gang reveals it was another cruel joke.

5 Charlie And The Waitress

At the end of the infamous “Mac Bangs Dennis’ Mom,” The waitress admits she only slept with Frank to get back at Dennis. We know Frank will get his hands on anyone who will look at him long enough, and Dennis has always been the apple of The Waitress’ eye since the beginning, much like she was to Charlie.

What makes this episode hurt so much is Charlie’s tearful expression when hearing the news. He had spent multiple seasons at this point trying to win over her favor, and hearing her sleep around with his father to get back at his best friend, made us feel for him.

4 The Gang Goes To The Jersey Shore

The gang decides it would be a wise idea to live it up in New Jersey and get wasted in a new scene. Each member eventually gets into their own antics. Charlie spots The Waitress on the beach and for the first time in their relationship, she wasn’t disgusted to see him. The two end up having a pretty fun time on the beach picking up shells and getting to know each other better before falling asleep on the beach together.

RELATED: IASIP: 10 Ways The Gang Has Changed Since Season 1

When The Waitress wakes up, she tells Charlie she only hung out with him because she had taken ecstasy and tells him to never talk to her again.

3 Psycho Pete Returns

When the episode “The Gang Gets Analyzed” aired, it made a subtle nod to Danny Devito’s earlier work in One Flies Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. He tells the therapist he was in a mental home as a young boy and got really close to his deformed roommate, “Frog-Boy.”

Frank begins to break down and have a panic attack on the therapist's couch, and it’s continued when he sees an abandoned hotel in “Psycho Pete Returns.” What makes the episode sad is Frank’s determination to find his long lost friend and to see if he is actually okay. Talk about a gut-punching moment for the show.

2 Mac And Charlie Die

Mac and Charlie are definitely the gang’s whipping boys from time to time. Episodes like “Charlie Work” can show you just how much the gang takes each other for granted, and how easily dismissive they are about each other's problems and responsibilities. Mac and Charlie decide the only way to see if the gang really cares about them is to fake their death, and that’s exactly what they do.

The gang seems to not care at first before Charlie catches Frank alone in their apartment. He is found clutching a mannequin that is dressed in Charlie’s clothes and whispering “It’s okay, I like you too” over and over again.

1 Mac Finds His Pride

Mac’s sexuality has been joked about and referenced throughout every season of the show. In some cases, episodes revolve around it, and how far he goes to stay in the closet. He comes out but is often met with harsh criticism, specifically from Frank.

Mac decides the best way for everyone to understand how he feels is to put on a show, where he expresses himself through ballet. It worked as intended, leaving many of the people watching it in tears, including Frank. The last words spoken from the episode is Frank saying that “ I understand now.”

NEXT: IASIP: The Gang’s 10 Best Inventions

source https://screenrant.com/its-always-sunny-philidelphia-episodes-hit-close-home-tv-show/

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2016, Part I

Rodrigo Perez of The Playlist posted his best-of list on January 15 and spent the introduction whipping himself for it being too late to be relevant. That was over two weeks ago, and here I am. But who can feel caught up if an actual critic doesn’t? Even now, at a point when I have to turn the page, I haven’t seen Toni Erdmann, Paterson, Things to Come, or Jack Reacher: Never Go Back. Aside from pretending that my thoughts on movies are worth something to other people, I’m just a regular guy living in a film market that is not L.A. or New York, and the system for movie release schedules is broken for all of us. Most of the year is trash if we can’t go to festivals. Then we hear about interesting stuff from the critics’ top ten lists that bubble up in early December. Because the press machine follows an old model, interviews and commercials and dates on posters are timed to promote a film while it is technically on about six screens. In the case of, say, 20th Century Women, it opens in my area on January 20th. By that time it has already been judged a failure because it had to share the airspace with dozens of other pictures released in a one-month window. And Hollywood wonders why a) they lose $75 million on Live by Night or b) regular people pirate the product. Forgive those hicks for wanting to see the thing you’re selling. This pattern repeats every year, and no one learns anything because exactly two movies end up being financial successes. I hate movies. Because I hate movies, I watched 124 of them in 2016, which is a 3% decline from my viewing last year. (In consolation, my balance between classic films and contemporary ones was better.) As usual, I have ranked all 124 and divided them into the tiers of Garbage, Admirable Failures, Endearing Curiosities with Big Flaws, Pretty Good Movies, Good Movies, Great Movies, and Instant Classics. As Isabelle Huppert probably said in Things to Come, “Allons-y!” GARBAGE 124. The Bronze (Bryan Buckley) I'm reading an hour and forty minutes as the running time on imdb, but I could have sworn this laborious movie was at least five hours. The main problem here, besides profanity being a joke in and of itself, is that the film is never sure how much empathy it has toward its characters. It judges them for cheap laughs, then turns right back around and tries to wring emotion by taking them seriously. Juggling both of those modes isn't impossible, but The Bronze proves how difficult it is. I rented this on a weekend when my baby had diarrhea, which really took the viewing experience up a notch. 123. Equals (Drake Doremus) What a snoozefest of a perfume ad this is. I liked Doremus's Like Crazy a lot, but I found little nuance or invention in his world-building here, for a setting that needed something new to separate it from the emotionless dystopias we've seen before. Kristen Stewart is at watch-everything-she's-in status for me, but even her whispery performance is paint-by-numbers.

122. Dirty Grandpa (Dan Mazer) I'm mostly angry with myself because I thought I had gotten trash like this out of my system. You can learn a lot from bad movies, but I learned all I could by seeing whatever two movies were playing every Friday of high school. I had been making such better choices. I hope, at the very least, that one of Robert De Niro's failing TriBeCa restaurants was able to hire additional bartenders as a result of this. The experience is a bit like spending time with a child who has just learned how to use the F-word, but also if that child had a deeply-ingrained sense of misogyny? God bless Jason Mantzoukas for at least trying in all of these red-band write-offs. By the way, same diarrhea weekend. 121. Sausage Party (Conrad Vernon, Greg Tiernen) Up until now, the Rogen-Goldberg aesthetic has been "genre/premise...but it's filthy." Sausage Party, more of a brand management lark than anything else, seems to stretch the high concept side and the filthy side until the whole thing breaks. The atheism allegory stalls halfway through. (So there is a God, but that God is evil? Is death being expired or is death being taken home? How can the device be so heavy-handed and so muddy at the same time?) The villain (a literal douche) is adequately motivated, but the screenplay drops him for a huge stretch of time. In the end, I needed more than hot dogs cursing. I wouldn't recommend this movie, but I would recommend the three following things in it: 1. Tha god Edward Norton as Sammy Bagel Jr. 2. The epilogue is clever! Where was that kind of thinking the whole time? 3. The one joke that I liked, then felt dumb for liking: A lavash lamenting that he won't get thirty-seven extra virgin olive oils. 120. The BFG (Steven Spielberg) If you drink every time you hear "Bee-Eff-GeeeeEEEE," then you'll die. And you might be better off than a person asking "who cares?" to the ether for almost two hours.Now that his style is so solidified, a brand of its own even thirty years ago, Spielberg has trouble merging his voice with anyone else's. You could argue that he did it with The Color Purple or Empire of the Sun, but Minority Report feels nothing like a Philip K. Dick work by the end as Anderton rubs the pregnant belly of the wife he's back together with. In Jurassic Park he casts a literal cartoon to yada-yada the science that Michael Crichton was fascinated with. And here he tries to wrap himself around Roald Dahl, a man who was simultaneously way sillier and way more cynical than Spielberg. Here's something that happens about a dozen times: The BFG doesn't speak English well, despite hearing all the whispers of the world and being alive since the beginning of time. So Dahl creates malapropisms and nonsense words for him. He calls someone "a human bean," and the girl corrects him  with "Bee-Eff-GeeeEEEE, it's human BEING." And that's the film in a nutshell: Someone toying with the wacky only to yoke himself back to this boring world. 119. Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising (Nicholas Stoller) Compared to the first movie--not a masterpiece by any stretch--this one has no stakes at all. It's always a bad sign when characters have to keep repeating what their short-term goals are as the film goes on. If (when) you look really closely at Efron's abs, you can almost make out the "lol nothing matters" gif. 118. Wiener Dog (Todd Solondz) Todd Solondz hasn't made a good movie since the first half of Storytelling, and he hasn't made a financially successful movie ever. Yet here he is in 2016, getting more chances to spray the same pointless contempt. All of his movies are mean, but they're also weirdly toothless. My mistake that I thought the people who deserved scorn were venal billionaires and hypocritical authority figures. It's actually slightly materialistic middle-class people and college kids who need to be taken down a peg. Go get 'em, Todd! Danny DeVito comes close to saving his misshapen segment, injecting pathos into a character who is a self-loathing mouthpiece for Solondz. Fewer people fit the bill of "sad-sack" more than DeVito, and he wears his character's anxiety on his slumped shoulders. I had almost forgotten about this observant, reserved side of DeVito, and he takes over until the film shuffles along to another half-scene--you know, before we, God forbid, get attached to someone.There's a reason that Solondz's best scenes take place in schools, and there's a reason why he keeps returning to his younger stand-in Dawn Weiner, his only character that rises above a type. It's because Todd Solondz is still the weird kid in the back of the classroom giggling to himself. Then, when the teacher asks what he's laughing at, he looks down and says, "Nothing."

117. The Neon Demon (Nicolas Winding Refn) Bukowski wrote: "An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way." Of course, he didn't live to see any of Nicolas Winding Refn's movies, which challenge that notion. It's hard for me to reject something crafted so meticulously--I won't be able to unsee some of these shots--but I suspect that Refn dresses these things up so luridly because he isn't saying much. (Shout-out to your best movie being the only one you didn't write.) And he falls back on provocation because he doesn't have as much confidence in us as he has in himself. That's reductive I guess. "There's no difference between text and subtext" might be closer than "not saying much." Take the bathroom scene, for example, where the labored rhythm of the dialogue really takes hold. The Jena Malone character says that lipsticks have names that conjure images of food or sex, and she asks the Elle Fanning character what her lipstick name would be. In other words, "Are you food, something devoured by others, or sex, something you are active in for your own pleasure?" Luckily, the character doesn't answer her, but the movie spends another hour and a half clinging to the line between predator and prey. (Unless it's literally placing a predator into the character's motel room to force the issue, a moment as magical as it is didactic.) Beauty is something as pure as it is ephemeral. So if beauty becomes a currency, and one is forced to use her beauty as a transaction, can it ever really survive? Is its innocence lost then? Alternately, if a truly beautiful thing enters a realm of ugliness, doesn't it become a poisoning element that corrupts that environment? Isn't beauty, in that sense.../puffs joint/...ugliness? I think I'm pretty close, but you be the judge. The Neon Demon reminded me of Under the Skin, another film I did not like, because they both spell out obvious ideas, thinking that the genuinely artful visuals will complicate that text. (And the camera loves Elle Fanning as much as it does Scarlett Johansson. None of this is her fault.) Both films could probably be played at double-speed without missing much, but then they wouldn't be fables or dreams or other things I don't like. I feel as if I get what both of them are saying but...so? Both films suggest something blinding and poetic on the margins just beyond our view, but there's nothing there. Their beauty is empty. 116. Mascots (Christopher Guest) "Hi, I'm Laci." "What's your name?" "Laci." That's the time I laughed. I could have used maybe ten fewer characters--though please keep Parker Posey and her heretofore unseen physical comedy. Eerily reminiscent of the Netflix season of Arrested Development in which none of the stars were in the same room at the same time. Do I have to go back now and make sure those other Christopher Guest movies are actually good? 115. Zoolander 2 (Ben Stiller) The first Zoolander was silly fun, and I didn't expect much more from the follow-up. But man, Zoolander 2, separated by fifteen years from its predecessor, feels stale. And it isn't tonally desperate in the way that many of these belated follow-ups are; it's just an idea that culture has zipped past, more of a satire of the fashion world of the first film than anything relevant now. I laughed a scattered handful of times, but the final third is rough. My biggest takeaway: Will Ferrell must be a loyal friend to have signed back up. ADMIRABLE FAILURES 114. Tale of Tales (Matteo Garrone) I appreciate Garrone's visual ambition: There's a shot that is manicured to look exactly like John William Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott. No two films of his look the same either. But I paused this movie to go to the bathroom, and I got really upset when I saw that there were forty-five minutes left. Most of the stories of this fractured fairy tale collection start off interestingly enough, but they all become bloody, sometimes unresolved messes that assert, well, I have no idea what I was supposed to take away actually. Violence makes the world go round? 113. Swiss Army Man (Daniels) Most reviews of Swiss Army Man start with the "what"--desperate castaway finds flatulent dead body and pals around with him--and move on to the "how"--it's actually about friendship and living life to the fullest and so forth. I'm going to flip that. I'll buy the "why," the semi-animated corpse as a device. I appreciated that it served to highlight a type of person we don't normally see on screen: sort of educated but rides the bus, social problems but resists being emo, family problems but has worked through them enough. No, the "what" is the problem. It was clear where the line between fantasy and reality was, but the filmmakers were inconsistent with that logic once the action moved into the real world. I feel as if I gave the movie the benefit of the doubt for its entire tedious second act, then it repaid me with, well, not much. 112. Elvis & Nixon (Liza Johnson) Team Shannon 4-Ever, but I think this worked better as a photograph. 111. Ghostbusters (Paul Feig) I would say that Ghostbusters was a mess, but the word "mess" implies risk-taking that went wrong. A much rarer breed, this remake is actually a safe mess. It hews closely to the original, slavishly incorporating cameos from the original cast and hitting all of the same beats. But it's also uniquely incoherent. For example, when the ghosts are released into Times Square, the lady busters can't shoot at the car Slimer is driving because "it would be like a nuclear reactor." So that problem disappears, and now the problem is that the ghosts have taken the form of a Thanksgiving Day parade? But our heroes extinguish that threat, so now everyone is possessed by the garbage villain into disco dancing? And now the ghosts are all huge again? By trying to up the stakes, the film can't even decide on what the obstacle for the characters should be. That sort of muddiness would be understandable if the film felt edited to shreds, but I watched the two hour and fourteen minute extended cut, and it still felt like that. Most of the cast is game, but Kate McKinnon is the standout, injecting weirdness (and, separately, queerness) wherever she can. It seems as if Holtzmann is the only member of the team who actually sciences, and McKinnon's mugging is just as indispensable to the team. The few shots that the film takes at protective nerds are funny, so I wish that the script had more of that bitterness. Or any tone of its own at all.

110. A Hologram for the King (Tom Tykwer) Spoiler: Tom Hanks gets wi-fi for his team. There isn't much "there" there in yet another low stakes tale of a White guy lolwutting a foreign culture. To be fair, Tykwer doesn't other the Saudis as much as most films of this type, but even with that respect, this feels like a movie we've seen before. Without Tykwer's surreal touches and without an actor that has built up so much goodwill, the film wouldn't have worked at all. 109. Amanda Knox (Brian McGinn, Rod Blackhurst) The recent true crime works that prompted Netflix to snatch up this one have been objective and gripping, reaching past their tawdry roots to reveal something about our own prurient interest in the subjects. Amanda Knox, on the other hand, can't get past tawdry. It exhibits just as much sensationalism as it decries in others. It is nice to hear Foxy Knoxy in her own words for once though. (For the record, I would have had enough reasonable doubt to acquit her.) 108. Jason Bourne (Paul Greengrass) Even the title makes it seem as if there's no reason for this movie to exist, so the least I can do is provide alternate titles: 1. The Bourne Pickpocket 2. Bourne: Folder Labeled "Black Ops" 3. Bourne: Last of the Jump Drives 4. The Bourne Cable-Knit Sweater 5. The Bourne Daddy (That one is accurate and true to the The Bourne ____ structure, plus you get a millenial hashtag.) I think Greengrass knew what he had with that trill car chase at the end, so everything else could be rote. Jason Bourne felt like returning to the house you grew up in and going, "Oh, they turned my bedroom into an office."  107. Money Monster (Jodie Foster) Dumb in small ways--a billionaire didn't hear about a national news story involving his company because he was on a plane?--and fairly big ways--dropping threads left and right and failing to give resolution to one of its main characters. Films involving finance are often too complex, but Money Monster isn't complex enough; it's missing a B story. If you think about the best possible version of a movie like this, it's probably Dog Day Afternoon. That film works because we care about Sonny just as much as we do about the boyfriend on the other end of the phone. There's no equivalent for Money Monster, though it could have been the cop, it could have been the girlfriend, it could have been the code-writers. There are a few surprises, good intentions, and Foster has a deft hand for the pacing. But any time the script asked me to care about these characters as people, I felt like it was faking. Maybe the smartest, most modern touch is the suggestion that becoming a meme on Vine is a deeper indignity that going on trial for breaking international law. 106. Jane Got a Gun (Gavin O’Connor) Jane Got a Gun makes sense as a vanity project for Natalie Portman because it allows her to play a lot of qualities she never has: steely, street-smart, matronly. The problem is that she doesn't play any of those particularly well, and the title character is not the most interesting or active one in the piece.That designation would go to Joel Edgerton's Dan Frost (not the woefully miscast Ewan McGregor). When the movie works, it's because he's selling the doomed nature of the Dan-Jane love affair, tugging at his own pride. But just as the film is cresting to an elegiac place, it pulls into the final shootout station. All of these movies end with the same twenty minutes, and if you aren't invested in the characters, that last leg can go on forever. 105. April and the Extraordinary World (Franck Ekinci, Christian Desmares) Like anything steampunk, April and the Extraordinary World has at least one dumb thing for each cool thing. I think the problem is that it can't decide how much of a mystery it wants to be; that is, which elements are unexplained to engage the viewer and which elements are unexplained because the filmmakers don't feel like explaining them. The art direction has so many tiny ingenious touches that define this alternate past in Paris, so of course the movie leaves Paris for a fake jungle created by sentient lizards. The animation does have some cell-shaded, Ghibli charm though. I almost forgot how water splashing looked for ninety years. 104. Florence Foster Jenkins (Stephen Frears) Meryl Streep is in this, I guess, so feel free to throw any awards you want its way. It would be impossible for Stephen Frears, Streep, and Grant to turn in something less than competent, but, other than normalizing adultery, I don't know what Florence Foster Jenkins is doing that is novel or unsafe. Here's something: Has any review mentioned that at least fifteen minutes of running time is made up of someone singing poorly? Not a starting-to-sing and we cut away after a few reaction shots. We're riding out full performances that are--such is the premise of the film--supposed to be unlistenable. Customize your back speakers to really steer into that piercing quality on minute eight of the Carnegie Hall performance. We got the point in the first half-hour, but let's really make it unpleasant. If you like this movie, it probably reminds you of splashy, unchallenging pictures that used to get made for adults. But, as a story about a person of privilege who is coddled to absurd, harmful degrees to hide her from an undeniable objective truth, it might be the most 2016 film I saw all year. 103. Cemetery of Splendor (Apichatpong Weerasethakul) If you say so. I still don't really get this guy. Part of the point is that these mystical things are happening all around us: goddesses chopping it up at picnic tables, intermediaries taking over dead bodies and going on dream walks. And all of that is written with deadpan certainty. But if the supernatural is always presented in that nonchalant way, then is it noteworthy? At the risk of sounding like an ugly American, what else is there if the film is about a bizarre sleeping illness, but we aren't meant to believe that the condition is bizarre or an illness at all? From a directing standpoint, other than a graceful dissolve at the halfway point (and who can't do graceful dissolves?), it's just full two-shots for the length of scenes--even simpler than the composition of Uncle Boonme Can Recall His Past Lives. The last five minutes play out like an observational music video, and I think I would prefer a music video from Weerasethakul to another film.

102. Elle (Paul Verhoeven) It's useless to think about what a movie is not, but it would have been interesting to gauge the reception of this film if it didn't have the imprimatur of an interesting director and a truly great actress. Because what we get is tawdry on the level of a Cinemax feature, despite the handheld trappings of art cinema. People who laugh with the film instead of at it might point to Michele's job as a video game designer as layered: She's in the business of devising fantasies publicly, and that's often what drives her privately. But the dialogue in that space--"This is our one chance with Activision," "given your publishing and literary background..."--is too clunky and artificial to seem lived-in. (That’s what happens when a novel is written in French, the screenplay is written in English, the screenplay is translated into French, and French is the director’s third language.) And, at the most basic level, the character just doesn't seem to know what she's doing. There's one specific plot thread that I found ridiculous, but in general the screenplay seems to confuse lots of stuff happening to the character with the character authentically developing. I can see what the filmmakers were trying to do by refusing to make Michele traditionally sympathetic, but I'm out on this. 101. The Fits (Anna Rose Holmer) For a debut film, The Fits is visually decisive and polished, but it's as thin as its 72-minute runtime might suggest. The girls in the movie, for reasons no one can figure out, fall victim to fits, and those seizures become a metaphor for the inexplicable, almost mournful dread of becoming a woman. It's rare that a movie of this type works on the level of metaphor but fails as a slice-of-life thriller--the thriller tropes are kind of the easy part. I liked how locked into the setting we were, but there wasn't enough meat on the bone for me. 100. Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (Gareth Edwards) The first Star Wars film that doesn't feel like an event, Rogue One has one interesting thing (what we learn about the retro-conned nature of something that happens at the end of A New Hope) and one cool thing (Darth Vader smoking some dudes). Ben Mendelsohn avails himself well I guess. But mostly the film feels like bloodless, sexless information in search of any type of humanity. What's weird, considering that A New Hope is one of the most mythologically sound films ever made, is that there isn't a lot of care spent on setting the scene. Can we see a bit more of the type of evil the Deathstar can wreak to build some stakes? Can we stay in one location for more than a few minutes? Can we not have a location named Jedah because it sounds too much like Jedi and makes me confused for a split second every time it's mentioned? I don't think I can say it any better than A.O. Scott, who considers Rogue One "a schoolbook exercise in a course of study that has no useful application and that will never end."

[impudentmiscengenation]

Broadcast

Danny fiddled with the microphone pinned to his shirt, biting his lips nervously. He should never have agreed to go on ‘Paranormal Press’ to talk about his ghost half. Never. This was dumb, so dumb. Why was he so dumb? He glanced off to the side to see his parents giving him a thumbs-up from where they were, talking to some big-shot GIW scientist that the ‘news’ had also been interviewing. Of course they’d be grinning and excited; why not? They aren’t the ones that have to go on live television and talk about what were the most intimate parts of themselves.

Danny scowled to himself and tried to get comfortable in the black leather seat that he’d been given. Seated across from him was the reporter who would be asking the questions. The reporter, a gentleman in his early forties named Rich, gave the boy a small, crinkly-eyed smile. The brown-eyed man gently moved the teen’s hand from the microphone. Danny went stiff and dropped his twitching hand onto his knee.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s like camera’s not even there, if you don’t think too much about it. I was nervous my first time on live T.V., too, so I know how it feels.” Rich gave the boy a reassuring nod. Danny tilted his head to acknowledge that he’d been spoken to but remained rigid. Rich stroked his freshly-shaven chin before grinning.

“Y’know, the first time I did a live show, I was so nervous I got really bad gas.” Rich found his cheeks tinting at the not-so-fond memory of his late teens. Danny looked at the man and allowed himself a small, amused smile.

“Really?” He asked, intrigued and a bit more relieved. Rich grinned, glad to see that his confession had produced the desired effect on the teen. There it is. The reporter nodded.

“Mmhmm. Totally. It was foul, too. My co-workers wouldn’t stop calling me ‘Rich the Ripper’ for months.” Danny chuckled quietly, behind his hand out of respect, and looked at the plush violet carpet, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“That sounds… awful.” Rich laughed quietly as well.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. This stays between us, okay? I really don’t want that nickname coming back.” Danny laughed and the two shook hands.

“Deal.” Suddenly a voice offstage called their attention.

“We’re live in thirty!”

Danny gulped. She didn’t mean thirty minutes. Rich cleared his throat and Danny glanced over, relaxing slightly at the older man’s calming gaze.

“Just breathe, you’ll do great. You saved the world from a glowing green asteroid; how hard could a little interview be?” Danny grinned and looked down a bit, pink staining his cheeks. Rich chuckled and straightened his notes, crossing one leg over another. “Just focus on me,” the seasoned reporter advised coolly, “I promise you that this’ll be over before you know it.” “Fifteen seconds!”

Danny took a deep, steadying breath and made himself comfortable in the seat that he’d been provided with. Focus on the questions, Fenton. Just relax. You’ve stuffed countless ghosts back into the ghost zone, faced your evil future self, and generally gone through Hell and came back unscathed! This is just a dumb interview! You can do this! “Five! Four! Three!...”

Danny snapped up to a decent posture and forced himself into a collected countenance. Even Rich found himself impressed at the boy’s sudden shift before he gave a dazzling smile to the camera. “Good evening, everyone. Today is a special day; I’m Richard Rossum of Paranormal Press here with Daniel Fenton who, up until just a few months ago, was avowed as a normal high school student in the not-so-normal town of Amity Park in Michigan; however, the Disasteroid debacle of several months prior is what forced a change, so to speak. I don’t suppose I have to tell you that I am not only speaking to Amity Park resident Daniel Fenton, but will also have the pleasure of addressing proclaimed hero, Danny Phantom.” Rich adjusted his focus and beamed at the halfa, who, in turn, responded with a slight quirk of the lips. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, just a bit unnatural. He was still fraught with nerves.

“So, Danny, what part of all this has been the most difficult to get used to?” Danny swallowed and looked at the space between Rich’s eyebrows. “Well, I guess not having to dodge into a porta-potty to switch forms is pretty neat.” Rich chuckled and Danny grinned, gaining a bit of confidence from his jest. “Out of everything? … I have to say that it’s a bit odd to, well, not be ignored. I mean, before all of this, I could just kinda do my own thing and nobody would really pick up on it but now it’s like I can’t do anything without at least someone noticing.” Rich nodded.

“I suppose that would be taxing after a while. Now, from the Disasteroid incident we were informed that not only do ghosts exist but half-ghosts as well; can you elaborate on this?” Danny blinked and tilted his head to the side a bit. “Well, I’m not really a scientist like my parents but I have picked up some things from wandering the ‘Zone.” Before Rich could think to ask about the Ghost World, Danny continued. “So, ghosts are… formed when a human dies and their emotions leave a strong enough imprint behind into ectoplasm-which is the stuff that ghosts are made out of. Usually, the stronger the emotions a person leaves behind when they die, the stronger their ghost is when it materializes in the Ghost Zone.” Jack wiped a tear from his eye backstage; he knew his son would follow in his footsteps! And the way he went about it, he sounded just as smart as his mother, who was also beaming. The boy had a far-off look in his eyes and Rich could tell not to interrupt him, the boy was deep in thought.

“A halfa… Well, we’re… I’m different,” Danny adjusted his statement, looking towards the floor. “Obviously there’s not a lot of, y’know, science behind this but… I guess I’m the product of a half-death. Like, I started to die but because there was a lot of ectoplasm, my ghost formed immediately and, as a defense mechanism, I switched forms before it was over which preserved my human half.” Rich heard murmurs and other forms of quiet exclamation from the studio; Danny either didn’t notice or didn’t care. The boy looked back up from the floor and nodded to Rich, who took the hint and looked at his notepad before frowning and looking back at the boy. He cleared his throat.

“You say that you, in a sense, died. How did you die, then?” A chill swept through the room. Those watching on the television could feel it and saw the shiver that ascended Rich’s spine. Danny’s black hair covered his face and he had a hard frown set on his lips. Rich was about to open his mouth to take back the question, obviously he’d set his interviewee off somehow, when Danny let out a small noise, a laugh almost.

“Yeah, I sometimes forget that the human world isn’t really… acquainted with weird ghost formalities.” Danny looked up and brushed the hair from his face, calming his expression and taking back the chill from the room. Rich frowned.

“What do you mean?” Danny shrugged his shoulders. “To be honest, if you asked anyone in the ‘Zone that question, you’d probably get your lights punched out. It’s… really rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s the sort of thing that you’d have to gain a certain level of trust before even really broaching the subject…”

Silence as Rich kicked himself mentally. The murmuring hadn’t stopped and Danny let his smile drop, facing toward the back of the room. As Rich was about to ask another, more safe, question, Danny interrupted his thoughts with an answer. “I was electrocuted.” The boy’s eyes closed. “I… Wandered into my parent’s lab one afternoon with my friends. I kinda told them about this invention that my parents made but that it fell just short of working so we were gonna check it out… I went inside and… Turned it on while I was still in it… And the rest is history.” The teenager now looked slightly sick and completely miserable, the hands in his lap were trembling. Rich felt a stab of guilt that was nothing compared to what the boy’s parents were feeling just offstage. The reporter cleared his throat with a small smile. “Alright then, next question! So, having parents with lots of paranormal knowledge; how do you think you were able to keep your secret under wraps for so long?” Danny’s attitude changed and he rubbed the back of his neck with a crooked grin.

“Heh, luck? … To be honest, I’m surprised myself. I guess those of us who knew were just real careful; I don’t really think that there’s much else to it. Luck and caution.” Danny shrugged his shoulders and Rich nodded.

“Fair answer. So, being half-ghost yourself, what is your opinion overall of ghosts?” The boy frowned in thought.

“Well, that’s kinda like asking what I think of humans as a whole. I mean, it’s a pretty broad spectrum that you’re referring to. Some ghosts want nothing but power and will do anything to get it, some humans are the same way. Some ghosts want to help others any way they can, some humans feel the same… Most ghosts kinda just want to be let alone, which I can respect as long as their ‘being alone’ doesn’t, y’know, cause issues. I think what I’m trying to say is that you can’t base your perspective of ghosts because of one nasty encounter; it’s bound to happen, just like going about your life and meeting terrible humans. In fact, I know a whole lot of ghosts who are absolutely terrified at the idea of humans.” Danny paused to grin, as if thinking of a fond memory. “So… Yeah.” He looked at Rich with his boyish smile. The reporter nodded and adjusted his leg.

“Alright, then. What is the most powerful enemy you have faced thus far?” The boy pursed his lips and went quiet. “Hmm, that’s tough, actually. I guess… hm. I guess I should say Pariah Dark was the hardest ghost I’ve ever had to fight. Especially considering I couldn’t have done it on my own.” He mused aloud and Rich tilted his head to the side.

“Could you give us a bit… More on this ghost?” Danny made a noncommittal sound before nodding his head and continuing.

“Well, Pariah Dark was a really ancient ruler of the Ghost Zone. The proclaimed ‘King of All Ghosts’. As you can imagine, he was pretty… difficult to deal with.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously and Rich got the hint to begin to stray away from the topic. A woman cleared her throat and pointedly looked at the clock to remind him that he was on a bit of a time-crunch here. He needed to be quick with the five minutes he had left. “Alright, how about we start to wrap this up, then. What do you think is the most powerful ability that you have currently?” “My Ghostly Wail, for sure.” He said without hesitation, nodding to affirm himself. Rich grinned and continued along with this train of thought.

“Can you tell me about it? What does it do? How do you do it?” Danny looked even more uncomfortable and Rich started doubting himself. Was he asking all the wrong questions? The boy cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat.

“Well, it’s… It’s a bit tough to understand, really…” He mumbled before biting his lip. Maddie and Jack Fenton were just as confused from where they sat on the sidelines. Usually Danny was pretty ecstatic when demonstrating what he could do. Not once had he tried to perform a ‘Ghostly Wail’ for them, let alone have such a strong adverse reaction to it. Rich told himself not to interrupt the boy. He was obviously going to answer the question; the teen was looking for a way to articulate himself. Seemingly having found an answer to an internal question, Danny swallowed hard and continued to face the carpet. The teen’s face was more hardened than it had been (and much more distant than it usually looked, Maddie noticed).

“You remember when I told you that ghosts form out of strong human emotions bound to ectoplasm, right?” Rich nodded and Danny continued, speaking softly. The producers turned up his microphone to catch his words, which they hung onto like a lifeline. “Well, sometimes it’s not just emotions that get left behind. Sometimes there are… traces of certain memories or experiences that also go into forming a ghost. Sometimes these traces turn into abilities unique to the ghost that possesses them. Most of the time, these traces are what fuels ‘obsession’ in ghosts. Like, hunting, for example.” Danny grinned for a moment before regaining his somber expression. He sighed quietly and plucked at his shirt. “... When I went through the portal it… It really hurt. It was… awful. The worst thing I can think of, really. And… As I was, well, practically dying, I screamed.” He paused and the boy almost looked ready to vomit. Maddie was horrified into silence, covering her face with gloved hands while her husband was uncharacteristically stoic, frowning with his brows drawn together in concern. Rich leaned forward whilst Danny continued.

“A while after I became a halfa, I fought a really bad ghost. He was winning and I panicked. I yelled at him, screamed at him, and found out that I could project that sound so that it’s unbearable to those who hear it. It, very literally, blows them away.” Danny picked at the hem of his shirt again before finishing up with his answer. “I found out myself that my Ghostly Wail is unique to me in that… Well. When I tap into that power, I’m releasing… My dying screams.” His voice faltered for a moment and he heard his mother let out a choked sob at the mention of her child, her baby boy, going through that amount of pain. Danny steeled himself and forced a grin at the reporter. “But it’s pretty powerful. It’s really only a last resort attack because it just drains me, but it gets the job done, in most cases.” He shrugged to play off the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Next question?” Rich smiled.

“Actually, we’re just about out of time. Thank you so much for your time, Danny. Just the few answers you’ve given us today will undoubtedly shake things up in the paranormal scientific community!” Rich chuckled before facing camera #1 again to give his conclusion speech.

Danny waited in his chair until a woman’s voice echoed “We’re clear!”; the boy stood and-before he could be enveloped in his parents’ hugs-flew through the studio’s ceiling and into the crisp evening air.

I would rather take a beating from Skulker in my human form than do that again. Danny mused to himself as he twirled in the breeze, allowing the air currents to drift him further into the stratosphere and away from the studio, where plenty of baffled people were chattering away below him.