#best vengeful rat

[potatosonnet]

Ratboy and reading through T3M for the first time

[theweeviler]

[flwrkid14]

Tim and Danny: Love, Trust, and the Weight of Protection

part 1

Danny knows what it's like to be hunted.

It’s been his reality for as long as he can remember—forever glancing over his shoulder, never truly at ease. Between vengeful ghosts, government agents, and countless other dangers, his survival has depended solely on his instincts, his powers, and the fickleness of luck. He has his friends—two best friends and a sister who would drop everything to stand by him, who he knows would always have his back. But the weight of that reliance feels heavy, a burden he can't quite shake.

Trusting others, truly leaning on them, has always felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford. He wants to feel safe, to let someone else take some of the weight, but the thought of putting them in danger because of him? That’s a risk he can't bring himself to take.

Then he meets Tim Drake.

At first, Tim’s protectiveness doesn’t faze him. It’s Gotham. You don’t date a Wayne-adjacent vigilante and expect anything less than a little paranoia. Danny’s been through worse. A tracker on his phone? Standard. Tim pulling files on his professors? Honestly, kind of funny.

But then, Danny finds out how deep it goes.

He stumbles upon a folder on Tim’s desk—his name printed neatly on the tab. Inside? Background checks on his classmates, neighbors and friends. Surveillance reports. A detailed map of his daily routine. Heart rate data. Sleeping patterns. Eating habits. There’s even a file on Phantom.

For a moment, Danny froze.

This should terrify him—it used to. Being watched, tracked for his every move, reminded him too much of those who hunted him, who’d wanted to tear him apart and dissect him like a lab rat. His first instinct was always to run.

But at that moment? He felt... safe. The notes in the margins weren’t cold or clinical like the ones his parents would have written. No, instead, they were worried. Make sure he’s eating enough. Possible threat? Keep an eye on this one. Look for ectoplasmic spikes—could mean trouble.

This wasn’t someone trying to control him. This was someone trying to protect him.

Tim’s not like the people who hunted him in Amity Park. There’s no malice in what he does. No intent to control or hurt. It’s all fear. Love, even. Danny can see it in Tim’s eyes when he stammers through an explanation, bracing himself for anger or rejection.

He’s scared Danny will leave.

And that’s what gets Danny.

No one has ever cared for him like this, no one willing to go through such lengths just to ensure his safety. Yeah, it’s intense, maybe unhealthy, even by the standards of a world that isn’t known for its normalcy. Danny knows Sam, Tucker, and Jazz would do the same—they’ve all put their lives on the line for him before, and he loves them for it. But Tim is different.

Tim is strong enough to face the dangers of Danny’s world and carry the weight of his burdens without hesitation. It’s something Danny could never ask his friends to do—not because they wouldn’t, but because they have their own lives, their own paths. They would drop everything for him, just as Tim would, but Tim does it with the resolve of a vigilante, already living a life where protecting others is his duty. This is someone who understands the risks, who’s already made those sacrifices, and still chooses to say, “I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

So, he smiles. He kisses Tim’s cheek. And he asks, “Can I put a tracker on you too?”

The way Tim’s eyes light up? Yeah, Danny thinks. This is love.

-----------------

The batfamily doesn’t get it.

They corner Danny one day, all serious expressions and careful words.

“Danny, we’re worried,” Dick starts, voice soft. “About Tim?” Danny tilts his head. “About both of you,” Steph says. “This… surveillance thing. It’s not normal.”

Danny shrugs. “Neither am I.”

They might understand—on some level. They’d lived through their own kind of danger, faced their own threats. But for Danny, it was different. They didn’t grow up being hunted, didn’t spend years hiding from people who wanted to tear them apart just for existing. For him, trusting the wrong person wasn’t just a risk; it was a matter of life and death.

Tim’s methods might be extreme, but Danny sees the intent behind them. It’s not control. It’s care. Tim watches his back because he knows what it’s like to lose people. Danny lets him because he knows what it’s like to be alone.

“Tim’s the first person who’s made me feel safe,” Danny tells them, voice steady. “You see obsession. I see someone who cares enough to watch my back.”

They don’t know what to say to that.

-----------------

Their relationship isn’t conventional. But in a city like Gotham, love isn’t always soft and simple. Sometimes, it’s vigilance. Sometimes, it’s knowing someone’s tracking your heartbeat because they’d die if it ever stopped.

Tim watches over Danny. Danny watches over Tim. It’s not about control—it’s about trust. About knowing that, no matter what, someone’s got your back.

The bats worry. They whisper about boundaries, red flags and healthy relationships.

Danny doesn’t listen. He knows what he’s got.

In a world where ghosts and vigilantes collide, where danger lurks in every shadow, Danny’s finally found someone who won’t let him face it alone.

And that? That’s everything.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.

Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.

So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.

Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.

I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.

At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.

I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.

I don’t think she knows about Alys.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.

Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.

Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.

When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.

You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.

“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.

“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”

This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”

Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”

“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”

Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”

“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.

Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”

“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”

“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”

You are alarmed. “What? By who?”

“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”

“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.

“They’re putting me on house arrest.”

Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relieved. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”

“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”

“But it’s different now.”

He’s right, it is.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”

“Of course I’ll call.”

“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”

I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”

The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.

“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”

“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”

“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”

Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.

~~~~~~~~~~

In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.

“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”

“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?

The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.

George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.

Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.

A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”

And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.

There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.

Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”

“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”

“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”

“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”

“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.

Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”

“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”

He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”

“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”

“How’s Jupiter?”

You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”

“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”

A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”

“In my lair. Like a beast.”

“Alone?”

A transitory pause. “At the moment.”

“On the shag carpet or your futon?”

Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”

“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.

“Where are you?” Aegon asks.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe I want a visual too.”

You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”

“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”

“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”

“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”

Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”

“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”

You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”

“In Seattle?”

“No. Right here.”

Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”

“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”

“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

“No,” you say, baiting him.

“But I could touch you.”

“You already have.”

“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”

“Do you remember what I felt like?”

“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”

“No, I want you to think about me.”

You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”

“Under the water,” you reply coyly.

“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”

Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.

He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”

“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”

“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”

Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.

“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me.”

“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”

There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Wait—!”

You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”

“My parents.”

If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”

You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”

There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”

He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”

Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”

“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”

“So how do I get him to do it?”

You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.

“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”

You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”

“What if Nixon still refuses?”

“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”

Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.

“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”

Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”

“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”

Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes you are.”

There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”

You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.

As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”

He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”

“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”

“It has to fit.”

“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Io…”

“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.

At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.

“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.

As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.

“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”

You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”

“It does,” you say softly.

“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”

Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”

Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”

“Actors don’t belong in politics.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.

As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a  Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.

“You alright?” Aegon whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look alright.”

“I’m great.”

“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?

On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.

“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”

In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”

“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”

“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”

“He doesn’t own you.”

“Legally, he does.”

He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”

“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”

“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Got it.”

You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.

The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.

“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.

Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.

We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

And only then does Aegon vanish.

[novy2sirius]

Vietnamese Astrology Traits

• Remember that enemy signs are still fatally attracted to one another but will not last in the long run and things between them could end badly. The matrix tries to set you up and leeches off your emotional energy which is why it sets you up for failure in some cases

• Your numerology is also important and may overpower some of your astrology traits. The negative traits will only apply if you’re at a lower vibration in life

Vietnamese Signs

The Rat: favored by the matrix, if anyone hurts them the matrix will come after them, intelligent when it comes to how they navigate life, adapts to surroundings quickly, most likely to gain wealth (second to the goat, pig, and cat trine), determined, lively, manipulative, will leave out parts of stories where they did something bad, greedy, stubborn, always nervous

The Ox/buffalo: grounded, often comedians, one of the least sexual signs unless they’re born under 1/5/9 energy, loyal, leaders, lots of willpower, strong, dependable, stubborn, blunt, gaslights a lot, can be violent, communicates poorly, too judgmental of others, petty

The Tiger: masculine, good health (unless numerology goes against this), sexiest sign, good fighters/strong, strong/muscular build/fitness model body, good at body building, go getters, smooth talkers, born leader, age gracefully, they have it the hardest in the usa (the usa was founded in their enemy sign year which is the year of the monkey), most likely to cheat (especially the men), childlike temper tantrums, know it alls, aggressive

The Cat: easily understands people/natural psychologist, observant, great designers, kind, creative, stealthy, quick witted, good chess players, third smartest sign, strong money maker, shouldn’t eat eggs or chicken, pessimistic, selfish, plays lots of mind games, often insecure

The Dragon: charismatic, adventurous, intelligent with the choices they make in life, sexy, energetic, powerful, confident, masculine, great fighters, bossy, rude, complicated at times, too demanding, arrogant

The Snake: wisest sign, intuitive, seductive, calm, second most influential/persuasive sign, observant, analytical, vengeful, best liars/manipulators, holds grudges, gets jealous easily

The Horse: very hard workers (workhorses), positive, animated, energetic, warm-hearted, has it the hardest in the matrix since its enemy sign is the rat (the sign the matrix favors), stubborn, superficial, self centered, impatient, impulsive, very delusional or in denial constantly

The Goat: most likely to gain wealth other than the rat (even more than its friend signs the cat and pig), the most good looking sign, most influential/persuasive sign, nurturing/caring, romantic/flirtatious, fun energy, go with the flow, usually into both spirituality and religion (they dabble into it all), funny, high maintenance, manipulative, lazy, has a hard life, lots of anxiety, gullible, emotionally sensitive/the softest sign, needs to constantly be pampered, shouldn’t be aggressive because it ends bad

The Monkey: smartest sign, popular, funniest sign, sociable, intuitive, brave, very curious, plays games with people, selfish, liars, egotistical, untrustworthy at times, always trying to get in others business

The Rooster: confident, humorous, loyal, one track minded, passionate, independent, observant, outgoing, talkative, narcissistic, control freak, bad temper/overly aggressive at times, hypocritical, picky

The Dog: very hard working, loves attention, loyal, honest, protective of the people they love, committed to the people they love, reliable, witty, helpful, overly aggressive, exaggerates stories, stubborn at times, always paranoid

The Pig: humble, strong money maker, responsible, luckiest sign, creative, classy, foodie/food lover, they love sex, tolerant, intelligent, friendly, easily influenced by others, promiscuous, overly materialistic, laziest sign, second most likely sign to cheat, naive, overly emotional, flaky

Vietnamese Elements

Metal: always looks out for loved ones, perseverant, independent, must create their own success, enjoys their freedom, enjoys comfort, stubborn, wants a romantic partner that they can control, too demanding at times, stubborn

Water: creative, intuitive, sensitive, adaptive, empathetic, sympathetic, gains others trust easily, likable, talkative, everyone feels special around them, tries to hard to make everyone around them feel happy which can lead to sadness, people follow their lead, influences others minds easily, passive aggressive, emotionally manipulative

Wood: optimistic, open minded, good at socializing, active, confident, organized, family oriented, good marriage partner, good friends/colleagues, gets attached quickly, always improving as a person, overworks themselves, passive aggressive, gullible

Fire: ambitious, determined, leader, strong, seductive, attracts people to them easily, enthusiastic, very giving in relationships, inspires others easily, affectionate, adventurous, competitive, optimistic, always stresses, impatient, gets mad quick

Earth: wise, patient, loyal, trustworthy, perfectionist, stable, always makes challenging sacrifices for others, good at giving advice, serious, goes based on logic rather than emotions, controlling

[plushiecemetery]

i wrote a little thingy to keep in mind certain aspects of Dionysus and youll be my witness:

((UPG will be in italics))

🍇 Who is Dionysus?

Lord Dionysus is best known as the god of wine and festivity, yet that is not the full story. With his status as the god of rebirth, madness, fertility, theater and many more He is a vastly more interesting God than He tends to be seen as. He is a kind yet erratic God, loving and caring for those who worship Him and that which He values, but as the most human God of the Olympus (as He is the son of Zeus and a mortal, Semele), He can be seen as vengeful, even if that is disputable.

being born twice (as when Hera found of Her husbands infidelity, She tricked Semele into making Zeus reveal Himself to her, causing her to die, with Dionysus only surviving due to Zeus stitching Him onto His thigh until Dionysus was born again) He represents duality, being both mortal and deity born, both young and old, from here and there, masculine and feminine, He is the link between us mortals and our Gods, and in my eyes a key piece for understanding hellenic religion, being paradoxical, nonsensical, brute, wise, mad, He is the God of wine, as wine is a great and ecstatic moment but take it too far and youll be lost.

He is very much a hunter, and in a lot of art of Him, He can be seen very prominently fighting the the Titans, with His sacred animals fighting by His side, even more than other more war centric Deities, as he is kind yet brutal when needed, He was and is seen as a protector for those who need Him.

🍇 Domains:

Dionysus is the nature God of rebirth, wine, frenzy, fertility, queerness, theater/drama/tragedy, fluidity of self, madness (divine or not), paradoxes, art, inclusivity, festivity, ecstasy, , prophesies, androgyny, transness, the moon, (volatile) emotions, winemaking, mental health

🍇 Associations:

💜 colours:

purple, moss green, black, gold, burgundy

💜 crystals:

grape agate, amethyst, tiger's eye, moss agate, amber, moon stone, serpentine, smoky quartz, malachite

💜 fauna:

panthers, leopards and tigers, crows, bulls, goats and sheep, snakes, rats, calico or orange cats

💜 flora:

grapevine and grapes, ivy, pine trees, bindweed, calamus, fruits in general, green apples, fennel, thistle

💜 consumables:

grape flavoured fizzy drinks, grapes, wine, spicy soup, fruits, chicken, cinnamon, honey, olive oil,

💜 tarot cards:

hanged man, death, fool, three of cups, moon, two of cups

[tarnishedinquirer]

Beneath Stormveil

Here the damage seemed the worst. In places, the walls were red and raw, almost as if they were bleeding. I continued down and reached a room with a very interesting painting.

It was Stormhill, before Stormveil Castle was ever built. The world looked so much wilder and more vibrant back then. The colors were deep blacks and rich greens, not the washed-out greys and pale greens of current Limgrave. The place that would once become the Chapel of Anticipation was part of the mainland, separated by a waterfall rather than a chasm. There's no trace of the black stone pillars that underlay the entire land. The Stormfoot Catacombs are open, with no door. And, while something was gleaming gold, it sure didn't look like the Erdtree.

Yet the Divine Tower and bridge were already there, and already so ancient the bridge had started to crumble. Curious.

After examining the painting as much as I could, I unlocked the door back to the Site of Grace and continued downward.

This was by far the oldest and most neglected portion of the castle. It's unlikely it would get any light except at high noon. The only creatures down here were vermin. Giant bats and rats, the scavengers and dwellers in the dark.

Now that I was down here, it became clear that this was a dumping ground for the castle above. Specifically, it seemed that all the statues removed in the various ideological purges were just shoved into the abyss.

There's the expected statues of women holding ewers or missing their hands, but there's a few statues that stand out to me. They're almost completely buried, so possibly the oldest statues ever dumped down here, and depict hooded figures either holding a book or holding a dagger. Unfortunately, I don't have any context to interpret them. Maybe I'll find some more later.

A scarab almost misses my notice, were it not for the sound they make. I track it down and it's carrying an unusual Sorcery called Rancorcall.

I say it's unusual because using it would require almost as much faith as intellect. That unnerved me a little. Sorcery is supposed to be the result of consistent, observable phenomenon. Concrete things that may be more difficult to observe and comprehend, but are ultimately just as real as a sword. To apply your intellect to the task of how best to surrender it to a higher power seemed perverse to me.

The voice said:

Sorcery of the servants of Death. Summons vengeful spirits that chase down foes. Once though lost, this ancient death hex was rediscovered by the necromancer Garris.

Going on my theory that scarabs only appear where abilities like ashes of war, sorceries, or incantations are used, and somehow they gather up some invisible residue to make their spheres, I would suspect that Garris must've been here at some point. Perhaps this is where he even developed his techniques? I doubt he's still here.

To draw a connection, I found the Rancor Pot recipe in the Tombsward Catacombs. It has a similar effect of summoning vengeful spirits, though different methods. Am I to assume Garris might also have been there? That might explain how Deathroot got inside...

Now I came to a cliff overlooking a root-choked and damp chamber below. Bones littered the floor. Some were stacked up in drifts, but there were also complete skeletons resting in what looked like old, rotted canoes. Perhaps a vestige of some water burial in the past? At one time, they might have sent the dead over the waterfall that once ran through here. Once that dried up, they instead just buried the dead in their canoes.

But what interested me most was the grand baldachin, now rotted and torn, draped across the chamber beyond. Something important must be there.

Before I could approach, a terrible creature burst out of the ground. I'd seen its ilk once before, in the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. An Ulcerated Tree Spirit, a great writhing snake-root, like a serpentine mandrake. Even as I knew its movements, it was still so erratic that it was hard to predict at times. As it slammed me against the walls, I knew now where the drifts of bones had come from.

Once I had slain the beast. I was free to recover its treasures, both here and in the chamber beyond. Much like the last, it dropped a Golden Seed.

As for the chamber... I can scarcely describe it. I'll try to sketch it but I don't think I can do justice to the sheer presence of this thing. Despite looking like a stone carving, I knew on an instinctual level that it was alive.

It was a face, or approximation thereof. Yet it could not have been more inhuman. It at once looked floral, fungal, and animal. The lower half of the face was like an oyster mushroom, and from there emerged thick tendrils like thorny vines. The upper half had a disturbingly human nose but two oddly angled eyes, or at least eye sockets. The lids themselves were empty.

The whole thing burst through the stone wall on a thick body like a salamander, though if it had arms, they had not emerged from the wall. And its was very clearly a violent entry, with rubble piled up around it. Nearby, there was a bloodstain, and a corpse holding an item in its hands.

Oh hell. The bloodstain was Rogier. If he can't see Grace anymore, then can he even come back? Is he just dead for real now? I couldn't even see what got him but it looked bad. It lifted him up and seemed to impale him from multiple angles. I hope he's okay. I actually kinda like the guy. It was rare to talk to someone both intellectual and down to earth like that.

The corpse had a... Prince of Death's Pustule?!

A fetid pustule taken from facial flesh. It is said that this pustule came from the visage of the Prince of Death, he who used to be called Godwyn. As First Dead of the demigods, it's said he's buried deep under the capital, at the Erdtree's roots.

It is said, it is said, it is said. I hate it when the Voice uses weasel words. Who says?

If Godwyn was the first to die, then it is his death that created the Deathroot. Deathroot sprouts similar faces to the one on this pustule. The same milky white eyes, the same thorny tendrils... There was a couple things that puzzled me. I noted fish fins on the Deathroot growing in various catacombs and Summonwater Village. Despite its aquatic appearance, this face held no trace of such details, resembling an amphibian more than a fish. Second, while the Deathroot and Pustule share the milky white eyes, this visage does not. Instead, its sockets are empty.

Third, if we take the voice at face value and say that Godwyn actually is buried under the capital... why did this face burst out of the southeast wall? The capital is to the northeast. I can buy the Greattree roots spreading throughout the Lands Between, but I'd still expect such a creature to burrow through from the correct direction. The only things off that direction are the Stormfoot Catacombs and the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. And since the painting confirms that at least one of those was here before the castle, I find myself doubting if this is even Godwyn at all, or some other, forgotten Prince of Death.

I'll review my notes about those places and see if I can gain any insight, but arbitrary skepticism doesn't do any good. I have to assume that this is Godwyn, or at least an aspect of him, until strong evidence presents itself otherwise.

Still, to quote the only cleric I ever got on with, "Doubting is what I do."

With my investigation concluded, the only way to go was up. Thankfully there was a conveniently placed, if alarmingly tall, rope ladder. I began what was sure to be a very long ascent.

I had at last gotten answers on the rot infecting Stormveil, but they only left me with more questions.

Who are the dagger and book statues? Why were they purged?

If Godfrey built the earliest Stormveil, who built the tower and bridge?

Is that face Godwyn? If not, who could it possibly be?

If it is Godwyn, why would it come from the wrong direction?

Why does this face look so different from the other faces? Why is it missing its eyes?

Who is Garris? What was he doing beneath Stormveil?

What happened to Rogier?

Why was he looking for this?

[heiayen]

two witches walk into a prison cell... - lyney&gn!reader

summary: after a series of unfortunate accidents, including you and lyney, you get accused of... being witches and thrown into jail. there has to be a way of getting out, right?

tags: can be read both as romantic and platonic for the relationship between [name] and lyney, depending on how you choose to read this! it's crack, comedy, whatever you want. unspecified medieval au? headcanons, not proof read. there is a mention

notes: passes out. im still on a tumblr break but hello!! this is my entry for @ecrin-de-litterature prison escape event yippeee sorry lyney for throwing you into jail... happens. this is so silly save me

How… unfortunate. The townspeople have decided, with pitchforks and burning torches, rocks breaking the windows– you and Lyney, your dearest companion of years, are… witches. Dabbling in witchcraft, causing mischief and apparently hurting chickens that your very grumpy neighbor raises in her garden. You wouldn’t even get near her fence, let alone her godsdamn chickens! And while… the chickens were in fact getting sick more often than supposed, you were sure it was because of your neighbor’s poor animal raising skills, not because of whatever you and Lyney did.

You were a role citizen, one could say. Never caused too many problems for the royal guards and other folk living here, you had a nice, little shop with medical herbs, all hand-picked with the utmost care, always the best quality– because who would you be, if you didn’t care about selling your clients only the best goods? Lyney, on the other hand, was the town’s bard, often performing on the streets with his dear sister and he was quite good at it, you had to admit. Charming people with his performances and charisma, all the girls in town swooning over him… Sometimes you wondered if it was only a matter of time until the king himself took interest in Lyney’s and his sister’s shows. Or until something else happened…

That something happened now. The elders of the town decided that everything bad happening to the town was your fault and that you deserved to be burne– oh, well, arrested. Locked in a cell, awaiting what next people would decide with your hands tied. Metaphorically and literally sadly, because the folks believed you’d pose a danger with your hands free. In a way they were right, you really wanted to punch that guard standing next to the cell–

Right. That guard was guarding you and Lyney all the time. As much as you… well, understood that prisoners should be guarded to not escape, especially those accused of witchcraft, it still pissed you off greatly. You really wished you could throw a rat at him or something. Maybe a bucket of stinky water, the one you used to clean the floors with. You had many ideas of potential revenge but alas, you couldn’t do anything.

Or so you thought. Lyney didn’t share your pessimist thinking (and neither the many revenge plots you shared with him) and soon, the man got into the action of freeing you from this terrible, cold, and smelly cell. He called the guard and you only looked at him with raised eyebrows. In no way the guard would let you out! He surely had a family to raise and feed and the guardian pay was small already, how would he manage if it was cut for letting the prisoners go? 

It turned out that Lyney… had a plan. A plan you thought wouldn’t succeed because, oh, surely that guard was smarter than that! And yet how wrong you were. When the guard entered the cell, the key to it hanging from his belt on his hip, you threw away your pride for a moment and simply begged the guard to let you two go. Lyney had a sister and a brother after all, and to deprive them of a loving, older brother over some dumb rumors would… truly be tragic. A heartbreaking tale of a family broken down by a vengeful crowd, over things they didn’t even commit. And if he couldn’t let both of you go, then he should at least let Lyney go. He deserved that, to meet with his siblings for the last time until he would be forced to run away.

And so go on. You pulled out your best pleading eyes, even tears– all while Lyney was working from behind. You almost broke your act seeing him untie his hands, as if he couldn’t do so already! You would cover him, he would untie his hands and yours too and… well, while it wouldn’t help you run away, it surely would make the planning more comfortable! But with his hands free, Lyney quietly, stealthy, behind that guard’s back, took the hanging keys from his belt. For his luck, the keys were more on guard’s back than his front, because in no way he would succeed otherwise…

But that left another problem, didn’t it? Although Lyney had the key, the guard was still here, throwing literal daggers with his gaze at you, completely unmoved by your pleading. You needed him out of the room. Or maybe not, you needed him locked in here for ages, so that he could atone for his mistakes of locking you here– Well. Grand revenge could wait.

Suddenly, in the middle of your pleading, you widened your eyes and looked somewhere behind him, gasped as if you saw your ancestor’s ghosts and yelled. That provided enough distraction for the guard to turn around, scared what was that you saw only to be greet with a smiling and waving Lyney… and a hard kick into the back of his knee, of course by yours truly. He hit the floor and before he could ever get up from it, you and Lyney already stood outside the now locked again cell, you smiling brightly at the annoyed guard. And before he could really realize what happened, you two already started running away.

Running away from other guards was a surprisingly easy task, simply having to hide and quietly walk right under their noses– which with Lyney leading wasn’t hard and… oh, you two were out of jail! Finally breathing the fresh air, seeing the beautiful sky after exactly one day of being jailed, it all caused warmth to bloom in your chest. You were happy and free.

…for now at least because you and Lyney knew that the townsfolk would not leave it like that. Frankly, you really didn’t want to see pitchforks outside your house again, no. But, oh well, it was bound to happen again and it really was a matter of time.

Well. What happened has happened, and there was no turning time back and now you, Lyney and, by extension, his siblings, had to create a plan of dealing with the entire village wanting to hunt you down. But that was a different story…

(And a different story was the fact that the village was, in fact, right about you and Lyney but… oh! A little bit of witchcraft never hurt anyone! Okay, maybe these herbs you gave your lovely chicken-raising neighbor were meant to give her the worst headaches known to mankind for whole three days because she pissed you off so badly, but… she was a special case. And this was the only thing you ever did to her despite having many urges to show her real powers of witchcraft! You’d never hurt poor chickens. You really had to get back at her one day…) 

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - These Lies Festered Like Roaches, You’ll Have To Gut Him To Exterminate Them

@ Balshumet @darthfrodophantom @ Deathcomes4u @ EctoplasmicSoda @fentoaster @fruity-hub-blog @camels-pen @redactedgoose @underforeversgrace @ itallcomesbacktoandreil @sheabeeprime @ LumianaKatenke @schrodingersfic @sapphireshield @summerssixecho

Crawling through one body, laying eggs of hurt in all our minds, struggling just to be okay surrounded by roaches shaped like safety. Can’t help but react, because this bite’s too detrimental, who knows if time can heal the infections and repercussions. Maddie, Jack, Danny, Vlad; secrets will see them consumed, relationships and bodies left behind to be scraped back together, if they can be.

:Chap. 1:

Little Hero, Put On Your Cape, Someone’s Made A Mistake

Danny’s been having a rather… strange week, month really, but this week specifically has been odd. The ghosts were all being weirdly friendly to him, were causing a lot less damage, heck they weren’t even bothering him when he was sleeping! It was odd. The Lunch Lady even brought him a balanced school lunch and it wasn’t even his death day. But weirder than that was the fact that even Vlad wasn’t causing him issues. No snide remarks, no unprompted visits, no threats to murder his dad, no bonding attempts, no abductions, he wasn’t even making public appearances. It was strange. What made it even stranger was that his dad wasn’t saying anything about it, wasn’t demanding they show his ‘best friend’, wasn’t complaining about him not visiting recently, wasn’t encouraging Danny to go over to his mansion to see if the guy wanted to come over. Even Red/Val didn’t seem to care, in her words ‘good riddance’, which tells him she absolutely found out about Vlad being a ghost.

Which, on one hand, her reaction was concerning, a little. But on the other hand, this was Vlad, the guy who nearly tricked her into helping müder a little girl and whom tried to blow her up to frame Phantom for her death. He could absolutely understand her not giving a rats ass about the man now, or utterly despising him. So the truly strange part was how she didn’t seem to care at all. Sure the guy could be an utter fruitloop but he was still the mayor, you’d think even she’d care about that at least.

Sam and Tuck thought the guy was just plotting, which Danny would be inclined to agree with if it wasn’t for the fact that he couldn’t find Vlad anywhere. His cat didn’t even have food last time he went snooping around the mansion! Vlad might be vaguely villainous, but even he would never neglect an animal. Zone Danny would place money on the fact that he’s positive that if Vlad was going to fully die or be ended, the first thing he’d do is try to get word to Danny to take care of his cat. That is, without a shadow of a doubt, what Vlad would do.

Meaning…

He’s missing.

And not missing of his own free will probably.

Danny’s first concern is, surprising to even him, Val, because she definitely knew now, because her temper controlled her more often than not, because she was supremely vengeful, because Danny was a good ghost and she abducted him for a torture session. The thing with Val though, is there wasn’t a lot of places she could be keeping Vlad and Halfas were way too durable for her to have actually ended him in a week. So he eliminated her pretty quick, just a snoop of her room, a few abandoned buildings in Amity and Elmerton, and a snoop around her dad’s workplaces backroom. He’s fairly certain she doesn’t have Vlad. Unfortunately she was Vlad’s best option though, since she was the least likely to do something horrifically screwed up or actually end the guy; she wasn’t down with murder, ghost or human.

Of course he suspected his parents next, especially with his dad acting a bit weird, but neither one of them was spending an excessive amount of time in the lab, or bragging about catching a ghost or making new discoveries; and, there was no one trapped down in the lab or the dungeon. As far as he knew neither of them had any storage facilities or even a rented trailer for storage, and they couldn’t keep quiet about things so he felt secure in his belief that it wasn’t them.

So that left the G.I.W., arguably his and Vlad’s worst option. Because they absolutely would do as many horrific experiments as they could, and with their funding that would mean a lot of experiments. Plus, those nut jobs wouldn’t even care if he transformed back human, they had no problem with harming or killing regular humans even teenagers; they’d have no problem harming or ending a halfa too.

So Danny decides to take advantage of the ghosts being ‘nice’ and ‘considerate’ of him, even if they were still picking fights and getting him hurt… just not nearly as seriously as before. He figures his best option is Skulker, considering the guy was a hunter and employed by Vlad. If anyone knew where he was, it would be that guy; and if he didn’t know, he could track him down better than Danny could. That Greatest Hunter In The Ghost Zone title wasn’t for show, regardless of Danny being uncatchable.

And that’s how Danny finds himself here, landing his feet down on Skulker Island and knocking on the guys door; barging into a ghosts lair was rude and the poacher hadn’t done anything to warrant Danny’s break and entry ways. Skulker looks almost nervous when he opens his door, “Phantom?”, he sticks his head out and glances around, as if expecting Danny to have brought company, before looking back to the half dead teen, “what’s up with the lair visit? And so respectfully. Are you sick? Those parents of yours trying to end you again?”.

See this? This was just weird. Danny quirks an eyebrow, “no?”, shaking his head, “I’m just checking to see if you’ve seen or heard from Vlad lately, he’s mia”, frowning, “his cat didn’t have food”.

Even Skulker looks alarmed, see even ghost poachers who skinned people and hung their heads on walls didn’t neglect animals. Skulker shaking his head immediately, “no, Phantom, no I haven’t”. He pops up a screen on his suit and stares at it, the reflection of messages and data reflecting off of his robotic eyes, “I don’t have any messages from him currently either. Not for jobs, assistance, or to pester you”, quickly adding on, “not-that-I-would-agree-to-that-or-anything”.

Being word vomitted at by Skulker was just bizarre, so much that he can’t even bring himself to question it, just in case he triggers him to do that again. What the fuck? Danny taps his chin, “yeah I don’t like that”, looking back to the metal ghost, “think you could track him down? Mr. Greatest Hunter In The Ghost Zone?”; is Danny mocking him a little? Yes. Will the guy care? Not a chance.

As predicted Skulker grins menacingly, “with pleasure”, and is off the second Danny steps out of his way.

Cool.

Okay.

Danny’s got a plan of action here. He’d ask Val/Red to join in the hunt but she clearly wasn’t interested in finding the guy, either half. Though now that he’s thinking about it he should probably give Skulker’s girlfriend a heads up before she gets pissed at the guy for ‘doing a job’; Danny and Ember usually got along already so shouldn’t be a problem. Meaning now he’s off to her little island, or giant concert venue really, searching for a Popstar.

He finds her tuning her guitar, humming a tune. “Sup Ember”, she jumps from his voice, whirling around and blinking in a bit of shock at him.

Her flying at him, stopping a bit away, “ghost ki- Phantom! What brings you around here?”, and like Skulker she glances around like she’s expecting someone or someone’s to be with him or something. Again, strange. Or perhaps she’s just concerned he brought Tucker with him, aka mister can sing so horribly it has the power to end even ectoplasmically enhanced concerts.

Danny quirks an eyebrow at her too, “I just figured I should stop by and let you know that I asked your boyfriend to go track down Vlad. Guys been too quiet for too long”.

She smirks at him fondly, “man you are so overprotective, you’d think you’d relax more when he’s not harassing you but nope”, and ruffles his hair up before wincing and floating a little back from him for some reason, “appreciate the heads up, Phantom”.

Danny… is only more confused, but he shrugs, gives her a goofy little salute and floats his sorry ass off; the slight relived sag she does only weirds him out more, frankly.

Okay, time to head back to Amity. At least he never had to worry about the portals doors being locked these days, his energy was strong enough for him to just force it open with his hands and some ecto-energy. It was probably also a little because he was, you know, killed by a portal, this one specifically. Slipping his way through with ease a phasing intangibly up through the roof instantly. Glancing around Amity from above the ops centre for a little bit before deciding to check in on Vlad’s mansion(s) again.

Plus, even though Maddie the cat might be slightly evil thanks to Vlad’s encouragement, she was still a cat and deserved all the pets and treats.

Danny’s working a little on his English philosophy of death paper -this embracing the towns ghost theme shit is part of why Danny actually liked Lancer- when Skulker barges in through Danny’s window; well at least the guy didn’t break it. Danny standing up immediately at Skulker’s serious expression; it wasn’t often the ghost looked ‘haunted’ or ‘Hopeless’, so it was super worrying. Skulker makes the motions to grab Danny’s arm before wincing and dropping his arm, “follow. You’re not going to like this”, and turning back to fly back out of Danny’s window.

Danny already doesn’t like this.

Danny absolutely follows immediately. Frowning, “I don’t even like the sound of that, Skulker. Did you find him?”.

The ghost scoffs, “of course I did, I’m Skulker, the Greatest Hunter In All Of The Infinite Realm”, grimacing, “I didn’t see him with my own eyes, but the traces of his shed latent ecto-energy and the sensation of his ecto-field are there”.

Danny quirking an eyebrow as they move into Elmerton, shit, outside of Amity. “Why didn’t you confirm though? Too excited?”; the bit of humour falls really flat but Danny is a jokester through and through.

“You’ll see, and you’ll probably feel and smell it too. You were right to be concerned, he’s definitely trapped and injured. I’m not narcissistic enough to think I know halfa medical care better than an actual halfa, even that fraid of yours would do better”.

They’re leaving Elmerton. Alright, it was looking more and more like G.I.W., meaning this was going to be bad. “Is he at a G.I.W. compound? That’s one of my suspects”.

“Reasonable, I guessed the same. Since I know you’d be able to check the Red Huntress easily and your makers. However, no. No he’s not. That… would be better”.

Danny muttering, “that’s extremely ominous”. At this point he thinks they’re above Naperville? But he’s never been this far out so he’s not exactly sure on that. The two slowing down, Danny copying Skulker as the hunter goes invisible, as they approach a warehouse district area.

Danny pausing in the air, shocked, when a mini GAV comes into sight. What? How was one of those all the way out here? Why even? His folks didn’t sell them so… Danny doesn’t like this one bit. Should… should he have looked into his folks a bit more seriously? He hopes not. He hopes he’s wrong. If he’s not… then he doesn’t really know what he’ll do.

But Skulker’s absolutely right. He can sense Vlad’s ecto-energy in the air, the way it lingers screaming that he’s bled a lot, lost a lot. Skulker was likely right to get him, and that both scares and pisses him off. Especially with the mini GAV right by. Skulker pausing in the air by holding up a hand, nodding his head at the mini GAV, then tapping his eye. Danny nodding back, the message of ‘go have a look’ is obvious, Skulker following him.

It’s…

It’s his dad. Jack.

He’s drinking… and looks like shit.

He’d been off, weirdly quiet about things and stand offish. Bummed out. But this was a lot worse. Part of Danny wants to hope he’s only here by chance, that he comes out here to ‘break down’ sometimes. But the chances of that are pathetically slim. Did Jack hurt Vlad? Enough for him to transform back? Did Jack see it was his ‘old friend’ he was hurting and freaked out? Was he still hurting Vlad? He knows his aura flares a bit protectively and possessively, in that dangerous way. But if his dad hurt the guy that Danny sometimes actually liked and was still hurting him, Danny won’t be able to hold back from ripping him a new one. Would he even still be able to see him as a parent? Ha. No. No he wouldn’t.

Skulker snaps his fingers twice, just loud enough to get Danny’s attention, watching him cautiously; Danny can see his own glow and eyes reflecting off of the meta mecha suit. Skulker jerking his head at the building, then putting a hand to his chest, tapping his eyes again and points at Jack. Danny nodding and zipping off towards the building, Skulker could keep an eye on Jack.

Danny lets the feel of Vlad’s ecto-field pull him around on pure protective instinct, that aspect of his obsession was always handy when rescuing ghosts, even blobs, from the G.I.W. or his folks. He hates it a little though, the way it felt almost controlling of himself and how it sometimes made him want to hurt the people responsible; it also felt like he was being disrespected these days, like how dare whoever harm someone on his watch? The audacity. Him jerking to a stop by a door, there’s green and red stains everywhere. Phasing his head through the door with a pit of unease coiling in his core and stomach.

A̴̸̵̸̵̵̸̵̴̴̵̢̢̙̙͍̘͚̦͉̠̦͇̙̟̙̪̪͚͍͔͚͔̙̻̺͉͚̙͙͍̠̘̝͓̙͎̾͋͒͐̽͋͊͊͒̐͆͊̔̿̈́̓̔̾̀͊͊͌̾̾̚̚͘͜͜͠͠͝N̸̸̸̸̸̴̵̴̴̵̴̡̡̢͇̼͖͓̞̺̟͚̼͉̻͕̟̘̝̟͍͍̠̞͙͚̼͙̙͙͎͙̙̠͓̦̻̔͛͋͛̒̓͐͒͆͌̀͐̀͑͛̒͋͋̕̚̚̚̕̚͘͜͝͠͠C̴̸̵̸̵̸̸̸̴̸̵̢̢̡̢̡̡̢̫̺̻͖͎̦̟̟͍̟̫͎͙͙͕̝͉͔̙͇͓̻͕̠̞̻̼͙͇̿̾̓͒͌̽̽̈́͊͒̈́͌́͋̿͋̽͋͑̔̿͛̕͘͘͜͠͝͠͝͝͝I̸̵̴̴̸̵̸̴̸̵̸̢̢̢̢̻̼͓̝̟͙̞̻͙͖͉͔̝͚̻̻͎͇͇͓͚̙͇͍̙͙̝̺͆͐̾̾͋͋̈́̿̀̿̀̿̈́͊̈́͆̐̒͌͛͑̓̀̓̒͋̽͊̚͘͜͝E̸̴̴̸̴̴̵̴̴̸̴̡̢̡͍͇͕̪͍̟͍͖͎͇̟͍͔͔͎̟̠̠͙̟̙̘̪̼̫̠͓̙͋͋̈́͒̿͛̀̓̓́̓͌̿͆̒͌͛̈́͑̀͊̓̽̔͒͘̚̕̚͜͜͝͝Ǹ̴̸̸̵̸̵̸̴̵̵̴̡̡̡̢̢͎͍͍̘̠͚̘̝͕̠͍͙̙̫̪̻̙͎̫̪̼͉͚͙͔͚̠̻̦̼̐̽̐͋͊̿̈́̈́̈́̿͒͑͊̓͆͒̈́̒̐̕̕͘̕͜͠͝T̴̴̵̵̴̵̵̵̴̴̸̡̢̢̡̢͎̦͕͚͕̟̞͇̺̙̺͔͓̠͚͓͍͔͉͍̞̻͓̦̺̫͖̻̼̝̝̒̐͋͌̓͆͛͐̿̓͒̈́̽͛̈́̾́͑̓̐͆̓̕͘̚̕͠͝͝͝͠S̴̵̸̵̵̵̵̸̸̸̴̢̢͙͚̞̺͇͇̫͚͚̪̪̺̝̻͍͍͚͔͕͉͓̫͍͓͉̟̟͎͙̫̼̪͖̈́̿̓̀͒̓̓͊͛̿͊͑͛̀́̀̓͑͊̒͋̀͐̐͌͘̚͜͜͝͝͝ Ǹ̵̸̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̸̴̢̡̡̡̡̡̝͙͓̠̪̞̝̙̝͎̻̦͍̘̞͍͔͕͓͇̫̼͙͔͕̫͉̠̟͚͇̓̀̐̐̓̔̈́͊̒͑̽͛̒͛͌͋̾͒̿̔͘͘̚̕̕͝͝Ö̵̸̵̴̴̸̵̵̵̴̴̡̢̡̡͔̼̺͍͙̻͇͍̪͇͉͎̝̟̫̪͔͔̞͉̪͔͕͚̦̦̝̻͉͇́̽͆̽̐͛́͌͋͆̐͆̀̒͌͊͒̐̓͒̓͑̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͝͝A̴̸̵̸̵̵̸̵̴̴̵̢̢̙̙͍̘͚̦͉̠̦͇̙̟̙̪̪͚͍͔͚͔̙̻̺͉͚̙͙͍̠̘̝͓̙͎̾͋͒͐̽͋͊͊͒̐͆͊̔̿̈́̓̔̾̀͊͊͌̾̾̚̚͘͜͜͠͠͝N̸̸̸̸̸̴̵̴̴̵̴̡̡̢͇̼͖͓̞̺̟͚̼͉̻͕̟̘̝̟͍͍̠̞͙͚̼͙̙͙͎͙̙̠͓̦̻̔͛͋͛̒̓͐͒͆͌̀͐̀͑͛̒͋͋̕̚̚̚̕̚͘͜͝͠͠C̴̸̵̸̵̸̸̸̴̸̵̢̢̡̢̡̡̢̫̺̻͖͎̦̟̟͍̟̫͎͙͙͕̝͉͔̙͇͓̻͕̠̞̻̼͙͇̿̾̓͒͌̽̽̈́͊͒̈́͌́͋̿͋̽͋͑̔̿͛̕͘͘͜͠͝͠͝͝͝I̸̵̴̴̸̵̸̴̸̵̸̢̢̢̢̻̼͓̝̟͙̞̻͙͖͉͔̝͚̻̻͎͇͇͓͚̙͇͍̙͙̝̺͆͐̾̾͋͋̈́̿̀̿̀̿̈́͊̈́͆̐̒͌͛͑̓̀̓̒͋̽͊̚͘͜͝E̸̴̴̸̴̴̵̴̴̸̴̡̢̡͍͇͕̪͍̟͍͖͎͇̟͍͔͔͎̟̠̠͙̟̙̘̪̼̫̠͓̙͋͋̈́͒̿͛̀̓̓́̓͌̿͆̒͌͛̈́͑̀͊̓̽̔͒͘̚̕̚͜͜͝͝Ǹ̴̸̸̵̸̵̸̴̵̵̴̡̡̡̢̢͎͍͍̘̠͚̘̝͕̠͍͙̙̫̪̻̙͎̫̪̼͉͚͙͔͚̠̻̦̼̐̽̐͋͊̿̈́̈́̈́̿͒͑͊̓͆͒̈́̒̐̕̕͘̕͜͠͝T̴̴̵̵̴̵̵̵̴̴̸̡̢̢̡̢͎̦͕͚͕̟̞͇̺̙̺͔͓̠͚͓͍͔͉͍̞̻͓̦̺̫͖̻̼̝̝̒̐͋͌̓͆͛͐̿̓͒̈́̽͛̈́̾́͑̓̐͆̓̕͘̚̕͠͝͝͝͠S̴̵̸̵̵̵̵̸̸̸̴̢̢͙͚̞̺͇͇̫͚͚̪̪̺̝̻͍͍͚͔͕͉͓̫͍͓͉̟̟͎͙̫̼̪͖̈́̿̓̀͒̓̓͊͛̿͊͑͛̀́̀̓͑͊̒͋̀͐̐͌͘̚͜͜͝͝͝ Ǹ̵̸̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̸̴̢̡̡̡̡̡̝͙͓̠̪̞̝̙̝͎̻̦͍̘̞͍͔͕͓͇̫̼͙͔͕̫͉̠̟͚͇̓̀̐̐̓̔̈́͊̒͑̽͛̒͛͌͋̾͒̿̔͘͘̚̕̕͝͝Ö̵̸̵̴̴̸̵̵̵̴̴̡̢̡̡͔̼̺͍͙̻͇͍̪͇͉͎̝̟̫̪͔͔̞͉̪͔͕͚̦̦̝̻͉͇́̽͆̽̐͛́͌͋͆̐͆̀̒͌͊͒̐̓͒̓͑̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͝͝. A̴̸̵̸̵̵̸̵̴̴̵̢̢̙̙͍̘͚̦͉̠̦͇̙̟̙̪̪͚͍͔͚͔̙̻̺͉͚̙͙͍̠̘̝͓̙͎̾͋͒͐̽͋͊͊͒̐͆͊̔̿̈́̓̔̾̀͊͊͌̾̾̚̚͘͜͜͠͠͝N̸̸̸̸̸̴̵̴̴̵̴̡̡̢͇̼͖͓̞̺̟͚̼͉̻͕̟̘̝̟͍͍̠̞͙͚̼͙̙͙͎͙̙̠͓̦̻̔͛͋͛̒̓͐͒͆͌̀͐̀͑͛̒͋͋̕̚̚̚̕̚͘͜͝͠͠C̴̸̵̸̵̸̸̸̴̸̵̢̢̡̢̡̡̢̫̺̻͖͎̦̟̟͍̟̫͎͙͙͕̝͉͔̙͇͓̻͕̠̞̻̼͙͇̿̾̓͒͌̽̽̈́͊͒̈́͌́͋̿͋̽͋͑̔̿͛̕͘͘͜͠͝͠͝͝͝I̸̵̴̴̸̵̸̴̸̵̸̢̢̢̢̻̼͓̝̟͙̞̻͙͖͉͔̝͚̻̻͎͇͇͓͚̙͇͍̙͙̝̺͆͐̾̾͋͋̈́̿̀̿̀̿̈́͊̈́͆̐̒͌͛͑̓̀̓̒͋̽͊̚͘͜͝E̸̴̴̸̴̴̵̴̴̸̴̡̢̡͍͇͕̪͍̟͍͖͎͇̟͍͔͔͎̟̠̠͙̟̙̘̪̼̫̠͓̙͋͋̈́͒̿͛̀̓̓́̓͌̿͆̒͌͛̈́͑̀͊̓̽̔͒͘̚̕̚͜͜͝͝Ǹ̴̸̸̵̸̵̸̴̵̵̴̡̡̡̢̢͎͍͍̘̠͚̘̝͕̠͍͙̙̫̪̻̙͎̫̪̼͉͚͙͔͚̠̻̦̼̐̽̐͋͊̿̈́̈́̈́̿͒͑͊̓͆͒̈́̒̐̕̕͘̕͜͠͝T̴̴̵̵̴̵̵̵̴̴̸̡̢̢̡̢͎̦͕͚͕̟̞͇̺̙̺͔͓̠͚͓͍͔͉͍̞̻͓̦̺̫͖̻̼̝̝̒̐͋͌̓͆͛͐̿̓͒̈́̽͛̈́̾́͑̓̐͆̓̕͘̚̕͠͝͝͝͠S̴̵̸̵̵̵̵̸̸̸̴̢̢͙͚̞̺͇͇̫͚͚̪̪̺̝̻͍͍͚͔͕͉͓̫͍͓͉̟̟͎͙̫̼̪͖̈́̿̓̀͒̓̓͊͛̿͊͑͛̀́̀̓͑͊̒͋̀͐̐͌͘̚͜͜͝͝͝ Ǹ̵̸̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̸̴̢̡̡̡̡̡̝͙͓̠̪̞̝̙̝͎̻̦͍̘̞͍͔͕͓͇̫̼͙͔͕̫͉̠̟͚͇̓̀̐̐̓̔̈́͊̒͑̽͛̒͛͌͋̾͒̿̔͘͘̚̕̕͝͝O

A̴̸̵̸̵̵̸̵̴̴̵̢̢̙̙͍̘͚̦͉̠̦͇̙̟̙̪̪͚͍͔͚͔̙̻̺͉͚̙͙͍̠̘̝͓̙͎̾͋͒͐̽͋͊͊͒̐͆͊̔̿̈́̓̔̾̀͊͊͌̾̾̚̚͘͜͜͠͠͝N̸̸̸̸̸̴̵̴̴̵̴̡̡̢͇̼͖͓̞̺̟͚̼͉̻͕̟̘̝̟͍͍̠̞͙͚̼͙̙͙͎͙̙̠͓̦̻̔͛͋͛̒̓͐͒͆͌̀͐̀͑͛̒͋͋̕̚̚̚̕̚͘͜͝͠͠C̴̸̵̸̵̸̸̸̴̸̵̢̢̡̢̡̡̢̫̺̻͖͎̦̟̟͍̟̫͎͙͙͕̝͉͔̙͇͓̻͕̠̞̻̼͙͇̿̾̓͒͌̽̽̈́͊͒̈́͌́͋̿͋̽͋͑̔̿͛̕͘͘͜͠͝͠͝͝͝I̸̵̴̴̸̵̸̴̸̵̸̢̢̢̢̻̼͓̝̟͙̞̻͙͖͉͔̝͚̻̻͎͇͇͓͚̙͇͍̙͙̝̺͆͐̾̾͋͋̈́̿̀̿̀̿̈́͊̈́͆̐̒͌͛͑̓̀̓̒͋̽͊̚͘͜͝E̸̴̴̸̴̴̵̴̴̸̴̡̢̡͍͇͕̪͍̟͍͖͎͇̟͍͔͔͎̟̠̠͙̟̙̘̪̼̫̠͓̙͋͋̈́͒̿͛̀̓̓́̓͌̿͆̒͌͛̈́͑̀͊̓̽̔͒͘̚̕̚͜͜͝͝Ǹ̴̸̸̵̸̵̸̴̵̵̴̡̡̡̢̢͎͍͍̘̠͚̘̝͕̠͍͙̙̫̪̻̙͎̫̪̼͉͚͙͔͚̠̻̦̼̐̽̐͋͊̿̈́̈́̈́̿͒͑͊̓͆͒̈́̒̐̕̕͘̕͜͠͝T̴̴̵̵̴̵̵̵̴̴̸̡̢̢̡̢͎̦͕͚͕̟̞͇̺̙̺͔͓̠͚͓͍͔͉͍̞̻͓̦̺̫͖̻̼̝̝̒̐͋͌̓͆͛͐̿̓͒̈́̽͛̈́̾́͑̓̐͆̓̕͘̚̕͠͝͝͝͠S̴̵̸̵̵̵̵̸̸̸̴̢̢͙͚̞̺͇͇̫͚͚̪̪̺̝̻͍͍͚͔͕͉͓̫͍͓͉̟̟͎͙̫̼̪͖̈́̿̓̀͒̓̓͊͛̿͊͑͛̀́̀̓͑͊̒͋̀͐̐͌͘̚͜͜͝͝͝ Ǹ̵̸̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̸̴̢̡̡̡̡̡̝͙͓̠̪̞̝̙̝͎̻̦͍̘̞͍͔͕͓͇̫̼͙͔͕̫͉̠̟͚͇̓̀̐̐̓̔̈́͊̒͑̽͛̒͛͌͋̾͒̿̔͘͘̚̕̕͝͝Ö̵̸̵̴̴̸̵̵̵̴̴̡̢̡̡͔̼̺͍͙̻͇͍̪͇͉͎̝̟̫̪͔͔̞͉̪͔͕͚̦̦̝̻͉͇́̽͆̽̐͛́͌͋͆̐͆̀̒͌͊͒̐̓͒̓͑̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͝͝

:Chap. 2:

Break Down Facades Too, Let Your Entelechy Consume You

(this is the torture horror style character injury, feel free to skip it if you don’t like that stuff. Everything after this chapter is hurt/comfort aftermath)

Danny’s form shakes a little as he takes in the room. It’s splattered in greens and reds, metal tools laying around haphazardly, there’s spots of rust and decay, the room reeks of stale air as if none have entered for days. Reeks of the metallic rot of dried b̸͕̟͜͝͝͝l̴̢̢͙̈́̽͝ò̴̝͜͜͠o̸̼͚̺͌̓̓d̸̢̠͖͑͆͒ and lime tang of old e̵͖̘͒͋͜͝c̴͉͓͔̿́͊t̴̢̟̓̓͛ó̸̞̝͌͜͝p̴͙͕̺̕̕͘l̸̼̞̟͆̈́͝a̸̡͖͍͊̽s̵̘͕͙͑̕͝m̸͖̝͉̈́͠͝. There’s metal wires and steel rods coming off of the roof, stringing down to stretches and slabs of f̵͕͉̻̿͐̔l̸̘̪̙̀̓̕e̴͚͖̠̿̿͒s̴̢̻̝̈́̕͘h̵̢̝̐̈́̈́ and b̴̡͚͚͒́̽o̵̞͔̫̓͘͠n̴͙͔͔͒̀̿è̸͕͕͇͒͒ and m̵͇̼̙͑͆̈́é̴͉͇̟͆͌a̸̪̠̼͆͌͘t̵̟̙͌̓͜͝. Mù̴͍͉͖̿͠s̴͇̞͔͆̚͝c̴̼̈́͘̚͜l̸̢̝̐̀̾ë̴̻͚̠́̈́̒ and s̴̺͇̘̔͝͝k̴̡̙̝̓̈́̚i̸͓̼̪͊̔͌n̸̻͕͇͊̀͘. It all dripped, half dried and half wet, crimson red tinted green sheen. Chunks of bone, broken, disjointed, peppering through pale human flesh. Yet also not. Sections and spattering of ghostly white fabric, ghostly outer ectoplasmic layers, move and warble, as if the being attached to it couldn’t place itself right. Couldn’t hold itself together. HIMSELF.

The flesh bone suit amalgamation connecting down, down, down, to flat neck splayed out, esophagus expanding and deflating, utterly exposed to open air unnaturally. Blackened cut hip bones jutting out the other side, the patches of suit seem more together there and over the one leg. Him managing to move his eyes to look, to search, to seek what’s missing. The leg pinned, skin flayed back to reveal muscle and pumping pulse against a wall. That location bringing his attention back to the man on display. That, and, the sound, the thump. A head turned to watch him. It’s a face he knows well, whether there are eyes or not. Exposed cheek bone, sharp and angular, twitch in an almost smile; the odd patterning of teeth, some gone and some not. One fang. A tooth dribbling out with strings of saliva as the mouth opens at him, “həy, Pʮ∀ntoɯ”. Patches of bloodied ectoplasm washed hair flops and scrapes the metal table with the motion. With the sound. Hands, fingers bent at hundreds of wrong angles as if there’s too many joints, twitch to grasp the metal surface; as if in an attempt to pull up, to sit up. The attached arm limb spasming with effort, blood ectoplasm nightmare seeping out through the spaces between bone, no flesh nor muscle remain to complete the action. The shoulder pops, limb detaching entirely to fumble down to the ground; slapping it wetly. Fresh blood and ectoplasm pooling and moving to flow down to a drain on the gunk covered crusted floor.

He moves immediately, on instinct, in. The ground crunches under feet he was unaware weren’t floating. The sensation of hardened blood and ectoplasm crumbling underfoot sending shivers up his entire frame with every step he takes. His glow fills up the room, seems to rip anti-ectoplasmic paint off the walls in chunks and flakes. He is so angry, so hurt, so sad, so enraged, so EMPTY. He has to fix this. Wants to. Has to repair one of his. Cupping the man’s face, bone and muscle touching his own gloved hand, “V̴̸̸͚̞̼͍̟̙͍̘͎̈́̀͆̈́͊͋̈́͑̚l̴̸̴̡̢͉̫͚͕͋̾̾̓̐̕͝͠a̴̵̵̢͇̞͚̞͙͎̼͒̈́̒͌͊͆̔̚d̴̴̸͓͖̙͎͉̞͚̞͒̿͆̐̐͜͠͝͠“, part of the ceiling caves in, crumbling down, under some unknown pressure.

“Iʇ’s oʞɐʎ, ᗡɐuᴉǝl. ⅄on’ɹǝ oʞɐʎ. ᒋnsʇ ɥǝld ɯǝ”.

He doesn’t know what’s said. Doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. This mangle of misshapen parts can’t be here. Leave. Be safe. P̸̵̡̡̢̙̞̫̐̈́̈́̈́͒̕r̵̴̡̠̠̞͎̓̽͒͘̚͜o̵̵̞͇͓͇͓̟͑̿͌̈́̚͠t̸̴̢͓͉͖̝͖̐̈́̐͠è̴̵̡͙͕̦͚͚͑̒̿̚̕c̴̵̝͓͔͚͚͆̽̈́̾̒͘͜ț̵̸̢͙͉̟̈́̾͊͋̓̔e̴̵̢͙̝͙̟͚̿͊͌̐̈́͝d̵̴̢͚͎̫̻̀͐͑̽͜͠͝.

The straps are brown, covered slick in gore; they burn to ash from the slightest of touches. They don’t deserve to exist. Begone. Nothing can stay to hold back what must leave here, be taken away. The connected tubes, attached to remaining muscle and structure, buckle and crack and splitter to fragile shards in his grasp; pieces plinking to the ground little unfortunate freezing rain, the ice encroaching on the room in spiralling circles with him as their epicentre, only increase the noise. That same ice becoming claws for him to wield as blades against the ceilings cords and wires and rods, the tension releasing like gunshots as flayed open chest wings of flesh slap down on to the opened chest cavity; their owner groaning from the impact.

Hurt

HURT

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He didn’t mean it. Mean this. Mean that. Mean HURT. 尸尺ㄖセ🝗⼕〸.

There’s too much of him but that’s okay, it’s okay, this is okay, that’s okay, he’s okay. He can scoop up what remains, arm under leg, arm under shoulder arm neck head, to scoop up and pull to his chest. Pull to his core. To sustain the hurt one.

A solid slab of metal hits the ground, thunder in a room of ice rain.

He’s wet.

Snow is falling.

His head snapping, inhuman, to the sound, the door, the rooms door, gone. Laying on the ground as if it is innocent. It is not. Nothing here is. As if it is safe. Nothing here is. No one here is. No one here will be.

Orange and blue stare at him. Orange reeking of grain, wood, stale fruit, and burnt caramel. Then a metal one of his is there, holding orange at gun point; no more hurt no more hurt NO MORE HURT N̴̢͓̈́̒̈́͜O̵̙͎͒͠ M̵̡̺̻͑͌͘O̵̺̟͔̐͝͝R̴̘̘͓͌̒̚E̴̻͎̟͛͒̕ H̴͙͙̦̓͘U̵͓͉͒͘͝R̵͕͓͌̽̚T̴̙͍̪͐̈́ 𝓝龱 爪龱尺㠪 廾ㄩ尺ㄒ. The metal man flinches, scrunching up, “ʇᴉɥs”. The blue one stepping forward with a crouch, he growls, metal man grabs blues arm; regardless a mouth opens, “ynnaD?”.

A name. His? His. Attached to mouths that don’t deserve it. He’s snarling now. Right. Them. JACK. Orange. Did this. So much HURT. “H̵͕̝͙̿́͠O̴̢̞͉̽̔͝Ẅ̸̢͓̼́̾̚ D̸̦̟̀̓͋A̵̡͙̘̓͒̿R̵͚̫͋͌̚͜E̵͔͖̦͊͝͝ Y̵̟̝̽͛̚O̵͙̫̟͐͊̚U̴̻͎̦̔̽̈́ D̵͚͓͇͑͆O̸̙͉̪͋͘͠ T̴͖̙͉͊̾̽H̴̝̫̿͋͜I̵̫̘̐̕͜͝S̴̡͔͉̈́̀̓”. The room shakes with him, he wants to be understood, he doubts he is. The metal man flinches, floating back slightly in a jerky fashion, it’s something at least. The wrong thing but still a thing.

The one he’s protecting, encasing muttering a quiet, “ǝibbⱰM ,ʞƆⱰႱ”, with feeling.

The metal machine hissing, “noʎ ʇɹnɥ ll’ǝɥ ɹo ɟɟo ʞɔɐq”.

Hurt? Hurt. He won’t. Pulling into himself, around the hurt one; he won’t HURT anyone. He snarls a warning at the liar. He wants out of here. Walls creak and flake off dust at that mere desire, he doesn’t get why.

The blue one steps back at least, almost a whisper, “ʇsoɥɓ ɐ ,pɐǝp ǝq oʇ pǝsoddns s’ɯoʇuɐɥԀ ?ʇɐ ɓuᴉʞool I ɯɐ ʇɐɥM ?ʎuuɐᗡ puɐ uoʇuɐɥԀ ǝɥ sᴉ ʍoɥ”. As if the accomplice has place to ask anything of himself. As if blue would not have done the same. As if blue didn’t cause hurt. Others hurt. He hurt. So much 尸闩讠𝓝.

Orange gets it, orange doesn’t ask, orange already knows. Orange bent, prodded, sliced, broke, cut, destroyed, tore, took; for ill gotten knowledge. “?ǝuop I ǝʌɐɥ ʇɐɥʍ ,po⅁ .ǝᴉppɐlΛ ǝʞᴉl ,pɐlΛ ǝʞᴉl …s’ʎuuɐᗡ”. And grabs at hair, pulling at it. Hurting.

Danny snarls again and steps forward. Metal man giving warning, “ʇɐɥʇ ǝʞᴉl ʇ’usǝop ǝH .ɟlǝsɹnoʎ ɓuᴉʇɹnɥ puɐ ʇᴉɥs pᴉdnʇs ɓuᴉop doʇs”, pulling both colours back, pull through what would be a doorway. Is maybe a doorway.

Good. Metal knows. Metal gets it. Hurt is wrong. Hurt doesn’t belong. Even hurt shouldn’t hurt. No more pain here. Ꮆ龱 闩山闩ㄚ.

The exit is clear. He’s clear. The hurt is clear to leave. He leaves. He moves up and down, sideways and not, through it; his package held close to him and only him. But the blue one touches him, brushes against his self, his energy. It’s a static boom instantly, blue smacking into a wall, him forming a cushion of ectoplasm goop behind the body smashing wall, to cushion, to protect. Blue wheezes, “ɥɔnɯ ooʇ sᴉ sᴉɥꞱ .ǝsɐǝld ,ʎɐʍɐ ʎɐʇs ʇnᗺ .oɓ -ʇsnᒋ .o⅁ .ʎɐʞO”.

Away. Blue wants him away. Maddie. And… away. Maddie and away. Okay. He can do that. He can be gone. He has this one, hurt one, has to fix, how to fix, can? fix. He gets out of the room of pain. Room of rendered flesh and bone.

:Chap. 3:

Realm Latching Onto Thee, It’s Part Of Your Dichotomy

He gets too more familiar land, land that’s been mixed and tainted with him, before he feels tapping on himself, a pulse from a crying pain-filled core, its calming or restraining or chastising. “jusʇ thɹoʍing euǝrgʎ ɐt mǝ is ʇoo mucɥ, yon’rǝ ʇoo ɯucɥ rigɥt noʍ, ᗡɐuiel”.

Then what is he to do? What else is there to do? Hurt lost too much. Hurt needs energy. “七卄🝗𝓝 山卄闩〸 闩爪 工 セㄖ ᗪㄖ?”, he thinks he makes more sense now. Not a lot of sense, but sense.

Hurt twitches, getting him to look at him, at Vlad’shalf face and no eyes. Right. This is a who not just a pain being. Crap. He’s really out of it. Out of himself? Ow. Things aren’t right. Things are in wrong places and shapes, he thinks.

“⅁et yonrsǝlɟ toɓǝʇher, firsʇ. ⅄ou’ll ɟrigɥten tɥe ʇown oʇherʍᴉse. Miɓhʇ gǝʇ huɹʇ in sɥock”.

Danny stills in the air, right, yes, no major shows of power, no body horror morphing, no inhuman sounds, don’t freak out his lair folk. Everyone startles easier than his fraid. Things… snap back, maybe, he thinks. There are two arms now, there were more? There were more. He sees a little less, less eyes. Can’t taste air so well, too many mouths? Not now. His teeth don’t fit right though. So no smiling, not that he feels like smiling.

“⅁ood goop, geʇ aholp of yonrsǝlɟ, ᗡɐuiel”, he shudders a little in Danny’s grasp. They’re back in Amity. In his lair. In what’s his. “ᒋust, usǝ ʇhe cɹown, to pull ǝuǝrgy from ʇɥe zonǝ, fǝǝd thɐʇ to ɯǝ”.

Danny doesn’t get it. It doesn’t make sense. “c̶r̶o̶w̶n̶?̶ 㠪𝓝🝗尺Ꮆ丫?̶ V̶l̶a̶d̶ I̶-̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶?̶ D̶o̶n̶’̶t̶ g̶e̶t̶ i̶t̶”. Oh he thinks he sounds much better now. His throat must have been wrong. His energy warping his speech.

“ᗺoy, hoʍ ɔan yon noʇ- ah, I sǝǝ”.

“S̶e̶e̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶?̶”. Danny gets them into Vlad’s mansion, ghostly tail coiling them up on one of the guys oversized lounger chairs, the kind he drinks in. Alone. Maddie the cat bounds over, he almost wants to hiss, but she smells of them both, she means no harm. She digs claws into jumpsuit, pulling herself up, he doesn’t notice any pain of it as she curls up on Vlad.

What a good cat.

A very good cat.

She can help heal him right? Cat purrs? He’s read about that. How they heal, heal others and themselves. Cats are good creatures. She purrs, he purrs back; copies the healing sound in hopes it works for him as it must her.

Vlad sighs, sagging a bit, this must help. “ᗡɐuiel, my boʎ, liʇʇle badger. Tɥǝ zonǝ can ouly, go so loug, ʍithout ᴉts, ruler. ⅄ou hɐp ɯore claᴉm, tɥan I. Yon fǝllǝd hᴉɯ, you’ɹǝ thǝ ʞing, now”.

What…

Is he saying that? Danny, him, is the… ghost king? Now? Because he won the fight? That’s… a lot. Especially right now. But… Vlad was saying to use the crown, the high ghost king crown, to heal him. Danny could heal him. Could fix him. Make him well. And better. Okay. No more hurt.

So the crown’s… okay.

“H̷o̷w̷ d̷o̷ I̷ d̷o̷ t̷h̷a̷t̷ V̷l̷a̷d̷?̷ T̷e̷l̷l̷ m̷e̷ h̷o̷w̷?̷”.

“I am bafflǝd, hoʍ ʎou didn’t, aɔɔidenʇallʎ makǝ thɐʇ, a ɔommand, of mǝ. Thᴉuʞ of ᴉt lᴉke, your coɹe, excedʇ oɟ pull!ng ᴉu ǝuǝrgy, from ʇhe resʇ oɟ, youɹsǝlf, to focus, ᴉnstǝɐd pull, from outsᴉdǝ, youɹsǝlf, yet connǝɔʇed sʇᴉll”.

Danny blinks, his eyes are much to wide, but he does as instructed, trying to direct his attention to his head… the area above his head. It’s… actually there. And it is pulling in energy, it feels like, from elsewhere. So he focuses in on that, it perhaps seems like it’s not the most effective way to do this but he doesn’t know how else so it will have to do today. Pulling in energy, through himself, out through his limbs and torso and other bodily connections to Vlad’s self, and feds it into him. Vlad gasping and groaning immediately.

Also immediately, things begin to stitch themselves back together. Face skin patching over bone, eyes boiling up out of empty sockets, ghostly clothing- ectoplasmic outer layers forming to cover human flesh turning blue, limbs reform like pieces from the air were snapping together in a puzzle of limbs, and destroyed chest fillets rearranging into its proper state. He’s healing, he’s doing it, and something happy and content in him sings in purrs and chimes and bells and chirps. The sensation nearly bowls him over, it’s so much.

It’s everything and he loses himself a bit, the room too small suddenly and he doesn’t want to be like this at all. It was so not human. Maddie the cats warning growl, angry at his movement, is impressively chastising and grounding, but not enough to snap him back down. He has too many limbs, he doesn’t know how many, it feels like an incomprehensible number. His legs are too long and bend more than they should; like an animals, a wild animals. Mouths and eyes in places they shouldn’t be, even filling the cape he can feel over himself and covering Vlad as well; to protect him. That crown that he’s almost too aware of now, feels like it’s trying to freeze himself yet that feels right; snow falls from his hair.

It’s…

Not great.

His fingers are too skinny, too long, too jointed, in icy points, and Vlad fits in his palm. Vlad holding his pointer finger and pant wheezing a little, “bǝγonnⱰ γɿǝv ǝd lliw I ,ƧllⱰw γm ʞⱰǝɿd uoγ ʇI .ǝniʇ ǝɿ’uoγ ,ɿǝϱbⱰd ǝlɈɈil ,γⱰʞo ǝɿ’uoY”.

Vlad’s voice doesn’t sound like English again, but he still understands it. Him huffing and trying to shrink himself away from the walls. At least Vlad looks pleased with himself, “ʍou ɹoɟ ʇsǝɹ ǝɯ ʇǝl ʇsnᒋ .doʇs uɐɔ no⅄”. Danny thinks he’s slowly getting the hang of this strange way of hearing. It’s so… sensation focused. He nods, stops feeding the guy raw zone energy; Vlad seems a bit relieved at that.

Maddie the Cat starts kneading the guys glowing white suit almost aggressively. It’s… calming and Danny feels okay just sort of kneeling down, bent over and cradling Vlad in his palm. Protecting him from the world and trying to join Maddie the Cat in purring him to sleep. He’s all wrong but he’s not the one who matters right now.

Danny comes into awareness -he didn’t sleep, he knows he didn’t sleep. He… can’t? like this- to Vlad, human Vlad, just standing on his face. Shiny shoes just barely within eyesight from far too many angles on his eye bags. The man’s… grabbing? what feels like a horn… an almost bunny ear like horn. He has three pairs of ears overlapping each other, was nothing of him human shaped like this? It’s a bit awful.

Vlad scowls at him, “ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵇⁱᵍ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵗⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ’ᵐ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᔆᵒ ᴰᵃⁿⁱᵉˡ, ᴵ‧ ᴬᵐ‧ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ”.

That was… more? human, he still winces from it being wrong though. Using his hands to push himself up off the floor a little, Vlad just glaring more while Danny stares all his eyes at him, some move through the air to stare more closely. He… did seem fine. His energy felt, weakened and not entirely his own, like Danny was still holding him together some, but he was fine.

“t̸̠͖̞͌̽̚h̵͍̺͕́͑a̸̘͉͕̓̈́̽t̵̡̢͖̽͘͝’̴͓̫̠͌̕͠s̴̝̼͚̔̚ ǵ̴̙̦͌͘o̸̝͎̝̓̿o̸͉̠͙̕͠d̴̢̝̓͑͘͜“, oh zone all the floating eyes became mouths for him to speak with, it’s so disorienting that he sways to the side and jerks a little, “O̴̢͇̝̐̔̽h̸͍͚͔̓̕ t̴͖͉͚̀̒͐h̴͙͖͖͛́̈́a̸̢͇͊́͠ẗ̵̟̠́̈́ w̵̢̻͕͒̚͝a̴͕͚͒͐͛s̸͓͍͋͆͜͠ f̴̡̡̻͆͘͠r̸͙̪͌̿͜͝e̴̡̠̼͆͆̔a̵͇̘̞͋͊͌k̵̪͉̻͋́̕y̸̪͓̫̿̐”.

Vlad huffs, rolling his eyes, “ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ˢⁱᶻᵉ ᵒʳ ᴵ’ᵐ ʲᵃᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃˢᵐⁱᵘˢ ᴹᵃˣⁱᵐᵘˢ”. Danny wincing immediately, that thing sucked.

How did he even get himself into this state though? ‘Expanding’ wasn’t right, engulfing? No.

…

Unfolding perhaps.

So he could… fold in? Maybe? People shouldn’t be able to fold at all. Ugh. But trying to, like, fold himself up like origami seems to make himself and his energy shudder and twist in on itself. Vlad grinning proudly and dropping himself off of Danny’s face. Danny kind of… faceplanting into the ground, knees and arms on the floor, ass up in the air; groaning, “Iͥ feͤeͤl liͥᴋⷦeͤ aͣ oͦvͮeͤrͬs͛ᴛⷮuͧffeͤdͩ noͦoͦdͩleͤ”.

Vlad scoffs, “ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵍʳᵃᶜᵉᶠᵘˡ, ᴰᵃⁿⁱᵉˡ”, sounding to be walking near him, Danny doesn’t feel like opening his eyes yet, there’s still so many of them. It’s like he compacted his physical self while instead spreading out gaseous aspects of himself. Vlad still sounds wrong, his hearing is still wrong. At least he’s down from three sets of ears to two sets.

Danny pushing himself up with his hands, staggering upright fully, he’s… at least twice Vlad’s height. Damn it. Wiggling his mouth around, “dͩaͣmͫn iͥᴛⷮ”.

“ᴸᵃⁿᵍᵘᵃᵍᵉ”, Vlad stepping forward, crossing his arms, and glaring up at him. Danny’s tail swishes on the ground, fuck since when did he have a tail! Vlad’s sighs and actually smiles fondly at him, “ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘgh, I suppose. There’s ᵖʳᵒᵇᵃᵇˡʸ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ⁱn you to get ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵇᵃᶜk to normal, either ᶠᵒʳᵐ”, glancing around at the starry mist and floating eyes, “I ᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᶠᵃᵗʰom how you didⁿ’ᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷere the king now with all ᵒᶠ this”.

“Iͥ… Iͥ’vͮeͤ neͤvͮeͤrͬ вⷡeͤeͤn,̓ liͥᴋⷦeͤ ᴛⷮhͪiͥs͛,̓ вⷡeͤfoͦrͬeͤ”.

Vlad blinks, looking back to his face, “strange, this, or that I suppose, should simply be your natural state now”, tilting his head and humming, “perhaps ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵃᶠᶠect of being a halfa?”, shrugging, “well I can harᵈˡʸ ᵗᵉˢᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒut. Now let’s sit ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵃˡᵏ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘse-”, sighing, “-this deᶠⁱⁿⁱtely must be talked about”.

Danny only turning his head, watching his sorta uncle sorta arch enemy sorta god father sit in a gody high backed chair, gesturing at the large lounger, “Daniel, your energʸ ⁱˢ ˡⁱᵗᵉrally repressing my ability to feel emotions strongly right now, I am okay, but ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ talk or I’m not going to do wᵉˡˡ when you leave and neither will you”.

Danny nods a little jerkily and attempts to walk over but these legs don’t move right and he stumbles over onto the ground immediately, at least he manages to catch himself with his hands even if he cuts up Vlad’s rug in the process. He can hear, and see with the mist eyes, Vlad pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. The man walking back over and helping Danny up and over to the chair.

It’s weirdly grounding sinking into soft cushion, even if it crunches up the tail weirdly. He’s got most of his back smashed into the seat, shoulders and head against the chair back, and his legs just kinda bent up and simultaneously sprawled on the arm rests and the floor; it probably looks horribly awkward and uncomfortable; didn’t feel it at least. “S͛oͦ”, looking most of his eyes -fuck this Is weird- up at the ceiling, “Jaͣcͨᴋⷦ… cͨaͣuͧghͪᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ. Dͩiͥdͩ t̸̝̻͎̀́̕h̸͍͔̽͊͆͜a̸̪͔̻̐͛͠t̴̡̙͕͆̈́͝ ᴛⷮoͦ yoͦuͧ”. There was always a chance of this happening, he always thought it would be him though. It hurt. And he had always known it would hurt. He just hadn’t realised how much. One of his ‘parents’ doing this.

Vlad rubs his face, wincing, then composing himself and nodding. Danny kind of wants to break something and that tail smacks is weird quill cover spear end thing on the ground. Vlad doesn’t seem to care at least, “indeed”, sighing, “it would seem Valerie was a fair bit more vengeful and vindictive than I was prepared for”.

Oh hey! His hearing isn’t super super weird anymore, titling his head enough to rub his left ears on the back of the chair- or ear he should say, seems he’s back to more human with that. Clearing his throat, “Vͮaͣl? S͛hͪeͤ goͦᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ cͨaͣuͧghͪᴛⷮ?”, scowling, “Noͦ woͦndͩeͤrͬ s͛hͪeͤ dͩiͥdͩn’ᴛⷮ s͛eͤeͤmͫ ᴛⷮoͦ cͨaͣrͬeͤ whͪeͤrͬeͤ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ ‘Vͮlaͣdͩ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ mͫaͣyoͦrͬ’ weͤnᴛⷮ!”. He was going to rip her a new one for this, Vlad got hurt. HURT. In all caps. HURT bad. Danny twitches a little, shit it feels like those horn things got longer on him.

“Try to keep a handle on yourself?”, Vlad running a hand through his hair, “thank you, and I mean that, for caring enough to try and find me. To rescue me”.

Danny blinks, that… might have been the only time the man had ever genuinely thanked him for anything. It meant he did a real good job, his core hums happily a little. Grinning, too too too many teeth, at Vlad, “aͣww Vͮlaͣdͩdͩiͥeͤ oͦf cͨoͦuͧrͬs͛eͤ Iͥ cͨaͣrͬeͤ”, frowning and shuddering a little, “ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ waͣs͛ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ woͦrͬs͛ᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪiͥng Iͥ’vͮeͤ eͤvͮeͤrͬ s͛eͤeͤn”.

“It was worse to experience, I assure you”, massaging his temples, “and the fact that it was Jack of all people. Once I’ve ‘healed’ properly I’m going to be incredibly embarrassed”.

“mͫy dͩaͣdͩ cͨuͧᴛⷮ oͦрⷬeͤn mͫy uͧncͨleͤ,̓ hͪoͦw dͩoͦ yoͦuͧ ᴛⷮhͪiͥnᴋⷦ Iͥ feͤeͤl”.

“Uncle huh”.

Danny frowns, “Iͥ feͤeͤl woͦrͬldͩs͛ вⷡeͤᴛⷮᴛⷮeͤrͬ aͣвⷡoͦuͧᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ ᴛⷮhͪaͣn ᴛⷮhͪeͤmͫ,̓ rͬiͥghͪᴛⷮ noͦw”.

Vlad nods a little, “reasonable”, sighing again and looking off to the side, “and Valerie?”.

Danny’s… conflicted about that. He knows she probably didn’t mean for all of that to happen to him. She probably just thought Jack would embarrass the guy by beating him up and take simple ectoplasm samples. Danny knew better, Vlad did too, even before this. Jack’s and Maddie’s dehumanising of ghosts was extreme and made them okay with doing awful things. “Iͥ… waͣnᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ ᴋⷦnoͦw whͪaͣᴛⷮ s͛hͪeͤ mͫeͤaͣnᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ hͪaͣрⷬрⷬeͤn. Iͥf s͛hͪeͤ… ᴋⷦneͤw hͪoͦw dͩaͣngeͤrͬoͦuͧs͛ ᴛⷮhͪeͤy cͨoͦuͧldͩ вⷡeͤ”.

“And if she did?”.

“ᴛⷮhͪeͤn s͛hͪeͤ’s͛ noͦᴛⷮ woͦrͬᴛⷮhͪ вⷡeͤiͥng neͤaͣrͬ oͦrͬ ᴛⷮaͣlᴋⷦiͥng ᴛⷮoͦ. Iͥf s͛hͪeͤ waͣnᴛⷮs͛ ᴛⷮoͦ ᴛⷮhͪrͬoͦw hͪaͣndͩs͛ ᴛⷮhͪeͤn fiͥneͤ”. If she’s remotely okay with what was done to Vlad, then he seriously misjudged her and he’s taking that suit away from her. He’ll rip the nanobots out of her, she doesn’t need them to be healthy or live. She can hate him all she wants for it, he doesn’t care. “S͛hͪeͤ woͦn’ᴛⷮ geͤᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ вⷡeͤ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ Rͬeͤdͩ нⷩuͧnᴛⷮrͬeͤs͛s͛ aͣnymͫoͦrͬeͤ”.

Vlad nods agreeingly, “you’re far too protective”, frowning, “though I suppose it’s needed far more than I wanted to acknowledge previously”, rolling his wrist, “she led me into a trap, one I’m assuming she got Jack to set up by telling him Plasmius would be in that area. He had the place rigged with launchers that shot spiked balls that destabilised my ectoplasm enough that I couldn’t move. It was quite unpleasant realising that”.

Danny wincing, “mͫoͦdͩdͩeͤdͩ dͩrͬyeͤrͬ вⷡaͣlls͛,̓ eͤcͨᴛⷮoͦ-̄liͥnᴛⷮeͤrͬs͛. Iͥ feͤll oͦn ᴛⷮhͪoͦs͛eͤ oͦncͨeͤ,̓ рⷬaͣiͥnfuͧl. ᴛⷮuͧcͨᴋⷦ mͫoͦvͮeͤdͩ mͫeͤ aͣrͬoͦuͧndͩ liͥᴋⷦeͤ aͣ cͨaͣrͬdͩвⷡoͦaͣrͬdͩ s͛ᴛⷮaͣndͩeͤeͤ foͦrͬ aͣn hͪoͦuͧrͬ”.

Vlad eyes him, “I couldn’t move for days. The perks of being king I suppose”; he sounded a bit jealous, but… if it had worn off quicker then perhaps Vlad could have gotten away.

Danny swallows, “Yeͤaͣhͪ”, shuffling to sink into the cushion a bit more, engulf himself with it, “aͣmͫ Iͥ rͬeͤaͣlly,̓ yoͦuͧ ᴋⷦnoͦw?”.

Vlad looks at him like he’s dumb, “yes, Daniel. Yes you are. I would think your current and previous form would have made that clear”.

“hͪuͧhͪ”.

Vlad rolls his eyes fondly, the two sitting in silence for a bit, Danny aggressively wanting the chair to just swallow him into the black void or something. Then Vlad speaks up again, “what are you going to do now? After what… he did? They know, about both of us”.

Danny frowns, he’s honestly not sure. He can’t, won’t, go back to FentonWorks, not right now maybe not ever. Obviously he can’t right now while looking like some kind of messed up forest monster, even if he was almost more human sized now. Ugh, his bones felt so freaking long; it makes him want to wiggle them out but that feels like he’ll just make them longer and he doesn’t want that. Can he even look Jack in the eye? Yes, clearly his… dad? was extremely upset and disturbed by what he did or found out, he didn’t even know his dad drank! That Jack drank. Then there was the… state -flexing a few toes- that room was left in. Scowling a little, disgusting as it was, horrific as it was, as much hurt was in there; Jack left and didn’t re-enter. Forcing himself to stop basically baring his teeth, too many teeth, Ancients. Staring at the wall rather than Vlad, ignoring how the light from his eyes bounces off things, “dͩiͥdͩ hͪeͤ leͤaͣvͮeͤ,̓ aͣs͛ s͛oͦoͦn aͣs͛ yoͦuͧ,̓ yoͦuͧ ᴋⷦnoͦw,̓ cͨhͪaͣngeͤdͩ”.

Vlad frowns and nods, “he vomited, actually. Practically had to drag himself out, staggering and sweating the whole way. He… didn’t look that bad back when I had my accident”, furrowing his brows, “I think he cried, but I couldn’t exactly focus on the sound”. He’s got a distant look in his eyes, a sad one. Sometimes Danny wonders if, just maybe, if Jack and Maddie had just visited Vlad and supported him, then perhaps they’d still be friends. Maybe not great friends, but actual friends. Those two failed him miserably, even if that didn’t excuse him being a fruitloop at them. This though, Jack ripping him open, did excuse it.

Danny clenching his hands up and huffing aggressively at the air, he seemed to be… even more protective in this, er, state. Or maybe just had a harder time controlling his ghostly behaviours and shit. It made him feel a lot more monstrous. “ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ’s͛ goͦoͦdͩ,̓ Iͥ ᴛⷮhͪiͥnᴋⷦ”, scratching his head and wincing at how sharp the ice claw things were, “aͣndͩ ᴛⷮhͪeͤy вⷡoͦᴛⷮhͪ leͤᴛⷮ mͫeͤ leͤaͣvͮeͤ,̓ leͤᴛⷮ uͧs͛ leͤaͣvͮeͤ. Eͤvͮeͤn wiͥᴛⷮhͪ S͛ᴋⷦuͧlᴋⷦeͤrͬ ᴛⷮhͪeͤrͬeͤ рⷬoͦiͥnᴛⷮiͥng aͣ guͧn aͣᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪeͤmͫ”.

Vlad blinks, surprise barely hidden, “Skulker was with you?”.

Danny nodding, a little surprised himself, that Vlad hadn’t noticed. Guess the guys attention was really only on those more important to him, Danny’s self was probably really distracting too ‘cause he knows he was messing up with his human and ghost forms. “yeͤaͣhͪ,̓ Iͥ aͣs͛ᴋⷦeͤdͩ hͪiͥmͫ ᴛⷮoͦ fiͥndͩ yoͦuͧ aͣndͩ hͪeͤ dͩiͥdͩ”.

Vlad hums, “I suppose I’ll have to up his pay then”. Danny just huffs a snort at that. Vlad continuing after a beat, “Jack, I’m not surprised, he believes he made a mistake. Maddie… I’d like to say she was as, if not more, upset at my state than him; but I know that would be a lie. She was upset because of you, the reveal of you, and you being a proper ghost at her”.

Danny wincing, tail coiling in on itself and the quills ‘frilling’ out or something, “Iͥ hͪoͦрⷬeͤ Iͥ dͩiͥdͩn’ᴛⷮ hͪuͧrͬᴛⷮ hͪeͤrͬ ᴛⷮoͦoͦ вⷡaͣdͩly. ᴛⷮhͪeͤy… aͣs͛ᴋⷦeͤdͩ mͫeͤ ᴛⷮoͦ s͛ᴛⷮaͣy aͣwaͣy,̓ dͩiͥdͩn’ᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪeͤy?”.

“Daniel, you and I both know she didn’t mean permanently”. Danny glances at him and then goes back to staring at the wall. Vlad wheezing a little, “you’re thinking about not going back, aren’t you?”. Danny nods a little, prompting Vlad to continue, “you’re welcome to stay with me, of course”.

Danny fiddles with the claw finger things in front of his faces eyes, some of the floating eyes staring at them too. On one hand, living with Vlad is what wound up resulting in Dan, but that was years ago and Dan wasn’t some kind of eldritch ghost king. On the other hand, or one of his other hands he guesses geez that was freaky, he can’t imagine living with Vlad without them trying to break each other eventually. However… Vlad being alone right now feels incredibly wrong in an instinctual and primal way, a non-human way that’s possessive and hungry. He doesn’t like it. But he likes the idea of Vlad having a break down by himself over Danny not wanting to stay with him, even less. And sure, the guys kinda crazy, but he’s gotten a lot better. He was never going to be his dad, never. But maybe being uncle a little more genuinely wasn’t such a bad idea, “yoͦuͧ’vͮeͤ goͦᴛⷮ aͣ cͨoͦoͦl cͨaͣᴛⷮ”.

Vlad smirks, chuckling a little and shaking his head. Resting his chin on a palm and rubbing his chest a little with the other, “you know where your room is. There’s gummy bears in there like always, you child”.

“iͥs͛n’ᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ rͬuͧdͩeͤ ᴛⷮoͦ s͛aͣy ᴛⷮoͦ yoͦuͧrͬ s͛oͦrͬᴛⷮaͣ goͦdͩ?”.

“Start acting like a god then”.

Danny squirms or squiggles and makes a point to stick his tongue out at the man, even if his heart and core aren’t really in it. Neither of them really have anything in the banter anyways. “Iͥ feͤdͩ yoͦuͧrͬ cͨaͣᴛⷮ,̓ вⷡy ᴛⷮhͪeͤ waͣy,̓ whͪiͥleͤ hͪeͤ hͪaͣdͩ yoͦuͧ”.

Vlad sags a bit bonelessly, looking genuinely relieved for the first time, “good. I’m glad she wasn’t left alone”.

Danny twitches, he really doesn’t want to be laying/sitting here anymore. Flopping his feet and legs on the ground fully, that long lower part of his legs attached to a weird backwards knee laying flat on the ground as he does actually try to push himself back standing up. Vlad quirking an eyebrow at, “and what do you think you’re doing?”.

Danny shaking his arms out a bit, why did his arms feels so much lighter than his hands? Ew. “Iͥ waͣnᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ mͫoͦvͮeͤ aͣndͩ Iͥ waͣnᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ рⷬuͧᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ feͤaͣrͬ oͦf aͣ goͦdͩ iͥn Vͮaͣl”, pointing at Vlad and struggling not to stagger a bit, growling at him, “Iͥ aͣmͫ cͨoͦmͫiͥng вⷡaͣcͨᴋⷦ aͣndͩ ᴋⷦnoͦw ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ iͥf yoͦuͧ’rͬeͤ noͦᴛⷮ hͪeͤrͬeͤ,̓ Iͥ’mͫ goͦiͥng ᴛⷮoͦ fiͥndͩ yoͦuͧ aͣndͩ s͛waͣdͩdͩleͤ yoͦuͧ oͦrͬ s͛oͦmͫeͤᴛⷮhͪiͥng eͤquͧaͣlly вⷡaͣвⷡyiͥng”.

Vlad puts his hands up, standing up as well, “understood, even if I wanted to I wouldn’t make very far”, dropping his hands, “it’ll be a while before I am genuinely healed, Daniel”.

Danny quirking a worried eyebrow, stepping forward a little jerkily, “eͤvͮeͤn wiͥᴛⷮhͪ whͪaͣᴛⷮ Iͥ dͩiͥdͩ? Yoͦuͧ feͤeͤl s͛ᴛⷮaͣвⷡleͤ?”.

“I lost blood too, far too much, you can’t fix that beyond packing me with enough ecto-energy to have plenty for my core to transition over to blood. I’m stable, yes, but my energy is quite volatile, I’ll fall apart if I so much as try to transform”.

Danny winces, okay, point taken. But he was better, healed, healing, it’s enough. Right now… he has to protect Vlad by making sure this never happens again. Him going to float up in the air and instead slamming himself into the ceiling, him snarling at said ceiling on instinct before blushing, whoops. He’d thought he’d been strong before, now it felt like he had a direct connection to the Infinite Realm and it was just shoving raw power at him; he… seemed to be sending some back but still. Weird. Not really good. Putting a hand on the ceiling to help hold himself in spot, looking down at Vlad with all his eyes, “dͩoͦ yoͦuͧ ᴛⷮhͪiͥnᴋⷦ hͪuͧmͫaͣns͛ cͨaͣn hͪaͣndͩleͤ s͛eͤeͤiͥng mͫeͤ? Liͥᴋⷦeͤ ᴛⷮhͪiͥs͛? Oͦrͬ liͥᴋⷦeͤ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ? Iͥ feͤeͤl liͥᴋⷦeͤ Iͥ loͦoͦᴋⷦ liͥᴋⷦeͤ aͣ niͥghͪᴛⷮmͫaͣrͬeͤ“.

Vlad gives him an actually encouraging smile, “it’s not a bad look, Daniel, for a ghost”, then giving him that judgmental look he often did, “if you let loose your full ghost king form on her then she will pass out and your voice won’t make sense to purely human ears”.

Danny groaning exaggeratedly, figures, that, frankly just makes him feel worse about that form. Tail flicking a bit, this was… going to take a while to get used to. He also doesn’t really want anyone, who wasn’t a ghost anyways, knowing about his apparent freaking kingship. Moving the hand that isn’t on the ceiling to grab the crown a bit and trying to will it away, jerking when that seems to work, “oͦhͪ! Oͦᴋⷦaͣy. Iͥ cͨaͣn? woͦrͬᴋⷦ wiͥᴛⷮhͪ ᴛⷮhͪiͥs͛? Iͥ ᴛⷮhͪiͥnᴋⷦ?”.

Vlad chuckles at him shaking his head and walking over to his china cabinet, pulling out a bottle and a whiskey glass, “ridiculous”, sighing as he pours a honestly excessive amount, “do not bring Ms. Gray back here, I will hurt her”, his eyes flashing red dangerously just to make his threat very clear; even if that also seems to make he’s knees buckle a little before he can straighten himself out.

Danny is having none of that but he gets it, “Iͥ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ waͣnᴛⷮ hͪeͤrͬ neͤaͣrͬ yoͦuͧ aͣndͩ wiͥll juͧs͛ᴛⷮ s͛ᴛⷮaͣrͬᴛⷮ s͛hͪrͬiͥeͤᴋⷦiͥng aͣᴛⷮ hͪeͤrͬ liͥᴋⷦeͤ aͣ feͤrͬaͣl cͨaͣᴛⷮ iͥf s͛hͪeͤ s͛hͪoͦws͛”. Vlad huffing a small laugh while Danny eyes the liquor, “ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ s͛ᴛⷮuͧff’s͛ вⷡaͣdͩ foͦrͬ yoͦuͧ”.

“I really do not care, Daniel. I need to drown myself into numbness right now”.

“Rͬiͥghͪᴛⷮ…”, Danny’s not going to touch that one.

:Chap. 4:

You Set Up This Fall, You Get To Know It All

By the time Danny’s spotted Val, in her Red Huntress gear, he knows he’s a bit bigger, bit longer? than when he was at Vlad’s but he thinks he’s got a handle on himself. At least he got the cape to go away in that same time, and the size increase has definitely decreased the amount of star mist and random floating eyes that can be mouths.

She’s in a fire fight with Skulker, the one ghost that Danny doesn’t want her fighting right now, the one full ghost he doesn’t want her fighting right now. But Skulker doesn’t look like he’s ‘enjoying the hunt’, he just looks pissed. Jack… must have told him what happened, who set everything in motion. Danny watching, head peeking over a roof top and claws scrapping into the rooftop, as she grumbles, “what is with him today? What happened to ‘it’s just sparring’ Skulker? It’s like It’s actually trying to kill me or something. Ugh. Stupid ghosts”.

Skulker shooting at her again, “you truly don’t get what you’ve done”. Yeah, Skulker knows, and he’s pissed. Was he pissed because he did care somewhat about Vlad? Or because that level of hurt was just plain wrong? Or because his king was pissed and completely lost his shit?

Whatever. He’s the one who’s going to have this conversation with her. She’s his too and Skulker doesn’t get to hurt her either. Him putting a hand to his head, wincing and noting how his fingers can curl around his whole skull, ugh. He wants her to be scared of him right now though, so he’ll accept it.

Skulker gets in a good hit, smashing a mini bomb into her shoulder, making her wince and zip away from the ghost some. Now. Danny lunges, all snarl, “R̴̢̙̪̀̈́͝E̵͚̦͎͒̐D̸̠̙͉́͐”, and smashes her down into a roof top, torso and shoulders pinned under his claws and palm. Skulker jerking in the air with a startled, “shit, Phantom”.

Danny putting his face in a very startled Valerie’s face, hissing, “weͤ,̓ aͣrͬeͤ hͪaͣvͮiͥng aͣ liͥᴛⷮᴛⷮleͤ ᴛⷮaͣlᴋⷦ. N̸̪͖͇̽͋́O̸̡͇̻̾̚W̸̦͓̐͌͋“, lifting his head to look at Skulker and narrowing his eyes, “yoͦuͧ dͩiͥdͩ goͦoͦdͩ,̓ вⷡuͧᴛⷮ leͤaͣvͮeͤ”. Skulker nodding rapidly and effectively fleeing; Danny’s tail swishing contentedly before he turns his attention back to Val.

She shoots him point blank in the face immediately, “what the zone are you? Who are you, ghost?”.

He barely cares she doesn’t recognise him, he bites her gun into thirds, spitting the middle part that’s inside of his mouth out across the roof as the other pieces clatter down, “aͣвⷡs͛oͦluͧᴛⷮeͤly noͦᴛⷮ,̓ Rͬeͤdͩ”.

She blinks at him, muttering, “‘Red’”, to herself, and then her face visor opens up, “Phantom? What the zone happened to you?!? And what are you doing!?!”.

Danny chuckles meanly, dropping his feet and legs out of floating in the air, so that they’re planted on the roof, him basically hunched loomingly over her, “whͪaͣᴛⷮ hͪaͣрⷬрⷬeͤneͤdͩ iͥs͛ yoͦuͧ рⷬiͥs͛s͛eͤdͩ mͫeͤ oͦff”. She stills when he grabs her helmet with his other hand and crushes it off in pieces, sticking his face in hers, even if his is much bigger right now; the mist eyes crowding around her face to stare further. She smells scared, good. “Iͥ foͦuͧndͩ Vͮlaͣdͩ,̓ waͣnᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ ᴋⷦnoͦw hͪoͦw Iͥ foͦuͧndͩ hͪiͥmͫ? whͪaͣᴛⷮ s͛ᴛⷮaͣᴛⷮeͤ hͪeͤ waͣs͛ iͥn?“.

She nods stiffly and slowly at him, voice sounding a bit strained, “yes?”.

Danny snarls, all teeth, too many as there are, “нⷩaͣvͮeͤ yoͦuͧ eͤvͮeͤrͬ s͛eͤeͤn s͛oͦmͫeͤoͦneͤ fiͥlleͤᴛⷮ aͣ fiͥs͛hͪ вⷡeͤfoͦrͬeͤ? Oͦrͬ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ Aͣngeͤl ᴛⷮrͬaͣрⷬ iͥn S͛aͣw? Whͪaͣᴛⷮ aͣвⷡoͦuͧᴛⷮ s͛oͦmͫeͤoͦneͤ wiͥᴛⷮhͪ ᴛⷮhͪeͤiͥrͬ eͤyeͤs͛ ᴛⷮoͦrͬn oͦuͧᴛⷮ oͦf ᴛⷮhͪeͤiͥrͬ s͛ᴋⷦuͧll?н̡̼̘̫ⷩ͜͜a̟̻̠̪͔ͣv̡̙̞̠̦ͮe͍͚̟̦̺ͤ y̠̘̻o̻͕̠̫̘͔ͦu̦͉̙̘̫͎ͧ?͎̞͖!͚̙̫”.

She pales, good, shaking her head, “Jack- he- he wouldn’t-”.

“нⷩeͤ dͩiͥdͩ”, narrowing his eyes at her, all of them, “Aͣndͩ cͨaͣrͬeͤ ᴛⷮoͦ guͧeͤs͛s͛ whͪaͣᴛⷮ hͪeͤ’s͛ dͩoͦiͥng noͦw? Aͣfᴛⷮeͤrͬ Vͮlaͣdͩ cͨhͪaͣngeͤdͩ вⷡaͣcͨᴋⷦ aͣndͩ hͪeͤ rͬeͤaͣliͥs͛eͤdͩ hͪeͤ’dͩ mͫaͣngleͤdͩ hͪiͥs͛ oͦncͨeͤ вⷡeͤs͛ᴛⷮ frͬiͥeͤndͩ?”, his glow feels like it’s moving and wiggling more like flames than a proper glow.

This time, her voice is a squeak and she’s shaking lightly, “w-what-t?”.

“Dͩrͬiͥnᴋⷦiͥng. Aͣfᴛⷮeͤrͬ vͮoͦmͫiͥᴛⷮiͥng aͣndͩ cͨrͬyiͥng foͦrͬ fuͧcͨᴋⷦ ᴋⷦnoͦws͛ hͪoͦw loͦng”, moving a foot to be pinning her with that instead so he can stand more up right and stare down at her a bit more menacingly, “dͩoͦ yoͦuͧ hͪaͣvͮeͤ aͣny cͨluͧeͤ hͪoͦw mͫuͧcͨhͪ hͪuͧrͬᴛⷮ yoͦuͧrͬ s͛ᴛⷮuͧрⷬiͥdͩ vͮeͤngeͤfuͧl cͨrͬaͣрⷬ hͪaͣs͛ cͨaͣuͧs͛eͤdͩ? Noͦ,̓ yoͦuͧ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ”, pointing a claw in her face, “yoͦuͧ’rͬeͤ cͨoͦmͫiͥng wiͥᴛⷮhͪ mͫeͤ rͬiͥghͪᴛⷮ noͦw,̓ weͤᴛⷮhͪeͤrͬ yoͦuͧ liͥᴋⷦeͤ iͥᴛⷮ oͦrͬ noͦᴛⷮ. Aͣndͩ ᴋⷦnoͦw ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ iͥf iͥᴛⷮ waͣs͛n’ᴛⷮ foͦrͬ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ faͣcͨᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ Iͥ ᴋⷦnoͦw yoͦuͧ dͩiͥdͩn’ᴛⷮ mͫeͤaͣn foͦrͬ ᴛⷮhͪiͥs͛ ᴛⷮoͦ hͪaͣрⷬрⷬeͤn,̓ Iͥ woͦuͧldͩ rͬiͥрⷬ ᴛⷮhͪoͦs͛eͤ naͣnoͦ вⷡoͦᴛⷮs͛ oͦuͧᴛⷮ oͦf yoͦuͧ mͫys͛eͤlf,̓ вⷡy aͣny mͫeͤaͣns͛ neͤcͨeͤs͛s͛aͣrͬy”. And floats up with her trapped in his one foot, moving to float off back to Naperville.

He hated that town now. Wanted nothing to do with it. But she was going to see this, even if it gave her some nightmares. Because, by fuck, were him and Vlad going to be having them.

Val doesn’t even try to fight him, mostly staring wide-eyed, possibly in a bit of genuine medical shock. Muttering to herself after a long while, “I- I didn’t- the Fenton’s- I- zone”.

Danny ignores that the mini GAV’s gone, he’s not sure he cares. If they were still here or not it wouldn't matter. If they thought him more a monster now then whatever, they already thought he was a monster anyways. He’s tempted to toss her on the floor, but he doesn’t want more hurt. So he just drops her gently on it, her pushing herself up with her hands, sitting on her ankles and staring into the room; arms falling to her sides. Danny planting both his feet on the ground, looking at the pain room instead of her. There’s been no attempt to clean. Good… he… doesn’t want those two touching Vlad’s blood and ectoplasm. It makes him want to wiggle himself out and cover the room, consume up everything and destroy what’s left to ash and dust; nothing but broken pain memories remaining to be seen.

His head smacks into the outer ceiling, him wincing and putting a hand to the ceiling, making a point to fold himself up a bit again. He thinks he’s got too many arms again. He pokes her with a finger… from his lower left arm, ugh, he doesn’t know how much he does or doesn’t want that to be noticed by her.

She jerks forward, catching herself with her hands; at least she finally says something, “I- this is horrific. I didn’t- didn’t think they’d ever… go this far. Zone- It’s- this is… there’s so much”, putting a hand over her mouth and gagging, eyes watering.

… Danny, almost feels like a jerk. But she needs to see this. Huffing, it’s almost a snarl, “dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ foͦrͬgeͤᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ’rͬeͤ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ niͥcͨeͤ ghͪoͦs͛ᴛⷮ hͪuͧnᴛⷮeͤrͬ eͤvͮeͤrͬ aͣgaͣiͥn”.

“I- I won’t”. Some of the wires and metal sway in the breeze, making her flinch.

“ᴋⷦnoͦw ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ iͥf Jaͣcͨᴋⷦ geͤᴛⷮs͛ aͣlcͨoͦhͪoͦl рⷬoͦiͥs͛oͦniͥng oͦrͬ dͩoͦeͤs͛ s͛oͦmͫeͤᴛⷮhͪiͥng ᴛⷮoͦ hͪuͧrͬᴛⷮ hͪiͥmͫs͛eͤlf,̓ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ’s͛ oͦn yoͦuͧ”, scowling, “aͣndͩ s͛ᴛⷮaͣy ᴛⷮhͪeͤ Zoͦneͤ aͣwaͣy frͬoͦmͫ Vͮlaͣdͩ. Iͥ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ hͪaͣᴛⷮeͤ yoͦuͧ foͦrͬ ᴛⷮhͪiͥs͛ вⷡuͧᴛⷮ iͥᴛⷮ’s͛ aͣ dͩaͣmͫn cͨloͦs͛eͤ ᴛⷮhͪiͥng. Jaͣcͨᴋⷦ… Jaͣcͨᴋⷦ Iͥ mͫiͥghͪᴛⷮ juͧs͛ᴛⷮ hͪaͣᴛⷮeͤ. S͛oͦ cͨoͦngrͬaͣᴛⷮs͛ oͦn ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ“, turning away and floating up, moving away a little, “fiͥndͩ yoͦuͧrͬ oͦwn waͣy hͪoͦmͫeͤ. Feͤeͤl frͬeͤeͤ ᴛⷮoͦ ᴛⷮaͣᴋⷦeͤ yoͦuͧrͬ ᴛⷮiͥmͫeͤ”. That’s a bit of a threat and he’s pretty sure both of them know that. She just nods slowly, and shifts into a different sitting position.

Perhaps… he can see her in a bit better light and be more okay with her if she stays here a while, just stares and takes in the aftermath.

Him heading off back to Amity, he’ll burn everything to nothing when she’s not here.

“I screwed up, I screwed up real bad, dad”.

Is Vlad still at home when Danny gets back there? Yeah. Yeah he is. He’s also extremely drunk. Extremely. Just laying on the tile in one of his bathrooms, button up shirt completely unbuttoned and splayed open wide. The room smells like vomit. It’s… not great. Danny’s still a little jerky about walking and his stance is weirdly wide, but he walks himself over to the man, “yoͦuͧ loͦoͦᴋⷦ liͥᴋⷦeͤ s͛hͪiͥᴛⷮ”.

Vlad grumbling, slurred, “weeeelll, I feee ‘reate”, and makes zero attempts to move. Danny’s sigh is almost fond as he moves to lift the man up, he only drags him out by one step before the phone goes off.

On Vlad’s personal line.

Only a few people used that. Himself, Sam and Tuck in emergencies, Val, and Maddie and Jack.

He doesn’t want to answer it.

He knows he has to.

But still.

He doesn’t want to.

He puts Vlad down gently, his aura felt better but he still felt like shattered glass. One wrong push and, oops, everything crumbles.

“Is… is Vlad okay?”.

It’s Jack’s voice.

It’s Jack.

The one who 尺讠尸尸🝗ᗪ ᐯ㇄闩ᗪ 闩尸闩尺七.

He unfolds more than he’d like but he’s… more himself? still aware and not a pure obsessive nightmare. Him hopping up onto the counter and crouching like a goblin as a way to be off the ground but not floating, those bunny ear horns bending and glitching like searching tv antenna, “山͉͍͖卄͙͎͉丫̝̺”. Him twitching, rolling his shoulders and eyeballing the ceiling with a few mist eyes to make sure he’s not getting too close to it with his size. Growling, “hͪeͤ’s͛ fiͥneͤ,̓ noͦ ᴛⷮhͪaͣnᴋⷦs͛ ᴛⷮoͦ 丫ㄖㄩ”.

He can feel the wince over the line, good. He hopes he sounds like a nightmare right now. “Dan…ny?”. Danny huffs, dragging an ice clawed hand down his face, instead of responding. Jack speaking back up when that becomes clear to him, “the silent treatment makes sense, I… did a bad thing. How was- how was I supposed to know that- to- that. God. Ghosts… are supposed to be dead”.

Danny shouldn’t be spending his time consoling Jack, this situations true monster. Eyes become mouths and his voice reverberates loudly, “工’ᐯ🝗 爪闩ᗪ🝗 闩 爪讠丂〸闩长🝗⸝ ⻏丫 🝗ᐯ🝗尺 〸尺ㄩ丂〸讠𝓝Ꮆ 讠𝓝 丫ㄖㄩ”.

“Dann-”.

“𝓝ㄖ 丫ㄖㄩ ᗪㄖ𝓝’七 Ꮆ🝗セ 七ㄖ ᗪ闩𝓝𝓝丫 爪🝗. Wiͥll yoͦuͧ faͣcͨeͤ yoͦuͧrͬs͛eͤlf aͣndͩ ᴛⷮeͤll hͪiͥmͫ whͪaͣᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ rͬeͤaͣs͛oͦn iͥs͛? Whͪy yoͦuͧ 七ㄖ尺🝗 hͪiͥmͫ aͣрⷬaͣrͬᴛⷮ? Oͦrͬ wiͥll yoͦuͧ s͛ᴛⷮoͦрⷬ waͣlloͦwiͥng iͥn yoͦuͧrͬ s͛eͤlf рⷬiͥᴛⷮy liͥᴋⷦeͤ yoͦuͧ hͪaͣvͮeͤ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ rͬiͥghͪᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ. Whͪaͣᴛⷮ iͥf hͪeͤ 尸🝗尺讠丂卄🝗ᗪ вⷡy yoͦuͧrͬ hͪaͣndͩ? Вⷡuͧᴛⷮ Iͥ guͧeͤs͛s͛ iͥf aͣ ghͪoͦs͛ᴛⷮ iͥs͛ 🝗𝓝ᗪ🝗ᗪ,̓ iͥᴛⷮ laͣcͨᴋⷦs͛ aͣny mͫeͤaͣniͥng,̓ s͛oͦ whͪaͣᴛⷮ s͛hͪoͦuͧldͩ yoͦuͧ cͨaͣrͬeͤ”.

“That’s not- zone Vlad- he’s not going to… perish is he? Oh who am I kidding, neither of you probably want- I didn’t mean- I thought- Ghosts are… they’re not human, they’re just not. There’s no heart, there shouldn’t be sentience- I- research of humanities safety should be good but- all it was wrong, I was wrong”.

At least he can admit that much. At least him being freaked out still, broke still, meant this truly impacted him, truly hurt him. Danny using one leg to stretch down to the floor, barely having to unbend the limb, and walk over to Vlad. He’s muttering about wanting his cat, Danny can do that. Danny can help. Be good. Heal. Moving some of his mist self to pick her up from a study room and move her to him. She grumbles, hissing, at Danny but doesn’t object to Vlad grabbing her to him and snuggling her. Danny blinking harshly, “Whͪaͣᴛⷮ’s͛ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ dͩiͥffeͤrͬeͤncͨeͤ вⷡeͤᴛⷮweͤeͤn uͧs͛,̓ вⷡeͤᴛⷮweͤeͤn ghͪoͦs͛ᴛⷮs͛ aͣndͩ ᴛⷮhͪeͤiͥrͬ cͨoͦrͬeͤs͛,̓ aͣndͩ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ вⷡuͧndͩleͤ oͦf faͣllaͣcͨiͥeͤs͛ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ cͨaͣll aͣ hͪeͤaͣrͬᴛⷮ. Yoͦuͧrͬ aͣnᴛⷮhͪrͬoͦрⷬoͦcͨeͤnᴛⷮrͬiͥs͛mͫ hͪaͣs͛ ᴛⷮaͣiͥnᴛⷮeͤdͩ yoͦuͧrͬs͛,̓ hͪuͧвⷡrͬiͥs͛ cͨoͦns͛uͧmͫiͥng yoͦuͧ”. He’s talking like Vlad almost, because he was near? Because, in a hind brain way, he knew what the man wanted to say to Jack if any aspect of him would be up for such a thing.

“I- you’re right. You’re right. We were, never trying to disprove ourselves, I never was. We should have known, we should have seen, but the lies fit what we wanted to believe”.

Danny huffs, cracking his neck sharply from side to side and folding himself up a bit better, he almost… feels like he could be human again but things… just keep aggravating him. “Iͥ guͧeͤs͛s͛ aͣ s͛ᴛⷮoͦrͬmͫ oͦf вⷡloͦoͦdͩ,̓ fleͤs͛hͪ,̓ aͣndͩ guͧᴛⷮs͛ waͣs͛ aͣll ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ waͣs͛ neͤeͤdͩeͤdͩ ᴛⷮoͦ rͬiͥрⷬ eͤvͮeͤrͬyᴛⷮhͪiͥng wiͥndͩ oͦрⷬeͤn,̓ hͪuͧhͪ? Cͨoͦrͬrͬoͦdͩeͤ aͣwaͣy ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ вⷡliͥs͛s͛fuͧl iͥgnoͦrͬaͣncͨeͤ?”.

“Yeah… I- I’m so so sorry. Not for knowing, for- for doing. Is your… form better now? I want to know how you two are like this but- zone I don’t have the right. Are you okay?”.

Danny sighing, running a hand through his hair, over the small horn bumps, good that’s… good. He’s still too long, everything too long and stretched out, still hugging his middle with those second set of arms he spawned when he was around Val. But he was at least more folded in in some places. “noͦ,̓ Jaͣcͨᴋⷦ,̓ noͦ Iͥ’mͫ noͦᴛⷮ. Noͦ hͪeͤ’s͛ noͦᴛⷮ. Aͣndͩ noͦ yoͦuͧ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ. Iͥf yoͦuͧ hͪaͣdͩ aͣs͛ᴋⷦeͤdͩ aͣrͬoͦuͧndͩ aͣᴛⷮ oͦneͤ ᴛⷮiͥmͫeͤ,̓ yoͦuͧ mͫiͥghͪᴛⷮ hͪaͣvͮeͤ foͦuͧndͩ oͦuͧᴛⷮ. Oͦuͧrͬ iͥns͛iͥdͩeͤs͛ aͣrͬeͤ iͥnfaͣmͫoͦuͧs͛. Noͦneͤ woͦuͧldͩ dͩaͣrͬeͤ ᴛⷮeͤll yoͦuͧ noͦw,̓ aͣfᴛⷮeͤrͬ ᴛⷮhͪiͥs͛,̓ aͣny goͦoͦdͩ wiͥll oͦrͬ ᴛⷮoͦleͤrͬaͣncͨeͤ yoͦuͧ mͫiͥghͪᴛⷮ hͪaͣvͮeͤ hͪaͣdͩ wiͥᴛⷮhͪ ghͪoͦs͛ᴛⷮs͛ iͥs͛ goͦneͤ. ᴛⷮhͪeͤ oͦnly rͬeͤaͣs͛oͦn S͛ᴋⷦuͧlᴋⷦeͤrͬ dͩiͥdͩn’ᴛⷮ goͦ aͣfᴛⷮeͤrͬ yoͦuͧ,̓ iͥs͛ вⷡeͤcͨaͣuͧs͛eͤ hͪeͤ ᴋⷦnoͦws͛ Iͥ woͦuͧldͩ hͪaͣvͮeͤ вⷡrͬoͦᴋⷦeͤn hͪiͥmͫ foͦrͬ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ. Mⷨaͣdͩ aͣndͩ hͪuͧrͬᴛⷮ oͦrͬ noͦᴛⷮ,̓ mͫy mͫaͣᴋⷦeͤrͬs͛ aͣrͬeͤ oͦff liͥmͫiͥᴛⷮs͛ foͦrͬ s͛eͤrͬiͥoͦuͧs͛ hͪuͧrͬᴛⷮ”.

“Will… you be okay? Vladdie? I… understand if you don’t want to come home but, we do want you back though. Me, and your mom. I- you don’t even have to call me dad anymore, if you don’t want”. Danny can tell being called ‘Jack’ by who he knew to be his son, hurt the man. But ‘dad’ was a word that felt like lead and poison in his mouth right now.

Danny grinding his teeth, sharp points clinking against each other, “yeͤs͛. Whͪy woͦuͧldͩ Iͥ goͦ вⷡaͣcͨᴋⷦ ᴛⷮoͦ aͣ hͪoͦuͧs͛eͤ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ aͣᴛⷮᴛⷮaͣcͨᴋⷦs͛ mͫeͤ aͣs͛ aͣ dͩeͤfeͤncͨeͤ mͫeͤcͨhͪaͣniͥs͛mͫ? Aͣ hͪoͦuͧs͛eͤ wiͥᴛⷮhͪ рⷬeͤoͦрⷬleͤ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ woͦuͧldͩ hͪaͣvͮeͤ 七ㄖ尺𝓝 爪🝗 闩尸闩尺〸 iͥf Iͥ’dͩ вⷡeͤeͤn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ oͦneͤ yoͦuͧ cͨaͣuͧghͪᴛⷮ iͥns͛ᴛⷮeͤaͣdͩ? Yoͦuͧ’rͬeͤ mͫy mͫaͣᴋⷦeͤrͬs͛,̓ рⷬaͣrͬeͤnᴛⷮs͛,̓ s͛ᴛⷮiͥll,̓ вⷡuͧᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ geͤᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ ᴛⷮiͥᴛⷮleͤ rͬiͥghͪᴛⷮ noͦw. Vͮlaͣdͩ’s͛ waͣnᴛⷮeͤdͩ ᴛⷮoͦ вⷡeͤ aͣ faͣᴛⷮhͪeͤrͬ fiͥguͧrͬeͤ oͦf mͫiͥneͤ foͦrͬ aͣ loͦng ᴛⷮiͥmͫeͤ,̓ mͫaͣyвⷡeͤ Iͥ’ll juͧs͛ᴛⷮ leͤᴛⷮ hͪiͥmͫ dͩoͦ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ”. Danny… doesn’t fully mean that, he knows he doesn’t, but… maybe he did want to upset Jack a little and maybe he just wanted to know how the man would respond.

“I- yeah. He’d… probably do right by you more than I have. Sorry. You… you don’t have to come back and we’ll leave you alone, stay away, if that’s what you want”.

He’s not sure if he’s angry Jack just agreed to that or content that Jack realised how much wrong he’d done and so many times. “Iͥ’ll cͨoͦmͫeͤ вⷡaͣcͨᴋⷦ,̓ Iͥ wiͥll. S͛oͦmͫeͤdͩaͣy,̓ noͦᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ dͩaͣy,̓ вⷡuͧᴛⷮ s͛oͦmͫeͤdͩaͣy. Вⷡuͧᴛⷮ Iͥ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ s͛eͤeͤ mͫys͛eͤlf вⷡeͤiͥng aͣвⷡleͤ ᴛⷮoͦ s͛leͤeͤрⷬ iͥn aͣny hͪoͦuͧs͛eͤ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ hͪaͣs͛ yoͦuͧ iͥn iͥᴛⷮ,̓ eͤvͮeͤrͬ aͣgaͣiͥn. Yoͦuͧ 尺讠尸尸🝗ᗪ 闩尸闩尺〸 ᴛⷮhͪeͤ oͦnly oͦᴛⷮhͪeͤrͬ naͣᴛⷮuͧrͬaͣl oͦneͤ oͦf mͫy ᴋⷦiͥndͩ,̓ iͥf yoͦuͧ hͪaͣdͩ eͤndͩeͤdͩ hͪiͥmͫ Iͥ woͦuͧldͩ hͪaͣvͮeͤ вⷡeͤeͤn aͣll aͣloͦneͤ. Aͣndͩ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ rͬoͦoͦmͫ,̓ hͪiͥs͛ s͛ᴛⷮaͣᴛⷮeͤ,̓ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ’s͛ goͦiͥng ᴛⷮoͦ hͪaͣuͧnᴛⷮ mͫeͤ рⷬrͬoͦвⷡaͣвⷡly foͦrͬeͤvͮeͤrͬ”. Alone like Vlad had been, for twenty years. Except he didn’t even have a science made clone for company, like Danny would have. Sighing and scowling, looking at his one arm, it’s more… human length now, “Yoͦuͧ ᴋⷦnoͦw,̓ Vͮlaͣdͩ’s͛ ᴛⷮrͬiͥeͤdͩ ᴛⷮoͦ ᴋⷦiͥll yoͦuͧ mͫuͧlᴛⷮiͥрⷬleͤ ᴛⷮiͥmͫeͤs͛”.

“What? We… had that one fight I know, but, multiple?”.

“Yoͦuͧ leͤfᴛⷮ hͪiͥmͫ ᴛⷮoͦ rͬoͦᴛⷮ iͥn aͣ hͪoͦs͛рⷬiͥᴛⷮaͣl вⷡeͤdͩ s͛loͦwly hͪaͣlf dͩyiͥng wiͥᴛⷮhͪoͦuͧᴛⷮ eͤvͮeͤrͬ aͣ vͮiͥs͛iͥᴛⷮ. Vͮlaͣdͩ hͪaͣᴛⷮeͤs͛ yoͦuͧ. Iͥf yoͦuͧ goͦ neͤaͣrͬ hͪiͥmͫ eͤvͮeͤrͬ aͣgaͣiͥn,̓ hͪeͤ’ll ᴛⷮrͬy ᴛⷮoͦ ᴋⷦiͥll yoͦuͧ. Dͩoͦ noͦᴛⷮ cͨaͣll hͪeͤrͬeͤ eͤvͮeͤrͬ aͣgaͣiͥn. Yoͦuͧ’rͬeͤ aͣ hͪoͦrͬrͬiͥвⷡleͤ рⷬeͤrͬs͛oͦn,̓ Jaͣcͨᴋⷦ,̓ ᴛⷮrͬuͧly. Вⷡuͧᴛⷮ Iͥ s͛ᴛⷮiͥll cͨaͣrͬeͤ aͣвⷡoͦuͧᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ aͣndͩ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ waͣnᴛⷮ ᴛⷮoͦ s͛eͤeͤ yoͦuͧ hͪuͧrͬᴛⷮiͥng,̓ s͛oͦ рⷬleͤaͣs͛eͤ geͤᴛⷮ ᴛⷮhͪeͤrͬaͣрⷬy”.

“I- oh- I’m a fool. I… I really am sorry. And yeah, yes, me and Maddie are already set up to, uh, go. We… were going to offer to set some up for you and Vlad but, that’s, that’s probably crossing a line. Sorry”.

Danny sits down on the ground, Vlad’s absolutely unconscious and Maddie the Cat’s still here. It’s.. nice, comforting he supposes. And then he lurches, feeling his insides snapping and that folding happing at a nauseating pace. Ice claws to white gloves, mist eyes snapping into a single face, those second arms liquifying and squelching up into his stomach, tail melding into a leg. He bends over, vomiting green goopy ectoplasm immediately.

“Danny?! Are you-!?! Zone I- crap-”.

Danny groaning a little as he straightens himself up, “ugh”, and wiping his mouth. Tilting his head and giving his attention back to the phone, “ｴ’𝓶 ⨍ιɳҽ, ʝᥙട𝜏 ⨍σɬԃҽԃ ᥙρ αցαιɳ. Ɛɯ”, he felt too… encapsulated? Compacted? Stuffed inside a sausage skin? Like there was too much of him to move without exploding? Massaging his throat cautiously, legit worried he actually will just spontaneously unfold again or start glitching out his two forms again. His throat seems to pop back in place, “And Jazz has been my therapist for years. Vlad has his cat”.

“Oh”.

“Yeah”, Danny sighs, choosing to just lay on the ground next to Vlad’s healing ass, “a normal therapist wouldn’t be useful anyways. Our minds are… different”.

“Right. I… are you okay with that? Being… different?”.

Danny rolls his eyes, he felt like he didn’t have bones. “Yes, Jack. Yes. What I am and who I am just go hand in hand now”, that wasn’t even mentioning the whole ‘ghost king’ thing, that was pretty dependent on him being a ghost and well. The ghosts seemed okay with that, based on how weird they’ve been to him which… now that he thinks about it, is probably partly out of them being afraid of him or thinking he’s going to drag an army to their doors. Crap that’s why ghosts kept looking over his shoulders when he cropped up in their lairs! Damn! How’s he supposed to establish that he’s not going to do that? Rubbing his forehead, “Jack, I should probably be looking after Vlad, full offence”.

“Right right, um, how will I get in touch with you now? If I… shouldn’t call Vlad’s?”.

Danny huffs, “Jack, I’ll call you if I feel like talking to you, not the other way around”, and hangs up on him. He’ll see if Jack’s willing to give that little bit of respect or not. If he can’t… then it’s probably not a relationship worth saving. Dropping the phone on the floor next to him, laying spread out.

It’s silent for a long while.

He feels like he can think more properly, less like there’s an entire realm rumbling inside him and in the back of his mind. His core’s still pulsing a little much in that way it did when his obsession was a little more at the forefront, but Vlad’s still healing, still might need Danny to throw more energy at him. Thinking of that…

He pushes himself upright with a grunt, standing with a stagger. Trying to feel for that connection to the crown, the cape, the ring, all of it. Attempting to pull it out felt kinda like grabbing onto a taught fishing line, he can sort of pluck the connection and the items of regalia sing back at him as if asking to be used or shown off, to adorn him. It’s… strange. But it’s his, so he should play with it some right? Just hopefully actually pulling that connection to him doesn’t force him into that… state instantly again. It’s going to be a long while before he’s used to his body being in that kind of shape or how freaky it probably looked. Well nothing for it, it’s like hocking his finger on it and just tugging into forward to his head, eyeing his left hand as the ring forms around it there. Cape settling around his shoulder, lazy flaming collar bursting to life around his throat, secured by skull clasps and a dark smokey shadow chain; at least it matches his black and white themeing. The green ring and crown went with his eyes so that was… okay.

When he tries to float up he nearly smashes into the roof again, barely stopping himself short this time; still glares at the ceiling though. Being a bit more cautious about going to find a mirror, one of the bathrooms will do.

Of course the thing cracks instantly from Danny’s general pressure. Ugh. At least he can still see himself. He still looks like himself, Phantom him currently, his glow was more flame-like than his normal soft static-like glow. His eyes are too bright to see his pupils or sclera, not super great; his pupils and sclera made him more readable by the human mind so… The crown is, of course, its blazing green flamey self, but he can see frost coating it when he leans forward, some frost even creeping across the mirror. Him giving it a poke, watching it wiggle in the air, and eyeing how the ring just simply didn’t have a glow. Odd but he can tell that energy comes in through the crown, to him, through him, his own energy sort of mixing in, then leaving out through the ring. Huh. Cool. Ghost king functioned as a weird filter battery system for the zone.

“You're energy makes-”, yawn, “-makes you a lot easier to find now”.

Danny jerking, his body spazzing out like a video game clipping all over the room with bits of starry mist and eyes in between before he snaps himself back together. Shaking his head out then looking to Vlad, “ɯαყ 𝜏σ ട𝜏αɾ𝜏ɬҽ 𝓶ҽ, ყσᥙ ʝҽɾƙ”. Oh hey his voice is all weird again, great. Why didn’t Pariah have this voice issue? Ten bucks says it’s because of Danny ghostly wail, his voice was literally an uber powerful weapon so he could probably, like, hold more ecto-energy in his throat or voice box.

Vlad quirks an eyebrow at him, its only slightly judgmental, “I’d tell you to do a better job holding yourself together, but you’ve already corrected it”, and shrugs, his shoulders were a bit sagged and his eyes look sunken. He didn’t look great. “What did Jack have to say for himself”. It’s not even a question.

Danny sighing, moving himself to be sitting on the counter, eyeing his reflection over his shoulder, making the slack connection go taught and send away the regalia, “a lot of sorries, that I can come home but don’t have to, if we’re okay, how we’re okay, will we be okay, he’s booked therapy apparently”, smirking a little half-heartedly and looking back to the guy, “he offered to pay for your therapy. Like you’re not rich enough to do that yourself”.

Vlad scoffs, his hearts not in the annoyance either, “that fool”.

“Yeah”.

Vlad humming after a bit, eyeing the broken mirror, “so they’re alright with what we are”.

Danny nodding, “seems so, confused and I got that ‘I thought he was dead dead, a ghost’ thing as if that made what he did any less fucked”.

“Language”.

Danny sticks his tongue out, “bleh”, sighing, “I’m pretty sure both of them already know the how, since our little portal accidents are shit they know about. But he didn’t really asks questions that weren’t ‘are you and him okay’, and he hasn’t called back since I told him not to”.

Vlad growls, “that doesn’t mean much of anything”, and glares at Danny like that’s a challenge.

Thing is… Danny doesn’t disagree, “no it really doesn’t. Him knowing he messed up massively and still being freaked counts for more than a little bit of respect does”. Him full body twitching a bit, ah it must be patrol time, humming and floating up, “I’mma be really ticked off if there’s ghosts tonight”.

Vlad rolls his eyes but steps out of the bathroom in a way that’s both likely well practiced fluid and like he feels like he’s made out of glass, “isn't it a little unbecoming of a king to be playing superhero?”.

Danny sticking his nose up in the air, “I think it’s more unbecoming or whatever to not do whatever I want and let others boss me around”. Like wasn’t that the entire point with monarchs really? Like yeah their wants were suppose to line up with that of the people but still. Plus ghosts were inherently free, do what you want, beings.

Vlad waving him off with a, “I’ll make chicken carbonara”.

“You shouldn’t be making anything”. Vlad doesn’t respond to that as Danny goes up through the ceiling.

:Chap. 5:

What Is Dug Too Deep, Makes A Hole Too Steep, In It Let Him Sleep

He sticks to keeping himself mostly invisible, since he really doesn’t want to deal with any more people today, as he floats through alleys and over rooftops. Yes just patrolling pacified that Obsession of his but he honestly didn’t really feel like doing it right now, so his travel is pretty lazy and more done out of ‘I’ll be paranoid out about this all night if I don’t’ than out of actual want. He’s seriously glad that Sam and Tuck, and Jazz really, aren’t in town right now meaning he doesn’t have to check in with them. Jazz he’ll… call eventually, or wait till he has a screaming nightmare to do that. He didn’t want her freaking out about him while she’s supposed to be focusing on university. Danny’s not about to interrupt Sam’s little goth convention thing, that Tuck went along for because of the whole ‘cyber goth is just another style of goth so I’ll fit in too’ thing. Fair and they were both a little annoyed he wanted to stay in Amity, sometimes he wondered if they were losing their interest in his protective ways and then they’d do something crazy and wildly overprotective. Really he was just a freaking workaholic and a ghost of course; most ghosts spent almost all their time and energy focused on their Obsessions after all. It was kinda funny that all of them were a bit on the goth side now. Black hid blood and ecto better and made it easier to hide in the shadows, and cargo pants and tripp pants had so many pockets and the good ones were durable as fuck.

That bit making him chuckle a little, feeling a ton more relaxed doing something so normal for him, as he moves around the park. The Signal Shines twirl in the fountain water, perhaps if Vlad still had open wounds he’d take some back to get the little things to clean out said wounds; at least they were safe to drink or swallow though. The blob ghost chilling on the fountain top deciding to boing onto his head, eh he’ll take them for a little ride.

What was he thinking about again? Ah yeah goths and a goth convention, the weirdo trios fashion choices. It’s… as good a distraction as anything he supposes. Better than stringing himself out about what state Vlad might be in back at the mansion.

Right. The goth thing. Tuck liked the neons, the apocalyptic aesthetics, all the glowy ‘radioactive’ stuff was also great for hiding ectoplasm. Zone, Tuck had actually found a small business in a couple cities over that sold stuff actually made with ectoplasm. Danny had been a bit concerned about it, but turned out the place was actually ran by a ghost with a definite Obsession for fashion designing; who was he to interfere with someone satisfying their needs in non-harmful ways? Tuck argued with her to make him ectoplasm dreads and cyberlocks, she ripped into him about how his look was too plain for cyberlocks, Tuck was very offended. Guy got the dreads though, even if his hair wasn’t long enough yet to get Sam to put them in for him; if it wasn’t for the ‘this is so goth’ thing Sam wouldn’t do it for the guy at all.

Danny startles a few birds, the blob on his head warbling in amusement, moving through the trees, at least Vlad had the smarts to make Amity more green to avoid Sam’s plant princess wrath. Plus, that gave him more trees to nap in, something a lot of teens seem to have taken up too, it was comfy and a random teen falling out of trees startled the crap out of people. At least the richer areas were easier to patrol during summer, since most of the rich folk took summer long vacations or went on cruises.

Or at least it’s normally easier this time of year.

But right now?

After what happened?

Jack and Maddie knowing?

Yeah… she’s here, him stilling in the air as they lock eyes.

Maddie looks up at him from the ground, his ghostly tail swishing back and forth as he stares back; she walks to a bench and pats it after a beat. He’s taking the olive branch for what it is, floating down to sit next to her, not touching her, not a chance, but on the same bench at least. She’s… not Jack, she didn’t do what he did. That does matter. Even if he thinks she’d be less upset if it had been her who did it, and that matters too.

Maddie doesn’t look at him, “I’m sorry”.

… Danny blinks, fiddling with the end of his ghostly tail, “is that it? All you have to say?”. He… expected more, more what? he’s not sure. Maybe a bit more questions about his well being or being hurt he never told her of himself.

She frowns, “there’s… not much I can say. I don’t know what in all happened, your father- Jack can’t explain in a way that makes sense, he gets too upset”, sagging a bit, “all I know, is that you and Vlad, aren’t human anymore and haven’t been for a long time. That neither of you, you especially, felt comfortable telling me or Jack. And that Jack, really hurt Vlad. And all this awful aftermath”.

He supposes that’s fair enough. The reminder that Jack truly is bothered by what he’s done is a welcome one. “Red set it up, for Jack to catch Vlad, without knowing how bad that could go. I think… she only meant for Vlad to feel embarrassed being caught by him genuinely”, rubbing his neck, “I, took her to that awful warehouse in a bit of a fit of rage at her and she was definitely not okay with what happened there either”.

“I’m glad no one’s happy with what happened, that explains her calling to berate and talk at him. And that doesn’t make Jack less responsible.”.

“No it doesn’t, and it should have never happened in the first place”, Danny scowling, “your bigotry wasn’t supposed to be this dangerous. Maybe I was a little blind to that, too innocent”. Calling himself innocent was a fucking joke, his sorry ass hasn’t been ‘innocent’ since dealing with Pariah. Then Dan beat it down a little more. And now Jack’s gone and obliterated whatever was still left. The blob slips down from his head and plops itself into his lap, him patting the thing and digging his fingers in a bit out of tired annoyance. Damn, when did he last sleep?

“We were too blind too, and we shouldn’t have been; we’re the adults, the parents. There’s nothing either of us can do to make up for that now, though. But-”, she looks at him, him eyeing her before meeting the gaze, “-do you want us to? To try?”.

Danny already knows his answer. It was the same answer that he gave Sam and Tuck when they asked him if he’d still want to be their friend when they die, when they’d become UnderGrowth’s Garden Care Taker and Ranatheo’s Pharaoh in genuine. “Yes. Just, just don’t push it about what I am, how I work. Or try to influence my decisions”. He refused to be their little science experiment, especially now.

She nods at him readily, actually smiling now, “I’m glad, and I won’t. You’re welcome back home, at FentonWorks, any time, okay? And we modified the defences so they won’t attack you or Vlad”.

“Put them back for Vlad”.

Maddie blinking, staring at him again, “what? Why?”.

Danny frowns, “because I know Vlad, once he’s healed, probably has a nightmare about that crap, and he decides to drink, he’s going to try and burn the house down or kill Jack”. Vlad had done those things over far less already after all. And frankly? Any non-protective type ghost would do the same over what Jack did.

She pales a little, “oh. I… I guess that’s understandable. Disturbing, but understandable”.

“I’ll follow him and stop him of course, but, like, protecting yourselves isn’t a bad idea. And just the fact that I’m staying with him right now might make him not, since I’m pretty much giving him another chance to try too”.

“So he messed up too then”.

Danny eyes her, it really wasn’t the same. Vlad has never done something Danny couldn’t genuinely fight back from, “yeah, but not nearly as badly. He’s tried to kill Sam, Tuck, Jazz, Val, Jack, pretty much everyone close to me, but it was always far more simple and there were reasons that weren’t compete utter shit. You and Jack? It’s just bias. Stupid stupid bias. Sam and Tuck? He was just trying to get help and didn't think I’d help him without basically holding them hostage, the idiot. Even Sam doesn’t hold that against him, ‘cause sick desperate people do crazy things especially when they’re in pain. Jazz? She did her psych babble crap and basically tricked him into the situation, that was almost as much her fault as his, both of them were being idiots. Val? What happened with that was a lot less okay, but she chose to be near him, she put herself in that situation and wouldn’t listen when I tried to warn her that his money and aid didn’t come without a cost. And Jack? Jack basically killed him and hospitalised him and never visited and then had the audacity to act like they were still best buddies, so”, and shrugs. Grimacing, “that attempted cloning crap I only forgave him for because he recognised he went too far pretty much immediately and the end result from that crap pretty much gave me a little shit head of my own so”. He loved little Elle, little gremlin menace as she was. And that care for her was part of why he didn’t want her in Amity, what happened with Vlad, all the hurt, felt like being proven horribly right.

Maddie blinks almost owlishly, wheezing, “so I’m? A grandma then?”, and runs her hands through her hair, “something else we’ve messed up on then, since you never brought them? home”, sighing, “and I should have known, paid more attention, to why you seemed to have a feud with Vlad”.

Danny snorting, him and Vlad were hardly subtle so things would have been obvious if either of them just paid the tiniest amount of attention. They’ve literally shot at each other in the same room as her and in human form. Zone, Vlad literally tore one of his legs off when Maddie was practically right next to him, “no shit, at least we’re more rivals than actual enemies these days. He nails a dead badger to my door, I mail him soggy moldy cereal. He halts the Nasty Sauce production over safety concerns, I blow up his house again. It’s a back and forth, no major harm really meant, standard ghost bantering. He still punches me in the face, I still punch him in the face”, side-eyeing her with a bit of a glare, “and why would I bring her around? I wouldn’t be able to explain her existence and you people might have covered her in goop or something”.

Maddie wincing, “exactly. We messed up. And, that’s a strange relationship but I suppose it’s normal for you two, being ghostly to whatever degree you are”.

Danny doesn’t really appreciate the fishing for answers but… he supposes her can give her that one. She’ll probably hear it eventually, from Val or a ghost or Vlad or himself off-handedly. “It’s a half and half thing, we’re called Halfas”.

She nods, “that’s probably more of an answer than I’ve earned, but thank you. I definitely wi-would have rather found out another way than this, you’re still my son. Make sure to tell Vlad that I really am sorry for what happened to him”.

Danny nods back, his relationship with her wasn’t great right now, but it still existed. “And you’re still my mom, you’re maybe just really not good at taking care of the ghost half, not that you ever really got a chance to try”, shrugging, “kinda late now, I know”, pushing himself up to float back up in the air, blob in his arms being held up against his chest, “anyway, I should go, ghosts to pester you know? Even though nothing but little guys seem to be around”. She just nods and watches him go. That… went well he thinks. Okay enough. Mentioning Elle was a little more information than he meant to give, but oh well. Maybe she’d understand better now that their relationship was rocky before all this happened. Before Jack decided to attempt to unmake Vlad.

The blob wiggle floats Its way up to Danny’s face, poking his cheek, guess the coreless guys didn’t really care much about the King thing, he probably just came off as just another powerful ghost to them; plus, this one formed in his lair so It was used to him, perhaps knew his mood and how his body still felt like a little too much and wrung out all at once. Rolling his eyes at It prodding his cheek more and deciding what the heck why not and biting It. It trilling happily is not the expected reaction but it’s what he’s getting, and just sorta nibbling on It is sorta mind clearing and softening; It happy to just wiggle there.

He makes the rest of his patrol a speedy one, he doesn’t want to be out and about right now at all. He suspects that Skulker probably told the other ghosts to stay away for a while, that ‘King Phantom’ had gone all eldritch and lost his shit.

Popping his head through the ceiling, flinging the blob out of his mouth and onto his head like mouth flipping a hat. Danny pointing to the blob still on his head, as he moves into the kitchen that smelled like food, “I brought company”.

Vlad’s, “yes well, I find I have enough already”, response is annoyed.

Danny pausing in the entry way at what he’s seeing, Vlad’s… basically bundled up in a swarm of blob ghosts. The man scowling down at the mass of blobs, “they took your nighttime absence as an opportunity. Sometimes I forget that Amity is your lair and that means it’s natural ghost fauna are in line with your Obsession”, scowl deepening, “I do not appreciate being coddled by blobs, especially when I can’t waste energy trying to scare them off”.

It’s a struggle for Danny to not grin smugly, “this, is adorable. Bite them, they apparently like it”, pointing at his one, “or this one’s just a masochist”.

“So It takes after Its creator then”. Vlad squeezes one anyway and it balloons out on either side of the guys fist without any complaints.

“Hey!”. Danny floats in fully, “did you actually make chicken carbonara? I forget you actually know how to make edible food”. And like every time he’s reminded of that, he internally wished Jack or Maddie knew how to too. He liked and could eat contaminated food but burnt soggy food not so much, and then Jazz wouldn’t have had to learn how to cook so young… so she could feed both of them. The blob snuggles into his hair some, it’s nice. He probably needed this. The little comforts.

Vlad struggles a bit to move his one arm to gesture at plates, it was indeed a fancy looking chicken dish, huh. Danny having to bops some of the blobs away just so Vlad could actually sit down and eat his own food. Danny eyeing the blobs coiling and wriggling on the chair and the guys lap, his hair too, before Danny takes his own food and sits down. He… changes back human for the first time too. It’s anticlimactic and tense all at once.

The food’s good, him stuffing a whole bit of sliced chicken in his mouth, “stu’id ‘ich ‘eo’le an’ air ‘acny ‘oo”. At least that gets a fond smile out of the man, even if he scowls immediately after when Danny makes a point to be noisy about slurping noodles. Then, of course, typical Danny luck, being human catches up with him, him passing out face first into the food. Blob ghost warble shrieking loudly and getting him swarmed by most of the other blob ghosts who shove him off the plate and onto the floor with a thump.

“Daniel!”, Vlad sighing, “why do I try? This boy is such a disaster”. A disaster who had saved him, one that he had another chance to raise and see grow. A king and a boy, his through pain. Jack and Maddie, Valerie, he wants nothing to do with them; he’ll stay here with Daniel and only him, as long as he’ll have him at least.

:Chap. 6:

Epilogue: Roaches Becometh Buzzing Flies, Over Grime Left By Lies

Vlad crosses his legs, poised and put together as always, regardless of the situation.

“So, what made you want to seek this out now? Especially to go through the effort of having an eldritch god convince me to keep this off of the records?”.

“Well, as my godson would put it, I recently went through ‘the Angel trap from Saw but horizontal and with more limb removal and ice cream scoopers taken to my eyes’ at the hands of the same man who killed me with an experimental dimensional worm hole. Who, upon releasing whose face he’d decided to half flay off, proceed to vomit, get drunk, and leave me there for my godson to find. Said godson also highly encouraged me to come and to also mention that I have a habit of attempting to kill people who get in my way and nailing dead badgers to his door; his words, not mine”, Vlad inspects his nails, “I have a cat, and my godson lives with me now, as such this is likely the healthiest I’ve ever been”.

The man stares and wheezes, “Jesus”.

Danny throws up his hands as his ghost sense goes off for the fourth time in an hour, why was everyone on his ass right now? Ugh! Sam -whom he still hasn’t explained things to beyond: it was traumatic, Jack’s not my dad, I live with Vlad now, be mean to Vlad and I’ll bite you, and I don’t want to talk about it- waving him off to do what he needs to do. At least he explained Vlad spelling it out to him that he’s now basically ghost god and that’s why ghosts were being weird around him, small steps, baby ones.

Last time it was Boxy, if it’s him again he’s gonna be so annoyed, not annoyed enough to make the guy think he’s actually mad but still. He’ll also be annoyed if it’s Skulker ‘worried’ again, now if it’s Skulker ‘I’m going to hang you on my wall’ the poucher then Danny’ll be pleased the man’s back into the swing of things finally.

He was absolutely not ready for who it is. Or who plural. Why the actual Zone are Walker’s goons here??? The buildings have scorch marks in them, street lights had electric wrapping cuffs on them, multiple trash cans are physically embedded into the ground, one ghost cop is stuck to a wall by a net, multiple people appear to be attempting to board up their windows, there’s over turned cars and ones even been sliced in half.

How did so much happen so quickly?

That’s not even touching the fire fight going on. Maddie and Jack exchanging shots with Walker’s Walking Prison ghost cops plasma batons, it somehow looked like the fight had been going on for a while with both of them looking scuffed up, dirty, cut, bruised; it makes him wince and twitch in that Obsessive way. It seems like these ghosts are genuinely trying to hurt his makers, absolutely not. Finger claws digging into a building, “WALKER!”. If that ghost isn’t already here there Danny’s going to pull him here.

The goons all jerk to a stop, cautiously eyeing the ghost whose lair they’ve barged into, the high ghost kings capital city they’ve intruded on, and whose citizens they’re attacking with genuine threat. Everyone knew he was a protector.

Walker, the jack ass, appears in sudden dramatics, looming his sixty foot form over buildings and Danny and Jack and Maddie and his own goons, “he has BROKEN THE RULES!”.

Vlad throws one of the table mints in his mouth, one of the blobs that still insisted on following him around consuming one as well, “I met him twenty years after my own death, up until then I was alone, in both a socialisation sense and a species one”.

The man nods, “is your godson the only like you then? It must have been overwhelming to meet him”.

Vlad scoffs, it was but even here he wouldn’t quite admit to that, “it was exciting. A thrill. A treat. He was young, mouldable, full of potential but unskilled enough to ever win against me. And, we were, in a sense, killed by the same man; a cruel twist of fate perhaps”.

“Do you believe you were destined to meet?”.

Vlad shakes his head immediately, his ego’s not nearly that large, “hardly. And it very well likely would have been better for both of us to never have. At first I was only interested in the potential protege, the possibility of a Master’s heir, of seeing that man crushed by his own son and losing that son. Eventually it became more of seeing him as an overprotective fool, inappropriately focused on-”, scowling, “-helping people of all things. Then he grew more, became something I couldn’t really compete with in fair play, perhaps I saw him as more of an equal then, and I believed it would have been better if we never met”.

“And why is that? You clearly care about him, and you’re someone he helped”.

Vlad sighs, tired, “you saw him earlier. Young gods become so by beating old gods, one I freed from slumber. He’s better for how and who he is, but that does not mean he likes it. He’s an idiot for trying to help me”.

“Do you see me as a fool as well?”

… “Yes”.

Danny’s got Walker’s stupid oversized jacket collar in his fist, pointing at his face aggressively with the other hand, “oh don’t you be using your size to try and be an intimidating prick! What the Zone is going on here?!?”.

Of course, the man and his oversized ego pulls out a whip and cracks it at the ground, making a gouge, glaring at Danny and sneering, “THAT MAN HAS BROKEN MULTIPLE INHERENT LAWS! INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO VIOLATING THE COMMONS OF THE DEATHLESS UNFADES SECTION TWO-FOURTY TWICE OVER, VIOLATING THE WHITE HEART CARDINAL OF THE LAW OF AGES-”.

Jack tore out Vlad’s core!

“-VIOLATING A BREAK DOWN LITHEES, VIOLATING THE BLACK ABSOLUTION OF THE LAW OF AGES REPEATEDLY OVER A PROLONGED PERIOD OF TIME! IF THEY WERE GHOSTS I’D CHARGE THEM FOR HUNDREDS EVEN THOUSANDS OF COMMON LAW VIOLATIONS! AND THE ONLY REASON THEY ARE EXEMPT FROM MOST EXTERIAL LAW IS BECAUSE OF THEIR RESIDING IN YOUR LAIR!”.

Okay, Danny knows, okay, he knows that Maddie and Jack have violated a lot of ghostly laws, even creating the portal was technically a violation, but his death in it made it a vital belonging to a ghosts demise and thus ‘not usable’ for chargers. And them being in his lair gave them certain protections, even being ghost hunters gave them certain protections. But how dare Walker go after them at all.

“HE VIOLATED MALICIOUS DECONSTRUCTION AGAINST A ROYAL CITIZEN UNDER HIGH LAW!”.

Danny growling at the ghost, “you don’t think I know that? But he’s mine too, you don’t get to dictate shit”.

“THEY’RE PORTAL IS INSIDE MY JURISDICTION! I WILL NOT HAVE THEM BEING UNBEHOLDEN TO THE LAW! REGARDLESS OF THEIR RESIDENCY!”.

The location of the portal on the other side was a bit unfortunate but absolutely not, he knows Walker thinks he’s too soft but damn does he not care. But worse than that is this man is doing this publicly because he knows Danny’s going to watch his tongue more and hold back more, but if he thinks Danny won’t stop him from basically taking and torturing Jack, that’s bullshit. Danny clinking his tongue, glow wiggling and flaring his eyes at the ghost, “is that a c̴͕̺̦̈́̐͋h̵͕͉̞͑͛͘a̵̘̞͑̽̚͜l̸̘̘̫̓̓͝l̴̟̦̈́͐͊͜è̵͇͎̪͘͝n̸̺͇̒͆͜͝g̸̡̟̻̒̿͘ë̴̠̠̠́͌?”.

Walker sneering at him, “YES”, yelling over Danny at his guards and eyeing Jack, “SIEZE HIM!”. The fire fight starts back up immediately and Walker smashes Danny with the whip.

“Now, about the core reason you came in today, besides the many long standing issues you’ve been encouraged to sort out, you understand that others harm upon you is of no fault of your own, yes?”.

Vlad hums, “that buffoons actions are his own, but had certain things not been left to fester or had I not underestimated others vengeful desires, it would have never happened”; using a thumb to push small circles into the blob ghost.

The man crosses his legs, holding his pen leisurely, “others are not entitled to know everything about you, every secret you keep. Any reason you may have to keep a secret is an acceptable one, especially if there’s a belief of potential harm. We also can’t know how strongly others feel about our acts towards them, regardless of your actions being cruel or harmful, in their eyes or your own. I may not know too much about ghosts, but I know enough to know that they’re inclined to egocentricity and god complexes. If something falls outside of your obsessive focus it makes sense not to focus on it too deeply. Even if being human still means you will more so than a ghost. Your secrets allowed further chasing of your possessive focuses, it’s reasonable to keep”, tilting his head, “and, it could be said, that keeping those secrets is part of what allowed you to get out of that situation without further harm. Sometimes, things left to fester become more impactful as a result”.

Vlad frowns a little, he couldn’t see Maddie or Jack being willing to… harm him in such a way if they had known. However… Daniel was right those years ago when he said they’d still love their son but not him because of everything he’s done. Would they justify cutting him open as research, to aid their child? Would they mentally categorise him as ‘a villain’ and thus less worthy of kindness that way? That… would have been worse for both him and Daniel in a great many ways. “He was deeply disturbed when my secret was revealed, whether purely because of Plasmius being me or because of Plasmius not being entirely a ghost. They do justify their actions towards ghosts on a basis of what they believe ghosts to be, halfas go against this inherently, I suppose. I… could see that man trying to twist my behaviors as being a result of my half state”; and trying to remove his ghost half, like Daniel had had nightmares over more than once, to fix him. He’s never been sure exactly why Daniel clung on to being ‘separated in two’ so specifically, to have fears over. The blob warbles, as if It knows.

“Even if it’s not?”.

Vlad nods to the side, shrugging, he can admit he’s not a good person, “I’ve never been well aligned with standard human morals or decency. My powers simply give me more ability to ignore those same morals and decencies, the laws that enforce them. Though I have my limits of course”.

“Limits this man crossed”.

“I wouldn’t do that to any being, even if I thought them non-sentient”.

In the time Danny’s been with Vlad, outside of focusing on making sure he was healing and using blobs as a weird amount of stress relief, the man had been explaining aspects of being the High Ghost King, including trying to get Danny more comfortable and in control of himself in his full High Ghost King form -or as close to full as he could get without his size being too problematic- not that Danny felt much better about said form; at least Vlad had repeatedly assured that he was still just as physically species-wise human as before even if his mental state was less human. But part of that was having more control over environments, all ghosts could alter their lairs -Amity sometimes changed colours or weather slightly based off of his mood for example- but Amity was a living town not made out of ectoplasm, so he couldn’t affect it much. However, as The High Ghost King he had more power and will he could force even in the Mortal Realm; even if that made him feel more like a controlling monster.

Why does this matter?

Because it means Danny’s able to move the buildings away and make the road wider to protect everyone… practically setting up a battle area was an unintentional side effect. But, with Walker slamming a fist down into the ground, shaking the earth, he’s glad people still evacuated if they could.

Danny zipping up and around to ecto-beam Walker in the back, slamming into the ground chest first, both of them growling at the other.

Maddie and Jack have their backs to each other, used empty weapons littering the ground in random areas as they continue firing off at the ghost cops. Maddie huffing, “ghosts shouldn’t even have a legal system”. Jack muttering right back, “I think, at this point, we don’t really know anything, Mads. And… this is probably deserved”. Maddie only frowning as she shoot’s a practically taller one.

Danny knows that Jack deserves this, has earned it, but as far as he’s concerned Danny’s already punishing the man even if the two of them might one day end up on better terms. Jack’s still his maker and he’s not letting Walker jail him or hurt him. Some of Jack suit getting burned through making Danny twitch a little. Danny sending a blast at that cop, sending them into a wall and passing out, only for him to get kicked into a wall himself by Walker. He’d forgotten that Walker was genuinely powerful. The ghost pulling his foot off when his ankle gets hit by a red blast. Danny’s glow wiggling, aflame, at Walker instantly grabbing Red’s board and smashing it into a roof a fair bit away. His voice coming out a bit wrong, “s̶h̶e̶’̶s̶ g̶o̶t̶ n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶o̶ d̶o̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶”.

Walker sneering at him, “THEN CONTROL YOUR PETS BETTER”.

How… how dare he. Danny punches his face into the ground, “I̶ d̶o̶ n̶o̶t̶ c̶o̶n̶t̶r̶o̶l̶ a̶n̶y̶o̶n̶e̶”.

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD. VERMIN NEED TO BE KEPT IN LINE”.

“S̶a̶y̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶ o̶u̶t̶ o̶f̶ l̶i̶n̶e̶”.

Walker only snarling and trying to shoot him, Danny zipping off near Red, “y̶o̶u̶.̶ L̶e̶a̶v̶e̶”.

“Phantom-”.

“N̶o̶.̶ I̶’̶m̶ s̶e̶r̶i̶o̶u̶s̶.̶ W̶a̶l̶k̶e̶r̶ d̶o̶e̶s̶n̶’̶t̶ s̶p̶a̶r̶.̶ T̶h̶i̶s̶ i̶s̶ s̶e̶r̶i̶o̶u̶s̶ a̶n̶d̶ y̶o̶u̶ c̶a̶n̶’̶t̶ w̶i̶n̶, Z̶o̶n̶e̶, h̶e̶’̶s̶ n̶o̶t̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ t̶e̶c̶h̶n̶i̶c̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ w̶r̶o̶n̶g̶-”, cutting himself at finally spotting Bullet with a long distance wrangler.

A long distance wrangler, pointed right at Jack.

Walker used his protective obsession, his obligation to try and get Val to back off to safety, to distance Danny. The large ghost smirking as Bullet’s blast goes off.

“𝓝ㄖ”.

“Having my ribs up and displayed like that was incredibly more bizarre than I’d thought it would be”. Vlad’s almost tempted to see if he can make this man physically sick. However Daniel said this man usually saw far more disturbed and criminal ‘patient's’. And frankly, even if it’s been multiple days, weeks even, heavily remembering everything made him feel strung out, disconnected, deserved. Both wanting Daniel to show up and hoping he never did. An irrational part of himself betraying him with thoughts of Daniel joining Jack, rejecting Vlad all over again, and helping take him apart completely. “Abjectly, I suppose I was curious what he would find, was finding, if I could myself use it. The after was, less pleasant than the during, honestly”, gesturing lazily with a hand, “direction, vivisection, samples, and displays, I can understand the drive and science behind that; unpleasant as it was. I can admit to some self dissection and expirementaion myself”.

“Except that was done by yourself, to yourself, with your full cooperation and sober willingness”.

Vlad nodding, “and that matters, doesn’t it. What I don’t understand, is why he simply… left me there. Like that”. He understood Jack fleeing originally, from shock and horror and disgust. Disgust that man should have felt from the beginning, but didn’t merely because ‘ghosts aren’t sentient’. Squeezing his fist around the blob, “that man left me there, taken apart, he couldn’t be bothered to so much as take my limb off the wall and give it back to me. Or put my face back on”, scowling with a tiny bit of fang, “his fragile peace and normality build on lies had been sliced apart, was dying, and he couldn’t take the effort to try and ensure that his so called ‘best friend’ didn’t die himself. He had nearly a week to just face what he’d done and patch me up, yet he couldn’t bother to even look in on me. To check in”. If Jack had come back, had perhaps made an attempt to help him. Undo everything, clip the wires and cords and metal, unstapled. To patch him up, stitch him even if it wound up sloppy and pathetic. Maybe Vlad could forgive even a little, justify it as he knows Maddie would have done the same. “And her, I’d like to say she would have, however I… think that’s wrong”.

The man nods, looking down at his short hand notes, “yes, one of the objections of your Obsession. A possession you cling on to”.

Vlad glares, flashing his ghostly eyes a bit on instinct, “you know, actively prodding a ghosts Obsession isn’t a safe idea”.

The man simply watches, no fear reaction, “but will it help?”.

“No, we dislike it on instinct and can find it painful. My godson can pester me about it, but not a near stranger”.

The man nods acceptingly, “why do you feel she wouldn’t have done the right thing either?”.

“He may be a buffoon, a moron, an imbecile, an idiot, and a complete dunce; but he’s more… adaptable. Quick to change his inane theories”, frowning, “her, she’d likely… convince herself my changing was nothing more than an illusion to trick her”. The way Daniel talked sometimes… Maddie might have gone further out of anger instead of stopping out of horror. Believing the lie of an illusionary trick, rather than immediately accepting the reality of an unheard of species.

The man nods, “humans are very fallible creatures, it’s far easier and thusly far more likely for them to take the easy way out. Going back in would have been harder and harder the longer that man waited, and accepting reality and responsibility would feel like an impossible task”.

Danny growls, looming, cape down around his torso and the man he’s crouched over, one hand on the ground and another holding the end of Walker’s whip. The ghost at the other end scowling right back at him only slightly flinching, Danny’s tail lashing making it clear the other ghosts annoyance was not fucking welcome. Another sneer from Walker and Danny flicks his tail again, sending spines flinging into the other ghosts shoulder, jerking Walker’s shoulder back.

The cop goons floating around, aiming their batons at him and his protected citizen 丿闩⼕长 but not coming closer, out of caution of him, not wanting Phantom’s genuine wrath. Maddie pointing her weapon, but not firing, at them. He can feel, see, her glancing at him cautiously. She’s not moving or trying to shrug off Danny’s fifth? fifth hand/arm, the one he’s got bunching up the back of her jumpsuit that he’s probably sliced up a bit.

At least he’s only a bit bigger than them, longer. Him barring his too many teeth, “вⷡaͣcͨᴋⷦ oͦff, Waͣlᴋⷦeͤrͬ“.

“CRIMINALS MUST BE PUNISHED, PHANTOM”. 

Danny’s lip curls up, “hͪaͣs͛n’ᴛⷮ hͪeͤ вⷡeͤeͤn aͣlrͬeͤaͣdͩy”; it’s not a question, it’s a statement of fact. Zone he, hasn’t been able to have a single ‘normal’ conversation with his male maker even once yet; his voice still breaking when Vlad refused to talk to him. 

“HE’S UNDER MY JURISDICTION! HE FACES PUNISHMENT MY WAY”. 

“нⷩeͤ’s͛ uͧndͩeͤrͬ mͫiͥneͤ faͣrͬ mͫoͦrͬeͤ”. 

Then Walker, hurt, the jerk activates the electrical current on his whip, sending pain, hurt, down Danny’s arm. He hated getting hurt with electricity, and Walker knew that. Danny’s stance wobbling a little, glow becoming static for a beat before flaring and moving to flaming more proper. Mist steaming off of him and blinking eyes and stars, eyes to mouths snapping at any of the goon cops too close, holding tight making them unable to move even if they wanted to. Arm four and six helping arm two hold him stable while his legs lengthen, him bending them more to make sure he can keep 丿闩⼕长 covered beneath him; having to bend his spine more as well to keep that assurance. He dislikes, aggressively, how he must look like a cowering cat with its back arched and throat low before a larger aggressor. 

But he can’t simply use his wail here, with fully living humans so near. And even if Vlad’s explained Kings Speak to him he doesn’t want anyone, especially Maddie and 丿闩⼕长 knowing he can effectively command and control ghosts; doesn’t want to be asked to control the ghosts to stay out. This was his lair, ghosts were... well... his people too, he wasn’t going to ban them from his own territory. What if one needed help, needed to be protected, was hurt, or just wanted to stretch themselves out in the mortal realm for just a little while. Who was he to restrict freedom of inherently free beings; it would be wrong on a basic level. 

And Danny liked his sparing, like any proper ghost. But this wasn’t sparring. If Walker took 丿闩⼕长 here, Danny’d never rescue him without razing Walker’s Walking Prison to the ground, destroying his lair (again but still) and effectively going to war. And just the fact that Danny let Walker take his citizen would be a blow to him and drive his Obsession nuts. As ‘king’ Danny had to have a ‘fearsome’ rep or ghosts would doubt him, might rebel, might not trust him to protect them or help them. He couldn’t have that, not now, not ever. And 丿闩⼕长 was his, so much hurt, no more hurt. Walker doesn’t get to have him. If Vlad had requested this then maybe it would be different, but no, that’s not this, Danny refuses. No hurting. None of it. 

...

There really isn’t much for people around, and the three that are around all have some kind of eye coverings. Red’s picking off ghost cops that stray too far from the battle zone. It’s okay. This is okay. Walker might be a warden, the portal opening into his territory, but he still has to stay in line. No ghost can do absolutely whatever they please in his lair, especially not things that truly stood to hurt people. So... he lets himself unfurl, unfurl properly, exploding into mist and limbs and an elongated form far removed from humanity, his own humanity. Moving a leg to have 丿闩⼕长 in the bend of one backwards knee, using Walker’s whip to yank him towards Danny and slamming his second hand into the mans skeleton face. Grabbing both the other ghosts hands with his third and fourth hands. 

Walker ends up imbedded into the large swath of road Danny’s created, Danny snarling all fang and hundreds of teeth blinking with eyes,丫ㄖㄩ. 廾闩ᐯ🝗. 𝓝ㄖ. 丂闩丫. 廾🝗尺🝗. 龱尺. 龱ᐯ🝗尺. 爪丫. 尸🝗ㄖ尸㇄🝗. 工. 山讠㇄㇄. 㠪闩セ. ㄚㄖㄩ”. 

“Do you see yourself ever reconciling with them? If your godson went back with them?”. 

Vlad sighs a little, a bit tired of this, the blob rolls under his palm, “with him? No. I hate him completely and utterly, I’d see him dead first, his ghost ended as well; before calling that man a friend ever again. I have no interest in so much as allowing him to hear my voice or feel better about anything he’s ever done. And her? My... interest in her is broken, I hardly care for those or things I’m not interested in. Her presence is merely tolerable, I don’t mind her, there is no reconciling to be done”, humming and eyeing he window, “as for my godson, I doubt he’ll never go back with them, but permanently? No. He’ll be a visitor to them, not a resident under their roof”.

“What if you’re wrong about that?”.

“I’m not”. 

“If you were, how would you deal with that. Hypothetically”.

“I don’t ponder over impossibilities. That is an endeavour for fools”, Vlad huffs a mean laugh, “I will not join him when he visits. That house will never again know my presence. And wether he chooses to forgive them more fully or not has little bearing on my lack of interest in doing so. All he can affect is how less unkind I am to them”. Though, he supposes he’d be rather disappointed if the boy forgave them fully. 

The man nods, “most would likely feel that way, in your situation”. 

Vlad would say so, “understandably so”. 

“Do you maintain your desire to seek to harm him? Now that your godson is with you and you’ve lost interest in her?”. 

“If I saw him dying, I would simply walk away as if he did not exist, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help that man; a fair treatment since he did the same to me twice over. However, losing my godson would not be worth the pleasure of killing him myself or making him suffer directly. And he no longer has anything of mine, nothing that belongs rightfully to me”. 

“Do you believe others, your godson, would want you to help him though?”. 

Vlad huffs, rolling his eyes in annoyance, “of course, that child is far too protective and moral for his own good. If the world asked him to rip himself asunder, make himself a martyr, then he would. He has. In a sense, I pity him for that”, putting a hand to his chest, “far better to be self centred and thriving, unmared by others helplessness”.

“That’s quite the ego you have”.

Vlad smirking, “it’s earned”.

“Is it now”.

“Oh absolutely”.

“Hmmm”, the man taps his pen on his leg, “in any case, what good do you suppose this is doing you? Change is clearly not your goal, so?”.

Vlad could understand how this could seem pointless, it rather was. But there was no denying he was too ‘involved’ and possessive to be objective when speaking with Daniel and there couldn’t be any degree of honesty else where. He’d never go to a ghost. Daniel said talking helps and despite everything, or in-spite of it, he trusted Daniel. “Ah, conversing with an outside unbiased being is useful, perhaps, yes. And one that won’t get twitchy on me due to overprotective issues”.

“So you do find this to be, useful as you put it”. 

Vlad gestures at him, “you’re someone who can drive a conversation, take it directions; I’m not about to try and converse with the thin air. You might, encourage certain things but you won’t outright push for them and there’s no natural instinct to be subservient to you”. The blobs could hardly hold any kind of conversation.

The man blinks before nodding a little, “because of your godsons status?”. 

Vlad nodding and humming, half ghost or not he can feel it, feel that Daniel’s his king. There’s a certain pressure to simply residing within Amity’s boarders and even more residing with the boy. He wouldn’t say he didn’t mind it, since he rather did; Vlad was subservient to no one. Yet there was a pride there as well, they were horrible for each other but were good foils for each other. A hero, a villain. One powerful by might, one powerful by wealth. One socially connected with strong friendships, one isolated and anti-social. A self conscious child still coming to terms with his own being, A prideful adult who’s fully embraced all their own monstrous inhuman traits. Inherently harmful to each other, yet... Daniel made a protective man of him, made him more honest, this entire conversation was an example of that. And he made Daniel more of a proper ghost, made him powerful. “Any ghost can tell his place, but I am proud that it’s his place. It does benefit me as well of course”. 

“And reconciling with that man doesn’t benefit you?”.

“Being near that man has done nothing but get me nearly fully killed. If my godson truly pushed for it then perhaps there could be some benefit in making him feel more positively about me, however, he doesn’t want that man near me either. Protective fool”.

It’s chaos, he knows it is. Eyes and limbs and mouths and mist pinning so many different cops and their batons to random surfaces. He’s got a portion of his tail coiled around Maddie (who’s shaky and twitchy) and 丿闩⼕长; the restraining wrangle wrap around 丿闩⼕长 stinging his flesh a bit but he can feel him… patting Danny’s tail with a trembling hand.

It’s strange. It’s almost wrong. The man shouldn’t be so okay with this. Wrapped by a ghosts tail, his 丂ㄖ𝓝 being this giant inhuman nightmare of a ghost.

But it… it makes him more pissed at Walker. He didn’t want them seeing him like this, at least not yet, maybe not even ever. They weren’t doing well but they were better even if their house was never going to be home again. But now they got the pleasure of knowing that Danny could unfold and basically demolish that house. He could decide to eat them, the very thing he’d stupidly threatened Walker with, without much effort; his teeth could be as large as even 丿闩⼕长, the fangs could at least.

Him head butting the other ghost instead, but with a twitch some of the eye teeth bite and rip apart the guys arm; flinging the limb off to the side to dissolve into ectoplasmic goop, him absorbing it instantly. Growling into the ghosts face, nose scrunching up against Walker’s nasal cavity, “〸卄🝗讠尺 尸ㄖ尺七闩㇄ 爪讠Ꮆ卄セ ⻏🝗 讠𝓝 丫ㄖㄩ尺 七🝗尺尺讠七ㄖ尺丫⸝ 丫ㄖㄩ 爪讠Ꮆ卄七 𝓝ㄖ〸 ㇄讠长🝗 卄ㄖ山 ㇄讠ᐯ讠𝓝Ꮆ ﾁ尺讠🝗𝓝ᗪ㇄丫 工 闩爪. ㄚ🝗丂 七卄🝗丫’ᐯ🝗 ⻏尺ㄖ长🝗𝓝 ㇄闩山丂⸝ 闩𝓝ᗪ 丫🝗丂 卄🝗’丂 ⻏尺ㄖ长🝗𝓝 丂🝗尺讠ㄖㄩ丂 ㄖ𝓝🝗丂. 乃ㄩセ ᗪㄖ 𝓝龱ㄒ 尸ㄩ丂廾 ㄚ龱ㄩ尺 ㇄ㄩ⼕长. ㄚㄖㄩ 闩尺㠪 𝓝龱ㄒ 闩乃龱ᐯ㠪 爪㠪”, huffing and flaring his energy to press the ghost down into the ground more aggressively.

The ghost smartly holding up his one hand to tell his goons to hold off, not that they really had much of a choice considering they’d all either been caught by Red or pinned by him. “WILL YOU PUNISH HIM PROPERLY THEN”.

And now Danny smirks, because bantering he can do, “𝓝ㄖ. 闩𝓝ᗪ 丫ㄖㄩ ⼕闩𝓝’セ ᗪㄖ 丂卄讠〸 闩⻏ㄖㄩ〸 讠七. 𝓝ㄖ山 🝗讠七卄🝗尺 丫ㄖㄩ ⼕闩𝓝 ㇄🝗闩ᐯ🝗 ㄖ尺 山🝗 ⼕闩𝓝 长🝗🝗尸 尺讠尸尸讠𝓝Ꮆ 🝗闩⼕卄 闩𝓝ㄖ〸卄🝗尺 闩尸闩尺〸 ㄩ𝓝セ讠㇄ 丫ㄖㄩ 卄闩ᐯ🝗 七ㄖ 尺🝗ﾁㄖ尺爪 丫ㄖㄩ尺丂🝗㇄ﾁ ﾁ尺ㄖ爪 闩 ᗪ闩爪𝓝 丂尸🝗⼕长 讠𝓝 丫ㄖㄩ尺 ㇄讠〸七㇄🝗 尸尺讠丂ㄖ𝓝”.

Walker glares and jerks, Danny easily picking up on the attempt at forming some ecto construct, so he digs his claws into the ghosts legs enough to rip it off slightly; more damage than he meant. Walker eyes the crown over his head, scowls, and shrinks himself down; Danny telekinetically grabbing the ghosts ecto-field to keep him right by his face. His arm doesn’t reform and his one leg dangles limp. Good. Danny using his mouth eyes to yank all the guy cops over to him, “ㄒ闩长🝗 丫ㄖㄩ尺 尸🝗〸丂 山讠七卄 丫ㄖㄩ”.

“Oh Zone fucking no”, Red flying down and pointing a very large bazooka at the collection of ghosts, “you barge in here, fuck up the road”, pointing at Danny, “you too, you stupid ghost”, her knees buckle for a second before she looks away from him again. Danny puts up his first and second hands in surrender.

At least he’s still able to think properly, even with the raw power running through him.

Her glaring at the ghosts, “and you think I’m not going to shoot you at least once! Dance for me!”, she absolutely starts shooting at them.

Walker makes a portal with a scowl, his men ‘fleeing’ from the huntress while he holds up a shield. Red hurling her bazooka at the ghost, it bouncing off of the shield, as Walker leaves through his portal with a, “tell Jack Fenton if I ever catch him around my jurisdictions, I will break him and he will be held to the full account of my law”.

No

Danny huffing, “工’㇄㇄ 🝗闩七 丫ㄖㄩ尺 丂〸ㄩ尸讠ᗪ 丿闩讠㇄ セㄖㄖ”. Red kicking one of his eyes and twitching a bit violently, “I don’t know what you said but I know it was stupid”. Danny pouting and turning his head to look down at Maddie and Jack, using the tenth hand to shred the wrangler wrap… His tail’s still coiled around them and now it’s awkward.

“Are you taking the exhausted beat up and probably shocky hunters home, or am I”.

No absolutely not, he has to keep them safe. Make sure Walker doesn’t come back. Make sure they don’t hurt themselves doing something stupid. Should he try and alter the portals location in the Zone? Can he do that? Well he should be able to. Maybe he already has just by wanting to. Ugh this crap was annoying. But it does get him to fold in on himself, not… entirely, but enough that he’s only slightly taller than Jack. Him picking the two up, “noͦ noͦ Iͥ goͦᴛⷮ iͥᴛⷮ”.

Maddie grabbing his wrist, “we’re fine, or at least I am, put us down, Phantom”. She still said his name now like it was painful.

Red just throws her hands up when Danny does actually put the two down and Jack just collapses on the ground, with a, “That ghost isn’t even wrong”.

“It would appear we’re about out of time”, side-eyeing his phone, “and your mayoral jurisdiction appears to be having another ghost emergency”.

Vlad quirks an eyebrow, “you set an alert for my little side responsibility?”.

The man hums, “I like being thorough”.

Part of him wants to mock the man, but, it’s a bit appreciated genuinely. Either way he pulls out his own phone, there are multiple ghost alerts. For, of all ghosts, Walker? Odd. That one had no interest in sparring, wasn’t interested in getting Phantom to try to demolish his lair/prison again. Even if he was here to see Daniel it would be on business, he wouldn’t cause a scene. Especially to bring his lackies along. Humming and moving the blob to rest on his shoulder, “strange”, perhaps he should check in on the boy, not that Daniel couldn’t handle Walker on his own.

Regardless, he should make an appearance, Walker was the type that could cause a lot of damages after all. With a nod, Vlad gets up and straightens his suit jacket, “yes I suppose I could pay you to continue on with this, but that would be rather pointless, since I clearly have places to be”. 

“Well hopefully this has been worth what money you did put forth”. 

“If it wasn’t I would have left of my own accord entirely, far earlier”. 

Then, because Daniel seems to attract ill luck, a portal opens up on the wall. The therapist, to his credit, does nothing more than pause for a beat in standing up. He doesn’t even pause in the handshake when Walker stomps through looking thoroughly displeased and missing most of an arm. 

Interesting. 

For a ghost as strong as this warden to not heal near instantly, Daniel must have injured his ectoplasm itself. Daniel wouldn’t do such a thing unless quite seriously provoked. Vlad eyeing the ghost as he lets go of the therapists hand, “to what do I own this displeasure, Walker? This is this mans professional place of business, after all, barging in private interactions is incredibly rude and unbecoming of someone so stringent on rules”. 

The ghost glares, barely hiding a wince at Vlad jabbing his Obsession directly. Walker snarls commandingly, “control that boy”. 

Vlad scoffing, “you say that as if I can or would”. Far be it for he to tell Daniel off for beating up or annoying a ghost: if anything, Vlad most certainly would rather encourage such behaviours. 

The therapist cups his hands respectfully over his waist, “unless you have an appointment or meeting scheduled, you should leave”. Vlad would be surprised at the calm demeanour if it wasn’t frankly expected. If he can hold his confidence and ground around a serial killer or cannibal, then a dead prison warden wouldn’t be a hassle; strange, but nothing more. 

Walker, as expected of a ghost that did actually have a modicum of respect for authority figures, nods respectfully, “I’ll be out of your hair shortly, however I have criminal matters to discus with this one”. The therapist looks none too pleased, but has clearly realised he can’t do much about this situation. 

Vlad waves off the ghost, “well go on then, out with it. If my boy told you off, which I can tell he did, he’s well within his capabilities and social standing to do so”. 

Walker glares, “that man should be behind bars, he’s under my jurisdiction”. 

“That’s hardly my issue, that man is as out of your reach as I am. Of course, I’m not even under your jurisdiction; frankly, neither is he. Do not be so dense as to think your jurisdiction trumps Phantom’s”. 

“You’re the one that the current serious crimes were committed against, and he will take your wants into consideration”. 

“I hardly care how my godson chooses to deal with that man’s actions, beyond that he does deal with them”. 

“He hasn-”.

Vlad holds up a finger with a smirk, cutting off the ghost and walking to have that finger in the ghosts skeletal face, “oh but he has. Anything you do to that man could never be worse than losing such a special child. That’s not even addressing my absolute uninvolvement with him now”, dropping his hand, “any incarceration or physical harm will do nothing”. The blob opens Its mouth in a soundless hiss.

The therapist nods, sitting at his desk to organise, “physical punishments towards those that actually feel like they deserve it are usually reacted to positively, rather than seen as a truly punishing experience. If anything, removal from the current fall out ‘this man’ is dealing with will actually make him feel better, less punished. The negative treatment from those we care about is of far more consequence than simple physical imprisonment, and that remains true for near everyone not on the psychopathic or sociopathic spectrum. That’s the very reason why interventions work, or-”, eyeing Vlad, “-why people seek out professional help under others encouragement”. 

Walker seems to actually consider the man, “hmm, perhaps”, eyes Vlad, scowling again. Vlad’s fine if this turns into a fight, Walker isn’t stronger than him even if it’s close and Vlad doesn’t ever fight fair. “And if I put in a proposal to the Observants”. Less a question and more a threat. 

Unfortunately for Walker, and the Observants, that threat would do the opposite of withers intentions. Vlad’s smirk is mean, “the boy would oppose them on principle alone, my godson is far more petty to them than he’s ever been to me”. Daniel would take any opportunity to annoy them even slightly. 

Walker huffs but at least actually leaves. Good riddance. Vlad throwing the therapist an extra hundred bill, “for the inconvenience, and the silence”. 

The man eyes he money, “I hardly need bribes”.

Vlad chuckling, “I’ve made much of my wealth off of bribery, consider it a habit of mine”, and walks out of the practice. 

Danny eyes Jack rubbing his forehead on the couch, at least Danny was mostly normal again outside of being a little too long, and the tail he was keeping hovering around Jack’s ankle for protective reasons. Maddie offering him a plate of cookies even though she’s barely cleaned herself up, “thank you, for that”. 

Danny takes the cookies of course, “he messed up yeah, but ghost jail is a little much”, grumbling and sticking a cookie in his mouth, ah okay teeth are still a bit off and pointy, “specially since Walker’s a prick”. 

She gives him a bit of a pinched smile, “hard to say”. 

Danny rolls his eyes, “you should look after yourself”, tilting his head at the door and the more unique scent of Val’s/Red’s nanobots, “outside of Jack thinking he kinda deserves to go to jail, they’re fine, Red. Want a cookie?”. Both Maddie and Jack jerk a little and look at him, so he shrugs, “people are smelly”. That’s all the explanation either of them are getting from him. 

Red popping the door open and sticking her head in, “way to be creepy, now can I get an explanation for what the heck happened? And why I couldn’t just deal with it?”, grumbling, “outside of apparently not being able to win”.

Jack leans back against the couch a bit tiredly, all the burns on his suit still stark, “what I did broke ghost law, like the ghost said”. 

“Walker”, Danny butts in.

Jack nodding at him with a little wince, they were getting somewhat better with names. “Like Walker said, and I guess? We, or I, am under that ghost cops? area or however it works exactly?”.

Danny sighing and rubbing his neck a little, “that portal you guys made opened up right into Walker’s territory, the section of the zone that his prison, and thus his laws, have jurisdiction over. Since it’s connected to Amity, Amity is technically connected to his territory; hence why a lot of ghosts who come here wind up in his jail”. 

Red sighing, “but he can’t do much because Amity is ‘your territory’? Never thought I’d be happy for that, you nightmare”. 

“Hey, I’m still a little insecure about that you jerk”. He’s absolutely ignoring the slight worry on Maddie‘s and Jack’s faces. He didn’t need them worrying about him and it was honestly a bit too late for it. 

She grumbles, “didn’t seem that insecure when you went all kaju on that ghost”. 

Danny crossing his arms, “considering Walker has a big thing for torture and really likes execution, it was warranted”. 

Even Jack winces, “okay, I, don’t think I deserve that”. 

Then, of course, Vlad freaking calls him, “what is it? If Walker’s causing more issues I’m actually going to eat him this time”. 

“Did he attempt to arrest your ex-father?”. 

Danny sighing, “he’s not ex-anything really, but yes”. Jack wasn’t ‘dad’, definitely not, but he also wasn’t ‘not dad’ either. It was a strange in between. “Obviously I wasn’t okay with that so”. 

“I could tell, he came by personally to effectively complain about you. However, considering how I know you to be, I take it you’re at FentonWorks?”. 

“Of course, that jerk”, Danny eyeing the two adult hunters, “and yeah, I am. You done with your ‘therapy that you don’t want to call therapy’ session?”. 

“Considering Amity becoming your little battle ground for asserting dominance, yes”. 

Danny rolling his eyes, “that’s hardly my fault, you fruitloop”. Danny completely ignores Jack muttering, “he’s in therapy?”, in shock and almost pain; he seems a little relieved too though. Then Red smacks him one over the head with a, “of course he is”. Because yeah, anyone would need therapy over that.

Vlad inspects his nails, being swarmed fully by blobs again, as he surveys the damage from the sky. Daniel went and altered the terrain again, at least it’s shifting itself back to normal slowly, not quite slow enough for no one to notice but it’s something. The massive indents and chunks taken out of things seem to be repairing as well, he seriously wished the boy would always clean up after himself this well; oh well, it gave him something to blow his money on. Something to spend his money on that made him look more like a ‘good samaritan’. 

Vlad eyeing a clear whip mark, “and will you be remaining there, with them?”. A question with an obvious answer, he knows, but he can hope to be wrong. He pushes a few blobs away from curiously inspecting his phone, like they knew it was the source of his slight aggravation now.

“Yeah, gotta make sure they at least get fixed up and that Jack doesn’t do anything stupid like try to go through the portal to ‘hand himself over’”. It hurt, Daniel staying there, he knew it would, even if that didn’t change the facts. Then the boy continues, “I’ll be back for supper of course”. 

Vlad blinking, “oh?”. Daniel wasn’t… going to even stay the night there? Still?

“Well yeah? Obviously?”. 

The boy says that like it’s such a simple, plain, expected thing. It’s jarring and soothing. Him coming back to Vlad’s residence was as obvious as the sun rising in the morning apparently. Someday it might not happen, but that would require something or someone messing up real bad. So long as Vlad didn’t do anything truly crazy or cruel, maybe just maybe, Daniel will always come back. 

Was... was that worth his suffering? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He can’t deny he’s pleased with this end result though; the blobs trilling, pleased, as well.

End.

Prompts: Vlad finally gets therapy. "Time, time, time, see what's become of me. While I looked around for my possibilities" - A character reminisces about what drove them to this point. Do they wish their life went in another direction…or did it get them exactly what they wanted? Worst possible reveal scenario, GO! Walker reminds everyone why he's the warden "I..I need your help." BadgerCereal Vlad gets his second chance, at a cost It hurt. He always knew it would hurt. He didn't realize how much. Jack Fenton finds out. Danny is stressed. He finds out blob ghosts make incredible chew toys and stress relievers. The blob ghosts seem to love being chewed/squeezed as well! It’s like a nice massage, good as enrichment for them Danny Phantom is the new King of the Ghost Zone. Except he doesn't know it. Ghosts just keep acting werid around him. Vlad is probably the one who has to spell it out for him. "A halfa? He's supposed to be dead!" Sometimes you just gotta be an eldritch horror. Newly Crowned Ghost King Danny experiencing his eldritch form for the first time, proceeds to have a meltdown at the further loss of his humanity. (Optional: Finds himself in space & a ghostly mentor comes to comfort him.) Forced Identity Reveal to the parents via Vlad and they don't take it well at first but don't try to attack him, they just ask him to leave for awhile so they can process this. That one time Sam had convinced Tucker to go goth, he hadn’t hated it—there were elements he actually found he enjoyed—but it ultimately wasn’t his “thing”. Then he discovered the CyberGoth subculture. Valerie enacts a plan to finally take down Vlad. Vlad has been quiet. Eerily quiet. No evil plots, not threats or pranks. Danny doesn't know what to make of it. On an unrelated note (Jack or Maddie, your choice), are acting kinda strange.

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Red Hat Man

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I will eventually post a recording, but for now, here are the lyrics to "Red Hat Man", a St. Stephen's Day parody of "Red Right Hand" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. In this story, our St Nick was traumatized by the death of his best friend Stephen. A wren is the yearly target of his rage, representing the wren who sang to wake the guards when Stephen tried to escape. Sherlock and John are intrigued by the mystery of this serial killer and have been set on the case by the Irregulars.

Originally inspired by @totallysilvergirl 's The Holly and the Ivy: December Drabbles Chapter - 26: Boxing Day. I'd link it, but A03 is down. :(

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*Begin urban jungle groove of a beat walker* *Goth Matchgirl match flicks alight*

*smokey voice begins*

Take a little walk in London Town and go across the Thames. Where the viaduct looms where a bird met doom The water shifts and bends. No secrets hide from his scraping eyes. Our Sherlock hunts his prize, But Nick, he knows he’s gonna get away, Past the roofs, past the wharf, past the banks, past the rats. On a stretcher white lies the Bloody Wren! Watching from afar is the Red Hat Man.

*Jingle bells of quiet horror*

He does his job, checks his list, tells you if you’ve been a Good boy. He’ll hide his vengeful dreams, rekindled rancor from a lifetime Or ten before. His Stephen’s brutal faint, face dripping like red paint! He became a saint, But that won’t ever kill Nick’s memory. He’s an elf, he’s a ghost, he’s the Judge, he’s a huntsman. Sherlock’s on his trail through this godforsaken land! John writes whispers up of the Red Hat Man.

*Jingle bells of quiet horror* *Oscillator of spookification*

You don’t have no clothes? He’ll drop you some. You don’t have respect? He’ll get you a gun. You need a way to get your little girl a pink tea set, Well, don’t you worry buddy, 'cause here he comes. Through the homes and the flats and the corners and the slums. He gives what’s needed, and sometimes what’s needed can Bring the heat down upon the Red Hat Man.

*Jingle bells of quiet horror* *Gothic guitar of guilt* *Organ of avian anxiety*

You see him in your movies; you see him in your dreams. He always looks so jolly and fat, but he ain't what he seems. You'll see him in your tales on the TV screen, And hey buddy, you had better not tick him off! He’s an elf, he’s a ghost, he’s the Judge, he’s a huntsman. Strike out the possible to understand his plan, The impossible killer called the Red Hat Man.

*Outro of previous creepy Christmas cheer and distant Hunt hounds baying*

@friday411 @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @chriscalledmesweetie @naefelldaurk @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant @eardefenders

[helleboretks]

Cocky, Until He’s Not

This is a Lee!Dazai and Ler!Chuuya bsd tickle fic. If this isn’t your forte, no need to read!

Summary: Another one of Chuuya getting revenge on Dazai, but what if it happened during their Sokouku Days?

FunFact: This was my first ever tickle fic, so lols to all of this-

People would be surprised how long Chuuya waited for this specific moment.

Three weeks of nothing but dealing with his partner’s agitating behavior, mentally noting every insult, every jest, every tease and taunt, filing it away for this scenario. He needed his revenge for the countless times Dazai’s fucked with him on such a constant.

He hadn’t known how until he came to Dazai’s best friend for advice.

“He’s actually freakishly ticklish, if that gives you something to go off of.”

Bless Sakunosuke’s heart, Chuuya swore to God.

It was the best thing he could have ever found out, no matter how embarrassing it sounds. This was information he was sure as hell Dazai would rather take to the grave than to give him even a hint about, but now that Chuuya knew this? Oh boy, he was going to abuse this for the rest of his life.

Who would have ever thought? Dazai Osamu, king of annoying, Demon Prodigy and most stoically ridiculous asshole ever, ticklish? It was glorious, a weakness Chuuya could utilize at any moment. His heaven, even.

And he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth the first time around. Chuuya waited, counting up the piles of teases and taunts Dazai spewed at him so recklessly, counting each one, each reason-good reason-, to absolutely demolish this son of a bitch. And now that he had a mountain, it was time to find the right opportunity to strike.

It was so much easier than he thought it’d be, and he loved it.

Dazai was just going at his teases again, following Chuuya, poking and prodding at his nerves like second nature (and it probably was by now), sticking his tongue at him, calling him names in which Chuuya would fire back. It was their usual banter, as always. At least, until Dazai made a comment.

“You’re soooo tiny,” Dazai laughed, pointing to his bandaged neck, “You wouldn’t even reach my neck in five years time!” Chuuya had growled at him before the bulb went off, to which he smirked, and leaned back, pulling his hands from his pockets. And with all the confidence he could muster in that moment, he blurted,

“You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s so ticklish.”

Dazai blanked for all of three seconds, before letting out an actual squeal and stepping back rapidly, clearly caught off guard by the declaration. “A-And where in the world did you get that idea from?!” he tried to save himself, he really did, but the all too obvious blush on his face gave it away. The fact that he could get Dazai to react so genuinely gave Chuuya so much satisfaction, you’d think he’d leave it at that.

Well, of course he fucking wouldn’t. Dazai was just tempting him now.

“Oooh yes, I know your secret, Mackerel.” Chuuya smugly replied, lifting up his hands as his grin sharpened. Dazai visibly paled. Hilarious.

“Fucking. Run.” Dazai didn’t need to be told twice, spinning on his heel and making a mad dash like Chuuya’s never seen before. But, as much as the other ran, Chuuya didn’t even feel a hint of worry. Why? Well, did you really think Dazai was the most physically capable out of both of them?

He let Dazai get some distance just to build up tension, knowing how his partner had such a love/hate relationship with anticipation. He took off after him soon though, forgoing his ability just to make this chase that little bit more interesting.

“Dazai~!” Chuuya shouted tauntingly, getting a loud ‘GO AWAY, CHIBI!’ in response, yet it only made the ginger scoff. The duo were bolting down the halls before long, Dazai crashing into walls and bursting through doors, not seeming to give a rat’s ass about the employees he was disturbing with all the ruckus.

And Chuuya was hot on his tail, bouncing off the walls (Figuratively and literally) in vengeful glee as he zipped past those same employees, who looked beyond confused. He’s pretty sure they, or more like Dazai, knocked over more shipping boxes than necessary, and they ended up coming to one of those big storage sectors, conveyor belts transporting big cargo down to the PM’s ship docs.

Dazai was hurtling over boxes, climbing them like a rabid monkey as Chuuya simply used his gravitation to bound up them all in one go, slamming onto the box above Dazai and thoroughly startling the maniac, who let out a sharp yelp at his sudden appearance.

“NO!! Get away, get away! This is why I hate stupid dogs!” Dazai cried, immediately fleeing as he jumped down the boxes, and Chuuya laughed rather maniacally, seeing all the panic and irritation in Dazai for once instead of himself.

“You’re avoiding the inevitable, you bastard!” Chuuya hollered, jumping down and following Dazai, who fled for the exit like there would be no tomorrow if he didn’t.

He flung the door open, only to shriek and stumble back before he could get slammed into by another employee carrying boxes and metal beams, and Chuuya snorted at his attempt to stay up right. His knees were shaking like jelly, and Chuuya could only suspect it was from the situation he threw himself into.

Somehow he was able to squeeze past, and Chuuya waited another second or two once that employee was gone before he gave chase again, skidding around the corner he saw Dazai dash ‘round.

“ODASAKUUUU!!!” Oh, just Chuuya’s luck! Seems like Dazai found his friend (and semi-traitor) in the common room, throwing himself behind the older one and pointing at Chuuya accusatively.

“Get him to leave me alone!!! Oh my God he’s trying to kill meeee!!” Dazai screamed as Chuuya skidded to a halt right in front of Sakunosuke, who seemed taken aback by what he suddenly found himself in the middle of.

“C’mon! You can take it! You’re the Demon Prodigy, what’s a little bit of wiggling fingers gonna do?” Chuuya grinned, the duo falling into a stumbling dance of side-stepping around Sakunosuke, who let out a small huff of amusement from their shenanigans.

“Dazai?” Said boy stiffened with a squeak, yet found it hard not to break eye contact with Chuuya when it was his friend calling him. “He’s a bad dog!” Dazai whined pitifully, shuffling some more and shrieking when Chuuya almost nicked his side. So close!

However, that near nick seemed to kick off the giggles in that fiend, who desperately covered his quivering smile and shivered all the same. (Chuuya refuses to admit how his heart beat faster at the sight).

“Oda! Ohoda, Oda, Oda, hehelp me! Help me, Jesus Chrihist!!” Dazai begged, tugging at Sakunosuke’s sleeve ridiculously. Chuuya and Sakunosuke shared a glance, and the older one smiled.

“Alright.”

Dazai screeched like a banshee when Oda grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back-first into Chuuya’s awaiting arms, and he immediately started writhing, regret has never been clearer in his eyes.

“Odasaku you traitor!! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck y-AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!” Chuuya actually laughed at the desperate scream that left Dazai’s open mouth when he started pinching his sides, the other squirming as he dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

“Hey, it was bound to happen eventually.” Sakunosuke shrugged, as casual as ever even as his friend was being tortured right in front of him. “Aaaaand thank you for the gift, Sakunosuke-san!” Chuuya grinned, adjusting his grip and lifting the squealing mess of a Mafioso up, who leaned back as far as he could go as Chuuya’s fingers danced across his sides, legs kicking like crazy as he laughed.

“Anytime.” Spoke the low rank, who Dazai mustered up the will to flip the bird at. Chuuya kissed his teeth, fingers skittering across his belly experimentally, satisfied with the squeal he ripped from the other.

“I hahahahate yohohohou! FACK!!” Dazai screamed once Sakunosuke had taken his leave, Chuuya stumbling back from the sheer intensity of this boy’s flailing. “Jesus Christ, ya jackass! Would you stop squirming so much?” Chuuya huffed, walking backwards towards the couch of the common room.

“Thehehehen stooop!” Dazai whined between giggles, shaking his head rapidly before letting out a strangled gasp when he was unceremoniously dumped onto the couch. Chuuya didn’t waste a second, hopping onto Dazai’s thighs as the other threw his hands out, probably to attempt to stop Chuuya.

However, he did not account for Chuuya going for his underarms.

He clamped down immediately, convulsing where he was as his laughter grew more frantic, a string of cusses even Chuuya would be proud of spilling from giggling lips. He tried to stomp against the other arm of the couch, hoping to distract himself from the ticklish sensations, but he could barely move his legs with Chuuya sitting on them.

“Gehehehehet off mehe, you fahahat fuck!” Chuuya let out a choked gasp, offended that the other even had the gall to say that to him. “How the hell am I fat!? That just adds to the list of bullshit you put me through. More tickles for you.”

Dazai tried to let out a frustrated groan, but could barely get it out before his laughter got even louder when Chuuya flicked teasing fingers down to his hip, immediately peaking Chuuya’s interest.

“You are just one big damn tickle spot, aren’t ya?” Dazai frantically shook his head, yet that had to be the biggest lie he’s ever seen from the other. “Oh really now? Well it seems to me that you are, Mr.Squeak-sir-lot.” Dazai practically wheezed at the nickname, and Chuuya made sure to engrave that reaction into his memory.

“Now that I think about it, there’s one itty bitty spot I wanna try.” Chuuya casually mentioned, fingers walking up and down from the ribs to the hips as Dazai grabbed his wrist.

But he didn’t pull at it though.

So, he was enjoying this, wasn’t he? (How adorable…)

“Oh, well now you’ve just given yourself away, ya dumbass!” Chuuya grinned, hand darting up to attack Dazai’s neck.

And oh God, the scream that left him was more deafening than a triggered grenade.

He bucked and squirmed like a bull, squealing and laughing from his very gut. The words he wanted to say got jumbled and lost in giggles and laughter as Chuuya wiggled his fingers into the side of his neck, drilling and poking like rapid-fire all the while.

The first few tears of joy slipped down from his eyes, disappearing into his hairline as he snorted. That laugh was just so squeaky and dorky, down right hilarious, Chuuya couldn’t help but laugh along.

But at some point he did end up giving the other a bit of mercy, dying down to feather-light touches along his shoulders to the very base of his neck, eliciting squeaky little giggles from the mafioso. “I hahahate you, chihihibi. I swehehear.” Dazai gasped after a while as Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“Feeling’s mutual, partner.” Chuuya bit back playfully, only to blink a bit when he noticed the bandages over Dazai’s right eye begin to slip and slide. The other didn’t seem to care as much as Chuuya thought, simply scrunching up his shoulders and turning his head more to escape the tingly sensations.

“What? Never been tickled senseless before?” Chuuya opted to ignore it as well, Dazai letting out a scoff through feverish giggling, as if that would suddenly bring back his reputation to Chuuya as that stoic, constantly bothersome, moody Mafia man. Or boy. Whatever.

“Yohohou’re not even t-tryihihing that hahard.” Dazai snickered, and Chuuya used that opportunity to give a face of fake (and definitely a little real) offense. “Excuse me, you bitch? You were laughing so hard you couldn’t even speak a few times, what do you mean I ‘wasn’t even trying’???” Dazai chuckled, sticking his tongue out as Chuuya finally ceased his ministrations. And Dazai actually thought the other had had enough with him, but oh boy was he wrong.

Why? Well…

How was he supposed to react when Chuuya shoved his hands under his shirt and onto bandaged skin!?!? The bandages didn’t do a thing to stop it, either!

He let out a cry, retracting his tongue as he flung his head back, cackling crazily. “OW OW OHOW, MY TOHOHOHONGUE!! CHIBI I FUHUHUCKING BIT MY TOHOHOHOHONGUE, NAHAHAHAHA!!!” Chuuya snorted and laughed at his partner’s dilemma, who didn’t know whether to wince in pain or continue laughing like a hyena. Apparently, his body decided both were an option. This is probably the most Dazai’s ever cursed in months, he isn’t even going to lie.

“I CAHAHAHAN’T, CHUUYA I CAN’T-I CAN’T, FUHUHUHUHUCK!!” Chuuya raised a brow mockingly, asking, “Can’t what, Mr. Squeaks? Ya gotta speak up, I can’t hear you through all the white noise!”

“STAHAHAHAHAP, I CAN’T STAHAHAP, CHUUYAAAAA!!!” Dazai screamed, and the shorter boy’s face lit up at the opportunity the other handed to him on a golden platter.

“You can’t stop? Holy shit, you can’t stop the feeling! You Can’t stop the feeling~!” Dazai was snorting and laughing as Chuuya sang that lyrical parody to him over and over again, skittering all along his ribs and scritch-scratching at every space in between that he could find that made Dazai positively lose his crap.

Dazai was wheezing at this point, tears falling down from so much stimulation, yet he couldn’t tell if he wanted more or not. He was slapping at Chuuya’s bicep, cackling mindlessly as he squirmed and struggled weakly, feeling drained as the seconds ticked on.

At this rate, Chuuya could see the other was close to going crazy.

The moment Chuuya knew the other had reached his limit was when he started hiccuping.

Hiccups within quick succession of one another littered his laugh when Chuuya touched onto his hips again, skin on skin contact making it so much worse for the taller as he flung his head around wildly. It was as if he lost complete rationality, dizzy from the sensations.

“M-ME-MERCIHIH-HIC-IHI, P-PLE-HIC-EASE CHU-HIC-CHUUYAH-HAHAHA!!!” Chuuya decided then that the other finally had enough, slowing to a stop and allowing Dazai to sink into the couch, panting heavily as his laughter was gradually reduced to feverishly desperate giggles and gasps for air. Chuuya let out a victorious laugh, taking in the poor mafioso’s expression.

He wasn’t really paying much attention to Dazai’s face then, so it was only when he got a good look at him that Chuuya finally took notice of his loose bandages from before, and by that he meant he had no idea where the hell they went. But now he’s got a giggling, gasping Dazai shivering under him, two eyes of vibrantly dark brown gazing up with the brightest blush he’d ever seen.

It was precious. Dangerously precious.

And the wobbly little smile on the taller's face was doing things to his heart, unfortunately.

“Y-you’re staring~...” Dazai whispered, but he also seemed to try and avert his gaze, if only a little, subtle as always. Chuuya kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to throw out one of his normal insults when-

“HIC-”

The two stared at each other for what might have been hours, but was only a few seconds. Quickly, Dazai shot up (and almost headbutt Chuuya in the process, but avoided it) and covered his mouth as another hiccup erupted from him. Then another, and another, and another-holy shit.

“You did not just get the hiccups.” Chuuya scoffed, holding back his own chuckles as Dazai tried to retort, only ending up with another, much squeakier hiccup. His blush reappeared tenfold, body jerking from each hiccup as Chuuya’s restrained snickers grew at the other’s dilemma.

“S-Stop laughing Chi-hic-Chibikko!” Dazai growled, batting at the ginger’s head as he continued to hiccup, and Chuuya continued to laugh at the other’s misery. This was probably the most embarrassment he’d ever seen on Dazai’s face, so he made sure to commit it to memory. He couldn’t not do that, now could he? It was so utterly adorable.

…He’ll just pretend he didn’t think that.

“C’mon, seriously?” Chuuya spoke between giggles, raising his hands to squish Dazai’s cheeks mockingly, the other weakly moving away to no avail. “Look at you! You’re hiccuping like a maniac, mackerel.” Chuuya smirked, letting his fingers fiddle just underneath Dazai’s chin and near his neck again, renewing some of those little giggles in him.

“Nohohohooo, no-hic-mohohore.” Dazai whined, but for once, he didn’t pull away, in fact, he did the opposite. He leaned into Chuuya’s touch when the other stopped the light teases, simply allowing Chuuya to hold his face.

The two stared at each other, and Chuuya wasn’t sure what to call this kind of atmosphere, (That was a lie, he knew it all too well, refusing to accept it). Dazai’s squishy cheeks in the palm of his hands, those dark brown eyes that held a different gleam to them than usual, and neither could truly look away. The moment was quiet save for Dazai’s hiccups, the moment was strange in every sense of the word, the moment was…

“This is oddly giving me sexual aftercare vibes right now-”

Ruined. Thanks to Dazai and his stupid mackerel mouth.

Chuuya simply decided to tickle him breathless for that one.

Not that he wouldn’t have done it again at some point.

[adobealmanac]

El Tecolote (The Owl)

From the Nahuatl Tecolotl. In New Mexico, there is a story to be found about the owl. A magnificent creature it is, but as magnificent it is equally feared. You must know the right generation to hear this tale, and I hope to document it here.

Firstly, you must understand the culture of spirituality in New Mexico. Witchcraft is unspoken. Brujos are unwanted, until you need them. Witches are believed to be solely evil here. They are closer akin to flesh pedestrians than they are to the modern witch, atleast in folklore. That is.. until you seek one out. Then, they are simply a means to an end.

Here is one of those tales: Isabella once visited her friend Ramira. Isabella did not know Ramira was a witch. Both went to bed late in the evening, after spreading the chisme (gossip). They retired to the bedroom, and shared the same bed. Around midnight (the best time to practice mischief and execute revenge, as the old folks say) Isabella saw Ramira get out of bed, and light a candle. She pulled out her eyes (leaving only her witches eye in place), and sat them in her filigree silver box. She began to shrivel up, becoming the size of a rat. She flew out of the chimney, riding inside of a dried chile pod. Evidently, Isabella could no longer stay in the house. She quickly dressed, and ran to her home as fast as she could. As she was running, she saw a large owl perched atop the old cottonwood. El Tecolote was a fearsome sight in New Mexico, as it was the sign of a nearly-advanced witch. The stages of witchcraft in NM would follow a simple path of: - The Dove, or apprentice - The Owl, or practitioner - The Dog, or old hag -The Fox, or a backstabber or vengeful spirit It is understandable now why owls were often feared, as many believed them to be witches in their prime. Owls were thought to be their preferred form. Their hoots are bad omens, telling of misfortune and loss. If they were seen standing for prolonged periods of time it was a sure sign of evil nearby. While owls are certainly not witches in disguise (although I would love to transform into an owl; it would make traffic easier to navigate) it may be worth noting this story if you plan on traveling through NM at night. If you see an owl during your travels through our region, do beware, and maybe skip that sketchy motel on the side of the road, as it may not be as convenient as you first thought.

[the-cash-cache]

The Goblin Market: the weirdest and most colorful cast of merchants you’ll ever meet!

Picture it: Sicily, 1922 my desk, 2023. I have just gotten back from a raucous day on the town, and am relaxing with my emotional support water bottle while browsing the internet in a sleep-deprived reverie. My mind wanders the dimly flashing streets of neural pathways, before being struck by the Truck of Realization that I have been derelict in my duty of talking about amazing ttrpg stuff!

I’ve talked about the Certified TERF Hated collection of NPCs The Goblin Market by my good friend @europaprisonmoon before here, and I believe it’s worth talking about again!

I’ll start off with this description from the itch.io page itself which perfectly encapsulates the colorful array of characters your party can meet:

The Goblin Market is a system agnostic collection of over fifty merchants, monsters and even stranger things which can be dropped into your campaign to add weirdness and magic for your players: retired river gods, escaped nightmares, tea merchants, wicker basket mechs, predatory graves, vengeful dragons seeking to raise an army to defeat tyrannical princesses, off-duty demons, magical roboticists, mystery cults, accidentally immortal witches, and many more. 

This supplement is a treat to read, with Tryphosa Tucker Thimbling capturing my heart and mind from the moment I met her! A milliner with “fur like the finest humus” and piebald donkey ears adorned with beautiful golden bells, Tryphosa loves tea - of the drink and gossip varieties. Have you ever felt your PC was missing something? Some critical aspect leaving them sorely lacking? It is obviously that they need a hat from Tryphosa! Turn heads with a cap made of fantastical materials; you’ll never have to worry again about entering a bar/saloon/communal watering hole and facing someone with the same hat as you.

If for whatever reason Tryphosa doesn’t strike your fancy, why not a quartet of large albino rats joined at the tails? The Quartet (or was it once The Quintet?) sells uncandles, a perfect gift for the brooding rogue in your party! Fashioned from shadows and darkness, the uncandles will bring a comfortable gloom to any room.

Best of all, The Goblin Market is on sale for just under $8 until July 13th! That’s less than 16 cents per NPC. The NPCs are connected to each other, so you can throw as many or as few into your game, and you’ll never be at a loss for people your players can talk to!

[rosesnink]

The Way to Rome, Prologue: Turning Tide

Author's Notes

During my first ILW playthrough, I thought to myself, 'what if I had a Lucasmancer OC and their story played outside ILW?' and thus Faye was born. I want to thank Instagram friend _departer for listening to my ramblings and my Discord friends too for helping me shape her and their story. I hope you guys like what I have to offer!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammatical mistakes

My OC's Choices sprite's been made by @peonyblossom all credits to them!

If you'd like to be tagged in this series, comment or reblog here, go to my taglist or send me an ask/DM!

Summary: Homecoming ends up being a disaster, and Faye deals with the consequences on her own once again.

Word Count: 1.1k

Category: Angst

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Lucas Thomas x F!OC (Yun Faye) (Eventually) mentions of Stacy Green x F!MC (Tallulah Hunter)

CW: Major character death, grief, trauma, strong language

Book: It Lives Anthology

Silence.

As the first specs of dawn begin to lighten Mr. Red’s—Jane’s fort, the seven friends get up one by one, their fancy clothes torn to shreds. After checking each other out, Dan is the one to address the elephant in the room.

“Guys… where’s Tallulah?”

“And Faye—,” Andy is not capable of finishing the sentence, for a soul-wrenching scream ripples through the woods.

All suddenly going into fight or flight mode for Faye, they all march into the keep again, to where the screams are the loudest.

“LULA!!” Faye keeps crying out. “Wake up, Lula! Don’t do this to me, please!!” She begs.

Andy’s the first one to get to it, and he immediately freezes. Lucas grimaces in pain and looks away, and Ava holds rageful tears. Lily quietly sobs at the image, Dan closes his eyes in defeat and pain, and Stacy drops to her knees, her hand on her mouth.

The scene before them is Faye, trying to get a dead Tallulah to move. She’s crying out her name “I know you’re there, Lula, wake up!” She sobs “Please! I take it back! I take it all back, just wake up!”

Lucas tries to get Faye away from her dead body “Faye, she’s gone—,”

“SHUT UP, LUCAS!” She bellows. Lucas grimaces. The sweet girl who was telling him the sweetest things was gone. Now, a raging and pained seventeen-year-old girl was there, cradling her childhood best friend’s dead body.

Stacy tentatively approaches the scene, and tenderly grabs Tallulah’s hand. She presses her two fingers on her wrist, and declares with a pained tone “She’s dead, guys. Noah killed him.”

She regrets it, for Faye perks up “That ungrateful little rat—where is he?! I demand an eye for an eye!”

She is vengeful. She is angry. She’s hurt, and alone. Terribly alone.

“Faye—,”

Andy, despite his broken leg, is capable of taking a hold from Faye “Do not stoop to his level, Faye. Vengeance creates more vengeance.” He takes a deep breath “Lula’s gone, Faye. She saved us, somehow. Let’s make her death not be in vain, hm?”

Faye stands there, with her frilly pink dress, before she drops to her knees and starts sobbing uncontrollably. This is the worst day for her. The guy she’s been in love with since they were seven doesn’t like her back, her best friend’s dead and her group will fall apart once again due to Jane. She had a way of ruining things even before her death. It all came back to her in the end. Jane, and her childish desire to play with danger. Jane, and her unwanted leadership of the group. Jane, and her obvious favouritism for Tallulah. Jane. Jane, Jane, Jane. Could one resent someone who had been dead for ten years?

The sounds of police sirens and concerned parents brought everyone back to reality. Lily gently took Faye outside. The morning sun blinded her. Her dress was covered in blood, and had fallen in a sepulchral silence.

One by one, everyone’s parents rushed towards their children. Faye’s mother tried talking to her, but she couldn’t say a word. She was numb, feeling like this was all a bad nightmare.

Only the cries of horror and pain of Mrs. Hunter brought her to reality. Faye had lost a friend, but kind Mrs. Hunter had lost a child. Her only child. As the images of the night flooded Faye’s mind, she felt her knees giving in and falling into exhaustion and grief.

The only thing she remembers is her father calling out her name, his footsteps running towards her.

A year later

Faye had done her best to dress for the memorial. She had a black dress that Lula once said that was cute and would love to see her in. She did her best to put on some concealer, blush and a nude lipstick.

Everyone would be there. Including Lucas. Whom she definitely saw making out with Tallulah in the office of Britney’s father. After Lula figured out that Faye had been in love with him.

Shaking off said thought, she walked to the memorial, and many had shown up to the memorial. All the seats were taken, except one… beside Lucas. Not wanting to break down, she silently sat down beside him and started fussing with her hands, like she did when she had many emotions that she couldn’t control.

She saw Connor Green, who’d speak for her. She had e-mailed him her speech for him to read. She would’ve read it at prom, but of course, Jane ruined everything even from the grave. Giving her a nod, after his opening of remembering those who had died, he started.

“I want to begin by saying that this speech is not mine, and I am only a messenger. Today was supposed to be the best day of our lives. What would’ve been the beginning of a journey together ended up in blood, and there isn’t a day where I don’t think about what could’ve been had we been more careful with what we do in the dark. I always pictured all of us, side-by-side, welcoming our eighteenth birthdays, cheering and laughing. But it cannot be, for the one who held us together is sadly in heaven. There are many things left unsaid, and so many things I could do if I could see you again: hug you, cry, yell at you for being a hero, and hug you all over again. Together, we went through so much. There was nobody who knew me more deeply than you, and despite our differences, I always stood loyal to you. And when I thought I could have my sister back, you were taken from me. And, if I could go back, I’d offer myself in a minute. Because if someone deserved to graduate and be celebrated, it was you, Lula. You earned it. But it was taken from you. And you were taken from me, and the people who loved you like life itself. But I won’t waste my words with these things. Let me tell you three things: I love. I’m sorry. I take it all back.”

They all stood in respectful silence, fully knowing that those were Faye’s words. As the video of Lula and Stacy played out, Lucas asked “I… caused the rift between you and Lula, didn’t I?”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she stood up and ran. She ran, and ran, and ran until she found Lula’s house. The garden where they’d play. Where she found out she liked Lucas. And where she last saw Lula alive. She dropped to her knees, the past and present weighing on her, and promised herself “Your death won’t be meaningless. I will live for both of us the life we used to fantasise about here. I promise, Lula.”

[honourablejester]

A random collection of my favourite PF2e (legacy and remastered) ancestry feats:

Collapse (Skeleton). As a reaction of suffering a crit, you can make like a cartoon xylophone skeleton and collapse into a pile of bones instead, taking normal damage and being unable to act except to reform into a standing skeleton again. This is such a cartoon move, and I love it.

Kneecap (Goblin). This may be the short person spite over here, but I just love little guys kneecapping bigger guys to slow them down. Everybody’s shorter than you when they’re on the floor!

Innocuous, Easily Dismissed (Halfling). You know that thing in Assassin’s Creed where you ‘blend into a crowd’ and despite the fact that you’re still a white-clad hooded assassin in broad daylight, the guards suddenly don’t see you? Halflings are good at that. They good at looking innocent and they’re good at blending into the background, and I love that about them.

Forlorn (Elf). “Watching your friends age and die fills you with moroseness that protects you against harmful emotions.” Comparative mortality makes some elves so emo that they’re resistant to artificial influences on their emotions. Which. You do you, guys!

Right Hand Blood (Gnoll). Borrowing from the myths of your people, you can use blood from your right side to aid medicine checks, but blood from your left side causes them to auto-fail. I just. I love the mythology of this. The sense of a living, embodied folklore.

Plague Sniffer (Ratfolk). If you’re a long-nosed rat, you can smell disease. No notes, I just love this. A lot of the ratfolk feats, are they useful, maybe not, but they really do fulfil the fantasy of playing a rat.

Gaping Flesh (Fleshwarp). If you came to the Fleshwarp for body horror, this is the feat for you! If someone hits you, the sight of your wound yawning open appalls and sickens them. It’s a great little vengeful ‘honey I have seen so much worse’ sort of vibe. Although all the Fleshwarp feats are so fun and lovecraftian. I adore them so much.

Crystal Luminescence (Kashrishi). First thing to know about me, I like shiny things. The little psychic crystal unicorn people (best. ancestry. ever) can make their crystal horns go glowy, and it’s everything my tiny childhood unicorn-loving self could want.

In a similar vein, Halo (Nephilim). Exactly what it says on the tin! You get a halo that sheds light. I want it. This is why I love Crown of Stars in 5e. I just want shiny things on my head!

Then, to finish up, if I’m picking a favourite dwarven feat … I am tempted by Echoes in Stone (tremorsense) and Defy the Darkness (you think you can make the darkness magical and have it beat me? I’m a dwarf, sugarplum. Try again), but I think the award for most dwarfy dwarven feat has to go to Dwarven Doughtiness. Yes, the magic of stone and all that, but at the base of everything, dwarves are just too stubborn to stay scared, and I love that about them.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

oh my godddd dude holy shit fuck okay taking a break from worm reading to send u an ask about william wight because goddamn i need 2 talk abt him. hello!!!!!!! feeling SO unwell about the clarences cape but red thing. awesome.

OKAY U HAVE LIKE. THE MOST PERFECT TIMING IN THE WORLDDD because literally on . tuesday this week my freak week art got a random note out of nowhere and made me start thinking about the villains again and thinking about william wight specifically because i love him a lot. ok. so its always ALWAYS been my assumption that. this is the version of william who mal got his greasy little claws in.

william fell off the cliff and died. the wisps chose him, and he came back. mal, who has been obsessively watching the wisps since clarence's death, sensed them choosing the next whisperer and swooped in before william could even stand back up. hes disoriented, hes scared, everything hurts, hes at a bottom of a cliff and he honestly doesnt even know if hes alive or not anymore, and this stranger walks out of the forest and offers a chance to explain everything. wiwi mystery brain! he knows this is weird but he also knows like.... i dont know whats happening maybe i AM dead and this is just... waht the afterlife is like. so he goes with mal. william wisp the 16 yr old from deadwood is. well. dead. he went missing, nobody ever found his body, his family mourned him.

meanwhile the whole time mallard conway was taking william wight under his wing and training him to be a replacement. mal calls him whisperer, william is in his rebellious teen phase and wants to be called something cooler which is why he named himself Wight (a type of vengeful spirit. specifically one who was once alive and then was brought back from the dead. lol) william is still! technically half alive. so being in the spirit world for extended amounts of time (which is NOT something mortals are supposed to do, planeswalker or not,) kind of broke his brain a little bit? which is why Wight is LIke That.

williams whole thing when he was alive was solving mysteries and chasing down monsters, so that became (and forgive my use of dp fanon here, i have to) his Obsession. (obsession with a capital O because its.. ghost logic. whatever a ghost died doing becomes their core motivation in the afterlife etc etc dp fanon not sorryyyyy) so he has this. uncanny obsession for tracking down monsters when hes out of the spirit world. being separated from the spirit world for any amount of time kind of drives him nuts, hes so used to being around the dead that being around the living for extended periods of time is unsettling. hes super paranoid. he inherits mal's need for total control over a situation, which is why hes so lax about possessing people with the wisps to get them to do what he wants.

perfect that his best friend turns out to be the absolutely diehard loyal guard dog. (side note here i think he also has williams super high pain tolerance from dead nerves so he lets kota gnaw on his arms and shit) . virion is a mystery to him and he LOVES it, he cant figure this guy out, hes like an endlessly fascinating puzzle to crack open. studying him like a lab rat on a dissection table.

i think about him a normal amount. as you can tell.

Mac i am TOO FUCKING DRUNK to peroperly respond to this but oh my god. oh my godddd yehah. the obsession thing???????? Hello??????? putting that in my pocket!!!!!! ohhgh he’s paranoid being around living people he’s a control freak he’s sooo fucjed up <33333333 he absolutely lets kota chew on him like a chew toy <3 and he can’t get a proper read on virion so he’s obsessed w trying to peel back his layers and learn as much as he can!!! throwing ashe into the mix is like. doubly fascinating for him. bc i think villain ashe would b secretive enough about his civilian identity to intrigue william(<<wants to disguise that he could possibly have any connection to wavelength the hero) and wiwi is INVESTED in trying to figure out him and virion!! what r their secrets!!! he NEDSS TO KNOW!!!!!!! to me his vibes r kinda like the weylin twins. u feel me