#but isn’t that proof enough that she is the very OPPOSITE OF NORMAL

[itspileofgoodthings]

Porfiry telling Raskolnikov that at least he was honest and in one bound took the furthest leap to put his theory to the test of actual action——

[forasecondtherewedwon]

It's Enough, It's Enough - chapter four

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: E Chapter: 4 / 6

Summary: Five times Jane and Guildford pretend to have sex, and one time it’s for real.

read on tumblr: one | two | three

Seymour is such a dastardly prick that Guildford has felt no compunction about hating him, even before his attempted ambush at the stables. He doesn’t like that man being around his wife. Not that Jane will remain his wife. That’s not the important bit. Mainly, Guildford does not trust Seymour. The upside of having frequented the taverns wherein he built his overblown reputation for rakishness and revelry is that Guildford knows how to spot the bad sort. And Seymour is a supreme rotter.

The trick with that sort of man, Guildford knows, is not to attempt to outfox him at his own game—it’s to leave off with political maneuvering and just pick his fucking pockets. Clean and simple. Thankfully, Seymour has a certain penchant for heavy cloaks and flapping robes. These are garments that hang and bulk away from the body, making him an unusually easy mark for Guildford’s quick hands and darting reach.

Jane has told him about locked chests and boxes, so Guildford’s hoping to pluck a key from Seymour’s pocket. Because it might be quite a small one, he gives this search several attempts, putting himself in repeated close contact with the foul man. It’s tedious. It’s worse than tedious: Seymour is a slippery git, the mere sight of whom at the opposite end of a corridor is enough to make Guildford’s teeth grind together. Nevertheless, he makes his attempts, knowing Jane would do as much for him.

Jane doesn’t know, by the way. He decided before he began that she wouldn’t know unless he was successful. Best not to have her worry needlessly.

Eventually, Guildford’s fingers close around something, but it isn’t metal, it’s paper. He can’t wait to read it, stealing into an alcove and unfolding the page right then. Unfortunately, slippery Seymour’s written the damn thing in code (of course he fucking has, the shithead). Fortunately, it’s a code Guildford recognizes.

He looks for an opportunity to reveal his discovery to Jane that night, but there’s never sufficient privacy and it begins to grow late. Though they can’t discuss this, she’s become his favourite person to spend time with, so he stays with her anyway, watching her work, watching her with her sisters. He tries not to think about the family they could have been, if she meant for this to last. Eventually, all the others have gone to bed and there’s just her and him, sitting opposite one another by the fire. He thinks an even more dangerous thought: that it is so very tempting to stay. Jane is tired and kind enough to swear she isn’t tired at all, that she can talk, that he should keep his seat. Guildford is seduced by the fact of her being his wife, of the scene they make, looking so utterly regular and not like a queen and her horse consort. A normal husband could fall asleep here. He wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen if he failed to wake and creep outside before the dawn. A normal husband could watch his wife drop off to sleep in his arms, not on the other side of the table between them. He could watch her eyes open the following morning with sunlight streaming across the bed they share, feel her first stirrings in the human arms that held her fast through the night.

It's pointless dreaming.

“Go to bed,” he urges with a smile, and stands to take his leave.

For now, he stows the stolen note in the stables.

—

There’s time the next night—time to sit with Jane and explain about the cipher wheel and how he stayed up translating Seymour’s paper. The contents don’t exactly provide incriminating evidence about what happened to King Edward, but they are proof of revoltingly close ties between Seymour and Princess Mary. Guildford attempts to gloss over this in summary, focusing on what they might yet gain if they can get their hands on more of the correspondence, but Jane is keen to know everything he knows. She snatches the letter straight from his hand. As its original pickpocketer, Guildford has to admire the shortcut.

“When I stand before you in my father’s fur-trimmed robe, the same robe depicted in the portrait which stands sentinel over all our erotic acts,” Jane reads, only to interrupt herself with a noise of disgust. “Mary wears King Henry’s clothes while she and Seymour…? Ugh.”

“I know,” Guildford agrees. “Vile.”

But the words, with which he is already familiar, didn’t unsettle him on paper nearly as much as they do coming out of Jane’s mouth. He knows everything the note contains. Will she read all of it? His hands clench into anxious fists, wanting her to stop, needing her to go on.

“The kiss of its lining on my skin is as sweet to me as your voice in the throes of passion, when I know you will exclaim, ‘Mercy, good lady!’ to no avail as I spank your cheeks crimson with gauntlets of war.” Jane laughs and glances at him. “No wonder Seymour thought us tame.”

He has no chance to respond before she continues on to the part which he most fears and craves to her to speak aloud.

“When you can hardly stand, I will make you lie beneath me while I t-take”—Jane stumbles, but her pride (he assumes) prevents her from quitting in the middle of a sentence—“my pleasure.”

It’s clear she won’t read any further. She’s flushed red, and, yes, Guildford hates Seymour (hates Mary too, though that would be treasonous to say), but he’s perversely grateful for the filthy correspondence. If he forgets about that pair of lunatics and concentrates on Jane’s soft voice, it’s much harder to laugh. Hearing Jane say she would make him lie beneath her while she took her pleasure isn’t funny in the slightest. It’s all too evocative.

But he shouldn’t say it, so he won’t.

What Guildford does say is, “There will be more letters.”

“Undoubtedly,” Jane says, folding that one up. “Which means we get to discover if Seymour is equally verbose.”

“Hopefully about more relevant matters.”

“Yes.” As Jane looks away, he sees her blush deepen.

—

Later the same night, they shut themselves in the room with the chest. Though that item is still locked up tight, the room is filled with stacks of documents and other, smaller chests and boxes—plenty for them to rifle through, making sure nothing is overlooked. A weasel like Seymour has his hiding places, but Guildford wouldn’t put it past the man to also be so arrogant, so confident in his success, as to leave something important out in the open, certain it would go undetected by the eyes of the less cunning.

It really is very late. Guildford assumes Jane would usually be asleep by now. And him? He would be lying in his bed in the stables, most likely not sleeping but trying to, kept awake by the memory of how her hair smelled. He thinks about that night—the night when she sat astride him and put on a very convincing show for their peeping parents—more than he should. Most likely, it will ruin him when she leaves. It’s not the money. It’s never been the money. What Guildford expects to miss is how close they came.

God, that’s enough. He feels pathetic mourning her in this way. She isn’t dead. His heart should know the bloody difference.

He busies himself with the task at hand, as does Jane. Beginning side by side at its head, they circle the table, inspecting both sides of every page their determined hands encounter. In Guildford's opinion, the place is rather a sty—and if anyone should know, it's the man who sleeps in the stables. It takes effort to put everything back as sloppily as they find it, making it all look undisturbed. They check the chairs and floor as well, in case anything might have dropped. Now and then, they glance at one another to wordlessly inquire about progress, but mostly, there is just the sound of pages rustling, leather folios slapping open and shut, and the two of them breathing.

Having assumed most of the palace would be asleep, they're alarmed by footsteps in the corridor outside. Guildford rushes to meet Jane at the table's far end; there's no point hiding in such a small room, so it's better to be facing the door if anyone comes through it. But how will they explain their presence?

"The candle," he says, and Jane leans far forward to extinguish the flame they lit at the table's center.

With a quick gust of breath, it goes out. They're plunged into a darkness that doesn't last, their eyes adjusting to the cold radiance of moonlight pouring through the window. Jane straightens up, her back brushing her chest. In the dark, Guildford rests a steadying hand on her shoulder. She places her fingers over his. Then, they try to not even breathe, praying the steps will pass them by.

No such luck.

The door isn't locked, but it's sturdy and hanging on slanted hinges. These conditions cause it to make crooked contact with the floor instead of being suspended slightly above, allowing the door to be wedged shut if some force is applied. Guildford applied that force cautiously, working slowly so as not to make a racket, and whoever is on the other side of that door now does the same. The slow scrape is chilling.

"Guildford," Jane whispers urgently.

They have seconds.

It takes less than one of them for Guildford to choose a tactic.

"Trust me," he commands instead of asking, then puts a hand on Jane's lower back and presses her forward until she's bent over the table once again.

Not only does she not protest, she hefts her skirts in her arms. He helps her to expose the back of her chemise, though that won't be visible to the intruder around her gathered skirts. Hastily, Guildford unbuttons his leather breeches and tugs them partway down his thighs. With Jane canted over the table and his hips shoved quickly forward, his body curved over his wife's, a couple who selected a rather odd place for a tryst should be all they appear to—

"Princess Mary!" Jane gasps.

Holding her own candlestick high to throw light into the chamber, Mary looks about as surprised to see the two of them as they are to see her. Guildford anticipated her paramour. He would never have thought a woman known to be prone to nasty, rodential smiles in public and bitter fits when she believes herself out of earshot would be capable of such subtle entry. She makes Guildford's skin crawl, and he shudders behind Jane.

"My apologies... Your Majesty," Mary spits, baldly reluctant to use Jane's title and chokingly insincere. Her gaze darts to the chest and she appears relieved to find it shut. Her eyes also sweep the table, but it is impossible for her to make a thorough catalogue. Nor can she accuse them aloud. By rights, these pages belong to Jane, this room to Jane, this entire palace to Jane, as Mary is but a guest of the Queen. As much as a spider is a guest in a pitcher of milk, or a flea a guest in the seam of a jacket.

Jane stands with dignity (he mimes a fleet withdrawing and yanks up his breeches), but does not move away from Guildford. Instead, she takes him by the hand. He feels himself strengthened by their united front. They face this woman who, whether or not she acted against King Edward, almost certainly wants the new monarch dead, that she might reign herself. Jane is most vulnerable, yet she maintains her position between Guildford and the threat.

"What business brings you here?" Jane questions.

Mary's gaze moves lazily from her cousin to Guildford.

"A sickening feeling," she says, "that something was amiss."

"The only thing amiss is your presence. You see my husband and I want privacy. Leave us."

Mary's look as she inclines her head in deference is venomous, but she does as ordered and departs. There is no other reasonable action for her to take. No doubt driven by spite, she leave the door ajar. While Jane sighs in shaky relief, Guildford crosses the room to put his shoulder to the door, jamming it back into place.

"Did you mark how she looked at the chest?" Guildford checks, turning to face Jane again. "She appeared only perfunctorily interested in the visible papers, but Seymour might not have—"

The remainder of his speech is lost to the abrupt pressure of his wife's mouth on his. The way she gives her weight to him to catch and hold says she is kissing him in sheer relief. Another narrow escape.

Though that might be her feeling, Guildford's side of the kiss is infused with excitement about witnessing his wife exercise her authority over her detestable cousin. In his arms, Jane's relief in thwarting Mary feels enough like giving in to the simmering thing between them that he meets her mouth ravenously. She lets him. She accepts him. After scant moments, she equals his fervour. When Jane moans into his mouth, Guildford catches her jaw between his finger and thumb, enforcing her stillness so he might kiss her soundly. Deep and unhurried. Jane's legs seem almost to melt beneath her, but her arms hold him tightly, her fingers twisting into his hair.

Guildford wrenches his face back. Through tingling lips, he pants, "Jane. Jane, you said we would not..."

"We won't," she swears. "We're not."

But he sees her kiss-plumped lips and soft, persuasive gaze, and he knows this will not be one of the times they can end this easily. There's a difference, he thinks when their lips seal together again, between being helpless and not wanting to be helped. He isn't helpless to stop Jane, but he's tired—oh-so-tired—of being her conscience. Why should he continually advise her away from doing what at least part of her (and all of him) is dying to give in to? He's no adviser, he's her consort, ergo he'd prefer they did more consorting. Particularly in the middle of the night like this, drunk on triumph.

He fills his hands with Jane's skirts for the second time that night, though the first time in passion instead of pretense, and backs her towards the long table. When they reach it, Guildford lifts her onto the edge, encouraging Jane's legs apart to let him stand between them. She sighs, running a hand down his neck. His manhood is swollen to readiness as he presses his hips to hers.

That's when she murmurs, "Should we stop?"

"Do you want to stop?" Guildford counters, not to persuade her but to entreat Jane to be honest with herself. He releases his hold on her legs and grips the table edge.

But perhaps his rational wife isn't ready to trust her instincts. He won't attempt to convince her; he doesn't want to win her that way. After everything, he's surprised to discover that he cares how she sees him, and that he wants her to see him as a good choice. Guildford recognizes this might be unrealistic, since he wasn't any kind of choice for her, their marriage arranged by a pair of opportunists. When Jane is ready—when she allows herself to be—he doesn't want to look at her and read in her face that she came to him after suppressing her better judgement. He won't be the devil in her ear. She's thrown enough names at him: vagabond, brigand, knave, rake (repeatedly rake). He couldn't care less if that's what others think of him, but he wants to be sure Jane knows better.

"No," she says, then admits, "Yes," with a regretful wince, as he thought she would.

"It's alright," he tells her. He steps back to give her room to stand.

"You understand?"

Guildford chuckles. "I didn't say that, but until you do, it's alright."

"What don't I understand?" Jane asks defensively.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I trust you to tell me when you figure it out."

She looks as though she's deciding whether to find this insulting. Guildford returns her look levelly. Finally, Jane elects to let the comment pass. They've been doing more of this, he's noticed: lengthening one another's tether. Bickering less, or at least more strategically. Accepting that, every so often, the other person might have a point. It's softened the sharp edges they seemed to have at the start, when every cut was interpreted as intentional. The bite is something different now, something that makes him want to get closer instead of drawing back.

Guildford lets them out of the room, then escorts Jane to her bedchamber. He longs to linger in the doorway, casting suggestive looks into the room, but he finds his restraint. The task is monumental enough to deserve a special honour bestowed by the Queen. Maybe he'll tell her someday. Maybe he'll pretend to remember overcoming his desire to bed his wife as the greatest challenge of this stage of his life. He'll wave aside her recollections of Mary and Seymour and assassins in the woods and division in the kingdom, and say, Yes, but recall how I suffered before you deigned to want me back? She'll argue, of course (because they'll still be arguing then), not that he didn't suffer, but that she always wanted him, even when he didn't believe it.

He studies her for a final few seconds to see if this might be true before realizing it's no more fair for him to make assumptions about Jane in the future than for her to make assumptions about him in the present. He won't then. He'll only hope that she is there.

[zaebeecee]

Re: Blitzø’s self loathing and Apology Tour

tl;dr I hate when writing gets stupid and turns characters into assholes because the writers have to keep characters miserable for story purposes

I understand that part of Apology Tour is showcasing how mentally and emotionally exhausting it can be to continually try and prop up someone who is so determined to be self-defeating. But, while I appreciate the message, it kind of fell flat for me at this point in HB and I’m gonna tell you why because I’ve been thinking about this a lot:

Zero people outside of Cash and Barbie know all of the reasons that Blitzø hates himself, and the fact that Stolas acts like he understands is bullshit.

Stolas never met Cash, and he wasn’t privy to the conversation where his father bought Blitzø for $5 and a slim fit condom. The other members of I.M.P. know Blitzø was in the circus, but they might not even know it burned down, let alone how it happened. Fizz doesn’t know Tilla was killed in that fire, and might not even know that she’s dead at all.

Blitzø was sold like an object for “whatever Paimon’s butler had on him”, and then was emotionally manipulated into committing a crime that he would have been executed for if he was caught. He inadvertently caused that fire because he was extremely upset after watching his father (who clearly abused him at least emotionally and was constantly forcing him to prove that he loved his own family) give his best friend/crush a card that said he wished Fizz was his son (‘instead’ heavily implied). And no, this is no excuse for Blitzø’s behavior as an adult, but it is very clear that he was abused as a child and no one outside of his immediate family either noticed or cared.

And can we talk about the fire for a second? Obviously, the most tragic part is what happened to Tilla and Fizz; the fact that Blitzø believes he murdered his mother, one of the only people who has ever known him and loved him simultaneously, and mutilated his best friend because of some subconscious jealousy bullshit, is enough to break a normal person. But that isn’t all that happened. That circus was both the livelihood and the home of everyone who worked there. The fire completely destroyed the lives of everyone there. And what about the circus animals? How many of them died because the employees were too busy getting themselves and each other out to even bother with the animals who were likely locked in cages?

Don’t get me wrong, Blitzø needs to talk to someone about this. He needs therapy, very badly. But that isn’t what’s upsetting me.

The two things that are upsetting me are the fact that Stolas was so dismissive when Blitzø actually managed to admit he had self loathing issues (he didn’t manage to say it to Fizz), and the fact that Stolas treated Blitzø like he was being an asshole for not treating an annual party dedicated to hating him and burning him in effigy like it was proof people care about him.

During the first scene of AT, Blitzø asks if Stolas wants him to admit that he struggles with apologies because he hates himself, and Stolas says “well, yes” like this is old ground that they’ve trodden many times before. But it isn’t. Blitzø has had very few moments of emotional vulnerability in the show (crying on the couch in front of Loona, apologizing to Fizz, and confronting Barbie in front of Moxxie are the only instances I can think of). But the rest of the time, he presents himself as the most self-assured asshole you’ve ever met, someone who’s too full of himself and too arrogant to consider that other people might have feelings or that he himself could ever be wrong. And this is very bad, but Blitzø’s problems stem from the fact that everyone thinks he is the literal opposite of self-loathing.

The closest Stolas got to seeing real vulnerability from Blitzø was when he was terrified of going on camera, but that was stage fright, and Stolas never even asked why he stopped performing or became scared of doing it, and Blitzø got over it very quickly once he was out there (as is typical of performers and stage fright). The Full Moon was the first time Stolas saw that level of emotional vulnerability from Blitzø, and by the very next morning, he was acting like they’d already been through this a thousand times.

I don’t know what’s being suggested here, because they’re both kind of terrible. Either Stolas never noticed that Blitzø hates himself and, once Blitzø admits it, he doesn’t really care; or Stolas noticed before the admission, and he did absolutely nothing about it.

And, my god, fuck the sentiment of “this house is full of people who cared so much that they throw a party every year dedicated to hating you”. Not only was Blitzø’s point that he was struggling to believe royalty could care about someone as socially “low” as him (as well as someone like Stolas caring about someone who is as much of an asshole as Blitzø knows he is), there is nothing affirming about being hated. Some of the people at that party had interacted with Blitzø for, like, 30 minutes, and we know this because he made out with Dennis once and then rejected him and this was apparently enough to get Dennis to the party. If Stolas actually does care about Blitzø and knows that he hates himself, why would it be anything but a terrible idea to point out to him “yeah, your self-loathing is completely warranted, because this party is fucking packed with people who also despise you and they didn’t even need to know you for more than a few minutes to decide you were so awful that getting together every year for the express purpose of hating you was a good idea”?

Both Stolas and Blitzø were terrible in Apology Tour, but Blitzø was at least the same kind of terrible he’s been for most of the show, with the added benefit of seeing that it’s a mask that’s quickly cracking. And no, obviously, Stolas is under no obligation to either listen to Blitzø or forgive him, clearly. And Stolas was well within his right to go dance with or fuck that handsome incubus. But for Stolas to listen to his vulnerability and then dismiss it, for him to listen to Blitzø apologize and then ignore it, for him to refuse to acknowledge that Blitzø put himself in a very physically and emotionally dangerous position by coming to that party just to talk to Stolas, is bullshit. And, outside of the song in the episode, Stolas also seems to be doing absolutely zero self-reflection on what parts of the Full Moon conversation going wrong might have been his fault.

As someone who sometimes struggles with self-loathing, I understand that it can be difficult on my loved ones and I’m not saying Blitzø shouldn’t own the parts of this struggle that are within his control. But I really need Stolas to recognize that he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t know Blitzø the way he thinks he does, and that if he wants to have any chance of understanding he has to at least try and listen before Blitzø stops trying to open up to him.

I know this is a writing problem. I know the writers are trying to maintain the status quo of their breakup, and apparently the only way they can do that and still have them interact is by making both of them unbearable. But Blitzø confronting and dealing with his feelings about himself is one of the core themes of the show, and it’s infuriating to see his love interest be so flippant about it from the moment he even learns about it.

[danpuff-ao3]

Snarry Soulmates (Rec List)

Snarry = soulmates.

No, really! See? I have proof!

i.e. here, have a collection of fics where Snarry are, in fact, soulmates. (Which is basically canon, but y'know, whatever.) (Some people need convincing, you know?)

Corresponding Shapes

by bleedcolor (@bleedcolor.) Rated T. 5k. Soulmarks. Soul bond.

For a very long time he hadn’t known what the names meant. He’d woken up the morning of his 7th birthday and there they were; red as blood, one more thing to brand him as a freak in the eyes of his aunt and uncle.

Red Strings

by emeraldlove (@givereadersahug.) Rated T. 6k. Red string of fate.

Their magic is vibrantly red and brilliant. She just not sure what to make of Harry Potter and Professor Snape being soulmates and what it means for the wizarding world. Outsider POV.

Waiting to Divide

by emynn. Rated E. 22k. Soul bond. Time travel. Podfic available (by JocundaSykes.)

Harry always thought soul mates were the domain of overly-soppy romantics. What he didn't realise was that they were very real, very dangerous, and very inconvenient...especially when your soul mate is the very dead Severus Snape. Fortunately, with the help of his friends and a Time Portal, he's able to get past that pesky obstacle...and finds his life completely changed.

The Space Between Failing and Falling

by JocundaSykes. Rated E. 45k. Soulmarks. Podfic available.

A very long time ago, Severus resigned himself to the reality that he doesn’t have a soulmate after all. He’s finally a real Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and his life is perfectly tolerable, thank you very much.

However, at the age of thirty-nine, it seems his soulmate has come of age. He will ignore this new development and carry on as he always has.

World Enough, and Time

by Likelightinglass (@likelightinglass.) Rated T. 6k. Soulmarks. Angst with a happy ending.

Soulmate clocks start ticking when you first lock eyes, and count down until your time with them is over. Harry’s starts ticking on September 1st, 1991. He has only six years, eight months, and one day.

Advanced Lunacy

by Lilian. Rated M. 6k. Soulmarks. Dreamsharing.

Luna accidentally discovers something, and now the whole Wizarding World is abuzz about it. Meanwhile, Snape keeps appearing in Harry's dreams frequently.

Finders Keepers

by Lilian. Rated T. 7k.

Soulmate AU from tumblr @the-rotten-prince: Imagine whenever you lose something, your soulmate winds up finding it. 

Severus Snape doesn't find a single thing until he's twenty. By that time, he has given up and ignores a young boy, when he arrives at Hogwarts.

Soulmate Flowers

by Lilian. Rated G. 4k. Soulmarks. Podfic available (by JodcundaSykes.) Also read Bloom (inspired work by hippocrates460; E, 1k.)

Whenever your soulmate touches you, flowers bloom on your skin. Snarry.

Property of the Half-Blood Prince

by Lomonaaeren. Rated M. 12k. Angst & romance. Soulmarks.

Harry indulges in an enormous eye-roll at the universe when he wakes up on his nineteenth birthday with “Property of the Half-Blood Prince” written on his neck like a collar. He goes on to live his life like normal, without being too upset about it—and without telling Snape, who he’s sure wants his freedom now.

Penance

by PettyPrince. Rated E. 36k. Magical AU.

Prompt fill: As Harry’s soulmate, it is up to Snape to raise him when Lily and James die. When Harry is finally old enough to complete the Bond, Snape isn’t sure he can go through with it with the boy who he has raised as a son.

Succor

by pluperfectsunrise. Rated E. 40k. Soulmarks. Female Harry.

Five times Severus Snape comforted Harry Potter, and one time Harry comforted him.

it's an inevitable

by swoons (@swoontodeath.) Rated E. 800. Soulmark. Underage. Voyeurism.

Severus Snape can be patient. He's spent six years watching and waiting, after all.

The Lover's Ghost

by Weightless. Rated T. 8k. Soulmarks. Angst & pining. Hurt/comfort.

During the war, Harry and Snape spend their nights alone, at opposite ends of a dining table, plagued by nightmares. As they draw into each other, Harry realises that perhaps Snape bearing his soul mark was what he had desired all along.

He Knew

by WordsAreTrulyBeautiful. Rated E. 13k. Fluff & smut. Patronuses.

Celebrations, misunderstandings, a large manor, the patronus charm, and a whole lot of pent up sexual tension.

Really, it's all Sirius's fault.

A Universe of Searching Souls

by Writcraft (@writcraft.) Rated E. 9k. Soulmark. Soul bond.

When the small, innocuous mark on Harry’s hip begins to cause him discomfort, he decides to go and visit the person who has a similar mark of their own. He’s fairly certain there must be some mistake, because the universe wouldn’t be daft enough to give Harry and Severus matching soul bond marks. Would it?

[icybreaths]

|| @characternerdocs || continued from here ||

Logan eyed the dripping coffee as she took the opposite seat of the ranger. She had a  thermos of her own dirty bean water, which was probably lukewarm by now, nowhere near the hot, fragrant, fresh pot that was brewing now.

But she wasn’t sent here to sample the local coffee. (She make that her second priority.)

She dragged her backpack in front of her feet as she began to rummage through its content, the dog that accompanied her attentively watched, perhaps in hopes Logan would produce a treat, or perhaps a toy. “Well, my assignment at your park was based on the odd and unexplained activities. But rangers being drunk, while not my area to looking to... isn’t ideal to hear.” As she straightened up in her seat once finding her documents, the hair the hung over the right side of Logan’s face shifted and for a fleeting moment the ranger could see the pink scarring where her eye had once been.

Logan handed over her licenses, ranging from calling her an anthropologist, a cryptozoologist, to a field researcher all of which were stamped and authorized by a Smithes Scholars’ Archives. “I hope that’s proof enough I’m not a fanatic.” A coy smirk raising her scarred lips as Logan reaches back into her bag. In truth Logan would call herself a fanatic, it still seemed strange and unreal to her she was employed to invested and study what “normal” people regarded as fakery and myth; finding proof in the legends her grandmother told her at bedtime. it was unbelievable, but Logan loved it. Still smiling to herself, she pulling out a pen and notebook, and a doggy biscuit she tossed to her now very pleased dog.  

“And you can call me Logan, if you like. And you? are you a stickler for the formality of Ranger Stone?”

“Hardly, it’s just the card I play ta new faces ta gauge ‘em.” Thankfully, Logan didn’t seem like she walked with a stick up her ass. “You’n call me Jewel.”

At a glance, one would think Jewel barely read through the files, but despite her casual leafing she skimmed with a careful eye. The information matched up with the agency Boss reached out to. “Looks good ta me, Logan.”

Handing the agent her files, Jewel stood and scooped her bottle up. She passively wondered what happened to her eye but thought it better not to ask. They’d only just met and it really wasn’t any of her business. Best to not delve into the personal lives of strangers, she concluded to herself.

“I s’pose we’ll get started then. Follow me.”

In her office, alphabetically organized files filled the wooden shelves that lined her walls at either side. Heading left, she knelt down to the S section and pulled its container out. “This’s the past happenin’s of supernatural occurrences this year. Some are jus’ reports from tourists but we got some in there from our own officers ‘ere as well. Some of ‘em got photos but don’t hold yer breath. A snow-caked fir and a yeti look pretty similar when all ya got’s adrenaline and a cruddy flashlight in the dead a’night.”

Plopping the file bin on her desk, Jewel parked it in her big, comfy chair and gave it a swivel as she perched a boot up on her work station. Gifting herself a long drag off her bottle, she gestured at the opposing bookcase. “You’n peek through those too. That one’s lined with missing persons and murders over the last century or so. Some of ‘em are… somethin’.”

“Matter fac’,” She added, “I should get on filin’ a report a’my own. Somethin’s been fuckin’ with my trail markers and I’ve about had it with whatever shit-stirrer’s out there. Human, creature, whatever. Need it gone because it’s makin’ my life a frostier hell than it needs ta be!”

[aplarently]

Meeting Ramattra

// Literally put a nonbiological being in front of me and I am RAVENOUS. 

# I love everything about this new hero already. I am the MOST hype. I have seen that others are going off about him as well. Couldn’t help myself. 

   Realistically, omnics aren’t very different from humans at all. We both ponder our own existence and share free will, clearly. We also similarly might be faithful to a creator or divine entity of some kind. (Ugh, I have been so existential lately so don’t get me started.) Like others here, I find Ramattra fascinating because of this sort of antagonistic ideology that all humans are horrible and nothing good could come of working with them. Which is fair. 

Have you seen the state of the world?

   Ramattra is rough around the edges, for sure. I don’t believe you can just fix a person who has experienced potential trauma and I’m not a fan of that way of thinking. However, I do think that time and some nurturing can soothe the hurt in others. 

(S/N): This took me a while. I was scraping up all the info I could before going in. IT IS MIDNIGHT WHAT. I cannot proof read this right now. Forgive me.

   Being on opposite sides is a good place to start. Surrounding yourself with beings that hold different world views is insightful and important to building strong relationships. No one is going to agree on everything and that isn’t always so bad as it can bring people closer in a strange way. 

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- You work as a behind-the-scenes operative at Overwatch; mostly as a radar systems engineer. Simply put, you check for any interference whether that be from above, below, or all around the surrounding base.

- Sojourn decided she liked you enough to put you to work in the east to work under some notable tech specialists.

- Despite that, a lot of this job involved a lot of late, dull nights by your lonesome staring at your monitors and just making sure nothing peculiar was happening on point. Of course the pay was phenomenal but your career really made you question what all the math was about in order to put yourself in this dimly lit cell of an operating room, twiddling your thumbs.

- One night on the job, you find yourself drifting off when suddenly you get a notification from your radar systems and jolt forward to confront an odd reading. There’s a feint red dot signaling an unknown entity in the surrounding area.

- This wasn’t that surprising as you would occasionally encounter one small dot and it would end up being an airdrop for supplies or something nonthreatening. However, that was in the early day usually and you would have your other coworkers with you to handle it as you were technically still a newbie on base.

- So to be honest, you’ve never actually gotten to this point in the job before and didn’t know how to handle this situation professionally. “Well.. fuck,” you mutter to yourself and decide that you should investigate regardless.

- Grabbing your jacket, you put on your ‘I know what I’m doing face’ and hop out of the operation deck to see what this potential intruder wants.

- This base in particular is a bit odd in it’s placement. It is a bit out in the middle of nowhere in Europe where it is typically raining which normally makes the radar quite hard to catch correctly anyway. 

- You secretly hope that that’s the problem this time.

- Upon exiting the base, the doors seal behind you and you pull out your handheld monitor from your jacket where it had been waiting before. With a few clicks, your small radar starts scanning the area as best it can in this windy atmosphere.

- You pull your hood up and pull out your flashlight to light your way through the darkness. Pressing forward, you squint to protect your eyes from the raindrops that threaten to impact them. 

- In the distance you see a low red glow where your radar is navigating towards and decide that this must be the interference. You raise your flashlight in the direction of the glow. 

- “Hello?” you try to project but the combination of the cold wind and pure nervousness made it difficult to do so. Your throat felt dry. “State your name,” you hear in response as you finally come face to face with an omnic kneeling on the ground. 

- You are taken aback first by how firm he was in speech but quickly realize there is another metal form lying lifeless before him. Disregarding his request from before, your initial feelings of fear turn to concern and it is evident in your tone “,What happened here?”

- He collects the body from the Earth and turns away from you in silence but doesn’t walk away. 

- “Unless this was your doing, this matter does not concern you, human.”

- He remains still as if expecting a confession or otherwise. You get a hint of an accusing tone in his statement and feel the desire to get defensive. 

- “I can assure you that I had no hand in this. I’m an engineer at Overwatch; I’m just trying to assist anywhere that I can,” you say as you put your device back into your pocket. You feel your stomach drop when you realize that you mentioned Overwatch at all. They didn’t exactly have the best reputation right now so it’s not a great idea to go throwing that around.

- You may have just signed your death warrant.

- He scoffs “, I’m not at all surprised at that. Of all the people to go around playing hero for the public, Overwatch holds the worst of them.”

- Trying to divert the conversation back to the matter at hand you shake your head “,I-I’m sorry, I really am just here to help. What are you doing with the body?” He holds pause for a moment. You notice his shoulders fall a bit as he sighs. “I’m collecting them to properly lay them to rest as well as all the others that your kind mercilessly slaughters,” he finishes as he starts to walk ahead.

- You feel your heart pang with a guilt as your expression grows softer. “I know this isn’t much but I know a peaceful, nice area we could bury them,” you say, half expecting him to just keep walking off in annoyance.

- He stops and pauses again but this time he hesitantly turns to you. It is hard to navigate at this hour and in this weather as it is. He hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead it seemed.

- “I... okay,” he finally says.

- You smile gently as he turns to follow your lead. “It’s (y/n), by the way,” you turn back towards him as you guide the two.

- “Ramattra,” he responds, but it sounds familiar to you. He spoke one last time and you almost barely heard it “,Thank you.” 

- The two of you continued to march on in silence.

[uomo-accattivante]

Excellent article about bringing a re-make of Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage to fruition, and the twenty-year friendship that Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain share:

There were days on the shoot for “Scenes From a Marriage,” a five-episode limited series that premieres Sept. 12 on HBO, when Oscar Isaac resented the crew.

The problem wasn’t the crew members themselves, he told me on a video call in March. But the work required of him and his co-star, Jessica Chastain, was so unsparingly intimate — “And difficult!” Chastain added from a neighboring Zoom window — that every time a camera operator or a makeup artist appeared, it felt like an intrusion.

On his other projects, Isaac had felt comfortably distant from the characters and their circumstances — interplanetary intrigue, rogue A.I. But “Scenes” surveys monogamy and parenthood, familiar territory. Sometimes Isaac would film a bedtime scene with his onscreen child (Lily Jane) and then go home and tuck his own child into the same model of bed as the one used onset, accessorized with the same bunny lamp, and not know exactly where art ended and life began.

“It was just a lot,” he said.

Chastain agreed, though she put it more strongly. “I mean, I cried every day for four months,” she said.

Isaac, 42, and Chastain, 44, have known each other since their days at the Juilliard School. And they have channeled two decades of friendship, admiration and a shared and obsessional devotion to craft into what Michael Ellenberg, one of the series’s executive producers, called “five hours of naked, raw performance.” (That nudity is metaphorical, mostly.)

“For me it definitely felt incredibly personal,” Chastain said on the call in the spring, about a month after filming had ended. “That’s why I don’t know if I have another one like this in me. Yeah, I can’t decide that. I can’t even talk about it without. …” She turned away from the screen. (It was one of several times during the call that I felt as if I were intruding, too.)

The original “Scenes From a Marriage,” created by Ingmar Bergman, debuted on Swedish television in 1973. Bergman’s first television series, its six episodes trace the dissolution of a middle-class marriage. Starring Liv Ullmann, Bergman’s ex, it drew on his own past relationships, though not always directly.

“When it comes to Bergman, the relationship between autobiography and fiction is extremely complicated,” said Jan Holmberg, the chief executive of the Ingmar Bergman Foundation.

A sensation in Sweden, it was seen by most of the adult population. And yes, sure, correlation does not imply causation, but after its debut, Swedish divorce were rumored to have doubled. Holmberg remembers watching a rerun as a 10-year-old.

“It was a rude awakening to adult life,” he said.

The writer and director Hagai Levi saw it as a teenager, on Israeli public television, during a stint on a kibbutz. “I was shocked,” he said. The series taught him that a television series could be radical, that it could be art. When he created “BeTipul,” the Israeli precursor to “In Treatment,” he used “Scenes” as proof of the concept “that two people can talk for an hour and it can work,” Levi said. (Strangely, “Scenes” also inspired the prime-time soap “Dallas.”)

So when Daniel Bergman, Ingmar Bergman’s youngest son, approached Levi about a remake, he was immediately interested.

But the project languished, in part because loving a show isn’t reason enough to adapt it. Divorce is common now — in Sweden, and elsewhere — and the relationship politics of the original series, in which the male character deserts his wife and young children for an academic post, haven’t aged particularly well.

Then about two years ago, Levi had a revelation. He would swap the gender roles. A woman who leaves her marriage and child in pursuit of freedom (with a very hot Israeli entrepreneur in place of a visiting professorship) might still provoke conversation and interest.

So the Marianne and Johan of the original became Mira and Jonathan, with a Boston suburb (re-created in a warehouse just north of New York City), stepping in for the Stockholm of the original. Jonathan remains an academic though Mira, a lawyer in the original, is now a businesswoman who out-earns him.

Casting began in early 2020. After Isaac met with Levi, he wrote to Chastain to tell her about the project. She wasn’t available. The producers cast Michelle Williams. But the pandemic reshuffled everyone’s schedules. When production was ready to resume, Williams was no longer free. Chastain was. “That was for me the most amazing miracle,” Levi said.

Isaac and Chastain met in the early 2000s at Juilliard. He was in his first year; she, in her third. He first saw her in a scene from a classical tragedy, slapping men in the face as Helen of Troy. He was friendly with her then-boyfriend, and they soon became friends themselves, bonding through the shared trauma of an acting curriculum designed to break its students down and then build them back up again. Isaac remembered her as “a real force of nature and solid, completely solid, with an incredible amount of integrity,” he said.

In the next window, Chastain blushed. “He was super talented,” she said. “But talented in a way that wasn’t expected, that’s challenging and pushing against constructs and ideas.” She introduced him to her manager, and they celebrated each other’s early successes and went to each other’s premieres. (A few of those photos are used in “Scenes From a Marriage” as set dressing.)

In 2013, Chastain was cast in J.C. Chandor’s “A Most Violent Year,”opposite Javier Bardem. When Bardem dropped out, Chastain campaigned for Isaac to have the role. Weeks before shooting, they began to meet, fleshing out the back story of their characters — a husband and wife trying to corner the heating oil market in 1981 New York — the details of the marriage, business, life.

It was their first time working together, and each felt a bond that went deeper than a parallel education and approach. “Something connects us that’s stronger than any ideas of character or story or any of that,” Isaac said. “There’s something else that’s more about like, a shared existence.”

Chandor noticed how they would support each other on set, and challenge each other, too, giving each other the freedom to take the characters’ relationship to dark and dangerous places. “They have this innate trust with each other,” Chandor said.

That trust eliminated the need for actorly tricks or shortcuts, in part because they know each other’s tricks too well. Their motto, Isaac said, was, “Let’s figure this [expletive] out together and see what’s the most honest thing we can do.”

Moni Yakim, Juilliard’s celebrated movement instructor, has followed their careers closely and he noted what he called the “magnetism and spiritual connection” that they suggested onscreen in the film.

“It’s a kind of chemistry,” Yakim said. “They can read each other’s mind and you as an audience, you can sense it.”

Telepathy takes work. When they knew that shooting “Scenes From a Marriage” could begin, Chastain bought a copy of “All About Us,” a guided journal for couples, and filled in her sections in character as Mira. Isaac brought it home and showed it to his wife, the filmmaker Elvira Lind.

“She was like, ‘You finally found your match,’” Isaac recalled. “’Someone that is as big of a nerd as you are.’”

The actors rehearsed, with Levi and on their own, talking their way through each long scene, helping each other through the anguished parts. When production had to halt for two weeks, they rehearsed then, too.

Watching these actors work reminded Amy Herzog, a writer and executive producer on the series, of race horses in full gallop. “These are two people who have so much training and skill,” she said. “Because it’s an athletic feat, what they were being asked to do.”

But training and skill and the “All About Us” book hadn’t really prepared them for the emotional impact of actually shooting “Scenes From a Marriage.” Both actors normally compartmentalize when they work, putting up psychic partitions between their roles and themselves. But this time, the partitions weren’t up to code.

“I knew I was in trouble the very first week,” Chastain said.

She couldn’t hide how the scripts affected her, especially from someone who knows her as well as Isaac does. “I just felt so exposed,” she said. “This to me, more than anything I’ve ever worked on, was definitely the most open I’ve ever been.”

“It felt so dangerous,” she said.

I visited the set in February (after multiple Covid-19 tests and health screenings) during a final day of filming. It was the quietest set I had ever seen: The atmosphere was subdued, reverent almost, a crew and a studio space stripped down to only what two actors would need to do the most passionate and demanding work of their careers.

Isaac didn’t know if he would watch the completed series. “It really is the first time ever, where I’ve done something where I’m totally fine never seeing this thing,” he said. “Because I’ve really lived through it. And in some ways I don’t want whatever they decide to put together to change my experience of it, which was just so intense.”

The cameras captured that intensity. Though Chastain isn’t Mira and Isaac isn’t Jonathan, each drew on personal experience — their parents’ marriages, past relationships — in ways they never had. Sometimes work on the show felt like acting, and sometimes the work wasn’t even conscious. There’s a scene in the harrowing fourth episode in which they both lie crumpled on the floor, an identical stress vein bulging in each forehead.

“It’s my go-to move, the throbbing forehead vein,” Isaac said on a follow-up video call last month. Chastain riffed on the joke: “That was our third year at Juilliard, the throb.”

By then, it had been five months since the shoot wrapped. Life had returned to something like normal. Jokes were possible again. Both of them seemed looser, more relaxed. (Isaac had already poured himself one tequila shot and was ready for another.) No one cried.

Chastain had watched the show with her husband. And Isaac, despite his initial reluctance, had watched it, too. It didn’t seem to have changed his experience.

“I’ve never done anything like it,” he said. “And I can’t imagine doing anything like it again.”

###

[thetravelerwrites]

Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine​​! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[phantomphangphucker]

INVISOBANG - Ectoplasmic Educational Employment (Quirky Danny Fenton The Teacher? More Likely Than You Think!)

And the stellar artists that made art for this little fic o’ mine!: 

lanaecomics: ART CHECK IT OUT

AND

Trash Shipper; ART CHECK IT OUT

---

Danny isn’t exactly a fresh graduate with a lot of options after Highschool. College wasn’t happening and where the Hell was going to hire him? Mr. Lancer and CasperHigh apparently. As what? As a teacher. A teacher on the subject of ghosts, because of course everything in Danny’s life will be ghost-related. But maybe ghosts, ghost society at large, and even the goddamn Observants will actually think this is, like, a good? thing. He also, apparently, doesn’t suck at it. He’s still weird, eccentric, partly dead, and goddamn eighteen though

Prologue: Employing The Unemployable

Danny never really expected to graduate, honest to goodness he did not, yet his chronically-tardy-randomly-disappearing-handing-shit-in-late-or-never ass has managed to get that stupid slip of paper that was nearly basic necessity to get any halfway decent job; which was, frankly, a load of horse crap. Half the shit school taught was useless and most of it he wasn’t going to remember in three days none the less a year from now; or however long it took to find a job that actually required said useless knowledge. Though really? that wasn’t something he actually had to worry about, seeing as there was basically a zero percent chance of him having anything close to something even resembling a ‘normal’ job.

He could work for his folks? Financially lucrative and everything regarding the subject of ghosts has been effectively beaten into his brain by this point. Whether it was due to being around it so often or to save his own hide from his folks' inventions. He could also arguably get a shady as shit job, he was definitely skilled at lying, hiding, sneaking around, playing a role, even stealing and fighting. Plus a subordinate who can shoot energy beams and turn invisible would probably be a mob bosses, or whatever’s, wet dream. But, uh, that was probably not the best idea in the world; especially when Amity didn’t even have mobs and drugs and shit really. And why would they? They had freaking ghosts. Also having hallucinogenics would just be fucking overkill at this point. Plus Vlad already filled the quota for ‘dangerous men in dark suits that smoke cigars and drink whiskey while planning peoples demise or manipulating them like chess pieces".

Getting a job at the Nasty Burger would be easy enough but he’d get fired so fast. Ditto for working at the town’s only hotel or the gas stations or the grocery store or literally anywhere else minimum wage. Honestly, how the fuck do any of those fictional movie heroes have non-heroing related jobs? Excluding the super-rich ones with public identities anyways. Unrealistic. Completely unrealistic.

Sighing and flopping down on his bed, at least his friends didn’t have this issue. Manson’s don’t work and Tuck’s dumbass has hacked every single security and tech company in at least their entire state so they were basically all scrambling to hire his hacker ass. Val has the Nasty Burger -not that she’d be staying there once she graduated- and not to mention having Vlad’s very very deep pockets at her disposal. Speaking of Val though... Danny chuckles up at the ceiling, “honestly it’s funny as Hell that Val got held back but I didn’t. I mean really? How the fuck did that happen?”, shaking his head and laughing quietly a little more. The rest of the Defect Quartet got a good laugh out of that. Sam and Tuck were never at risk of not graduating, it was just Val and his ass that was a worry. Eh whatever. At least Dash’s dumbass got held back too; not seeing that jocks blonde mug at graduation was goddamn euphoric. It truly, truly was.

Well for now, all Danny can really do is wait, enjoy not having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to go to school, and hope his folks don’t start go getting on his ass to get work that’s ‘normal’ so he has the experience. To be fair, him knowing what it’s like to work at a normal job would normally be a damn good idea, if he wasn’t a literal superhero who also just so happens to be kinda dead. Dead people shouldn’t have to work in his opinion, but life and deaths not fair so whatever. At least his poor abused bed was soft as shit though, that was something.

Danny nearly jumps out of his skin when his mom knocks on the door, jerking him out of his thoughts, “sweetie! It’s Mr. Lancer! He wants to talk to you!”. Oh Ancients fuck, why? Hopefully, graduation comes with a no tack backsies rule or something because that would be just his luck. Danny swings up his legs and gets up off his bed, mildly shouting, “coming!”. Popping open his door while his mom gives him a seriously judgemental ‘you better not have done something stupid’ raised eyebrow as she hands him the phone; him smiling sheepishly as he takes the phone and re-closes his bedroom door.

Eyeballing the phone with just a mild amount of apprehension before putting it to his ear, “yeah? What’s up, Lance?”.

“Hello Daniel, how’s life as a graduate treating you?”.

Danny chuckles, “that depends on whether or not you’re about to tell me I didn't actually graduate and some kind of wild and unlikely mistake popped up”.

Lancer actually laughs lightly at that, “no nothing like that, you graduated fairly, Daniel. Though considering your poor attendance I’m not surprised you’d be suspicious”. Danny grins to himself a little at that but fuck, not his fault man. Not his fault... Technically. “I was actually wondering how job searching is treating you. Working for your parents seems... less than safe even if that seems like the obvious choice for you”.

Danny nods to himself and chuckles, too true there. Smirking a little, “oh if anyone knows how dangerous FentonWorks is, it’s me”. Sometimes he’s honestly amazed no one’s ever called CPS on him or anything. FentonWorks was a death trap waiting to happen, literally; him being walking proof and all that. Shrugging to himself, “and you know I’m not exactly suited for a nine to five, Lance”, and he’s not even going to mention the fact that Vlad would hire him in a heartbeat because that is so not happening no matter how ‘good-ish’ the man was nowadays. Working for him would be a dangerous game no matter how Danny looked at it; for both of them.

“I don’t think I could even imagine you working an office job or as a cashier. But if not nine to five, then how about noon to three?”.

Danny blinks at that, huh? “um what?”, shaking his head a little and blinking again, “short shift there but you know me, how often did I ever stay in class for the full forty minutes, or whatever?”.

“Fifty-five, Daniel, And I’m sure you could stay for an hour given the right encouragement and approach”.

Danny sighs and tilts his head back, “I don’t need money that badly, man, geez”, shaking his head, “what are you even suggesting though?”. Is Lancer seriously offering him a job? Where even? Short as shit hours though, which technically worked well-ish for him. He never has a consistent time slot where no ghosts show up though.

“Well I’m sure your parents have heard about the ecto-ology class the school board decided to pass”, Lancer grumbling seemingly to himself, “long time coming if you ask me, too long”, speaking up a bit, “your class should have had it, not that you needed it”.

Danny snorts, fair point there, “yeah I could probably have taught it better than the damn teacher”, blinking, wait a fucking minute, “Lancer what the fuck. Are you asking me to teach it???”. What the actual shit. Sure, he could do it, technically, but still. The fuck, shaking his head, “don’t you, you know, need schooling to be a teacher? And come on, I am the exact opposite of teacher material, or whatever”. Seriously, the Hell. The Ancients are probably actively mocking him right now. That or Danny’s totally wrong and making a complete ass of himself.

“You’re irresponsible and... eccentric, yes, but you’re intelligent and excitable about your interests; and really, a teacher is someone who’s hyper interested and passionate about their field of education”, Danny can almost hear a smirk in Lancer’s voice, “don’t even try to tell me you’re not passionate about ecto-ology, I’ve overheard more than enough conversations between you and your friends to know otherwise. Though yes, the number of times I’ve heard you mention ghost jail was more than a little concerning. Especially when it sounded like it was personal on-the-inside experience”.

Danny blinks, “Lance, you frighten me. Now I’m seriously wondering even more why the school never called on my folks, or whatever”. This just in, apparently a vice principal was perfectly willing to just ignore a student going to jail in an alternate dimension. Repeatedly.

“As if that would actually help. Your parents are good, if crazy and negligent, people. And I have a feeling you’re perfectly capable of getting into trouble without their involvement. So what do you say? It’s completely within my power to hire you on the spot”.

Danny pulls the phone away from his cheek and makes wild hand gestures at it, again what the fuck. Though yeah, his folks aren’t half bad, excluding the whole ectophobia thing. Scrunching up his face at his phone before returning it to his cheek, “uh thanks? You know, for not getting my folks in shit”, shaking his head and smirking a little, “so you know a lot of the trouble is just me being me and you’re inviting me to once again spend five days a week at one of the local ghost hotspots? Do you like suffering, Lance?”.

That actually gets a laugh out of the vice-principal, “the ghosts certainly keep things interesting but no, hiring you instead of your parents would reduce the chaos. Your parents are far bigger trouble makers than you ever have been”.

“That feels like a challenge”. Danny absolutely smirks to himself over the sigh that comment gets him before continuing, “though yeah, my dad plus the school five days a week sounds like you’d be actively begging the universe to blow up the entire place while simultaneously covering it in green goo and maybe accidentally teleporting it to an alternate dimension. To be fair, dad’s only managed that twice on the house so far”. And his mom still won’t let the man live down either event, understandable. Sighing, his parents being walking collateral damage machines was useful in school since it kept nearly every teacher from calling them in, but now it was mildly biting him in the ass. Though now that he’s thinking about... who else could the school call in? Val was still in school and the school didn’t officially know about her ‘extracurricular activities’ -though Danny would bet an entire model rocket that most of the teachers knew or at least had a very very good guess- so she was out. Then there was the G.I.W. which... just no. Fuck no. Super bad idea. So that just left his ass, and fine, arguably it would be a decent enough job and Lancer wasn’t exactly wrong about Danny knowing his shit and being a bit excitable about ghosts. He couldn’t help it alright? He was raised on it and actually excelled at it. Plus, he was a ghost; knowing was survival. Plus plus, having someone who isn’t ectophobic teach the ghost class would probably be a good idea. Val was better but... she tried to use the Box Ghost’s face as a battering ram because her closet door got stuck last week, ‘nough said. Sighing again, “okay fine, I think you’re inviting disaster but all your other options would also do that”.

Lancer laughs lightly and sips something, probably tea knowing the man, “agreed. So you’ve got the summer to come up with a curriculum, nothing too serious for the first semester so I’m sure you can handle it”. Danny scowls audibly, though fine how much harder could making a teaching thingy be than overthrowing corrupt ghost government/royals? Fuck him entirely. “Don’t worry, I’ll send over some useful tips and tricks, a little guide; because you are right, typically teachers go to school to learn how to teach”.

Danny gives one very sarcastic and deadpanned, “you don’t say”, in response to that. Great, now he’s got homework over summer, just really weird homework that’ll technically include creating homework for other people. Weeee. Fun. Ugh. But hey, maybe this’ll actually not suck. Shaking his head and chuckling a little, “you know, I’m starting to think you might actually like me, Lance”.

Lancer simply laughs faintly at that. “How about we meet up sometime next week and I’ll see how far you’ve gotten and your ideas”.

Danny leans his head back, “ugh fine”, grumbling to himself, “oh Ancients I’m ‘hanging out’ with my old teacher, fuck me”, and hangs up though more than a little sure that Lancer probably heard that last bit.

Danny rubs his eyes in circles after a bit, sighing again, and picks up his cellphone.

thealiveone: guess who got a job offer first? Suck it tuck

PDAxpda : bullshit, where????

thealiveone: lets just say that lance decided I needed to see things from my poor teachers persepectives

PDAxpda: oh god XD poor casperhigh

Nightshade: So youre becoming part of the ststem? Really Danny?

Nightshade: but with fhosts

PDAxpda: ha! You’re becoming your parents!

thealiveone: HEY! AM NOT!

thealiveone: ...kinda

thealiveone: but hey, ghost teachin bout ghoss. Love the irony

Nightshade: 🙄

thealiveone: ancients be happy for a guy why dontcha geez

thealiveone: even if it’s stupid

thealiveone: and I’ll totally wind up having to ditch and be late and shit

PDAxpda: typical you

thealiveone: 😢

Nightshade: fine but at least be a quirky ‘teacher’ and not some lame rule follower ass

thealiveone: me? Not be quirky? Fuckin riiiiiiiight

PDAxpda: *snort*

thealiveone: anywhay

thealiveone: think I should do a bit on ghost hunger just to make lance regret his chocoes?

Nightshade: 🤦🏻‍♀️

PDAxpda: YES!!!

thealiveone: 😏

Danny had ideas now, and he was about to make them EVERYBODY'S PROBLEM. As he should.

Chapter 2: Cursed From Entry Level

Today was the day, yup it certainly was; Danny side-eyes his ghost-shaped alarm clock. The first Monday of a new school year; which normally shouldn’t mean shit to him since he graduated and all that but fuck his dumbass agreed to turn around and come right back as a goddamn teacher. Why did he do that? That was stupid. Well not really but now that it’s a little past eleven and he has to actually get up, get dressed, and go do the thing that he agreed to do. Fuck. Responsibilities suck. And if anyone’s allowed to say that it’s him, superhero responsibilities kinda outclass all others so suck it. Sighing and flopping an arm over his eyes, had he been smart and bought teacher clothes? No. Or prepared an introduction speech thingy? Also no. Or even bothered to tell literally anyone other than his friends and family that he now worked at CasperHigh? Definitely no, let the fuckers be surprised. He had, however, printed out copies of the syllabus; which fine, was largely because Lancer nagged him about it so much that he did it out of spite. Danny bets being manipulative was totally something taught in teacher school; not that Danny really particularly needed to be taught that… especially when he could just go to Vlad for that kind of ‘tutoring’, not that he actually would. Regardless, he now officially had to get up.

Sighing very loudly into his arm before moving to push himself up and walk over to his closet; did any of his shit qualify as ‘professional’? Haha fuck no. But oh well, screw it. Might as well lean into this ghost teacher thing and the ’Fenton’s are eccentric weirdos’ thing. Time for a ‘I Got A Boo Boo On My Funny Bone Isn’t That Very Humerus?’ sweater and some crust punk pants that are more patches than fabric. He is so not wearing a tie or bow tie though, bandana? Shrugging he nabs up a little alien one that had only a couple small ectoplasm stains, “if anyone asks, lab accident”, and smirks to himself while tying the thing around his neck, shrugging, then heading downstairs for breakfast.

His dad looks up and grins, waving a hand while the other’s still tinkering away on some gun, “morning Danno! Heading off to school?”, tilting his head and chuckling heartily, “or to teach, I should say!”.

Danny rolls his eyes but smiles and chuckles, moving to grab out the cereal, “yup, bet it’s gonna be interesting. My poor fellow teachers”, Danny absolutely smirks at that, because damn they’re gonna hate Lancer for a while once they realise they’re stuck with him for who knows how long. Sure he’ll only be actually there for, like, what an hour or two or so? Eh something like that. He honestly hopes Lancer didn’t tell all the teachers because he absolutely wants to see all of them look at him, do a double-take, and sigh in resigned defeat and pain. Danny can’t help snickering a bit to himself as he eats his food and his dad goes back to tinkering; though with a far bigger grin on his face.

Danny actually manages to get out the door just as his mom’s coming up from the lab, her waving at him erratically, “have a good day at work, sweetie!”, she sounds more than just a little excited to be saying ‘work’ in regards to him. Did make some sense, seeing as he didn’t exactly have any kind of real job opportunities. At least neither of them tried to insist on driving him there, letting him get in a good midday fly instead; one of these days they are seriously going to wonder how the heck he gets places so fast without driving.

-

Landing behind the school in his usual spot Danny takes a few steps back and just kinda stares up at the building for a hot minute, “I don’t know whether this feels nostalgic, daunting, or just surreal”, shaking his head, “well I guess I just better get to it, everyone should be in class right now... right?”, tilting his head as he turns invisible and intangible, stepping through the wall, “how the fuck have I already forgotten the schedule? Ancients”. Thankfully there is, in fact, not a single person and/or spirit in the hallway. He even effectively avoids everyone on his way to the teachers' lounge and successfully uses the key Lancer gave him to get in. Of course, it’s not empty inside though, expected honestly.

Danny pokes his head in and immediately spots Mr. CampBell and grins wickedly, “heeeey”; and the teacher damn near jumps out of his skin before snapping his head around to the door. Mr. CampBell visually recoils, “oh god why are you here?”.

Score! Lancer absolutely did not tell the staff. Danny snickering as he waltzes in, “oh don’t you know? Lancer hired me”. Mr. CampBell turns away and sighs very loudly, Danny absolutely hearing the whispered, “why? I thought William actually liked his coworkers”. Danny only snickers meanly as Lancer walks out from around one of the corners, “we needed an ecto-ology teacher, he’s a perfectly reasonable choice, Joseph”. Huh, so that’s CampBell’s first name. Lancer then turning to Danny and handing him off a coffee cup, gesturing to the corner he just walked out around, “there’s more in the kitchen, since I’m well aware you practically live on the stuff”.

Danny blinks, grins, and moans comically, “oh my Ancients, there’s free coffee in here”.

Lancer quirks an eyebrow faintly at that, “I did tell you”.

Danny shrugs, “eh I thought you were just trying to sweeten the deal for me, Lance”, then taking a sip, “pretty weak shit though”. Lancer quirks his eyebrow further, “it’s free, Daniel”. Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah well, I think I’ll bring in some Deathwish”.

Joseph gives him one very concerned look, “is that an official real coffee or something your crazy parents made?”, he sounds more than a little hesitant for the answer there. Good. Danny smirks, “oh it’s real, and lives up to the name, drinking the cold brew might actually kill you from botulism. The regular coffee is only the world’s strongest stuff though”, then finger-gunning at the man.

Lancer shakes his head as he sits down on the couch, “you concern me some days”, pursing his lips, “most days”, then sips at his coffee. Joseph shakes his head, “I’m just going to head to my classroom”, pointing at Lancer, “you keep that demon child’s classroom consistent, I do not want that ectoplasm stuff getting mixed with Charles’s science nerd stuff”, and throws Danny a scowl before leaving.

Lancer shakes his head before looking to Danny, “your classroom is going to be consistent though, considering I know exactly how often your homework had to be put in biohazard instead of the filing cabinets”. Danny rubs his neck a bit sheepishly at that while Lancer leans forwards, arms on his knees, “do you have everything ready? I could sit in on your first few classes if you’d like”.

Danny snorts, “somehow I think that would just get me mocked, Lance”, smirking, “but that depends on how much you want to leave me unsupervised with a bunch of teens and ectoplasmic substances”.

“You’re... not bringing out ectoplasm on the first day, are you?”.

Danny snickers, “maybe...”. Lancer sighs very loudly but Danny decides to take some amount of pity on the man, “mostly I brought ecto-proofing stuff since I don’t think you want to be replacing stuff a bajillion times. Anyway, can I paint the whiteboard ectophobic green? I mean the ectophobic bit laterally”. Lancer only sighs louder but does nod while putting his face in his hand. Smart man. Danny should probably just go ahead and do that immediately though, the walls and desks and stuff can happen later or fuck he can just make it an assignment because why the fuck not?!? Danny downing the rest of the coffee, clapping his legs, and getting up, “whelp I’mma go do that then”. Lancer speaking up just before he gets to the door, “I will be checking in on you, but feel free to call or ‘text away’ if you need anything”. Danny cringes a little but nods.

Are the hallways empty this time? Nope. Does Danny’s mere presence cause a bunch of whispering as he’s heading to his assigned classroom? Absolutely. Everyone knew who the Fenton’s were, he himself might have techically been a ‘loser weirdo’ but he was also simultaneously popular in the infamous kinda way, especially at school. Most of the comments -that his wonderful ghostly hearing let’s him pick up on easily- are along the lines of ‘guess he didn’t graduate, no surprise there’ or ‘why the fuck’s he here?’, some of the freshmen react with mock horror though so that’s amusing. When Danny gets to his designated room he absolutely spends his before class time painting the board and just throws the rest of his stuff on the provided desk. He is not a tidy person and that is so not gonna change.

He was, however, so not prepared for Val to walk through the door first though. Her and Danny making eye contact, Danny blinking, “‘kay why the fuck would you be here?”. She gives him a dumb look, “hey you yourself, Danny”, then scrunches up her face and sags, “oh my Zone, you are seriously the teacher? You were serious about that? We’re all gonna die”. Danny just smirks while she slumps down in a desk, him scribbling his name on the board quickly; Ancients if anyone calls him ‘Mr. Fenton’ he’ll gag. Speaking of gagging though, putting his class right after lunch was probably not the smartest move on the principal's part. Gives him the perfect excuse to do something weird and just eat ectoplasm or something.

Valerie bangs her head on the desk before looking back up to him, putting her chin in a palm, “though I guess I am kinda curious what the heck you’ll teach with this, you’re always so tightlipped about ghost stuff”.

Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, glancing back to her before turning around to sit down in his provided chair, not nearly enough burn holes yet to actually feel like his though. He’ll have to fix that, “with you. We don’t exactly see eye to eye on things”. She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes, but other fellow teens are coming in so she doesn’t give him any kind of actual response.

Every single teen does at least a slight pause at seeing Danny in the teacher's chair before taking seats. some say nothing, some swear lightly, others groan, and then there’s goddamn Dash??? Why was that jock taking this class? Better yet, why did it have to be Danny’s luck that Dash would even want to.

“Well if it isn’t Fenturd”. At least half the class snickers or coughs to cover laughs.

Danny glares at the jock, “I can give detentions now, don’t be stupid”, smirking, “or I can just designate you as the ‘helping hand’ and you can handle all the ectoplasmic shit I am absolutely going to bring in”. Dash takes his seat real quick after that while Val’s busy snickering at his expense.

Danny leans back in his chair as the bell goes off, “whelp, guess this is happening now”. Valerie puts her head down and laughs a little, a couple other teens laughing a little themselves while Danny continues, “okay, so obviously I’m the teacher, which honestly? more than a few of you should have seen that one coming”, nodding to himself, “now in case you somehow do not know who I am and also somehow missed Dash being an ass and calling me ‘Fenturd’, I’m Danny Fenton the youngest Fenton, and yeah I’m your teacher because literally no one else is remotely qualified or safe enough to do this”.

More than a few people mutter ‘that's fair’ or something similar. His folks being walking talking time bombs wasn’t exactly a secret and the G.I.W. were honestly more dangerous than the ghosts.

Danny chuckles to himself, digs in his backpack and gets up, “and also, in case you didn’t even bother to look at the class you agreed to take or what was written on the class schedule thingy”, Danny cups the little semi-solid ball of ectoplasm and slaps it on the whiteboard, it spattering across neon green and glowing, “welcome to Ecto-ology! And that!-”, pointing at the green splattered board, “-that’s ectoplasm!”, then shaking a jar of SignalShines -little tiny firefly-like blob ghosts- on the little tray attached to the whiteboard typically used for the markers, “and that’s some ghosts! Some very tiny ghosts”.

Valerie snorts and laughs, muttering, “oh no”, into her hand. Since she obviously figured out that Danny wasn’t going to even attempt at being a ‘normal fucking teacher’. Most of the class snickers and starts laughing after a bit, that or eyeballing the ectoplasm splatter/ghost-filled jar. Danny waving the board and everything off limply, “I ecto-proofed the whiteboard already so don’t bother calling the ecto-hazard line”, then making a point to sound ominous and mildly threatening, “they won’t come”. Which absolutely gets him more laughs and a couple shivers, seeing as he could actually legit pull off scary if he felt like it. Perks of being a ghost and ridiculously highly combative and confrontational.

Danny absolutely hands the syllabus paper stack to Dash to hand out, largely as payback for the name-calling. “So since this year this class is only an optional elective, being a trial run and all that, lets do the whole introduce-yourselves-even-though-I-already-know-who-you-all-are thing with why you took this class and, for funsies, who’s your favourite ghost”. Dash does give him a dirty look, which Danny smirks over, but what follows is people saying their names and giving reasons and shit.

Danny decides to smear around the whiteboard ectoplasm to write down ghost names and tally up how many people say that ghost. Is it mostly Phantom? Yes; even Val votes for him but that’s understandable since she actually got along with Phantom, for the most part, these days. Somehow the Box Ghost earns the second most tallies, Ember’s in third not all that surprising, and two people actually threw a vote Johnny’s way. As for why people took the class?

Well Valerie claims she wants to know more about ghosts and leaves it at that, earning some eye-rolls from the class seeing as everyone knew how she felt about the spookies. Dash took it because a Fenton was teaching, which is information Danny doesn’t know what to do with; what the fuck does that mean? And everyone else? To learn about ghosts (sure), for self-defence (good reason actually. Practical), better than the other electives (fair and probably accurate), easy grade (or so they think... maybe), because it absolutely was going to be chaotic (hundred percent yes). Danny’s content and smirking just a little bit.

Danny sits on the corner of his desk -why not?- and waves a hand around limply, “alright, semi-proper introduction of myself. I’m sure pretty much all of you are damn well aware of FentonWorks and it being basically the only ecto-tech company -besides the ever overpriced Dalvco- and that it is responsible for all the shields and ecto-weapons and all that jazz in town. Surprise surprise, I’ve worked on or outright built a lot of that stuff”, sounding incredibly sarcastic, “truly shocking, I know”, earning him a couple snickers/laughs. “Now you might think that since my folks literally invented the stuff and are some of the only published scientists in the field of ecto-ology that they’re more qualified to do this teacher thing, ignoring the fact that they would probably blow the classroom up or accidentally get everyone teleported into the ghost Zone randomly”, pointing at the class, “not an exaggeration”, before continuing properly, “but guess what? They've never actually explored the Zone or sat down and actually talked to a ghost”, putting a hand to his chest, “I, however, have. So yeah, qualified”; and snaps his fingers a bit dramatically.

James mutters, “not sure that actually means qualified”; and he’s not the only one. Expected, seeing as Danny was not actually qualified to be a teacher obviously.

Danny sticks up a finger, “I have no teacher qualifications though, but Lance decided he just does not care”, getting up and walking to the board, moving around the ectoplasm, “and as for my fav ghostie, you’ve never heard of them”, and scrawls out ‘ClockWork’ on the list of favourite ghosts. Turning back to the class, “ClockWork’s existence is mildly forbidden knowledge, so have fun with-”, Haley shrieking interrupts and most of the class going wide-eyed gets him to turn around and see the very well done drawing of ClockWork looking right at Danny with a glare, there is an ‘I’m flattered, Daniel’ written under it though so... Danny can’t help but bend over wheezing a little, “oh I so saw that coming!”, shaking his head and chuckling, “or something similar at least”. Okay he expected to get smacked over the head with an invisible staff out of nowhere, not a passive-aggressive yet still somehow fond drawing. Straightening up and turning back to the class while whipping at his eye, “y’all signed up for this, remember that”.

Danny sits down and starts going over the syllabus, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, but Jesse interrupts him halfway through, “are we just ignoring everything that just happened with the magic drawing?”. Danny looking at him and smirking, “a good rule of thumb in life is when the literal god of time chastises you, you move on immediately. Just good life advice if you want to keep doing the whole living thing”. Expectedly that gets him a lot of staring. Danny rolls his wrist around, “that Vortex ghost is also a god by the by. Same with UnderGrowth. Pandora’s a minor god technically”, tilting his head, “then there’s the whole mess of Pariah who’s pretty much just a way worse version of Hades”, smirking, “Amity’s seen some big names in the ghost world”.

“What the fuck”.

Danny just snickers at that while Valerie puts her head in her hands and shakes it.

Surprisingly the rest of the class is seemingly going normally, Lancer did stick his head in and eyeball the whiteboard which Danny gave him a ‘what did you expect from me? Honestly’ smirk for, and surprisingly no one decided to ask Danny how the actual fuck he knew the time god if they even believed him on that anyway. But maybe five minutes before class is over, Danny’s ghost sense goes off, because of fucking course, but it just feels like Boxy. So Danny, smirking, checks his phone to use as some kind of excuse for how he knows the Box Ghost’s here, gets up and goes to the window, opening it up, sticking his head out, and shouting, “HEY BOXY!”. That, of course, gets the ghost's attention immediately, who does his scary fingers thing, “YOU DARE DRAW THE ATTENTION OF THE MOST FEARSOME GHOST IN EXISTENCE! THE BOX GHOST!”. Danny just rolls his eyes, points towards the whiteboard in the classroom and shouts back, “WE DID A POLL! YOU'RE THE SECOND MOST FAVOURITE GHOST!”. The Box Ghost stares at him for a bit, goes a little wide-eyed, floats towards the ground, and starts crying. Danny pulls his head back in while cackling, looking back to the class, “congrats, we’ve just made the Box Ghost cry”; which absolutely makes everyone start laughing as the bell goes off. Danny smirking more, “I feel very accomplished with myself”.

Surprisingly most of his freaking students actually wave him goodbye, which is weird as heck but also kinda cool, Dash just scowls at him though; get fucked dick-weed. Val stays behind a bit, expected, and sits on the corner of his desk, “so this is really happening, huh?”.

“Yup. Guess so”, leaning back in his chair a little, “you gonna turn this into a debate club or?”, chuckling, “though I doubt you’ll actually learn a whole lot”. She nods at that, “I could probably teach this myself”, grumbling, “if I wasn’t still stuck as a student”, sighing, “I’m not gonna argue in class though, I know you’re ghost friendly, Danny, that’s gonna show obviously”, shrugging and smirking a little, “I just might need a little bit more proof before I take your word on something”.

“Just for that I’m going to bring in Cujo next class”.

“You wouldn’t”.

Danny smirks, “try me. He’ll really liven up the lesson on classifications of ghost types. Truly he is one of the best examples of an animal ghost”. She sounds downright offended, “then bring in a freaking ectopuss! Not the life-ruining dog!”.

“But everyone loves dogs, Val”, Danny smirks, “besides, ectopusses aren’t proper animal ghosts, they’re a type of blob ghost”. She grumbles a bit incoherently before muttering, “dick”, and leaving for her next class; leaving Danny chuckling.

(And Valerie absolutely spent the next day’s class glaring bloody murder at a tiny green puppy, inspiring slight fear and concern in her classmates; Danny just looked progressively more smug which only made his students more concerned).

-

Before Danny actually managed to leave the school, since he didn’t actually have to be there outside of his one class though something tells him that if the ecto-ology trial run works out then he’ll be stuck ‘teaching’ it two or three times a day. Ugh but also so much potential chaos. Anyway, Lancer catches up to him, sounding just slightly out of breath, “your first teaching experience go well, Daniel?”.

Danny smirks, “brought a ghost to tears, only made one mild ecto-hazard, and possibly annoyed a few thousand ghost cops; so good day actually”. Lancer stares at him a little, “should I be concerned”. Reasonable question.

“Maybe”, Danny chuckles, “to be fair, me teaching people about ghosts was absolutely going to piss off the eyeballs, said eyeballs are some ghost cops, it’s complicated”, chuckling a little though sounding/being a bit serious, “technically I really am the best choice for this, I know more than my folks or the G.I.W. do by miles”, smiling softly and a bit pitying a little, “and I know somethings that the living aren’t exactly supposed to”.

Lancer eyes him and shakes his head slightly, “I know, Daniel. I know”. Danny absolutely quirks an eyebrow at that because what the Hell does Lancer mean by that? So he just gives a simple, “oh?”, for a response; weak as shit but it’ll have to do. Lancer nods, “I’m not as oblivious as I let the students think, so yes I know. Though try to keep your, ghost activities let’s say, outside of the classroom? Don’t bring students into your spat with ghost cops”.

Danny actually coughs, again what the fuck. Shaking his head a little bug-eyed, “again, you scare me, Lance”, shaking his head again, “though no, their problem with me is the fact that I exist, so”, and shrugs; Danny is still a little goddamn thrown here. Lancer sighs, “I guess I should have expected that. And I’ll admit to having some questions about that, but-”, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “-I don’t truly need an answer there”. Danny, for a lack of knowing what else to do, finger guns; Lancer looks less than impressed.

Chapter 3: Ghosts In The Know

It takes a total of three days for a ghost to actually show up during Danny’s designated class time -the Box Ghost and ClockWork’s sudden appearances don’t count- and while Danny’s fairly certain Lancer at least has some kind of guess about the whole Phantom thing Danny’s not going to just go ghost in goddamn class; that would have been dumb when he was a student and it would only be dumber to do as a freaking teacher. At least as a student he didn’t have a class worth of people somewhat staring at him. But hey at least he had just been facing the whiteboard when his breath decided to be all icy fog, that was something; him watching it frost up the board for a couple of seconds and attempting to verbally steamroll right over the random sudden pause in his speaking. He also absolutely can hear Val’s scanner do its little proximity warning beep.

“-but we’re not talking about Cores today even if that’s unique to proper ghosts, so not getting into that right now”. Turning around and putting down the marker, seeing as he can’t exactly just let Skulker go running around. “Now I’ll be right back”, he almost says ‘bathroom’ but as a teacher he doesn’t need to do that shit anymore, he doesn’t have to justify himself to fucking nobody. But just before he gets to the door he points at Val, who’s mouth is slightly open and is definitely absolutely about to ask if she can go, so he smirks, “and no. You can’t”. She looks so confused and a bit freaked out that he can’t help laughing. He does catch James mutter, “did he just pull his bathroom thing? Seriously?”; which just makes Danny laugh to himself even more as he ducks off around a corner to transform.

He doesn’t have to go very far seeing as Skulker was practically directly outside of the area where his classroom was, looking supremely confused and quirking a robotic eyebrow with his arms crossed at Danny, “really, whelp?”. Danny flips him off and shoots him one in the face pretty well immediately, which starts off their standard combat. Skulker shooting off a rocket with a snide and definitely meant to be insulting comment of, “never would have pegged you for teaching or for telling humans our secrets”.

Danny near shouting back with a snort, “secrets my ass! Shove a floppy disk in it!”. That very predictably gets him a more well-aimed rocket to the face.

-

Meanwhile, in the classroom, Jesse glances around, “should we even be surprised?”.

“No but since he’s, you know, the teacher, I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t be playing hooky or whatever”.

Valerie snorts, “oh as if Lancer didn’t know what he was getting into here. Besides Danny was never going to be a normal anything”. Dash smirks and laughs meanly, “no shit, damn freak”. Valerie absolutely throws an eraser at him for that.

“I’m more curious how he predicted Valerie pulling her own bathroom thing”.

“Obvious answer there, he does it so he knows it”.

“Damn, got a point”.

Valerie grumbles and crosses her arms, “and here I thought he’d be totally cool with that”. Emilie laughing, “yeah you’d think, especially if he was going to keep doing it”. Todd pushes himself to stand up with a smirk, “Well I vote we go through his desk, this is Danny after all”; more than a few people look curious, some look cautious though.

Valerie blinking, before smirking and laughing to herself, “yes, go right ahead, do that, see what happens”. That earns even more cautious looks. Valerie knew Danny, had been in his house and room, she knew exactly what kind of state those two places were in. His desk drawers were absolutely boobytrapped. Todd, however, doesn’t give a shit, and just shrugs while moving up to said desk.

Valerie isn’t even slightly surprised when a bunch of snakes-in-a-can pop out of the very first drawer Todd opens, they’re all green because of course they are. Todd mutters a slightly startled, “fuck”, and kicks one of the snakes.

“HA! Suck it, Todd”.

James shakes his head, eyeing the green fake snakes, “I have a feeling that everything in this class is going to be ghost-themed”. Valerie rolls her eyes, “obviously, have you somehow missed the ghost-themed clothing? Or the fact that Danny is, and has always been, a damn pun machine?”. Over half the class groans or chuckles. Valerie rolling her hand and leaning back, “pretty sure he was wearing a pair of Sam’s platforms today, the ones with little plastic green ghosts shaking around inside”. Dash mutters almost absently, “huh, so that’s why he seems taller today”.

“Dash... why are you noticing his freaking height”.

“Shut up, Jesse. I can’t physically shove him in lockers anymore but I sure as shit can imagine it”.

Valerie sighs very loudly at that, but at least Dash wasn’t quite stupid enough to try bullying a teacher. Even if that teacher was Danny and the same age as him. Which, talk about wild. She honestly did not believe Danny for a second when he said he would be teaching at CasperHigh and yet here he was. Teaching. It was definitely weird, but at least nothing had blown up yet. Hopefully Phantom went and dealt with Skulker though, she’d think Danny would be one who let people leave whenever, guess not. Her scowling a little over that. Todd opening up another drawer and a black and white ghost popping their head out jerks her right out of her head though. Todd falling on his ass and scrambling back, “holy shit! What the fuck!”.

James blinks and wheezes, standing up like basically everyone else, “Danny had a whole ass ghost in his desk, what?!?”. Said ghost floats up, looks around, and waves; while the entire class just stands there, many with ecto-pistols drawn at this point.

“I’m picking up a lot of hostility here, busters”.

Todd grumbles, “you have got to be shitting me”. The ghost tilts their head, “I don’t think Phantom would like that very much. Totally not tubular”. Valerie facepalms and lowers her small blaster, “you’re that old ghost that haunts one of Danny’s old lockers, aren’t you”. The ghost gives her a thumbs up, “that’s the dealio!”.

“... and why were you just in his desk drawer?”.

The ghost crosses their skinny arms and huffs, “when I picked up on the Ha-Danny being here again I had to make sure that buster wasn’t up to his bully ways again”. Dash actually burst out laughing and drops back into his seat at that, “Fenton?!? A bully?!? Man what are you smoking?!?”; which the ghost gives him a very strange look for.

“Poindexter, by the Ancients, how many times do I have to tell you that I wasn’t being a bully, I was getting back at one. Geez”. The entire class goes still and snaps their heads around to Danny, who’s just casually walking in. Dash muttering, “I knew that twerp was the one screwing with me”.

Poindexter rolls his eyes, “like I believe that, buster. Someone would have to be a real dummy to do that to you”. Danny very obviously glares at the ghost, “I said that Dash is a bully, not that he’s smart”. Dash scowls very audibly, “I’ll make you eat those words, Fentit”. Danny instantly holds up a pink detention slip and smirks, while Dash very obviously holds back shouting expletives at him. The ghost just looks confused. Danny turning to the ghost, having to look up a little as he takes his seat, “like I said, not smart”. Dash just scowls while Danny continues speaking but while looking at the class instead of the ghost, “so where were we?”.

Amber blinks, “are we just ignoring the ghost that popped out of your desk?”; while everyone starts sitting back down slowly.

Danny quirking an eyebrow at the ghost, “why, man?”. While Amber tosses up her hands and sits back down too.

“I was looking for anything suspicious. Never know with you”.

Emilie chuckles to herself, “I like how ghosts apparently find him as suspicious as people do”. Earning her a few nods.

Dash rolls his eyes, “oh like what, ghost-themed pencils? A change of underwear in case his own class scares him?”. Danny starting to hold up another pink slip shuts the jock up real quick. Poindexter looks genuinely surprised and turns to Danny, “hold the phone, you sayin’ that rumour that everyone thinks you’re afraid of ghosts is actually the real deal???”. Danny just sighs, “it was a very good and effective way out of my folks trying to make a hunter of me”. While practically half the class shouts, “THAT WAS FAKE!”, including one stunned Dash who had thought he was being so smart and cruel by taking full advantage of Danny’s ‘fear’.

Danny chuckles and looks around, “yup. Sorry not sorry”. Lancer picks that very moment to stick his head in, looking at the ghost then Danny, “Daniel...”.

Danny sighs and waves him off, “I know, it’s just Poindexter though. He’s here somewhere in the school almost every day and has been for, like, decades. Longer than I’ve been alive at least. He’s just seldom visible. Here’s his haunt”. Lancer sighs, “very well”, and just leaves; clearly not wanting to deal with all of that.

James blinks, “so, uh, is he going to stay or? And how the heck did you, but not the school, know about him?”. Poindexter huffs, crosses his arms, and seemingly vanishes; Danny, however, watches the transparent teen ghost just sort of float to the back of the class while making ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ finger motions at Danny. Danny rolling his eyes while responding, “maybe, maybe not. And you know that locker that’s rumoured to be haunted that I was randomly assigned to for a while? Yeah that’s totally true. We’ll talk about lair cores later. There was also a mild body-swapping incident”.

“Excuse me?”.

Danny points at James, “I have been through some shit, man. Body swapping with a ghost was less weird and more annoying though”. The entire class just stares at him which he takes as a chance to get back to the lesson plan. “So as I was saying...”.

-

Valerie winds up approaching him after the bell, “you know one of these days I’m going to figure out what the Zone that nickname that ghosts have for you is”. Danny quirks an eyebrow, because of course Poindexter probably nearly called him ‘the halfa’ since that’s what Poindexter literally always called him. Smirking at her, “I don’t doubt that, Val. Just like someday you’ll be fully honest about your, ahem, extracurricular activities”, and chuckles while she rolls her eyes. Her muttering, “oh whatever. Anyway, wanna go to a movie after school or are you too busy with teacher duties”.

Danny huffs, “as if. I only do one class you know, so sure why not”. Lancer picks that moment to stick his head in again, “actually you need to finalise that first assignment, also you do realise that as a teacher you are supposed to watch your language?”.

Danny gives an awkward, “uuuuhhhhh”, before scrunching up his face in a pout, leaning back in his chair dramatically, and whining loudly while Val laughs at him, “do I haaaaavvvvveeee toooooo?”. Lancer’s sigh is a pained one.

(Danny absolutely starts out the next class with, “so one of you s̴͜͝h̴i̶t̡̨͡s snitched on me so prepare for some slight language changes, b͘͘itc͜͝he͢͝ş̛”. Which earned a mixture of confused looks, laughs, and a couple glares at Todd, Dash, and Brittney; who were the most likely suspects. And really no one was actually surprised in the slightest that Danny seemingly knew GhostSpeak, it just tracked honestly).

---

Was Danny looking forward to this first assignment thingy? Haha fuck no. He’s just going to assume marking is Hell but he already established that he wasn’t the kind of sick freak that makes the very first assignment the one required oral presentation or some shitty quiz; and fine he already put down ‘research assignment on an unusual ghost theory you have’ in the syllabus but what the actual crap was he supposed to do for the guild lines of this to avoid getting the kind of ridiculous shit that he himself would write. Because as funny as getting twenty-odd papers about Plasmius’s clear attempts at making up for his fragile masculinity or about Phantom’s fashion choices would be, Danny’d rather not. Well he could just be like: y’all can either do all your papers on Phantom or none, vote now. At least then he would either be prepared to read a bunch of wild shit about himself or go in knowing he won’t have to read any about himself.

Rolling over in bed and sighing, “well I guess I could just limited the second option to known frequently seen ghosts?”, blinking, “oh and none can be on Boxy because I see too much of that problem man as it is”. Speaking of problems, he also has to figure out how he’s going to spend an hour getting stared at by most of his students (fuck that was still super weird) sans an entire hand; because sure the rest of his arm will have reformed by noon, but the hand will still an issue. Too bad he didn’t manage to find the chopped-off limb before it dissipated into free-floating ectoplasm. While he does appreciate that no one’s going to just stumble across his severed limb, getting it back would have been way better. Eh fuck it, super long sleeves day it is, Jazz did attempt at dark humour once and gifted him a straightjacket so what the heck time to look like a crazy person the legit way.

Of course it’s currently three am so he is not getting dressed right now, not a chance.

-

Does he get to fall back asleep and actually stay asleep till eleven or so? No, when does he ever? Fuck ghosts and their lack of caring about his shitty sleep schedule. It’s now five am, his ghost sense has got him mostly shivering awake, and his blankets don’t even qualify as actually still on his bed. Him letting himself slump onto the floor while transforming and starting to float up in the air before only slightly lazily flying out his window. If anyone asks about his eye-bags, he bought them off the black market. Does that make sense? Not really no. Does he care? Also no.

Him floating up on Ember smashing up a street sign with her guitar, pinching his nose while otherwise hanging limply in the air, “Ember, why?”. He’s too tired for this shit, Ancients.

“Anarchy”. She hits the sign again.

Danny sighs, “well could you go be ‘anarchy’ when said anarchy doesn’t result in my sleep becoming anarchy too? I really don’t feel like having the R.E.M. sleep government centres of my brain overthrown today”. That actually gets her to pause and look up at him, smirking and snickering after a bit, “you do look like shit”, then very pointedly looking to his half reformed arm; hey at least he had a proper elbow again! Shove a dick in it, goddamn. He absolutely flips her off before shooting her guitar, “go home, Ember. I have class”.

She gives him a pitying look like an absolute ass, “oh did they not let you graduate from that indoctrinating soul-crushing suffering?”, then grinning almost manically, “let’s burn it down!”.

“Jesus Ancients no, I work there”.

“Oh so you’ve become a cog in the machine for the man”.

Danny sighs very loudly, “okay what capitalist crawled up your ass and died, fuck. And if anything my mere presence is causing chaos”, chuckling hollowly, “one of the other teachers drank my coffee accidentally and was absolutely losing their beans half the day. And only one person’s gotten a mild case of ecto-poisoning”, sighing, “Ancients, Todd’s a dumbass. I mean-”, gesturing vaguely with his intact hand, “-I knew that, but next time he wants to ‘prove he can bend steel’ with a bar of ectoplasm I’m just going to let him break his arm and get full-blown contamination”.

Ember shakes her head, “I say let him. And so you are teaching humans ghost stuff”. Danny just shrugs kinda noncommittally at that. She smirks, “teaching death is more punk rock I guess, babypop”, while attempting to give him a boot kick to the face since she apparently couldn’t leave without causing him some level of bodily harm. He, of course, grabs her ankle and just flips her over him. Hand-to-hand combat was not her strong suit. She does successfully get him one with a laser drumstick though. Which hooray for a burnt hip. Fun. At least he knows she’ll just head back to her lair now, no real need for the capture and release thing; most ghosts pretty firmly decided they’d rather just go home after a Phantom ass beat down than getting sucked into the thermos, so they left immediately. Others were fine to just leave to their business. Some were true bad time problems. And then there was the Box Ghost... fucking moron. Ancients he is going the fuck back to bed.

-

Annnnnndddd now he’s late. Fuck. It’s a little past noon. FUCK. He sighs very loudly while practically scrambling out of bed, getting tangled in the sheets, phasing through the sheets when he remembers he can do shit like that, grabbing random ass shit from his closet and phasing that on. Quick mirror check... and yup, he looks like a dumbass and his sweaters backwards. At least he actually grabbed a sweater, he, however, did not grab pants. But fuck it, shorts it is. Shorts that are shorter on one side than the other because they got burnt and said burn marks are super noticeable on the neon green fabric.

He’s hopping out his window when he tries to grab the frame and just face-plants instead because, fuck, right, no goddamn hand dumbass. Quickly scrambling back and phasing off his sweater while also tripping backwards over the first aid kit he left haphazardly on the floor like a complete lazy idiot. Landing on his floor with an oof and sighing very loudly, just laying there half-naked for a couple of seconds, “why me?”. When he does get up he successfully grabs that straightjacket and makes it out the window, flying off to school while pulling it on.

Danny doesn’t even bother with walking into school, just smacks into the side of the building below the window to his classroom -honestly him having his own classroom still feels slightly surreal but he’s kinda used to it at this point. At least a little anyways- and a quick glance around plus transforming back human and visible and he knows he’s good, his singular hand holding onto the windowsill. Is he cheating by still defying gravity a little? Yes. But one Danny Fenton absolutely does not feel like falling to the ground and making an ass of himself yet again today. Huffing he lifts himself up, head-butts open the window -which can only open both ways because it’s an added safety feature in case a student got phased outside and was trying to get back inside through a closed window. His folks really did think of everything. Well almost everything- and scrambles in while his class freaks out a little. A couple fellow teens even scream/shriek and Ashley -who sits near the windows- actually fell out of her desk. Danny doesn’t even need to look up to hear Val’s extremely audible sigh though.

“What the fuck, Fenton?”.

“Danny!?!”.

“What the Hell?!?”.

“FUCK! Oh Zone thank everything, I thought he was a ghost for a second”.

“You’re late”.

“We’re on the second story, how the Hell did you get up here? And wait, did you head butt a window?? WHY ARE YOU WEARING A STRAIGHTJACKET??

“What????”.

“It’s a look though...”.

“Okay Danny being late isn’t all that weird, but you’d think... Like this is exactly why this class is after noon”.

“Is there a reason your top half and bottom half look like they came from two totally different fashion lines?”.

“Why couldn’t you have been five minutes later? We could have left then”.

“Are you okay?”.

“Danny.... what did you do?”.

“Wait, were you the thump on the wall just now?”.

Danny shuffles to stand up straight and brushes himself off with the long floppy arm-sleeves of the straightjacket, waltzing to the front of the classroom. Fuck he forgot his backpack. Damn. Guess he’ll just have to talk about the assignment instead of handing out the sheet things. Oh well. Turning to the class and gesturing them to shut up by waving his hand around which really just makes the sleeve flap around ridiculously.

Pretty much the entire class bursts out laughing at him after a couple seconds of silence.

Danny sighing, “okay okay, yes I’m late, but class or whatever begins now. Also y’all need to vote on whether your research c̷͝r͟a͘p҉͜ will all be on Phantom or none will be on Phantom. It’s all or nothing, you mǫ͡t̨͘h̴̛e͠r̷͞f̸u̴c̕k̨e͠r͢s̴”. That earns both groans and slight laughs, eh Danny’s cool with that.

Val doesn’t even give him a chance to ask for hand voting when she blinks down at his feet, “Danny... how did you even manage that???”. Danny quirking an eyebrow, “huh?”, then looking down... looking down at his laced-up socks. Fucking damnit. He thought he had phased on shoes, even laced them up; guess he just phased random shoelaces tying around threw his goddamn socks and laced up the socks. Danny sighs and slumps a little, “well okay then, guess today’s a no shoes kinda day”, and sighs again before looking up and shrugging at Val, who huffs disbelievingly at him. Fair.

Todd jerks up his hand, “can we go shoeless too then? Otherwise, unfair”. Danny sighs and waves him off, “go nuts, f̵̧͢uc̴̨ķ̴̕ if I care today”. That earns him a round of blinking and snickering; some people do actually take him up on his apathy and take off their shoes. Dash snapping, “not that I care, but what the Hell happened to you?”. Danny smirks at him, “I decide your grade so you kinda have to care”, and sticks his tongue out him like a petulant brat purely because he can. “I got hit in the head by an ectoplasmicly infused guitar at five am and didn’t regain consciousness till-”, glancing at the clock, “-however many minutes ago”.

Jesse blinks, “I can’t tell if that’s a creative lie... or not”. Danny finger guns before turning to the board and scribbling on it, “alright, voting hand time. Left for no Phantom, right for all Phantom...”.

Annnnnnnd, glancing around at the hands, looks like he’s receiving twenty-odd papers on himself. Wonderful. Whelp hopefully this’ll at least be interesting and mildly creative. Danny nodding with his hand and stump wrist on his hips at the board then turning around to face everyone with a huff, “alright then, now if anyone sends their research to the G.I.W. you automatically fail. I don’t want them getting any more funny ideas and having Phantom around is at least marginally a good thing. Honestly”. Earning him some snickers.

“Just marginally? He’s better than your parents”.

Danny glares at Todd, “hush, y͜ou͟҉ ̵s͞a̸l̴ţ͠y͘̕ ̢w̡͞et̷͡ ̡͠n͟͟ơ̢͝o͏d̡҉le”. Putting his intact hand back on his hips, “my folks aside, assignments. It’s on the syllabus and really you already know what to do so yeah. I’ll give you guys the papers for it tomorrow because, like my shoes apparently, I forgot them”. More than one teen gives him a really weird look and James mutters, “honestly? I think I prefer this, uh, ‘teaching’ style? He’s just so done”.

“More like one of us”.

“He is literally my age, he is one of us”.

“Oh yeah”.

Danny glances up at the ceiling, sighs, and talks slightly louder than necessary, “as for actual lesson plans, more ghost history slash lore, yay-”.

“At least he didn’t forget where he left off”.

Danny points at Todd, because come on man, seriously, “I will steal all your number two pencils, Todd”. James blinking, “why does that work as a legit threat?”. Danny points at him, “because then the scantrons will f̵̨̢u̵c̨͜͡k̶̵ up so he can’t take tests and he’ll have to ask the teacher for one embarrassing himself because no fellow teen would give him theirs because h͘e ̸s̨͢u̸̧̡c̷̡ks̕͠”.

“The fact that that is even slightly thought out and remotely realistic is actually worse”.

Dash actually looks legit slightly concerned and weirded out. Maybe he finally realised Danny’s kinda a whole ass nightmare when he feels like it. That’s without adding in the whole half-ghost clusterfuck he’s got going on.

-

Danny gets about halfway through his class when Charles just straight up opens the door. Danny should booby trap that sometime. “Okay I can’t believe I’m asking you this but tell me you have a spare stapler... what am I looking at here?”.

Danny had been gesturing a bit exaggeratedly at the whiteboard that had a doodle of a couple of Ancients on it, him dropping his arms and turning to the science teacher, “what, in any world, would make you think I have a spare of anything other than coffee, guns, thermoses, and maybe food; though the last one may or may not be inedible. Also, today was a crazy person day so yes this is, in fact, a straightjacket”. The fellow teacher smirks, “get that from the asylum you stayed at?”. Danny rolls his eyes, “oh har har, dickweed”, and chuckles; Charles was one of the teachers he got on better with even if the guy had zero sense of boundaries and sticks his nose in just about anything he found interesting, and Danny was basically a walking ball of interesting. Danny snaps his fingers and turns to the class, “oh I have actually been to an asylum before though”.

Ashley coughs, “Danny, you could make a living off of surprising people with random life bits. Get a tv show”.

Danny’s ghost sense goes off at the exact moment that an echoing voice says, “oh I quite agree”, from the direction of the window.

Charles goes wide-eyed and blurts out, “wellsinceyouclearlydon’thaveastaplerI’mgoingtogofindonebye”, and promptly shuts the door with a slam. Danny, meanwhile, snaps his head to the window and watches the Ghost Writer cross his legs while floating a bit above the windowsill. Danny blinks, “what and why”, and sounding stern enough to make a couple students jump/jerk in their seats. Valerie, Emilie, and a few others have weapons drawn already; expected and good really. The Ghost Writer rolls his eyes faintly and tosses his scarf over one shoulder dramatically while Danny slowly scoots over to his desk, not that the Ghost Writer seems to care, pursing his lips at Danny, “curious. Here I thought you had a hatred for literature and education”.

Danny rolls his eyes harshly, “no. Just Christmas”, pooping open one of the drawers. The class just watching tensely in the background.

“Christmas books”.

Danny rolls his eyes again, “Ancients fuck, man”, smirking a little, “here have some-”, jerking up an orange -that he, yes, had in his desk purely to spite this very specific ghost even though the Ghost Writer basically never came to the Mortal Realm- and stabbing it with his nails to make its juices leak down his hand/arm and makes the room smell noticeably citrusy, “-vitamin C for cannonball so you can shoot on outta here”. Valerie side-eyes Danny with a slightly dumbfounded look before dropping her arms, and her gun, down and turning to him, “seriously?”. Danny just shrugs loosely and bites a chunk out of the orange earning a lot of disgusted looks. Fair, he hadn’t exactly peeled off the skin or anything. But hey, the Ghost Writer looks thoroughly and deeply offended; so that’s a point for Danny.

The Ghost Writer audibly sighs, pushes up his glasses, and closes his eyes for a second before speaking up, “as I’m sure you know, The GhostWriters Manor has a fairly high and active patronage”, glaring a little, “regardless of men of a certain sort being unwelcome“.

Brittney leans over to Ashley, who’s shaking and a little stiff, “oooo I wonder what the heck Danny did. Boy’s banned from a library”. Dash scoffs weakly and a little wide-eyed, “o-oh please, getting banned from a library is, ah, is weak sauce”. Todd smirking at the jock, “smooooth”; and gets flipped off for the comment.

Danny shrugs and bites the orange with emphasis, speaking through a mouthful, “‘ell maye searaint ‘en ould ave ettr tases”, and swallows harshly. The Ghost Writer scowls. Danny quirking an eyebrow after a bit, “soooo?”. Making the ghost shake his head and mutter, “I truly can’t believe this”, then looking to Danny, “as a man of the written word there is a level of... respect, even begrudging respect, for those that teach it”, digging into his satchel and pulling out a card, “you may have a card again”; the Ghost Writer sounds almost physically pained to be saying that. Which of course means Danny absolutely has to bug the guy and the windows being phase-proof gives Danny ample time to do so.

Danny smirks, “and here I thought I was never even granted one in the first place”, and dramatically puts a hand to his chest, sounding overly sarcastic, “iMaGiNe HoW bLeSsEd I mUsT fEeL tO bE rEcEiViNg SuCh A tRuLy SpLeNdId GiFt SuCh As ThIs”, sauntering over in the most fruity and dramatic way he possibly can, popping open the window seductively, and snatching away the card, “ThAnKs BaBe”, and winks like an absolute ass.

Emilie collapses to the floor and starts wheeze laughing.

The Ghost Writer jerks away from him, scowls, and adjusts his glasses while trying to compose himself. Huffing a little, “consider the libraries resources yours, do be at least slightly decent and use them educationally”, the vanishing from sight; Danny following the flying off transparent ghost with his eyes before pulling his front half back into his classroom fully. Huh. Will he actually take up the ghosts offer? Might actually be a good idea also, fuck the gov he now has even more access to information they could only ever salivate over in dreamland.

Turning back to the class, “whelp, that happened”, humming and tilting his head, “too bad I definitely can’t get approval for an impromptu field trip to a ghost library”.

Valerie throws up her hands, slumps back into her desk, shoves her gun back into her bag, and glares at Danny. Todd bursts out laughing while Jesse blinks, “did that just happen?”. Dash screws up his face a little, “the Hell you little wimp?”. Danny’s just going to assume the guy never realised that Danny kinda had a pair of brass balls.

Danny smirks at the class, smacking the whiteboard, “I’m tougher than you, deal with it or eat a pink slip. Now class is basically over so I’m not even going to bother continuing with this, but in case any of y’all are wondering The Ghost Writer gains power from the influence, importance, and popularity of any form of writing that was written by a ghostwriter or anonymously. Totally in charge of basically the biggest library in the Zone, which yes I was banned from apparently due to blowing up a book”. Todd scoffs at that and rolls his eyes, clearly trying to seem unimpressed.

Ashley sticks up a hand and speaks anyway, “did you really not know you were banned?”. Danny waves her off with his handless arm, okay he’s got a palm again but stilll, “do you know just how many places have banned me or my entire family”, tilting his head, “or just my dad at least”, which earns him some chucking before the bell goes off and he starts shooing everyone out loosely. Emilie goes right up to his desk though, grinning almost meanly, “tell me you are going to bring ghost books”. Valerie goes wide-eyed a little and glares at the back of Emilie’s head, then at Danny when he smirks and shrugs, “oh I don’t see why not, heck let’s make that the reading requirement. Read a book written by ghosts”. Val makes a series of faces, likely torn between curiosity and being completely done with his general shit. Emile smirks and fist bumps before leaving.

Danny quirking an eyebrow at Valerie getting her to finally speak up, “you are unbelievable, Danny”, shaking her head and walking closer, “so about this assignment thing-”.

Danny groans dramatically, “oh Ancients, way to make me feel like a teacher”. She smacks him over the head for that, “better?”. Danny just smirks and nods curtly, giving a cheery, “yup”. Valerie rolls her eyes, “anyway, I know it’s been decided everyone’s doing Phantom-”, rolling her eyes a little, “-but could I maybe do mine on the other Phantom”, and stares at him.

Oh she is so totally trying to gauge if he knows shit, not that that was remotely subtle. Eyeing her a little, “if you don’t save that kind of subject to your computer then sure, I guess I didn’t specify Danny with a y Phantom. But-”, squinting just a little, “-if, say, the G.I.W. manage to hack things and find out some things that might be dangerous”. Valerie blinks before shaking her head in disbelief, “how the Zone”, sighing, “I’m pretty good with tech these days, but yeah okay”, and gives him a bit of a weird look before rushing off at the warning bell.

---

Does Danny decide to take up the Ghost Writers offer? Yes, yes he does. Barging in and walking around like he owns the place, the Ghost Writer blatantly massaging his temples while Danny walks up to the guys little counter thingy, “so got any twelve odd copies of the same fiction book? That a bunch of teens who may or may not wreck them can have? Also could totally use some lore and historical books, you know, for reasons”.

The Ghost Writer sighs, pours himself some tea, gets up and nods, “yes, do attempt to see them returned though”.

“I make no promises”.

That gets him another sigh but Danny follows the ghost around anyway. The Ghost Writer winds up getting a bit excited and gives him an honestly excessive amount of books at the end of the day. Danny also learns that apparently it was Ember who was a blabbermouth and told the writing ghost when she was checking out, or something, a musician's after-death memoir. Figures a singer couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

-

The Ghost Writer patting the stack almost affectionately, “a happy book is a read book and I have a lot here, so enjoy”, and gives Danny a ‘come back’ look that’s just slightly threatening which Danny’s just going to assume is because the guy had vaguely forgotten who he’s talking to, that or the Ghost Writer hated him a lot less than he thought. The ghost holding up a finger, “ah yes, since you were proactive and showed at least some genuine care for the craft, here”, and plops a little green writing quill down on the stack. Danny is oddly genuinely touched.

Danny blushing and rubbing his neck a bit, “uh, appreciated?”. This honestly said more than it seemed, sure they clearly were bickering and were not exactly fond of each other but it seemed that the Ghost Writer was yet another once-antagonistic ghost that was now at least somewhat on team Phantom’s side.

“Yes, now if you’re done loitering”, the Ghost Writer makes shooing motions at Danny, “be on your way”. Danny rolls his eyes but does, in fact, leave... with an unnecessary amount of books in tow.  

Chapter 4:  An Education In Fashion

So apparently someone went and threw a little complaint about Danny’s straightjacket stunt, him wearing a near-floor-length parka the next day with shorts probably didn’t help though, and now Danny’s at the mall for reasons other than having fun or fighting some ghost. How does Danny know someone complained? Well a little conversation with Lancer that went a little something like this: “Daniel, I know the school’s a little... lax, but we do actually have a dress code. Which again, you are supposed to actually be marginally following unless it’s for safety reasons”. Which he had of course responded to with, “technically a straightjacket is a restraining device sooooo...”, which got him glared at. In short, Danny now had to buy new clothing. New clothing meant for teaching, which was weird as fuck.

Was he doing this alone? Zone no! He had absolutely recruited Sam and Tuck to wander around with him. Which, speaking of...

“Sup, dude!”.

Danny grins to himself before turning to his friends, “hey, Tuck man”, looking to Sam and nodding, “look at you slumming it like a mall goth”. Sam rolls her eyes at him and flips him off aggressively. Tuck smacks his arm, “more like look at you actually buying clothing new instead of digging through used stores for cheap shit. What? Did Casperhigh finally develop standards?”, and smirks.

Sam scowls at the techno-geek, “it’s better that he doesn’t support corporate-run stores and name brand garbage. What with all the slave labour, animal abuse, and terrible worker treatment”. Danny looks down very pointedly at her plaid T.U.K creepers that are 100% not bought from a used store; Sam shoves him, making him stagger a little with a laugh.

Him looking to Tucker, “Lance asked kinda nice-ishly so I’m being nice to the poor man”, smirking, “and maybe this’ll make up for me sorta kinda being responsible for one of the water fountains spewing out black water for a bit there”. Both of them stare at him for a bit before laughing, Tucker patting his back after a bit with a smile, “they hired you, what did they expect”.

Danny sticks his arms out exaggeratedly while the trio start walking, “I keep telling them that!”. Sam shaking her head with a smile, “well trying to appease the man or not, don’t you dare say we’re suit shopping”. Danny screwing his face up at her before gesturing around, “do you see Vladdie around? Because I fucking guarantee you he’d have some kind of sensor or informant for if I so much as stepped into a suit store or tailor, and he’d immediately show up to at least stare at my choices judgingly or offer to pay by flashing around a fancy credit card”. Tucker snorting, “that shouldn’t feel as accurate as it does”; making everyone laugh as they head into one of the ‘teen’ oriented stores. Danny was buying new passable clothing, not high-class ‘adult’ clothing.

The first thing Danny sees is bandanas, MORE FUCKING BANDANAS! Yes, he’s so here for this. Well not this specifically but you know. He grabs a new alien one, one that looks like a white dragons mouth (Tuck muttered something about seeing one just like that at a furry con which really just encouraged Danny to take it but with a shit-eating grin), two ghost ones because of course and if one of them is pink and glittery and has sequins then that’s his business and no one else’s shut up, another that looks like bloody tie-dye, and one that reads ‘SATAN just do it’ with a Nike checkmark; the last one might just get him in trouble but he’s pretty sure just the existence of his class/him already pisses off Christianity so why not go for a home run.

Sam eyes the SATAN bandana as she walks back over from another store, her smirking, “nice. Anyway, shoes”, and shoves a bag at him. Danny quirking an eyebrow while digging inside and chuckling at the white doc martins, snorting, “I thought I was the only one here supposed to be making jokes about my suit while also blatantly hinting at my shit”.

Sam scowls and crosses her arms, “they’re not sneakers and they’re mildly ‘professional’, deal with it”. Danny just chuckles as he pays for his bandanas and the dress-shirt with frowning depressed bananas all over it that Tuck threw at him.

Walking out and looking around before all three share a Look, breaking out in matching grins and speaking in unison, “HotTopic”, and then march off with determination written across their faces; which yes, gets them actively avoided by everyone who knew who they were, which was basically all of Amity these days.

Danny’s got crushed velvet straight cut pants that marginally resemble dress pants -Lancer will so not let him get away with freezer burnt crust pants or grey sweat pants at an assembly or whatever- folded over an arm while he’s shoving around some of the angsty and anime-themed hoodies when Kitty finally decides to approach him. Did he know she was here? Yes, obviously. Be weird and concerning if he didn’t. But she was generally well behaved so he let her be. The biggest risk her and Johnny usually posed was traffic violations. So not his problem.

Anyway, Kitty pokes the pants, quirks an eyebrow and hums a little, “nice choice there, Danny”, humming a little more before grabbing up a hoodie with a plague doctor on it and the words ‘there is no cure only infection, and I’m patient zero’, and shoving it at him, “that’s more your style”.

Danny blinks, “I see you’re trying to cut me with edge now, geez. But technically-”, holding up a finger from his unoccupied hand, “-anything that sheds ectoplasm is ‘contagious’ sooooooo”, and rolls his wrist. She gives him a pouty look, “I don’t know what I expected”.

Sam walks up, eyes the punk ghost before looking to Danny, “you’re getting a dress tailcoat, it says ‘dead boy’ on it”; making Danny wheeze a little and nod with a stupid grin. Kitty smiles a little bit before waving the goth off and starts walking away, “looks like you’ve already got a lady friend clinging around so I’ll be going”. Sam chucks a necklace at her while Danny coughs.

Regardless he gets the sweater because now he kinda has to. The tailcoat too though, because of course.

-

Sam and Tuck already have their supersized order of fries and respective meat and veggie burgers while Danny’s ordering his go-to coffee from his go-to coffee shop, gotta get in that dose of judgemental and mildly fearful staring. But Charles -yes Charles, not Lancer. Why the fuck?- winds up calling and Danny picks up feeling just mildly confused and curious, “uh, why? Also, how?”.

“So Danny, you’re an adult, a perfectly responsible adult-”. That tone is ominous as fuck, damnit. “-a responsible adult who does absolutely know how to safely handle ectoplasm-”. Oh Ancients.

Danny cuts him off, “what did you do to my classroom?”.

“Wh-what? I- nothing. Better question is what and why did you, honestly really, have a bomb-rigged drawer? Also, how does someone... convince a chunk of ectoplasm to get out of your closet and stop eating your ties? I mean, I think it might have eyes but I might also be wrong and it keeps squirming away from the microscope, which why would it do that?”.

Danny gives a pained smile, looks to the barista who’s now holding his venti cup filled with around thirty espresso shots, Danny sighing, “if I give you a fifty, could I convince you to add five more to that?”.

“What?”. Danny absolutely ignores Charles.

The barista looks down at the cup like she’s debating if potential manslaughter due to willful negligence was worth fifty dollars. Apparently yes, yes it is. She adds five more shots and Danny’s down fifty more bucks.

He absolutely catches her squatting down staring vacantly at the fifty muttering, “but was it worth it”, though. He cringes just a little bit; then he gets back to the phone call. Sighing, “blob ghosts typically have eyes, Charles, and the little guy’s eating your ties because you constantly let the things dangle down into your samples and don’t fucking wash them in an ectophobic solution. Gosh”, and rolls his eyes as he sits back down with his friends; who just quirk their eyebrows at him while he keeps talking away, “and of course my desk is bobby-trapped, man. If the G.I.W. activates that they’d be so bothered by the cleanliness breach that they’d just go home”. Tuck chokes and smacks the table comically a couple of times, making loud thumping noises.

Charles actually laughs, “true! So what can you do about the blob, buddy?”.

Danny screws up his face, pulls the phone away from his ear and stares down at it. Glancing to his friends, “a teacher just called me ‘buddy’???”, Danny’s not quite sure how to react to that, them laughing at him doesn’t help. Shaking his head he returns the phone to his ear and gives a cheery, “nope! Enjoy your new pet!”, and hangs up on the guy.

“Wha-”.

Danny starts eating the fries.

Tucker points his second burger at him, “you know...”. Danny pointing right back at him with a fry, “hush you”. He knows he’s a teacher himself alright, geez.

(Charles seemingly took Danny up on that pet comment and actually called FentonWorks for a containment unit and to ask about ‘ghost pet care’, Danny’s mom gave him the phone with a truly dumbfounded expression).

---

Alright, today’s the day. What day? Why the day to get paper assignments for the first goddamn time ever and try not to lose, destroy, contaminate, or otherwise ruin them. He’s fucked. Solidly fucked. But hey, at least it’s also the day to show off his shit fashion choices as well, little ray of sunshine there. Some light in the darkness.

He should probably attempt to win some points with Lancer and wear the dress shirt, honestly. So that’s what he’s gonna do. Depressed banana dress shirt, sequin alien bandana, crushed velvet pants, and what the heck the ‘dead boy’ tailcoat too why not; this boy is getting DRESSED UP today! And fine, yes he looks good based on his mirror's reflection; but his mirror is definitely ecto-contaminated so it might not be entirely trustworthy.

His dad also whistling at him as he heads downstairs for breakfast isn’t trustworthy either, considering the man’s fashion style was less of a ‘style’ and more of a scientific protective mess of orange and the occasional tie. Danny rolls his eyes and waves his dad off, “oh whatever, needed ‘proper attire’”, shrugging loosly, “whatever that means”. Jack beams, “just wear a jumpsuit! That’s always proper!”. Maddie looks away from the microwave she’s nuking some noodles in to glare at him, “not at a reunion, dear”; making Danny chuckle to himself while Jack rubs his neck. She still waves cheerily at Danny as he leaves though so...

-

This is one of those days he actually leaves early enough for a few quick patrol laps around his town, two ectopusses, the Box Ghost (because of course), all followed by him literally tripping into one of Skulker’s traps; hence why he was now peeling a basic ass bear trap -be more creative, tinman- off his leg. At least he had the sense to wipe off the ectoplasm with one of his random shit handkerchiefs before walking to the classroom and loudly dropping said beartrap on his desk in what was probably a slightly terrifying alpha move.

Is he early now? Haha no. At least three people jumped from the sudden loud noise. But fuck, Danny was NOT waiting around for Skulker to show his ass for longer than three minutes. Danny had shit to do, man. And apparently the local poacher can’t bother to be punctual when his traps go off. Fuck.

James blinks, “what the fuck?”. While Valerie just sighs and rolls her eyes, leaning back against her chair, “you stumbled on one of Skulker’s traps, didn’t you?”. Danny waves a hand around limply, “yeah? Yer point?”; making her roll her eyes at him very hard.

Danny doesn’t even get a chance to pick up the whiteboard marker before he’s pausing as his throat ices up, him holding up a finger, and just turning to walk right back out the classroom door. Fucking Skulker, goddamnit. But hey, his tailcoat whipping/fluttering about in the air in a way that was actually kinda badass was probably cool looking. He doesn’t have attendance points but he does have style points today motherfuckers.

Dale blinking, “did he just walk in only to leave again?”, slapping the desk, “well I guess he did drop off a bear trap from a ghost so... samples count as teaching?”. Todd snorting and rolling his eyes, “that doesn’t count for shit”; Valerie just chucks a pencil at him.

“I’m more interested in his whole get up. Who pairs a fucking tailcoat with sequin anything?”.

“Oh shut it, Amber. At least he didn’t come in wit a tie or a freaking suit”.

Dash snorts and actually laughs a little, “oh imagine that little twink in a suit! Ha!”. Which just makes Valerie smirk and turn to the jock, “he looks better in one than you do, Dash”.

“Oh fuck you, reject”. That comment was the only excuse Valerie felt she needed for proceeding to kick him in the chin, which might have started up a minor brawl by the time Danny got back.

Danny’s mildly attempting to fix his hair when he hip-checks his way back into his classroom, pausing with his hand stuck halfway through his hair at Valerie just having Dash in a headlock on the floor. Danny blinking, “mmmmm’ ‘kay”. Which fine, the class starts laughing at him for. Danny talks right over said chuckling, “so once somebody’s done with their little vice grip, or whatever, on another person everyone can relinquish their vice grip on their assignment shit and gimme gimme”. Val flips him off but hey, at least she lets Dash start breathing again. It’s something. And everyone does, in fact, start getting up to give him their work. Valerie trying to quietly and subtly ask him if ‘he’s okay’ when she hands hers over though. Danny sighing and shrugging limply, “eh I’m good, Skulker’s gonna be hearing from my lawyers though”, and smirks; resulting in Val smacking him over the head with a scowl.

-

Lancer showing up just after the bell, looking Danny up and down, and nodding with a, “good”, is weirdly chastising and awkwardly awkward. Ashley giggling to herself, “oh I get it, boy got in trouble for his clothing ‘choices’”. Danny points at her aggressively, “hush you”. Lancer leaves without choosing to comment on that.

---

Does Danny basically use the next couple of school days to make the school/his class his own personal fashion runway? Yes, yes he does. Did he also decide to melt some glue on the end of his tailcoat and file it to be sharp and blade-like? Yup. Was that very thing why Millie was currently done with his shit and arguing with him? Also yes.

“He cut the case lock for the microscope and ruined an entire three hundred dollar machine! We’re allowed to be armed but not wear literal blades as clothing!”.

Lancer is very clearly restraining a sigh.

Charles shrugs from the couch, “hey buddy, it was my machine and you don’t see me complaining”, looking to Danny, “I’m more curious about the how honestly”. Which fucking tracks for the man. Millie gestures at Charles, garish bangle bracelets clinking around in the process, “it’s the schools”, turning to Lancer, “at least fine the child”.

Danny crosses his arms, “hey, I’m eighteen not a ‘child’”, he was still considered a child ghost but that was besides the point.

Lancer pinches his nose and holds up a hand, which Millie actually listens too thank fuck for that. Danny’s pretty sure Lancer is literally the only person that lady respects even slightly. “While I’m certain it was an accident-”, glancing at Danny which Danny rubs his neck sheepishly over before Lancer continues, “-and the school could certainly just add this onto the Fenton tab, I doubt that would pose much of a solution for the fact that you simply don’t like Daniel very much, Millie”.

Millie huffs and crosses her arms, “he’s a menace-”. Danny can’t even argue against that. “-is barely older than most of the students-”. Also true. “-and couldn’t we have literally anyone else, anyone who’s a competent decent respectable person, teach his elective”. Oh this woman just loved mocking and treating non-core classes as lesser.

Danny smirks, “be careful or Remi’s gonna put paint in your pencil drawer again”. She scowls at him for that, pointing at him aggressively, “I know you helped her with that”. Danny will neither confirm nor deny that, “oh but how could I possibly remember when your nasty yellow fake nails are being way too distracting”.

“Why I never-”.

Lancer interjects at this point, Danny’s surprised the man even let him finish his witty comeback/insult. “That’s enough, you two clearly need some bonding time so-”, looking to the math teacher, “-Millie, you’ll be sitting in on Daniel’s class, I know you don’t have any scheduled class during that time and that you’re all caught up on grading, so don’t give me that excuse”; she scowls at him. Lancer looking to Danny, “and Daniel, you’ll sit in on her second block grade twelves”, glaring, “and no bathroom breaks”. Danny sags and whines very dramatically and very petulantly; Charles just starts snickering while attempting -and failing- to cover up said snickering with his hand.

Danny is so not impressed. Neither is Millie but that’s not Danny’s problem now is it. But now that Danny thinks about it, this is the perfect excuse to talk about ghost hunger and force someone who didn’t sign up for this shit to listen to/deal with his shit. Danny might just give Millie a more than slightly malicious smirk as he shoves Charles out of the way enough to sit on the couch; the man just rolling with it while trying not to laugh at his expense any further.

Danny only came early today for the cookies Remi said she’d drop off in the lounge, look how hard that bit him in the ass. Doesn’t even have time to sit and enjoy more than one cup of coffee now. Fuck. Wearing his SATAN bandana was probably asking for it a bit though. Flipping out his phone while nibbling on a cookie and blatantly ignoring Millie storming out in a huff.

thealiveone: so guess who just jacked up the tab AND pissed off mille

PDAxpda: millies the math teach right?

Nightshade: nice

thealiveone: yup! she like always hates me nothing new there

thealiveone: she no happy about recent bought of destruction of property

PDAXpda: someone needs to chill that’s what you do

thealiveone: ouch but yes and now have excuse to force her to hear out ghost hunger

Nightshade: you cruel cruel man I apporv

Nightshade: that bitch gave me so much shit about my ‘satanic’ fashion

thealiveone: ahhh yes I remever that

thealiveone: from back when we were young

thealiveone: our youthful days

PDAXpda: *pfffft*

thealiveone: anyone any one want cookies?

Nightshade: 😆🙃 sure Danny

-

By the time it’s time for Danny to head to his shit he has consumed three cookies and stuffed around eight intangibly inside his body for safekeeping; not like Sam and Tuck gave a shit about eating/using stuff from inside him.

Is Millie waiting judgementally outside of his classroom? Yes. Does he care? No. The class absolutely eyes him and the math teacher as he waltz’s in though. Todd snickering, “ooooo someone needs a babysitter do they?”.  Danny just smirks, “oh no Lance-y’s just punishing his problem children. Anyway today’s subject will be light cannibalism”, and smirks wickedly.

Millie glares while taking a seat off to the side, “I’m not the child here”.

“I’m not the one being petty”.

“You broke a three hundred dollar machine”.

“And? Your point?”.

At this point most of the class is snickering, Valerie shakes her head, “you never change, Danny”. Danny finger-gunning, “and never plan to”. Millie’s scowl deepens.

Danny rummages through his desk muttering, “where’d I put it, where’d I put it”, all the while. Because fine, maybe he was saving this subject for when he thought it would be the most impactful, so sue him. Grinning when he actually finds and starts digging out the little habitat with around five or six blob ghosts in it. Well technically they were blebs, a subspecies of blobs, but whatever. These would have probably been a lot easier to find if he hadn’t modified the bottom drawer to be connected to a slight pocket dimension… but then they wouldn’t have even fit in the drawer in the first place. You win some you lose some.

James blinking as Danny puts the container on his desk somewhat loudly, “huh, guess it’s ‘live’ specimens again. Neat”. Emilie grins, “awww they’re cute”, then glares/smirks at Valerie daring the girl to argue. Valerie just rolls her eyes. Danny also pulling out a blender makes everyone go awkwardly and cautiously silent though. Danny’s just busy cursing while he tries to plug the stupid thing in, “why the f̴̢uc̸̢k is it all bent up?”. No one elects to point out any obvious answers to that one.

Danny walking back over to his desk and popping open the bleb containment unit, “so anyone wanna taste test some basic b̴̡i҉̧t͟͟ch̕͠ ghost food?”, and proceeds to drop the bleb into the blender while simultaneously turning it on; does he get ecto splattered on his face because he forgot the blender lid? Oh absolutely and he’s cool with that. At least half the class jerks back and/or screws up their faces. Millie looks deeply offended; success! Danny licks a bit off of his cheek while staring at the class just to be extra. Dash and Val are the only ones who look completely unphased -though Todd’s trying to look unphased- seeing as both of them had seen him straight-up eat a ghost before.

Ashley squeaks, “um, no?”. Which Danny busts out laughing over and losses his composure, sitting on the edge of his desk, “I’m not serious, Ashley. And don’t worry about the little guy, as we’ve discussed, non-cored ghosts basically respawn”, holding up a finger, “plus! Bleb’s like being eaten”, at that he takes a swig straight from the blender and winks at Millie.

Jasper mutters, “oh Zone he’s doing this to fuck with Ms. Felmer”.

“Mood”.

“Understandable”.

Dale chuckles, “I knew Danny was a menace but damn”. Dash looks a little freaked out, “did I mess his taste buds up by making him eat my underwear?”. Danny absolutely has to address that, pointing at him with the blender slightly, “you are not nearly that influential on my life, Dash”.

“Whatever, Fentaco”.

Millie actually snaps, “Mr. Baxter”, over that jab; making the jock roll his eyes and huff. Her voice sounding a wee bit strained pleases Danny greatly though. Truly.

Danny taps the containment container, “now remember I have a really bloody weird ecto-contamination so do not try that at home. Anyway, ghost hunger involves the eating of ghosts. Surprise surprise, I know. And if none of you leave this class today without losing your lunch I will feel personally offended…”. Again, why did the principal think putting this class directly after lunch was a good idea? Oh well, the janitor's problem now.

-

Did anyone actually wind up throwing up? Yes actually. Not Millie though, much to Danny’s dismay. She did look close multiple times though. And fine, maybe, maybe, Danny went into far more detail than really necessary. Which absolutely explains Brittney sticking up a hand and asking, “how do you even know this this well”, while looking more than a little sick. A few other teens nodding their agreement and mutual curiosity.

Danny snickers, “I have walked in on Technus showering and brushing his teeth, do you really think I haven’t walked in repeatedly on a ghost eating another ghost. Especially when all our local blobs and whisps are totally smitten with Phantom’s stomach?”. That earns him a very loud round of gagging, and Val’s staring at her desk like she’s having a mild crisis. Ah today’s been a good day.

“Forget I asked. What the Hell”.

That just makes Danny smirk as the bell goes off. That makes Danny jolt out of his seat, summon his green quill out of his hair, and start wildly scribbling on the board, “oh! Oh! Before you go, grab your assignment şh͘͜i҉͞t̶͝ and to the person who wrote about the theory that Phantom’s a parasitic species and that’s why he can stay here so long -you know who you are- I hate you. Your little quizzes are in there too, I realise I was lazy about marking şh͘͜i҉͞t̶͝ don’t at me. Also also, this-”, tapping the board, “-is the room I’ll be in for the parent-teacher thingy ma jiggy not this room, for reasons”. Which gets him more than a little snickering and some pointed glances at the -now empty- blender, while everyone takes their graded shit. Danny’s just glad he managed to not lose or destroy anyone’s shit. Though Emilie’s quiz did have a mysterious new ectoplasm stain that he… attempted… to get out. He tried okay?

Millie glares at him as she gets up last to leave, “you, boy, are an affront to humanity”, then promptly leaves. Danny puts a hand to his chest and very loudly says, “why thank you”.

Unfortunately, he is now stuck staying here ‘till her shitty math class. Fuck. Sighing loudly at his ceiling before smirking and chuckling a little, “time to do some sketchy shit, do da, do da”.  He could use some ghost summoning practice.

-

Needless to say half an hour later the schools been evacuated and there’s a pissed off dragon ghost -not from Dora’s kingdom which kinda shocked Danny- flying around. Most of the teachers are glaring at him, Lancer included. At least he’s got a duplicate of himself in Phantom form off throwing fist-a-cuffs; well… more like arguing aggressively about not meaning to summon the one goddamn dragon that wasn’t from the Draconic's kingdom.

Lancer sighs at grounded human form him, “you’re still sitting in on Millie’s math class”.

“Awwwww”. Danny smirks a little, “also, I need a new desk chair”. Lancer puts his head in his hands and shakes his head faintly.

Danny (as Phantom) and the goddamn dragon pause as Red flys up on her hoverboard. Danny waving goofily, “sup Red”, pointing at the dragon, “he’s just upsetti spaghetti, not a real problemo”. He can feel Red’s annoyance and disapproval. The dragon just growls and attempts to breathe fire at her; which she obviously dodges.

Danny gestures at the dragon while she basically unloads on them, “blame your teacher of ghost things!”, and then resumes attempting to capture the dragon. He can easily hear Red mutter, “Zone damn it, Danny”; which fine, he chuckles at.

Eventually, Danny does manage to get the dragon into his thermos. There’s probably one more ghost out there with a bone to pick with him though. Oops. He’s not even slightly surprised to get a chat message from Val a little later.

Robin: whhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy

thealiveone: 😏

thealiveone: are you not entertained

Robin: 😑🖕🏻

thealiveone: *snicker*

(Danny still does, in fact, have to sit through math, which was just as torturous as he remembers. Millie made it even more awful of course. Though unlike him she didn’t change her class plan just to fuck with his day, she did treat him like a student and called on him to answer questions constantly though… that got him so much subtle mocking).

---

The parent-teacher thing comes up way quicker than he would have liked. Lancer giving him a shoulder pat as Danny slumps down into this room's chair, “I’m sure this will go just fine”. Danny rolls his eyes, “I’m a literal teen, Lance. Adult-y folks aren’t known for respecting teens or whatever”.

Lancer deadpans, “somehow, Daniel, I doubt you actually care”. Making Danny snort, “true true. I do still have a point though”.

“Which is exactly why I’ll be staying here and supervising”.

Danny actively groans at that. But fine, understandable.

Of course the first parents, fuck this is weird Ancients, show up while Danny’s partway through spinning around in his chair. It’s Emilie and she is smirking, telling Danny that they absolutely don’t know this random teen is the teacher. Hell yeah time to fuck with them.

Emilie’s mom looks around, “oh is the teacher not here yet?”, looking to Lancer, “I doubt you’re also the ecto-ology teacher”. Lancer actually chuckles a little at that before shaking his head.

Danny snorts and stands up a bit dramatically, “sorry to say but… he died. Totally dead”. Emilie snickers into her hand. Val picks that exact moment to barge in herself with her dad, “Danny, stop telling people you’re dead. You walking problem”.

Mr. Gray quirks an eyebrow at Danny, “ah so my Valerie was telling the truth, somehow I’m both surprised and not”, then walks right up to Danny, claps him on the shoulder, and says, “good for you, lad”. Which Danny rubs his neck a bit sheepishly over. Both Val’s dad and Tuck’s folks worried about his ass, usually more than his own folks did; which, yes, was kinda a bit fucking wild.

Emilie’s mom blinks and looks to her husband then back to Danny, “you’re? the teacher?”. Lancer takes that moment to actually speak up, “indeed Daniel is. Arguably he’s the most qualified for the position, and excluding some… incidences… his performance is more than acceptable”.

Danny snorts, “complimenting and insulting me all in one go, nice”, and finger-guns at the man. Lancer just gives him a fond but exasperated look.

Emilie’s mom purses her lips before shrugging after a bit. Her and her husband both walking over and sitting down, Emilie lounging behind. “Well alright then, though you are certainly a little young to be in such a position of power-”. Danny has to seriously resist throwing his head back, cackling, and saying ‘you have no idea’ at that because fuck saying he had too much power was a goddamn fucking understatement. “-but how is she doing?”, looking over her shoulder to eyeball Emilie slightly, “not being too much of a distraction”.

Danny snorts, “ma’am, being a distraction is basically my job in class. I guess you could say I encourage active discussion and pretty much ignore the ‘put up your hand before speaking’ rule altogether”. Emilie snorts, “considering you blew up the classroom a few days ago…”.

Her dad sighs, “well I guess that’s still better than Jack”. Which fine, Danny snorts at.

Danny pointing at the man, “to be fair, I’ve taken plenty protective measures and do, in fact, know what I’m doing. The accidental wrong dragon summoning was just a miscalculation and wasn’t even during class time”.

Lancer glares at him a little, “yes, and now you’re banned from unapproved experimentation”. Danny just pouts at him before actually doing the class talking stuff he’s supposed to be doing. Val and her dad are just ‘waiting’ off to the side and chuckling at him faintly.

When it is Mr. Gray’s turn the man immediately asks, “she’s not letting outside interests interfere with your class, is she?”. Danny can practically feel the threat of grounding coming off of that question, holy shit. Lancer dutifully pretends to not be listening, Danny is goddamn postivite Lancer knows about Val since she’s way easier to figure out than him.

Danny chuckles, “naw, in fact I can say that my class is the only one she doesn’t ditch”, and gives a very cocky proud grin. Like a preening peacock. Val glares at him a little, “that’s because you boobytrapped the door. No one can leave unless you let them”. Danny just smirks more, “what can I say? I know how to hold a hostage or two”. Val clearly can’t help snorting/laughing at that. Mr. Gray actually looks a little pleased and impressed.

From there pretty much all the meetings are boring and pretty typical. Granted he did tell Todd’s folks that ‘Todd’s a real dick’, which Lancer apologised for on Danny’s behalf. Todd’s dad saying ‘oh we know’ threw Lancer through a bit of a loop though. And apparently Danny calling their son a dick made him more trustable in their eyes, who knew? Dash’s dad made a joke about how ‘hey aren't you that boy my son whipped into shape?!?’ and laughed heartily. Which lead to Lancer going off on a tangent about Mrs. Testlauf’s unhealthy teaching methods, which is how Danny learned that there is a serious beef between the two.

But then came Sophia with her parents, Sophia was one of the freshmen whose family moved here somewhat recently. Girl basically never talked and always seemed cautious. She did perk up a little whenever anything really dark or gory came up -can’t exactly talk about dead people without speaking of brutal horrid violent death- so Danny thinks she’s, like, a closet Goth or Emo or something. Sam would love to introduce her to the ookie spookie side.

Mrs. Holly comes in walking like she’s a judgmental holier-than-thou know it all with some serious entitlement issues, so Danny’s pretty sure this is just going to be so fun. Sophia looks a little more meek and sheepish than usual too. Mrs. Holly huffs, “I truly can’t believe they’d have such a garish class nonetheless let a child from such a proper family take it”, and huffs for a second time. Mr. Holly shaking his head, “truly unbelievable”. Ahhh Danny can see where this is going, even Lancer's frowning a little. Now Danny could either be ‘responsible’ and handle this ‘like an adult’ or he could just choose violence. He’s a combative motherfucker so one option is much more appetising.

Lancer speaks up first, “if you ask me, this class should be, and in the future will be, mandatory. A core subject. It’s a matter of safety after all”. Danny points at him, “and the general knowledge is way more useful than social or math”. Lancer gives him one unimpressed look at that. Danny shrugs and waves him off, “what? Everyone has calculators in their pockets, there isn’t an app for ghosts”.

The parents decide to speak up at that. Mr. Holly scoffing sarcastically, “ah yes, this ‘ghosts’ thing”. Which tells Danny exactly what kind of head-stuck-in-the-sand motherfuckers these guys are. Mrs. Holly nods and scowls at Danny, “yes, we didn’t expect this town to be a satanic cult stronghold”. Which makes Danny cough because that was not quite what he was expecting. Even Lancer coughs and goes a little bug-eyed.

Danny blinks, “excuse me? Do you not believe in ghosts and just think this town is under the delusions of a cult?”. This was actually a new one for Danny. What the fuck.

“We believe in Jesus. Sad to say you clearly don’t, doing the devil's work. ‘Ghosts’ ‘from the afterlife’. As if those are not other words for ‘demon’ and ‘Hell’. And I am not impressed that my little girl is being allowed to be indoctrinated like this. This is why we need more support for proper Christian homeschooling”, she nods to herself with a huff. Mr. Holly nodding readily as well.

This is actually the first time Danny’s ever been called a literal demon actually. He’s been called a demon child or little devil but not literally a demon. Like, a ‘from Hell’ type demon. Should he be flattered? Maybe? Oh whatever. But choosing violence would be the ‘demonic’ thing to do right? So Danny snorts, “I mean if you wanna raise your kid badly and mess them up for adult life, go right ahead. But when your kid doesn’t know what to do during a ghost attack when we get randomly assaulted by a sentient tornado or invaded by another dragon, don’t come complaining to me. Also don’t come complaining to me when your kid moves out at seventeen and refuses to talk to you for twenty-three years”. Lancer looks like he wants to stop him and make him shut up but also really doesn’t want to. Danny’s probably a bad influence on the man. “If you don’t want to believe in ghosts, something very explicitly real unlike your unproven book god, that’s your dealio. But come on and have some decency and let your kid make up their own mind, yeah?”.

Mr. Holly blinks at him, “how old are you?”. Making Danny laugh, “physically? eighteen. Mentally? A lot older than you, clearly”. Both adults look suitably offended by that and Sophia has a tiny smile though also seems more than a little nervous. Her folks are probably the ‘my house, my rules’ and ‘I brought you into this world I can bring you out’ and ‘this is the way this family does things, so you have to as well’ types.

Mrs. Holly scoffs, “this is unbelievable”, turning around to Sophia -who has a good Poker face, which is actually kind of concerning/depressing- and snapping, “to think you’d even select such a class”. Sophia muttering, “I find it interesting”, chewing her lip a little, “and he did bring proof of them day one”. Mrs. Holly rolls her eyes, “oh yeah? What proof?”, and actively looks like she just won this conversation; which Danny is so not having.

So Danny, being Danny and the undead gremlin child that he is, shouts, “this proof!”, and proceeds to grab an ecto-apple from inside his tailcoat, smashing it down on the desk hard enough to make it explode, and grins slightly manically while the green ectoplasm juice and chunks bubble, start moving, develop eyes and mouths, start sticking up like deadman’s finger fungus, and then start shrieking.

Lancer chokes. The parents jerk and jump back, having gotten splattered slightly. Sophia just blinks wide-eyed, taking a slight step back; she was, after all, slightly more used to Danny and his general wackiness.

Danny sticks his finger in the coagulated mass of screaming green horror and starts swirling it/his finger around, grinning manically still, “proof enough fer ya?”. He does pull out a thermos and suck the stuff up when the desk starts steaming though.

The parents say nothing for a bit before Mr. Holly stammers, “we-we will n-not be deceive-deceived by a w-witch”. Which Danny snorts at, “I’ve got a friend who’s a witch, but naw, not really my thing. I prefer to chill it with the dead rather than pagan gods”, tilting his head, “though I guess some pagan gods are also ghosts so eh”, and shrugs.

Mrs. Holly scowls, turns on her heels, and leaves. Snapping, “come on Sophia”. Her husband scampering after her. Danny waves in the most fruity way he can, speaking singsong,“🎵bbbyyyyeeeeee🎵“, looking to Sophia, “see you on Monday, yeah?”. She just nods at him with a slight smile.

Mr. Lancer blinks after a bit, “Daniel… I almost feel like I need to write you up for that entire stunt”, holding up a finger while pinching his nose and leaning back in his chair, “but. You probably did the right thing”. Danny can’t help chuckling at that, “I mean, I would say I did the right thing but my opinion on my own behaviour is absolutely super-duper biased”. Lancer glares at him while he continues, “and really? not believing in ghosts is a good way to wind up dead. Better to bite that bullshit in the ass than let them think throwing holy water at Johnny would be a good idea”.

Lancer blinks, “they would likely have bad luck for the rest of their lives”. Danny nods immediately, “understatement. Kitty would send that man to her alternate kiss dimension in a heartbeat”. Lancer just stares at him a little bit, “has… has that happened to you?”.

“Happened to all of Amity’s men slash boys once”.

Lancer chooses to not respond to that.

---

“Hmmmm. I see. He is rather handling it well. Fulfilling the proper and respective duties”.

“Ah yes indeed. As… begrudging as that is to admit”.

“We’ll have to have a… conversation”.

“But of course”.

“Most unfortunate”.

“Indeed”.

“But he will accept what he’s due”.

“As he should”.

“However, we can never be sure with… that one”.

“Truly unfortunate”.

“Time and her overseer favour that one far too much”.

“And yet they are right, which is also quite unfortunate”.

“Yes. Quite”.

“Well shall we get to it?”.

“Hmmmm no. Let four nine eight and four nine one deal with that one, they are unwise yet”.

“Very well. Watcher”.

Chapter 5: I Am The Guardian Of The Knowledge! The Knowledge Guardian!

Danny is having a morning alright? Sure he had a good-ish sleep, seeing as he apparently did decently well with the parent/teacher thingy excluding the fact that the school had now acquired a religious discrimination complaint (not that the school cared). And also sure, maybe he got out of genuinely fighting Technus by humble bragging since that ghost was ‘a man of science’ and thus was a sucker for any gossip involving someone taking the piss out of religious folks. Also also, he got waffles this morning. Big plus there.

So you’d think with all that he’d be about to have an awesome morning but nope. Instead, he is currently actively running away from his consequences. Well okay, mostly flying but he can’t exactly do that once he got to school.

Danny walks briskly into the classroom and shuts the door very firmly, even going so far as to lock it a bit dramatically before turning around and giving the class an awkward smile. Heading up to the board, “alright f͜ư͘ck҉͘ę͏r͡s̛-”.

He absolutely ignores the, “Open up”, from outside the door. Chuckling very awkwardly while the class glances at the door then back to him. Danny clearing his throat, “so now that the parent-teacher stuff is outta the way and y’all proved you’re not totally stupid with the quiz and mini lab thing. Why don’t we move on to lairs and contamination-”.

“Daniel James Janus Fenton”.

Danny sighs very audibly and stares up at the ceiling for a second, everyone else quirking eyebrows, snickering, or talking at each other.

“Uhhhh, I feel like he’s using us somehow”.

“Does he seriously have two middle names?”.

Valerie grumbles to herself a bit about how she didn’t even know Danny had a second middle name.

“Better yet one of them is ‘Janus’? The Hell?”.

“Ha, serves the freak right”.

Danny clears his throat a little, “anyway, the Eyes Of Ovi Colosseum is a perfect example of a really stupid specified lair for some mouthless d͏͜į͡ck҉̸͞s҉ nitpicking over laws who think they somehow have the right to control other peoples existences”, and throws a mild glare at the door. Bunch of floating cloaked dicks.

Emilie snorts and laughs into her hand, “oooh someone’s trying to throw a little shade”.

A couple of people chuckle at the, “we have responsibilities, Daniel. Now will you allow us an attendance with you”, that speaks up from the other side of the door.

James quirks an eyebrow, “that sounded more like a threat than a ‘please let me in, dickhead’”. Earning some nods and more chuckles.

“I’m more curious who Danny pissed off enough to stand angrily outside of the ghost-proofed door”.

Danny holds up a finger, “technically, they’re cops”. Earning him a round of shocked gasps and scandalised looks of horror. Rolling his wrist, “anyway, their lair is, like, the biggest standing prison. Vortex’s in it”, shrugging, “they might have tried assassinating me once…”, Danny continues without acknowledging or explaining on that one. And yes, he mentioned it purely to piss off the Observants and rub it in just a little bit more that they failed at ending his ass.

Once the class over bell rings though… he looks around awkwardly and with a level of fake pleading, “anyone suddenly feel like staying after class?”.

Val actually humours him (which he one hundred percent expected), ditto with Emilie actually. Todd just wants any excuse to skip class that doesn’t require him doing anything legitimately bad like leaving school property. Everyone else opting to get up and head to the door, though flashing him apologetic shrugs… or smirking meanly. You’d think they’d be nicer to a guy that can affect their grades. Fucking jerks. However it is Danny who gets to smirk meanly when there is -surprise surprise- two Observants floating outside his door that all of them have to skirt around very cautiously. The Observants, for their part, completely ignore all of his fellow teens/students; instead they just stare -if eyelidless giant eyes even can stare- at him intensely. Danny waves cheekily; they feel like they’re glaring. And pretty much all the other teens that see the Observants just kind of hide around corners and observe instead of heading to their next class. Nosy shits, Danny would do the exact same. He probably shouldn’t feel proud over their want for gossip outweighing the requirement to go to class or to practice self-preservation, but he totally does.

One of the Observants lifts up a boney green hand and points at him, “we need to speak with you”. Making Danny snort, cross his arms, and lean against his desk, “yeah I think I got that one after the multi-hour stalking session”. Valerie snorts at that though she is eyeballing the Hell out of the fucking ghosts.

“Alone”.

Danny puts a hand to his chest, “aawwwww, confessing your love for me in private? How scandalous”.

The Observant on the left looks to the one on the right, “I now understand why the elders didn’t want to deal with him”. Which fine, makes Danny feel exceptionally proud of himself. Emilie laughs, “oooo, I so want to know what Danny did to hurt these poor elders' feelings or whatever”. Danny side-eyes and smirks at her, “oh only colluded with a god to break the laws of temporal displacement”.

“I can’t even tell if you’re serious”.

Danny’s smirk grows malicious, “good”, then sighing and sagging, looking back to the two Observants, “fiiiiiiine. But no, I don’t know who jailbroke whatever prisoner out. Or where Plasmius has hidden whatever artifact of rare and overwhelming power. Or-”

The Observant on the right actually has the gall to interrupt him, “you are not to blame for anything”. The left one adding on, “currently”; making Danny snort. Him then gesturing at his three ‘students’, “but can’t you see that I am busy? I mean really. Some of us actually have work to do these days”; all three teens chuckling to themselves over that while also mildly pretending to be taking notes or some shit. But with another heftily sigh Danny moves to pack his shit… very slowly. Because technically legitimately snuffing the Observants was a recipe for disaster and Lancer probably wouldn’t appreciate the school getting beset by an army of eyeball assholes purely because Danny felt like being a bastard. That… and it might actually be something mildly important; which, arguably, he shouldn’t just ignore.

Today’s turned into real shit.

Valerie quirks an eyebrow at him when he throws his backpack over his shoulder, making the tailcoat flare out a little, “are you seriously going along with a pair of ghosts”, then glaring at Danny when he rolls his eyes at her.

“Val, it’s perfectly fine. Annoying, but arguably fine”, him shrugging, “it’s not like they can harm me”, looking to the Observants and smirking meanly, “seeing as they are incapable of doing harm”, snorting, “pfffft, fucking pacifists, am I right?”. A couple of people in the hallway are noticeably stifling snickers. The Observants, for their part, just ‘stare’ silently.

Joshep shouts from the hallway, “what are all you kids doing out here?!? Get to class!”. Danny’s pretty sure that he -and the Observants- is the only one who can hear Joshep muttering, “what the Hell did that Fenton kid do now? Why does my classes have to be so close to his? Just why?”.

Danny picks that moment to walk out of his classroom, look at Joshep, and laugh very loudly and sarcastically. Joshep grimaces deeply at him, eyes the two FUCKING GHOSTS, and grimaces deeper but also with slight fear. Val, Todd, and Emilie all slip out behind Danny; Val whispering at him, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Danny”. Making him smirk, “when do I ever”; earning him some major glaring. He’d bet money on her not actually going to class and instead trying to secretively follow him ‘for his safety’.

The hallway gets real empty real fast as soon as Danny walks off with the Observants following him a bit unnecessarily close; that really only encourages him to walk slower though so HA!

Just before exiting the building Danny quickly throws Lancer a text, you know, in case the man tries to go looking for him or some shit. Joshep will probably tattle on him for ‘having pet eyeball ghosts’. Though making a pet of an Observant would be one Hell of a power move, goddamn.

Danny : 🚓🚔🚓

Let his sorta boss think of that what he will, for now, Danny’s gotta go and deal with his problems. Apparently anyways. Kinda hard to skirt ‘the law’ when said ‘law’ were ‘all-seeing’. Fuck him.

-

By the time Danny and his two personal shadows get to the Colosseum he thinks the two Observants might just be starting to get close to overdosing on puns. Probably helps that Danny’s using the shittiest, corniest, dumbest ones he can possibly think of. And to think he only got halfway through his stockpiled eyeball-themed ones!

Him glancing around the Colosseum full of Observants, and apparently ClockWork? off to the side cleaning their staff lazily. Stupid Clocky, Danny so could have used a heads up; throwing them a quick pout -which they smirk slightly over- before looking up at Watcher, the head Observant. Putting his hands in his pockets, “soooooo? The fucks up, extra-large eyeball”.

Watcher leaves him hanging for a little bit before speaking up and Danny can practically hear the reluctance and regret in their voice, “Daniel James Janus Fenton Phantom, I’m certain it should come as no surprise to you that we are well aware of your recently acquired… position, as well as how your performance has tracked”.

Danny snorts, “so what? You fucks care about mortal realm teaching now? Isn’t that shit, you know, beneath you or whatever? Not that I actually care. Go ahead and get your knickers in knots about whatever the fuck you wanna. But this?-”, gesturing around lazily, “-seems a little excessive as retaliation for educating mortals. Dramatic as fuck, which mild props there I guess, but still-”.

Watcher cutting him off, “this is not a punishment, as you’ve already been made aware-”. Danny flips him off for that jab. “-rather your… position makes you qualified and befitted of another”.

What.

No seriously, what the fuck?

Danny blinks and tilts his head, “are you trying to also give me a job offer?”; the fuck is wrong with people and springing sudden surprise job offers for shit he is almost definitely largely not qualified for. Though fine, Danny as Phantom had a fuck tone of qualifications here in the Zone. Fuck, he even technically had right to claim the High Throne!

Watcher almost sighs and glances up for a split second, “the answer to your question is neither affirmative nor contradicting. You have taken actions no other has and doing so with more than just marginal success. As such you are the only being fulfilling the role of educating mortals and working through those means to ease the strained and threatening relationship between our realms-”.

Danny jumps in at that, throwing his hands out to the side, “you’re only now just noticing that?!? I’ve been pretty well doing that since the beginning!”. ClockWork holds up a finger, “but was that out of choice or necessity? And were any instances of you actually being educational simply accidents while you were doing what you do best?”, nodding to themselves almost smugly, “I think we both know the answer there, Daniel”; Danny rolls his eyes though blushes a little. Damn it, Clocky.

Watcher doesn’t actively acknowledge ClockWork -which he’s sure ClockWork’s gonna use as an excuse to fuck with them later. Fuck, they might be fucking with them right now- instead continuing to speak at Danny, “you are being granted a position of Ambassador and Sovereign Wisdom, Guardian of the passing of wisdom between the two realms”.

Danny blinks, oh my Ancients. Okay yes ClockWork was absolutely involved in this and the Observants are absolutely not happy about this. Guardians were BIG FUCKING DEALS. The High Sovereign was basically the only one above Guardians. Well and technically the Observants, but that was debatable. Danny snorts, “wow you guys must really hate yourselves. Here I thought you didn’t want me having more power?”. He can feel multiple glares.

Watcher themselves seemingly glares, “while that still stands, what is earned is earned and what is due is due. And while a Guardian of this variety is not necessary, it is beneficial to the realm and future. And, begrudgingly, you do it well”. Danny has to roll his eyes at that, the Observants and their ‘for the betterment of the future’, that got old before he even met them. He does actually put on his more serious face/posture when Watcher floats down to be more on level with him. “so will you accept?”.

“What, in any world, would make you think I’d say no? You don’t have to beg me, you bunch of eyeball crybabies?”. Like really? HE WAS ALREADY DOING THE ‘JOB’. The only reason he didn’t take the High Throne was the added boatloads of responsibilities; that, and he’d have to spend so much time here that he might as well just live in the Zone… not happening anytime soon.

“Very well”. Watcher raises a hand and waves it, a sceptre forming next to their hand floating in the air before it starts moving towards him slowly. Danny decides to leave Watcher hanging and mildly admire the black Arbutus wood with glowing blue carvings across it, legit looked pretty hecking cool. Clocky’s stiff pinstriped staff design wouldn’t exactly suit Danny’s quirkiness. The prehnite crystal on top was a definitively spooky pale opac green with green glowing falling feathers inside; at least the green in green didn’t look weird.

Danny shrugging after a bit and reach out to grab it, the three little silver bells secured by blue leather rope surrounding the crystal chiming slightly from the jostling. Danny furrowing his brows a little and sniffing at said bells; ignoring the twitching in his limbs from connecting to the artifact. Huh, well that smells a heck of a lot like sandalwood and frankincense; eh there was probably some inside. Danny is absolutely blaming the dangling red and green feathers on Ghost Writer giving him a fucking quill though.

Shrugging Danny leans the thing lazily on his shoulder and pointedly makes a point to not react even slightly to the weird pulsing come from in towards his core. Little uncomfortable but not nearly as uncomfortable as being impaled by a giant fishhook. Or mauled by a tiger. Or watching his dad disco dance in public. Little more uncomfortable than Lancer’s attempts to be ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ and ‘relatable’.

Danny thinks he’s being glared at again. ClockWork is absolutely smirking in the stands. Danny also not reacting to a cloak magically poofing into existence attached to his neck is probably annoying the Observants even more. Ha, suck on that. He is the unphaseable one! Phased by nothing! Who is also apparently king of knowledge! Lord of knowing! Yet stupid enough to show up with his clothes backwards more than once (how the fuck did he accidentally wear a jacket backwards and not notice it? Seriously self. Gosh). He does glance at the cloak though, lifting up one side judgingly. Chuckling, “black with blue stitching? What? No green to accent my eyes?”.

“We do not choose the appearance”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah no fucking shit. Blue’s an educational, or whatever the fuck, colour”, tilting his head, “and Lancer’s why I even know that. Huh”. Poetry symbolism was useful for something he guesses. Oh and the clasp is a quill, goddamn that Ghost Writer. Fuck. He’s definitely ignoring whatever symbolism might be behind the slightly bondage harness-looking triple straps going across his chest, he doesn’t want to know honestly. The hood tip zig-zagging like a lightning bolt is supremely obvious though. Like, painfully obvious. patting it a little and looking back to the Observant, “so this all the shit? Don’t feel like fucking with my half-life any further?”.

Watcher almost audibly sighs, turns to borderline glare at ClockWork, “dress your child, ClockWork”. ClockWork grins and pretends not to hear them for a second before floating down.

Danny is perfectly content to let his ClockPops ruffle up his hair, both of them side-eyeing Watcher with mean smirks while ClockWork boops Danny on the cheek with their staff; Danny letting their energy mess with his appearance more than willingly. Suddenly his tailcoat is on him in ghost form, which yeah feels a little weird. An (ecto-ha) green frilled poet blouse underneath with little cufflinks that have ghost pipes (ha!) on them. Crushed black velvet trousers, straight cut and wide/baggy. Silver armoured boots and gloves, which fine, he’s a combative motherfucker. He can also feel some shit going on with his hair, a quick pat-down proving that apparently ClockWork decided he needed some flowers in his hair. Goddamn better be ghost pipes. Danny chuckling, “nice, Clocky”; they smirk lightly and fondly at him.

“But of course, Daniel”.

Watcher does their little hand-wavey glittery thingy taking an in-time ‘photo’ of him to send out through the realm, because bitch there be a new Guardian. Danny just chuckles, “can I go now?”.

“We’d prefer you did”.

Danny snorts, throws a peace sign and finger guns before just fucking off entirely. Him turning away to stalk off making the cloak swish in the air which reveals that the end is, like, curled up into something resembling a scroll. Fucking symbolism, Ancients.

-

Turning human when he gets back reveals the cloak changes to light blue with black stitching, well that’s convenient. Seeing as technically he’s supposed to wear the thing whenever he’s doing his ‘job’ so it changing with his forms is probably for the best. Phantom’s the Ambassador, Fenton’s the Sovereign Wisdom. Plus wearing a cloak to school is totally a weird quirky thing to do, which is perfectly up his alley. Sick as shit too. He’s gonna wear the hood down while human, up and tucked right behind his ears while Phantom; just for that little added difference. Danny had some sense of self-preservation. His clothing is still exactly what his ClockPops gave him… well okay the shoes look slightly more dress shoey than like straight-up knight's boots; eh that’s probably for the best too. Less noisy. And a head pat-down shows that the flowers have gone, good seeing as Sam would mock him relentlessly otherwise.

Whelp, he’s going home now. Because fuck doing anything else. Seriously. A quick check of his phone, however, reveals that Lancer actually got back to him.

Lance: for future reference, Daniel, please reframe from ‘getting ghost arrested’ during school hours.

Lance: I would appreciate a call, after hours of course.

Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, eh might as well do that on his walk home. “Sup, Lance. I do not have another arrest on my record and I also did not destroy another jail”.

“I do hope that is not sarcastic, but I’m glad you’re alright from the sounds of it”.

Danny snorts, kicking a rock down the road, “nope. No sarcasm here. Perfectly fine. Just had to stand and talk in front of an entire colosseum of ghost cops slash judges and get my sentence”, snickering to himself, “now see that was sarcastic. Well, mostly. Really it was just me getting acknowledgement, or whatever, for basically teaching ‘the mortals’”.

That actually gets Lancer laughing a little, “well my job offer was never meant to get you in trouble or cause you hassle, though I doubt you mind much”.

Danny huffs and rolls his eyes, glaring at the stoplight to hurry the fuck up, “considering this let me annoy the absolute fuck out of the Observants? Zone no I don’t mind. Also I have a cloak now, that I am required to wear. So have fun with that school uniform upgrade”.

“Oh? I can’t wait to see, Daniel. I’m sure you’ll make the appearance work, so long as you don’t show up in a hazmat jumpsuit”.

Okay that one Danny has to laugh at, loudly, “yeah, no, that’ll never happen!”. He might love his suit but wearing anything remotely similar while human was just begging for trouble. Actively and explicitly.

“Good, good. Now I’m sure after all that excitement you’ve got work to do, so since I know you’re fine I’ll let you go”.

Danny smirks, “oh Ancients no, I’m going to bed and napping like the dead”.

“Bye, Daniel”.

Danny chuckles as the man hangs up, got ‘em with the death jokes.

---

Sam snickers and pokes Danny on the cheek, him flipping around in the air to avoid her prodding fingers, pouting at her, “meanie”. Now some may wonder why is she pestering him? well because an early morning flight revealed that the flower hair was still a thing and was likely to be a permanent thing at that. Fun. And he can’t even really be mad, because it’s basically a gift from Clocky. Ever rare and always cherished… by him at least.

Tucker goes and flicks one, “at least they’re ghostly”. Earning an eyeroll from Danny, “har har har, though fully agreed”, looking to Sam, “I am so looking forward to a confused and panicked call from Vlad. Because this-”, gesturing to his entire body, which while is back to his jumpsuit, he is still rocking the cloak and the staff’s stuck in a little solid prehnite ring, “-is not ‘standard halfa physical changes’ and we know how Vlad pays waaaaaaay too much attention to my physical appearance”.

Sam barks a laugh, “he pays more attention than you do”.

“In my defence, Vladdie’s got all the time in the world to be a weird nosey bastard. I, however, am a busy busy man”.

Tucker puts a hand to his chest, “if only you could work from home like me”; earning him a smack over the head from Sam. Danny just chuckles, transforming back human and planting his one good foot on the ground, “that’s only because they decided you’d be too much of a security and safety threat otherwise”.

“That changes nothing”.

Danny throwing his arms around their shoulders as they walk into the school. The administration just ignores them and doesn’t even try to force his two friends to get visitors badges, knew a lost cause when they saw one. Danny glances from one to another, “so you two just sitting in for funsies?”.

Sam rolls her eyes while Tucker chuckles, “Hell yeah why not”. Which Danny just laughs at while using their shoulders as support to lift himself off the ground, swing his legs up, and double kicks open his classroom door.

Ashley jumps, startled, and joins the rest of the class in staring at him before muttering, “Uh, how is it that we’re almost always here slightly before you”.

Danny scoffs, “because I’m chill like that”, while his friends carry him to and drop him into his seat before wandering to the back of the classroom. Danny holds up a finger, “also-”, throwing his one leg up onto the desk, gesturing at his armoured ‘dress shoes’ because yes, he’s still wearing Clocky’s gifts, “-I broke my leg in three separate places this morning. Fun, I know, no need to be jealous. Also got in a little light stabbing because I may have put a little too much effort into sassing someone”.

Valerie sighs very audibly and painfully, “Danny, why? Just why?”, she has long since learned to not care all that much about his injuries. His contamination whisked them away like magic anyway.

Emilie snorts, “I’m more interested in the fucking cloak”. Which Amber absolutely chimes in on, “talk about a fashion don't”. Danny points at her, “hey f̵̶uc̡k̶͝͞ you”; earning more than a couple laughs. Danny shrugging, “anyway, cloaky grants me special knowledge powers so I am officially ‘wise’”. That gets him an eraser to the head, which Danny ignores as he keeps talking, “the ghosties decided that teaching you ghost thingies is officially my job”.

Valerie stares at him, “… but that’s already your job”. Danny shrugs, “eh ghosts like to feel superior”.

Dash throws his hands out, completely derailing the conversation, “what? Are you not going to pink slip Jesse for the eraser?”. Danny smirks at his former bully, “nope. I do have one with your name on it if you’d like though”. Dash scowls at him and Tucker’s laughter is absolutely a bit loud. Which gets James’s attention, him turning to the two, “and what about you two? Why are you here?”. Sam smirks, “living crutches”. Which really should have been the obvious answer to everyone.

Danny beams, “yup! Waaaaay better than some s͟h̴̛it҉t̛y̵̧͜ wood. And yes I got hired by ghosts to do the thing that I already got hired by humans to do, am I changing the lesson plans because of that? Haha f͞u̴͜͟c͏͝k no. Now as for class, we’re gonna talk forbidden knowledge because I am feeling petty”. Which yes, people laugh at.

-

Barely halfway through Charles just kind of barges in, fuck Danny needs to redo his booby traps. Charles looking him up and down, smirking, “oh I so had to see this. Tell me you are starting a cult without telling me you’re starting a cult”. Danny blinks hard at that before bursting out laughing, pointing at him and deadpanning, “yes”.

Emilie beams and sits up straight, “oh we should absolutely all wear cloaks now, Hell yeah”. Amber glares at her, “I’d rather drop out”. Valerie just rolls her eyes at the preppy girl.

Danny looks to the girls, “a couple Christians have already made it their mission to report me daily for satanic indoctrination so that would have some interesting end results”. Charles chuckles, “oh this so is a cult, and if you were a spawn of satan I wouldn’t even be surprised”, then quickly closes the door.

Dale chuckles awkwardly, “I think one thing this class has taught me is that Mr. Trent is way weirder than I thought”. Danny snorts, “oh you have no idea, the things that man has asked me”. He also had a feeling the man tried to break into his house/bedroom once because he got over-excited about some curiosity of his. Shrugging, “back to illegal dealings with guardians and how our mayors a d̶̢i̶͠c̶̨͝k҉͏w͢e̷͟a͏şl̛͘e͘…”.

He doesn’t even get to speak for ten minutes before fucking Vlad bursts in. Danny really needs to re-booby trap that fucking door. Damn. Too bad Vladdie wasn’t in ghost form, then the anti-ghost coating on the door would have at least done something to keep out the rich nutter.

“Daniel, what the Gouda have you gotten yourself involved in now?”.

Danny looks to him slowly, gestures to his class dramatically, “excuse you, frootloop? I mean, timing. But Ancients, chill your tits. Could this not wait twenty f͜͟u̶̕c̸̢͝kin̸g̢̨ minutes? f͞u̴͜͟c͏͝k”. Vlad just glares at him.

Dash leans over to Dale, “the Zone is the mayor doing here?”. Dale just shrugs. Todd snickers meanly, “maybe Danny pissed him off too, because the mayor sure as shit isn’t here to see your shitty ass, Dash”.

“Fuck you”.

“Screw off, Todd”.

Todd just smirks smugly to himself instead of responding to either jock.

Emilie snickers, “maybe he felt Danny talking about him and was summoned”.

Sam smirks to herself, inspects her nails, and deadpans, “it’s cult powers”. Which lots of people actually make ‘ahhh’ and ‘hmmm’ and other understanding agreeing sounds at.

Vlad scowls at the goth, “oh nothing so drab or petty”, actually walking up to Danny and lifting up the cloak, “I am talking of this”. Looking to Danny, “butter biscuits, Daniel”.

Danny snorts, “no I will not butter your biscuits”. Vlad absolutely subtly shoots him with an ecto-beam in his good legs knee. Fucker. Danny rolling his eyes, “the Observants are occasionally tolerable… tolerable-ish. And are occasionally capable of being mildly decent… decent-ish”. Vlad stares at him for a bit before shaking his head, “your desire to be tortured out of existence truly amazes me”, smirking, “if you wanted to suffer you could just fill out a request and I’d be happy to appease you”.

Valerie coughs and actively spits out some water. Dale quirks an eyebrow, “did… did the mayor just threaten to torture Danny?”.

Emilie starts cackling, “yes, yes he did!”.

Danny waves everyone off, “oh please, this is tame and lame”, looking back to Vlad, “I would but only if I could get payment in the form of feeding your internal organs to your cat”. Vlad actually chuckles faintly at that and shakes his head almost fondly. Pulling on his suit jacket to straighten it, “well I guess you’re perfectly well, albeit stupid, but well. I’ll leave you to your… duties”.

“It’s only a duty if I make someone crap their pants”.

Vlad actually stops with his hand on the doorknob at that, looking back, “a poop joke, Daniel? Really?”. Danny just smirks and finger guns while Vlad leaves.

Danny glancing at the clock, “whelp, continuing this class is pointless”, shrugging and looking around at everyone, “I’m honestly amazed this hasn’t already come up yet but me and Vladdie have a very interesting family dynamic”.

Which results in multiple shouted, “FAMILY!?!?!?!?”, comments from everyone.

Valerie rolls her eyes and glances around, “he’s Danny’s godfather”. Danny beams and nods, “yup! And that I’m his chosen heir”.

Dash stares and mutters, “what the fuck”, at that; which, fair. Danny just chuckles meanly at him while the bell rings.

Amber walks up to him through, twirling her hair a little, “so are you, like, rich?”. Danny can absolutely tell people are taking their time to leave class just to hear his response. So Danny smirks, “whole fam is. FentonWorks makes a lot of money. Plus! the government pays us”.

Dale looks almost horrified and Dash is just muttering, “what the fuck”, to himself repeatedly. Amber shaking her head, “well you coulda said something”. Which Danny tolls his eyes at.

Sam doesn’t let him respond though, her snapping, “and what? Have all you people liking and ‘befriending’ him purely because of something so goddamn shallow? As if. Danny -Ancients we are better than that”. Amber, Dash, and Dale all make offended noises; Emilie and Todd can be heard laughing out in the hall. Fuck, Danny’s pretty sure he even hears Hanna loudly cackling out there and she’s not even in his class or even still in school still. Here to hang out with Emilie perhaps? Danny just keeps on smirking as everyone finally leaves and his door clicks shut.

Is he surprised when Vlad suddenly regains visibility next to his desk with crossed arms? Ancients no, fully fucking expected. Even Tuck and Sam are unphased, though they do chuckle to themselves a little while glaring mistrustfully at the man. Danny sighs and looks to the man, “Vlad, I’m fine”, gesturing around at the empty classroom, “all of this just apparently made me qualified to become a Guardian, a Guardian of knowledge”.

Vlad scowls at that.

“And also apparently I’m the ambassador of ghosts now?”.

Now that makes Vlad blink, “and you weren’t already?”.

“That’s what I said!”, waving a hand dismissively at Vlad, “it’s not like you were going to do that”.

Vlad shakes his head, “indeed”, frowning, “but ‘Guardian’? Really, Daniel”. Tucker coughs into his hand, “oooh someone's jealous”. Vlad barely dignifies that with a quick glare.

Danny shrugs, “eh it is what it is”, finger gunning, “but don’t you worry, Vladdie, I’ve still got that claim to the High Throne”.

“Unfortunate”.

Danny laughs, “to you maybe”, summoning out his staff from the ring and holding it lazily behind his neck to rest his head on it, “but for now I do the shitty duty of teaching”. Vlad glares at him for that repeat joke/joke reference. It was pretty crappy, ha ha.

Vlad purses his lips after a second, “well I could lend my expertise in that regard-”.

Danny snorts and cuts him off, “trying to ‘get in the good graces of a Guardian’ will not get you out of the very bad graces of the Observants”.

Vlad rolls his eyes though seems slightly disappointed, “as if my reasons would be so people-pleasing. You know I’m not the type”.

Sam audibly scowls, “oh we know”.

Danny, however, grins meanly, “now you can certainly be a guest speaker just to piss them off”, holding up a finger, “let’s make it about ghost portals and the effect they’ve had between realms”.

Vlad smirks at him, “you are playing with fire, dear boy”. Danny knows the man’s going to make his folks look bad, but honestly? hurting his parents' reputation was impossible and no one would be even slightly surprised. Also yes, he’s aware that basically having the two halfas discuss the very thing that made them halfas was actively asking for it. Sam and Tuck shake their heads in the background while halfa and halfa shake hands.

(Informing Lancer of this resulted in him genuinely questioning if Danny and Vlad were getting along these days, so guess Lancer also noticed his hostility towards the mayor, not that that was hard. Lancer was a bit confused by the fact that the town mayor was into the ecto-sciences though).

---

Apparently Charles, and maybe Danny’s entire class, took the ‘cult’ thing a little too seriously or maybe just had a little too much fun with the idea over the next week because now he’s been called into Lancer’s office to talk about starting a cult. Fuck.

Danny poking his head in and waving awkwardly, “heeeeeeey Lance-y”. Lancer just glares at him and sighs deeply, so Danny goes and takes a seat, “soooooo, I swear I didn’t actually start a cult this time”.

Lancer quirks an eyebrow, “‘this time’?”.

“Eh, it’s happened”. At Lancer’s pained expression Danny adds on, “hey, you knew full well what you were getting into. I keep reminding you of this”.

“And yet you keep one-upping yourself”. Danny finger guns and winks at that. Lancer shakes his head, “regardless, yes I’ve been getting a lot of concerned calls regarding cult behaviour. Though some are clearly just taking any excuse to complain about you specifically”.

“Yeah a lot of adult adults really hate my guts for some reason”.

“I couldn’t imagine why that would be, Daniel”. Lancer shakes his head again before digging in his desk and pulling out some papers, “so now you and I are going to be making up letters addressing this and sending them out to all the parents”.

Danny’s sags back in his chair and groans, “ah come on, man! This is Charles’s fault! Not mine!”.

“I’m sure you encouraged it”.

Danny gives a very petulant and pouty, “…maybe”, perking up a little, “but so did literally everyone else”.

“Students can get away with it, you, as a teacher, can not”.

Danny pouts at him again, “boo. Boo to you”. Which gets him glared at before Lancer hands him letters to work on. This is gonna suck ass. Fuck him.

-

Did writing up letters suck? YES. MAJORLY. But Danny was honestly cackling now seeing as Lancer let him read all the complaint letters. Some claiming he was certainly coding classes with hidden satanic messages of murder to increase the ghost population. Others claiming he was teaching them to torture people; which wasn’t entirely wrong, how to harm a ghost could be also used to torture them or a human technically. And a couple claiming he WAS a ghost, which was just straight-up true. There was two insisting that a priest needs to be present for his classes, which fuck no; he’s already had one too many run-ins with holy-water-rosary-clutching types.

Danny leaning back and chuckling, “people are crazy”.

“Coming from you?”.

Danny points at Lancer, “hey, crazy knows crazy”. Lancer puts his hands up in surrender.

---

Did Danny feel like having a guy who arguably could have actually become a cult leader if he wanted to guest speak the day after the letters went out was actively being spiteful? Yes. Though the fact that this happened on the day that Walker curb stomped his throat also felt spiteful. (Was Danny wearing crust punk pants again today? Absolutely, purely because of the multiple anti-cop patches on it). Danny clearing his throat painfully and using his quill to write on the board, ‘cheese head will be doing the talkie walkie today. Don’t play with portals kids’, and draws an arrow pointing at Vlad before sticking the thing back into his hair.

At least half the class quirks their eyebrows at him so he croaks out, “got throat curb-stomped by the po-po”. Vlad chuckles, “your timing is impeccable”. Danny flips him off while putting a little triangle of paper on the side of his desk reading ‘return books here ditto with the essay thingies on them’. Surprisingly almost all of them were undamaged. Val’s was a little singed and stained, Dash’s had a coffee ring on the cover, and Dale’s looked like it had been burned on a stove element; but Todd’s literally had the pages all torn out of the hardcover, it was obviously intentional.

Vlad eyes the stack for a second before actually addressing everyone, while the class tries not to be weird -or actively tries to murder him with her mind in Valerie’s case- over the mayor freaking Vlad Master, near richest man on the planet, teaching their freaking class. “For those of you that don’t know, which I imagine is all of you, I worked with Daniel’s parents in the ecto-field back in college”. That earns the man a round of coughs and disbelieving staring. Danny just nods to confirm the man’s statement.

Vlad speaks sounding truly pained, “Jack couldn’t make anything that didn’t go horribly wrong if his life depended on it, and that’s how he got me sent to the hospital for seven years with ecto-acne and didn’t even bother to visit”.  Danny has to try really hard not to laugh at him. “I will find and force-fed you nails if you say anything, Daniel”. Which honestly just makes it harder not to mock the man relentlessly.

Todd speaks up for him though, “wow sounds like someone’s pissy, bet it was your fault actually”. Vlad glares at him, “coming from a child who’s going to get abducted by a man who wears glasses and a ratty scarf tonight”. Everyone gives Vlad some very confused looks and Danny has to put his head down and wheeze slightly painfully into his desk. This was a good idea. Also a horrible one, but whatever.

Vlad shakes his head, “Jack was the one who decided to power up a prototype ghost portal in my face, I will have you know”. Danny sticks up a finger and mutters, “diet pop in filtrator”. Earning a glance from Vlad, “that fudging imbecile”.

Emilie snickers, “I think the mayor hates Danny’s dad just a little bit”. More than a couple fellow teens nod.

Vlad then goes and erases Danny’s whiteboard writing and draws out an over detailed diagram of a man made protal and a natural one. Danny rolls his eyes at the overkill, but Vlad was nothing if not highly excessive. Who shows up to ‘teach’ in a fucking Armenian suit? Danny’s pretty sure the buttons are solid rubies, like, for Ancients sake.

“Natural or artificial some basic rules, that even the simple-minded can follow, are the same. Don’t create a portal in front of someone’s face. Don’t walk inside of one and then activate it-”. Danny doesn’t so much as move when Vlad smacks the side of his head, ever since Vlad found out that that was how Danny half-died the crazy nutter has given him shit for it at every opportunity. So he saw the head smack coming a mile away.

Dale chuckles, “looks like Danny’s a dumbass”. Dash snickering meanly, “what’s new”. Danny absolutely holds up a pink slip over that. “Oh come on!”, Dash sags in his desk grumpily; you’d think the guy would learn. Vlad’s just smirking faintly before continuing, “don’t walk through randomly. And don’t tie a string to it and another person in an attempt to make the portal follow them”, Vlad smacks Danny over the head again. Danny has a feeling Vlad’s annoyed with him today for some reason. It couldn't possibly be that Danny replaced the water in his water bed with wet cement just before he went to bed two days ago, could it? Never mind, Danny knows that is exactly why. Fuck that was funny.

“Hey, it worked”.

“It really should not have, Daniel”.

“Cloning also shouldn’t work yet here we are”.

Vlad glares at him but continues talking at everyone, “another basic rule is that if the portal is any colour other than green, leave it alone; the town and I will not cover whatever happens if you don’t…”.

Vlad actually manages to get to go on for a while without being actively petty towards Danny or starting a mild bickering match with him. Danny’s honestly a little impressed. Vlad also gets almost overexcited repeatedly, very much proving he’s a scientist at heart while also clearly forgetting he’s talking to teenagers; more than a few things clearly go over everyone’s head. Val still looks like she’s plotting murder though; Danny can admire the tenacity.

But when Danny straightens out a bit from his ghost sense going off Vlad sighs, picks him up by his cloak collar and just walks him to stick out the window, unceremoniously dropping him. Danny screaming, “WHAT THE FU̢C̶͞҉K͟! FU̢C̶͞҉K͟ YOU!”, as he falls and hits the bushes below with a thud. Vlad leaning his head out to reply, “you were going to leave anyways, thought I would simply hurry the whole process up. I do know how lazy and tardy you can be”.

“I WILL PISS IN YOUR FRIDGES FANCY ICE-MAKING COMPARTMENT!”.

Vlad doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning back to the class with a smirk, “so on how to topple the ghost government…”. The class stares at him in shock and amusement at the sudden subject change. Valerie just stares with even more hatred now knowing full well he set her up during the Pariah incident when he gave her that ring. She does throw an ‘are you okay’ text to Danny though, which he responded with ‘I smell like bush’ to.

What’s really sad is that Danny got dropped in a bush from the second story of a building because the Box Ghost was having a lovers quarrel with The Lunch Lady in the park. By the time Danny got there it had descended into a full-blown food fight involving boxed-only foods. More than a few townsfolk had even joined in, and honestly? Danny said fuck it -not out loud ‘cause fuck his throat still hurt- and just joined in the chaos.

Vlad could handle a class of teenagers and if the man tried anything then Val wouldn’t hesitate to outright commit attempted murder.

Did Boxy win the food fight? No, obviously not. The Lunch Lady wasn’t super powerful but she still outclassed The Box Ghost’s ass. Danny finger gunning at the box-themed man who’s currently covered in crackers, “I’d buy her something nice before she decides to fill all your boxes with enough meat to make them rounded”. The Box Ghost looks completely scandalised and insulted, “you don’t think she would”.

“Oh she would, Boxy. She absolutely would”. Considering that women caused a meat tsunami purely because Sam wouldn’t eat meat…

The Box Ghost flies off in a hurry and Danny gets to back to his class with literal armfuls of boxed goods. He also got to discover that Vlad could not handle a class of teens who were now discussing how to overthrow Vlad from the mayoral office to the mains dismay and insult. Vlad looking at him, “your students are demons. Suiting”. Danny just chucked a box of frootloops at him.

(Apparently and according to the Ghost Writer, the Observants went and gave Walker shit for interfering with his Guardian duties. Danny was absolutely tickled green by this news. The Ghost Writer, however, was not happy about Todd’s apparent intentional destruction of a book; Danny doesn’t envy Todd who did, in fact, get abducted that night).

Chapter 6: Feather Quills And ‘Tests’ To Fill

“Danny, you’re overthinking this”.

Danny sighs and leans back in his chair, groaning very loudly at his bedroom ceiling before looking to his sister, who was, as per usual, attempting to be helpful… helpful-ish. “But this is the final, it’s kinda a big fucking deal. And considering how fucking splendidly I usually did on those things, how the FUCK am I writing one up? Plus, like, how do I condense this shit? Do you know how many subjects I wound up covering? Too fucking many!”.

Jazz hums encouragingly at him so he just keeps on ranting, which was probably exactly what she wanted.

Danny gesturing a hand around wildly, “ecto-biology, ecto-linguistics, ecto-medicare, ecto-history slash ecto-culture, ecto-psychology slash ecto-behaviouralism, ecto-literature, ecto-mechanics… Too fucking many”, sighing and sagging, “also pretty sure I just made up, like, all those names”.

Jazz giggles a little, “ecto-Medicare is accurate, though I have a feeling you explained far more than just treating ecto-burns or regular ecto-contamination”. Danny snaps his fingers at her, “well obviously, might as well teach the fuckers how to treat a ghost and not just humans affected by ecto stuff”.

“A roundabout way to achieve self-preservation. Should any of them stumble across an injured Phantom”.

Danny pointing aggressively at her, “hey, none of that”. Jazz just could not chill it with the psychoanalysing. She just grins at him like she’s done nothing wrong. Him sighing again and just staring up at his ceiling, randomly mentally drawing out the constellations his glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars made.

Jazz getting up and ruffling his head jerks him out of his ceiling watching though, “hey!”, him flailing his hands around to shoo her off which, as per usual, just makes her giggle at him fondly; which he absolutely pouts at her over. Her speaking up after a bit, “you know, if you find a proper written test so annoying you could just simply do something more unconventional”, her beaming a bit smugly, “my advanced abnormal psychology prof didn’t even make a final at all”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah but that’s university, they can do that. And as awesome as it is that you got to start break early, they should have kept you”, and smirks while she shoves him one.

“Now that was just mean, Danny”. Shaking her head and going back to sitting on his bed, “but I am serious. Do a final project, or just an essay”.

Danny glares slightly, “essays as finals are the goddamn worst, I would never”; she rolls her eyes at that.

“I prefer them actually”, nodding to herself, “far more room for exploring ideas and showing your prof your personality”.

Danny grumbling, “more like how to really rub it in when someone doesn’t know everything perfectly”. Sighing after a bit, because she did have a point. Tests were fucking bullshit and did a shitty ass job of doing literally anything other than telling how good someone’s short-term memory was. Becoming more opinionated about how schools do schooling is one side-effect of this teacher thing that he so did not see coming. Eh whatever, not like he isn’t right. But what the fuck else can he even do? What could even qualify as ‘finals’ worthy? He sure as shit isn’t doing oral presentations, those things were like a mild form of torture… unless you were a drama kid, which Danny was not. Sure he didn’t have to worry about whatever the fuck being an absolute clusterfuck because a regular-ass test would be a clusterfuck anyway since he basically covered the ghostly version of EVERYTHING, EVERY SUBJECT AVAILABLE IN SCHOOL… except math. Fuck math. What kind of nightmare test jumps from laws of an alternate death dimension to ghostly art? Ghost hunger followed right up by portal safety? Plus, does he even remember everything he taught? Ha ha FUCK NO! What, in any world, would make anyone think otherwise. A ‘project’ would totally help deal with that issue. Grumbling, “how would I even have a project that covers everything?”.

Jazz humming to herself and tapping her chin, “well you could have them go fishing for blob ghosts through a portal?”.

Danny blinks a bit harshly, what the fuck? Looking to her, “Jazz… what the Zone kind of Uni friends have you been making?”. Though he guesses that anything involving blob ghosts would cover a tone of shit. And it’s not like he hasn’t talked a literal fuck ton about blob ghosts. They were like a go-to example/comparison tool.

Jazz shrugs, “my dorm-mate likes to fish dangerous fish”. Danny just blinks, well that sorta? explained it. Sorta.

“What kinda fish”.

“She kept a displayed piranha”.

Danny whistles at that, damn, “guess Amity’s not the only land of crazies”. She laughs a little at that and nods with slightly crinkled eyes.

Danny uses his foot to push himself around in his chair, grumbling incoherently to himself. He did kinda like the idea of dragging blob ghosts into his problems, but taking people portal fishing -snort- was just ridiculous even by his standards. Not that Charles hadn’t ‘gone fishing’ in his desk to get his hands on one; yes Danny’s still a little miffed about that, but hey, at least the man kept his grubby hands out of his desk ever since.

Blinking, wait a fucking minute…

Grinning, Danny stops spinning and loudly slams his hands down on his desk repeatedly, “HA! Pet ghosts!”. Jazz shakes her head good-naturedly, “not sure the school will go for an adopt-a-ghost program as a final”.

Danny points at her and snaps his fingers repeatedly and a bit excitedly, “no no no no no no. Blob ghosts. Catch your own blob ghost. Keeping It ‘alive’ would cover almost everything, catching It would cover most else, and naming It, like, a ghost name in ghost speak could be the whipped cream on top!”.

“Danny, how are you going to get all the parents to even agree to that?”. Glaring at him when he smirks, “without abusing overshadowing”. Danny actively pouts at that. He does have an actual answer though, “oddly most of them take me seriously or respect me some. Weird, I know”, sighing slightly and tilting his head, “Sophia’s still hate my guts though”.

Jazz laughs at him, “so what you’re saying is that they are not going to approve”.

“When does everyone ever approve of the shit I do? Get the majority vote and everyone else can just suck it up”.

“See that is likely part of why they apparently hate you”.

Danny flips her off for that one.

Jazz shaking her head and getting up, “regardless, feel like treating your very proud big sister to dinner?”. Danny rolls his eyes fondly and sighs like this is just so much effort and such a massive hassle while getting up, “fine. But we’re going to the Soup And Ham Can because their coffee’s good”. That earns him an eye roll right back as they head out of his room.

---

Now see Danny wasn't stupid or mean, he damn well looked around town to make sure that a bunch of teens could feasibly capture some blob ghosts… without ghostly superpowers. And yeah he also did the responsible thing of actually doing the proper paperwork which made him feel super old and simultaneously like he was too young to do this kind of shit. He’s eighteen and ‘doing paperwork’? Fuck. It so didn’t help that he accidentally complained about paperwork around Vlad, which turned into the elder halfa complaining about his own paperwork; which both of them got just mildly weirded out by. Vlad still thought of him as a child after all, and Vlad was absolutely an old man in Danny’s eyes. It was fucking weird. Vlad did get a little smug about Danny ‘being like him because there’s no way that fool Jack did any paperwork’, which did cause the entire encounter to turn into a minor fistfight. Regardless of the man being right or not.

At least Danny was stronger than the man these days, and both of them were well aware of that. Which honestly? might be part of why Vlad chilled the fuck out.

Anyway, said paperwork that’s making him feel old is absolutely why he’s getting an early morning Lancer call. Has to be. Unless Danny absentmindedly destroyed something without knowing it… which was always a fair possibility.

“Daniel, I’ll admit this is probably the most interesting request I’ve ever received as a finals alternative and I can’t say I’m particularly surprised that you’d rather forgo a formal written final”.

Danny snickering and leaning against the park's water fountain, “hey you know me, I like to keep things lively in the deadly kinda way”.

“And so long as blob ghosts aren’t capable of being deadly then I don’t see a reason to deny this. But this can not interfere with other classes, as in, they can not bring ‘awesome pet ghosties’ to their other classes”.

Danny snorts at that, yeah no fucking shit, “well duh, Lance. That would be asking for trouble especially with Charles”.

Lancer audibly sighs, nearly groans actually, on the other end, “now I don’t doubt that. And because I don't want any possibly ecto-contaminated paper from FentonWorks making its way into the students' homes, I already sent out the permission slips”.

Danny blinks, well damn, appreciated he guesses? Blinking again, “huh, well ah, thanks, Lance, I guess. I’m taking it that you just mailed them out though and that I still have to actually tell my own class of fellow teens that they have mandatory pets now?”. That gets a chuckle out of the man.

“You requested this, Daniel, now you have to deal with it. Though somehow I think you’ll be getting ‘thank you’s rather than annoyed groaning and complaining”.

Danny chuckles, “hey if you want everyone to like you more you shouldn’t assign so much work”.

“I’d be doing you teens a disservice”.

Danny rolls his eyes at that one, the man was dedicated he’ll give him that much. “Not ‘fully grasping literary genius’ isn’t really gonna affect anyone negatively, Lance. I’d definitely rather sleep than brush up on your beloved Shakespeare”.

“It’s good for the mind”.

“So’s sleep”, snorting, “and I missed enough of that as it is”.

“Now that I can agree and attest to, considering your class habits. I’ll let you go”.

Danny blinks at his phone, well that was abrupt. Fucking rude. Eh, it’s not like Danny didn’t fuck off randomly all the time. Oh well. Sighing and pushing off of the fountain, “whelp, guess I know what I’m stuck doing tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow? Fuck, what day even is it?”.

Hint: it was Friday. And Danny, like a dumbass, forgot to even attempt to show up for class.

“Ah well. Fuck”.

It probably says a lot that Lancer didn’t even bother cussing him out for that. Should he feel ashamed? embarrassed? at least a little guilty? Probably. Does he? Honestly, no. He stopped feeling guilty about that kind of shit a long ass time ago. Being a little half-dead hero that has to tap out constantly and lie all the time kinda does that to you after a hot minute or two. Which probably wasn’t exactly healthy. But also, it’s not like ‘healthy’ was really a thing he was familiar with these days. Eh, whatever.

Anyway, time for a night fly/patrol.

---

So now it was Monday and Danny officially has to ‘face the music’ or whatever the fuck.

To bad Technus got fancy with the house's microwave and basically destroyed half of Danny’s bedroom. Meaning he couldn’t even look good… good-ish. He absolutely gets some smug pride from the fact that him going to his ‘professional job’ in tattered clothes would piss Vlad off something fierce though. Actually deciding to stick with wearing a pair of pants with one leg torn off so badly that his boxers were able to be seen probably wasn’t the world's smartest idea. At least his shitty Antichrist button-up t-shirt was intact! … More or less anyways. (It was missing a pocket and maybe the bottom wasn’t quite the same shape it once was but he’s not too sure about that bit). The cloaks perfectly fine of course, being ghostly clothing and all.

Pushing the classroom door open with his foot, “alright little ectoplasm knowledge nuggets, we actually have some housekeeping s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧ to see to so…”.

Val doesn’t even let him actually get to the whiteboard, “so what was up with Friday?”.

Emilie leans back in her seat, “yeah, the only class that’s actually neat is also the one class with a tardy teach”.

Danny points at her, “hey, I resent that statement of truth”, finishing his walk to the board and smacking it, “honestly? I forgot”. Val just stares at him so he winks at her, earning him a scowl and a thrown pencil; which he lets just bounce off his head. Pulling out his quill and striking it all the way down the board, the words ‘FINAL ASSIGNMENT’ magically forming.

Jesse shakes his head, “I still don’t understand that stupid quill”.

Brittney scoffing, “whatever, it’s not like he’ll give us one”. Danny snorts over his shoulder at that, “yeah, no s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧”. Turning around dramatically enough to make the cloak fan out, “what’s also no s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧ is that finals are a thing and that I also -like any sane teen- hate written exam s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧, so we’re not doing that”.

To no ones surprise that announcement results in some smiles, some cheers, one or two fist pumps/high fives, and multiple relieved sighs.

Val chuckles and leans her chin on a palm, “yeah I was wondering how you were going to write some test that covered everything”. Danny absolutely chuckles and nods at that.

Plopping down onto the side of his desk, “so hear me out, since I’m obviously not writing some written thingamajig out and I’m not nearly enough of a sadist to make oral presentations a thing that’s happening”, clapping his hands together cheerily, “so instead y’all are gonna be ghost hunters for a bit”, shrugging, “or for however long it takes you to catch a blob ghost in our town”, tilting his head and tapping his chin, “which honestly shouldn’t take that long all things considered”.

The class just blinks at him for a bit before most burst out laughing.

Emilie wheezes a little, “you are one quirky fucker”. Valerie shaking her head, “here I thought you were about to ask us to catch a proper ghost”, smirking, “which I’m down for”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “as fun as it would be to torment Boxy by making fifteen odd teens repeatedly catch him, I doubt that would accomplish much”.

Todd puts his hands behind his head, “we can totally still do that”. Dale laughing, “HA! Yeah! That could be fun!”, and elbows Dash a couple of times which turns into a mild dude-bro shoving match. Todd snickers meanly at that before looking back at Danny, “and what’s up with the lame-ass underwear? Becoming a bad stripper or something”.

Danny rolls his eyes at the jab, “Technus got a little friendly with a microwave”.

“They’re green”. Apparently, Todd doesn’t give a flaming fuck about the ‘why’, just the colour. Figures.

Valerie rolls her eyes at the fake ass ‘bad boy’, “Danny’s a joke, of course they’re ecto-green”. Danny nodding and rolling his hand about in the air, “and besides, sleeping in phase-proof underwear is a pretty solid idea, all things considered”. That earns some understanding cringing from the class. Danny sticking up a finger, “just like having you lot bring me some captured but not destroyed-”, giving Val a meaningful look, “-spookies makes perfect sense for an ecto-ology final!”.

A couple of people shrug, Ashley muttering, “oh what the Hell”, toying with her fingers a little, “but does it have to be a big one?”.

Danny waves her off, “naw, so long as it’s in the blob family I don’t care”.

James sighs, leaning on a palm, “but why can’t we just do something normal? An essay?”.

Danny puts a hand to his chest in mock offence, “why I never! I just said I’m not a sadist”, waving a hand around, “and because, I am the true multimedia teacher of spooky academia, just handing out knowledge like a new kind of haemophilia. So I am creating g̵͡o͝d̶͡d͠҉am̛n͘҉ new educational finals criteria. Just don’t go getting into necrophilia on me”, and winks as everyone else groans.

Dustan muttering, “so much for not being a sadist”. Sophia sticks up a hand.

“Yes?”.

She plays with her fingers a little, “well, um, what about our parents?”.

James jumps in, “hey yeah, are we just supposed to keep a ghost in our rooms till finals week?”.

Dash scoffs, “aww is some scared of a little blob ghost”. James just rolls his eyes at that.

Danny shrugs, “eh Lance already sent out permission stuff so parent stuff’s already covered. And naw, catch one by…”, humming to himself, “… oh let’s say next Monday. Bring me proof”, holding up a finger, “but also don’t let the little bugger go. Because if you think all I’m asking is ghost capture then ho boy you’re wrong”. Let them make of that what they want. More than a few look slightly disturbed and he absolutely hears Ashley mutter something about dissection. Danny’s pretty sure Lancer wouldn’t let him get away with that. The blender stunt had been pushing it already, apparently there was a such thing as detention for teachers. Shudder.

Jesse glares at Danny then Valerie, “you better not be marking this on time because some of us have unfair advantages”.

Dash jumps in, “yeah! Little miss anti-ghost psycho probably fantasises about this!”.

Todd rolling his eyes, “as if you need to worry about that, you’d piss yourself before catching one anyway”.

“FUCK YOU!”.

Danny chuckles, his class was probably the only one where anyone could shout ‘FUCK YOU’ and not get in shit. Though Dash being ‘star football star McGee’ probably wouldn’t get in trouble for it in any class. Tch. “Now now, just g̵͡o͝d̶͡d͠҉am̛n͘҉ catch one”, shrugging, “don’t care how or when or colour or whatever the f̵̛u̕͞c̴̶̡k̶̨͠. Ancients, go climb a crane and fish one out of the bucket for all I care. But if you die, don’t haunt me”.

Val sighs, giving him an exasperated look, “great, now someone’s going to do exactly that”. Emilie laughing, “I call dibs!”. Making Val thump her head on her desk. Danny does at least give her an apologetic shrug, hey not his fault that people like to take him up on his bullshit to fuck around and find out.

(Did someone actually take him up on the crane idea? According to the news, yes, yes someone did. Danny’s personal bets are not on Emilie even if she did ‘dibs it’, it was probably one of the quiet kids honestly. At least they were smart enough to wear a disguise. So long as Lancer doesn’t find out…).

---

Danny groans face down in his bed, Lancer was in his bedroom. WHY?!?!?!? Well okay, he knew exactly why. Lancer specifically asked for Danny’s makeshift final to not interfere with other classes and what happened? Well apparently a blob ghost ate the cord to the old school projector that Joshep loved so much. BECAUSE OF COURSE THAT HAPPENED! Danny had some truly shit luck. Groaning again, “I didn’t ask them to randomly bring them to school!”, mumbling, “at least not until next week”. What dumbass caused his problem? Probably Todd honestly. Dash might want to shit kick him but the jock was not nearly petty/sneaky enough to ‘get Fenturd’ in this kind of roundabout way. Todd, however, was the definition of petty. Though Danny was a lot more petty; but he’s a ghost! He’s allowed to be!

Lancer sighs faintly, “you’re still the reason ultimately. Even if Joshep has little room to talk, considering how his class law experiment went”.

“You’re talking about the one that was a recreation of that prison psychology excitement thing? Because yeah, that was bad even by my standards and my experience with jailers involved a lot more tasers”.

“… Daniel, I explicitly remember you tasing people at that time even though you weren’t even in his class”. Danny can practically hear his technical boss shaking his head, “that doesn’t change that you owe Joshep a new projector, and I am not putting it on the FentonWorks tab”. Danny groans very loudly over that. Fuck.

Danny rolling over in his bed and just staring at the ceiling, “forcing me to spend the paycheck you give me on stuff for the school, smarmy shit”.

“That word doesn’t mean what I think you believe it does”.

Danny shrugs, “eh. And besides, Lance”, turning his head to actually look at the man, who quirks an eyebrow before Danny continues, “lords of knowledge, or whatever, should be allowed to ban finals because reasons”, putting a hand very egotistically to his own chest and trying to bleed ego, “a lord like me specifically”.

Lancer chuckles and shakes his head slowly, “I’m sure you would ban them if Id let you”.

“Oh yeah, no shit. In a frickin’ heartbeat-”.

Both of them pause and glance at the floor when a very loud explosion sounds and actually makes the floor shake a little. Not for the first time Danny’s glad he’s nailed/screwed down a large majority of the shit in his room. He even got those weird suction drinking cups that even he, with his ghostly strength, couldn’t slap over.

Barely seconds later his mom pushes open his door, smiling quickly at Lancer, “sweetie, Mr. Lancer, you may what to head outside”, rolling her eyes a bit fondly, “Jack, the dear, might have blown up the photon carbon ecto-endaton”.

Danny blinks, “you mean that new bomb thing? You guys actually blew up something that was supposed to blow up?”. His mom actually has the fucking balls to nod sheepishly. Lancer, however, is sweating unpleasantly.

They absolutely head outside.

Danny patting Lancer on the shoulder while they stand from the sidewalk watching smoke pour out the door/windows, “I’m guessing this’ll be the last time you make an unexpected house visit?”.

“… your home life worries still… this has not helped”.

“‘Life’! HA! Good one!… so will you not dying today count as payment enough?”.

“No, Daniel. Just no”.

“Damn. Was getting my hopes up for a second”.

Lancer glares at Danny a little before heading home; Danny cackles to himself a little. He may be paying for Joshep’s stupid projector love out of his own pocket, but at least he got to make someone -Lancer- regret their life choices in the process. His ghost sense going off tells him that he’s also going to get someone to regret their death choices. Nice. Two for one coupon.

---

Thankfully there were no other blob ghost-related incidences, that Danny heard about, before Monday.

“So did everyone catch a blob ghost?”. That question gets Danny a pretty solid round of ‘yes’s and people holding up blobs in jars or just waving around their phones to show pictures of their particular blob. Danny nodding to himself, “good good”, sounding ominous, “now your final can begin”.

Earning lots of concerned staring and worried glances at the present blob ghosts. Which makes sense, ominous-ness deserves at least some worry. Especially considering the things that usually followed Danny specifically being ominous.

Danny, content with his mild terrorising, actually explains himself while staring down his class like he’s some kind of government agency boss, “your assignment is thus, you will keep that blob ghost ‘alive’ until the twentieth. One full month. And you bet your knickers I’m gonna be tagging your suckers so I will know if you f̵̛u̕͞c̴̶̡k̶̨͠ it up and try to replace them”, glaring at the class comically, “you can keep it trucking however you see fit, use that knowledge! Bring It to hang around Cored ghost! Give It ecto food! Ecto-water! Use your imagination”, chuckling, “just don’t try creating a ghost portal to throw It in the Zone. That’s a real good way to die”.

Jasper grumbles, “yeah the freaking mayor was pretty clear about that”.

Amber purses her bubblegum pink lips, “and how do you plan to ‘tag them’? Half of us didn’t even bring ours!”, and huffs to herself. Danny smirks almost meanly and flops backwards in his chair to spin around more lazily in it, “I’m a teacher not a cop, meaning I don’t have any jobly standards against breaking and entering”.

Emilie snorts and starts snickering while Dash half shouts, “there’s no way a twerp like you has the guts!”. Dale shrugging, “well his freak folks do bust down walls all the time”.

“Still! Fenton’s a wimp!”, Dash grumbling to himself a little, “even if he’s manned up a little”, grumbling even quieter to himself, “… and some of the wimpiness was faked”.

Danny rolls his eyes, toying with yet another pink slip, “pinky pinky someone should keep their lips zippy zippy”. Earning death glares from Dash. Danny chuckling, “anyway, considering my lack of giving a s̛hi̸t̡ about school rules and whatnot you'd think me also lacking in the s̛hi̸t̡ giving department towards general laws would be some kind of a given”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’ll tag your suckers and I’ll tag ‘em just right”, and smirks, turning back to face the whiteboard.

Valerie rolls her eyes and coughs a little, “well that wasn’t creepy at all, Danny”. Which really only makes Danny smirk more as he shoves himself out of his chair before going about writing up what in all this ‘final assignment’ even involved with his funky little quill. And while everyone goes about reading that shit he’ll walk around and ‘mark’ all the little blob ghosts, which sit all pretty and proper for him; being that he’s the strong ghosty here and being that they all ‘live’ in his wonderful little lair.

Brittney scowls at her blob, “why does It listen to you? Every time I touch It, It tries to bite me”, her attempting to pet It and getting almost bit in response feels like emphasis, and more than a few people nod at that. Danny just chuckles meanly, “because they fear me”, and moves on without explaining that at all.

Dash scowls and grumbles down at his desk, “as if anything fears him”. Which really just makes Danny smirk. Oh how wrong that was, in more ways than one. Which he wasn’t exactly always happy about. Danny did like certain fear, he was a ghost after all, and he definitely liked it if it was The Observants or Boxy’s fear. Just not genuine fear from the general population of humanity, Amity, the Zone, etcetera.

Danny popping back over to the board, “ookily dookily, now that that’s done and over with”, glancing at the class meanly, “I will get the rest of you later”, then back to the board, “now for actual class class s̛hi̸t̡. Which yeah sure fine, this has nothing to do with the final so technically you could just ignore my a̡̡s͢͞s̸ or f̢̡u͞c҉k͡ off entirely if you think you can sneak out for a half hour-ish without getting caught. But hey! My s̛hi̸t̡ might be useful s̛hi̸t̡”, shrugging, “or at least interesting. Unlike most stupid classes”. That gets him some snickers and laughs. Success. He’s also not surprised no one takes him up on the ‘fucking off and leaving’ option; most people took this class because they actually wanted to hear some nut job yammer on about ghosts… or at this point they just wanted to bear witness to whatever shit might happen to or be done by Danny. Perfectly understandable.

---

“You did what?”.

Danny shoves another mouthful of the noodle dish in his mouth before looking up to his mom, “uhhhh, it seemed like a better idea than some useless info dump regurgitation required test”. Okay so maybe it was stupid of him to think that his folks, oblivious as they often are, would just… not notice? people running around after blob ghosts.

She gives him a worried look, “but Danny, they’re still ghosts. Still dangerous”. Danny makes a point not to roll his eyes. Sure her genuine worry was ludicrously misplaced and steeped in ectophobia but it was still genuine… and while Danny is indeed a little shit, he’s not an utter dick.

He does still wave her off though, “i’s’ine”, swallowing his food, “it’s not like they haven’t spent an entire semester learning about this shit. Ghost shit”. She frowns at him, “still”.

His dad waves her off goofily, “oh I'm sure the kids have some idea what they’re doing, Mads!”, laughing loudly, “especially with Danno over here!”, and smacks Danny one on the back hard enough to make him cough. Danny appreciates the confidence but does he really have to get mildly assaulted at the same time? Not that he really minded but still.

Danny sticking up a finger, “and besides, Lance did approve it soooooooo…”, and waves his hand around limply. He’s honestly a little amazed by that fact still. Either Lancer trusted him a wee bit too much or didn’t want to see what else he might request if denied. It worked out mighty fine if you ask Danny. So far everyone seemed to be doing fine, sure Val had called and asked if she’d lose marks if she ‘used It as a pin cushion’; Danny said ‘yes’, of course… she was definitely disappointed. And both Dash and Dale were trying to teach theirs to fetch footballs. He might have to go give Todd a talking to about trying to turn his into some kind of feudal warlord over the other ‘wild’ blobs though.

She sighs and picks at her food a little, “it’s not that I don’t trust Danny”, actually looking at Danny, “but couldn’t you have just had them catch and release or even track Phantom down and hand them off to him?”. Danny sighs a little, “but that would have hardly covered anything. How’s that supposed to test their understanding of low-level behaviouralism or stuff like ghost hunger”. She actually blinks at him, sounding slightly confused, “ghost… hunger…”.

Ah

Shit

Right

Sometimes he forgets he actually knows -and teaches- shit his folks don’t actually know. Which is weird all alone. But hey, ectophobes don’t deserve to know. So Danny just shrugs and elects not to even attempt to explain himself. They’re -or at least his mom, based on his dad going back to chowing down food- are probably just slightly worried about what he’s teaching his fellow teens.

His mom, of course, presses the issue, “…Danny…”. Which Danny takes as the perfect time to get up and head towards the door, “whelp, guess I should go and stop someone from establishing tyrannical blobby rule”, waving his folks off as he actually heads out said door, “Todd’s kinda a dick… and moron”. He doesn’t miss his mom frowning or her muttering, “maybe this job wasn’t the best idea… and is he implying someone’s trying to teach leadership to a blob?”. His dad laughing a little, “yeah so weird! Those things can’t even be trained not to bite! HA!”.

Danny rolling his eyes as he looks up at the sky, “oh they’re easily trainable”, and chuckling to himself a little.

-

It’s a simple ten-minute flight before he’s got himself perched on his ankles on Todd’s bedroom windowsill. Apparently the guy keeps his bed right next to the window… which is street-facing. Fuck that’s stupid and reckless. How has he never gotten rudely awakened by Phantom him or some other ghost getting throw into/threw this wall. Fucking Ancients, mild death wish much. But hey, it gives Danny the opportunity to be a creepy little bastard gremlin. Aka, Danny absolutely leans ominously down over Todd before speaking, “looks like sleeping beauty’s been naughty”. Todd, like Danny wanted, gets jolted awake, yelps, shuffles backwards, smacks his head on his headboard, and just stares at Danny in shock. Danny snickers meanly, “trying to establish tyrannical rule, tsk tsk tsk, can’t have that now can we”.

Todd gulps and musters up some -clearly fake- bravado, “what the Hell man”.

“Not from Hell but I’m sure Satan would be touched that you think I’m his handy work. Real compliment right there”.

Danny hops off the windowsill, over Todd/his bed, and lands in the guy's room; cloak fluttering in the air faintly all the while, he was technically doing his job right now after all. “So as I was saying, trying to make a merciless authoritative ruler out of your blobby is not part of the final and is honestly quite objectionable”.

“You broke into my room”.

“And you sleep right next to a street-facing window, so clearly I’m not the one making stupid life decisions here, buddy”, turning around and smirking at his fellow teen, “you’re practically begging for a break and enter, be glad it’s just your quirky teacher taking you up on that offer”. Granted he was also basically the most powerful ghost around town, but hey right now he was just teacher. Shrugging, “granted breaking in here isn’t apparently all that entertaining, considering all you’ve done so far is wake up and stare at me from your bed like a brain-dead monkey”.

Todd jerks and glares at him, “aww am I boring you. Get out of my room”.

Danny shrugs again, “ah naw, I’m good right where I am”. Snapping his fingers and sending out a bit of his energy to call over the little blob ghost that Todd’s SUPPOSED TO JUST BE TAKING CARE OF BUT IS INSTEAD GROOMING INTO A WAR MONGER. The blob ghost of course listens and immediately zips over and rolls around under Danny’s raised palm. Danny turns his attention to the little guy, speaking like one does to a small child or kitten who’s being misled by a miscreant, “now you listen here little one, don’t let this jackass fill your head with silly little thoughts of blob world domination”, staring at It meaningfully, “Phantom’s the more peace-seeking type”. The blob actually shudders slightly over the prospect of being rejected by Phantom.

Todd screws up his face and mutters disbelievingly when the blob turns to him and hisses. Danny smirking at the teen, “have fun taking care of them now”, and throws a very cheeky peace sign before strutting smugly over to the window and dropping out it down to the sidewalk.

Danny’s not even slightly surprised to get a bunch of empty energy cans thrown out the window at him along with a very loud, “FUCK YOU”… and a slightly shrieked, “YOU BIT ME!”. Hahahahaha have fun with that Todd, serves him right.

---

Todd had glared at him angrily and was more of a nuisance than usual for multiple days, not that Danny gave a shit. He also ‘reported’ Danny as a ‘peeping Tom’ to Lancer which did result in a ‘conversation’ with the man but Danny’s counter of outing Todd as attempting to turn the general blob community in harbingers of war -which fine was a major exaggeration but whatever- resulted in Lancer sighing exhaustedly and basically throwing out the report. One of these days Danny’s going to run out of ways to make Lancer slightly regret ever offering him a job but that day has yet to come.

Danny smacks a hand on the whiteboard a couple of times, “alrighty alrighty alrighty, test results time!”, turning around and smirking at the class, “you get that s̛h͜i̕͟t͠ now since no one has to waste time grading a bunch of stupid paper scanner thingies and then rechecking them for fu̕͝c͟k̛͜ ̧u͝p̸̨s”, and smacks the board again. Though pausing at the cracking sound and snapping his head around to the board. There’s a decent-sized crack/dent in it, making Danny grin like an idiot, throw his hands up, and cheer, “YES! FINALLY!”. He has cracked the board! It has happened! Turning back to the class, actually tearing up a little and wiping his eyes, “I’m truly overjoyed. Blessed really”.

James blinking and muttering, “is he crying?”. Dash snorting, “ha loser”. Val actually turning around to the jock while Danny holds up a pink slip, “do you never learn?”.

“I’m collecting them at this point”.

Val blinks at that, “now you sound like Danny”. Dash looks genuinely offended and like he’s seconds away from starting a brawl right then and there, “you take that back!”.

“Make me!”.

Danny just laughs and waves a hand dismissively, “now now children, no fighting”. Earning him eye-rolls and scowls, Val laughs though so it’s a win in his books. Summoning out his staff and pointing it rather aggressively at the class, only Ashley jumps so clearly they’ve gotten too used to his shit by now, “now present to me your blob pets for grading!”.

Everyone dutifully pulls out their jarred blob ghosts and places them on their desks. Maple sticking up a hand, “do we have to release them or?”.

Danny chuckles, “you can keep ‘em if you wanna, wouldn’t exactly recommend it but hey Charles’s -that he so rudely stole from me- is doing cool so”, shrugging, making his staffs bell jingle. Danny pushing his energy into his staff making the feathers multiply and extend out to ‘assess’ the blobs. It was fucking weird that his staff could basically do anything so long as it had to do with his ‘role’ as Wisdom Guardian.

Jesse shakes his head at his blob attempting to nibble the feathers, “I’m just going to pretend this makes sense. This class is almost weirder than the ghosts are”. Danny simply smirks at that.

Danny nodding to himself after a bit, feathers retracting, gesturing the staff over the board making the results magically appear. Danny nodding smugly at his handy work/his students' results, fists on his hips, “Ancients the G.I.W. would hate me so much”.

“You say that as if you don’t already”.

Danny ignores that, turning around grinning and gesturing grandly at the board, “behold! Crack or no, your results!”. Walking to his desk and flopping down into his chair, “of course no one failed”, leaning back and feigning being utterly desolate, “oh how disgraceful that would be. To think my pupils would even consider bringing such shame upon me, after everything I have bestowed upon them”.

Val gets up and slams a cup of coffee on his desk, “will you stop being overdramatic now?”. Danny snagging it up eagerly, “oh why thank you”, gesturing dramatically, “my beloved emergency caffeine maid, how I thank yo-”, Val promptly cuts him off by punching his head into his desk.

“Call me ‘Maid’ again and I’ll make you a ghost”.

Danny just grumbles incoherently into his desk while the class goes about looking at the results.

“Oh Hell yeah! Guess who’s average is going up!”.

“Honestly I thought I did worse. Wow”.

“The bastard seriously docked me marks. Jerk”.

“You deserved it, Todd”.

“I’m honestly actually kinda proud of this. Doesn’t feel as meaningless as tests usually do”.

“High five bro!”.

“Heck yeah bro!”.

“That’s enough ‘bro’ing. Fuck”.

“Shove it, pipsqueak”.

“Is it sad that I care more about this result than my math results?”.

“Now if only uni gave a shit about this class…”.

Danny lifts his head up off his desk and rests his chin in a palm, “good for all of you”, sipping his coffee, “granted I’d got all happy go lucky if I ever got decent grades”. Val actually gives him a slightly sympathetic look at that, even if she says, “well maybe if you didn’t skip constantly”. Danny just takes another sip of his drink before standing up, “so who wants to do a blob release party in the field? Like releasing balloons into the sky”.

Maple practically skips back to her desk and actually hugs the jar her blobs in, “not mine”. Danny waves her off, “that’s perfectly fine”, standing up, swinging the staff behind his head to rest on his neck/shoulder. Wandering over to the window and just falling out of it, “see you out there!”.

James blinks, “we’re… not following him, are we”.

Valerie shrugs, “yup”, and basically jumps out of it.

“There’s a lot wrong with the two of them”.

“That’s nothing new”.

“I’m taking the stairs, this is ridiculous”.

“Well it is Danny for you”.

“I love this class”.

-

Danny just grins at everyone with their jars, nodding at them all before pointing his staff up at the sky for no real reason other than dramatics, more than a few classrooms have teens staring out at them while everyone -well almost everyone anyway, a small handful opting out- opening their jars and letting out the random blobs.

Some of the blobs just start zipping around or floating off, a couple nuzzle their particular caretakers, one or two just straight up stay and take naps on the grass. It was all kinda cute actually.

Amber crouching down on her ankles petting one of the grass sleeping blobs, “yeah I guess we kind of put you guys through the wringer, huh”. Danny chuckling, “oh yeah, for the most part, blobs do perfectly well living on their own in the wild-”.

Half the class basically speaks in unison and in time with him, “so long as there’s enough ectoplasm around”, followed by, “we know”.

Danny pouts at everyone, “well at least y’all remembered”. He has been successful at this teaching thing. Hurray. Good for him. Guess for now he’ll just enjoy the view of the healthy blob ghosts running around. Todd’s is apparently still somewhat ticked at him, taking the time to naw on his pants before fucking off. Hopefully, that one doesn’t cause problems in the future.

---

“So how was it? I saw that everyone passed”.

“Surprisingly enjoyable”.

“Really now”.

Sigh. “Fine I’ll admit it, you were right about this being a good option for me”.

“Good. So you’re up for doing this again next semester I take it”.

“At this point? No shit. Though I think my folks are going to interrogate me about my ‘usual’ and ‘forbidden’ and ‘impossible’ and ‘can’t possibly be true’ knowledge at this point, all things considered”.

Slight chuckle. “Good, it might do them some good. Their bigotry only seems to grow more concerning”.

“Heh, nice to hear it called bigotry honestly”.

“You’d be the one to say that”.

“Yeah, I guess so”.

“You know you’ve got one more thing to do now though”.

“Oh yeah? What?”.

“Get Christmas gifts from your students”.

“FUCK”.

“We also have a staff holiday party”.

“…oh I hate you so much”.

Chapter 7: Probably Utterly Unnecessary Overly Wordy Self-Imposed And Unintentional Obligatory Closing Chapter (But Christmas-Themed) Because I Knee-Jerk Hate Christmas And Will Take Any Given Opportunity To Take A Piss On The Season So In The Words Of Danny Fenton ‘Dude, I Am *Sick* Of Christmas!’… ‘I Know! (Puts Down Walker’s Arm And Grabs The Orange) How ‘Bout *This*!’

🎵All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth🎵

🎵My two front teeth🎵

🎵See my two front teeth🎵

🎵Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth🎵

🎵Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"🎵

…

….

…..

🎵What a bright time, it’s the right time🎵

🎵To rock the night away🎵

🎵Jingle bell time is a swell time🎵

🎵To go gliding in a one-horse sleigh 🎵

Danny’s grumbling almost aggressively and marching to class looking like he actively wanted to murder someone… slowly and violently. Repeatedly. Scowling up at the ceiling, nearly snarling at the speakers, “swell time my ass”, before basically kicking in his classroom door. Was he wearing an anti-Christmas sweater? Yes. Only because apparently teachers were ‘highly encouraged’ to show ‘holiday spirit’ with their clothing. Fuck Christmas. Fuck Christmas cheer. Goddamnit. His shirt said ‘sleigher’ -because Danny will pun regardless of how shitty or not his mood may be. And currently, it was quite shitty indeed- with a murdered reindeer. A graphically murdered reindeer. He’s pretty sure no teacher has tried to dress code him because of the fear of throat punching based off his facial expression.

Anyway…. door kicking. Ancients he wishes the stupid thing wasn’t built fucking solid o that his goddamn foot would have just smashed a nice little hole in the bottom. But hey, at least the door bangs against the wall hard enough to shake and bounce back enough that he has to kick it again to get it out of his way. And fine maybe he has to do that repeatedly. And sure maybe he just gets more violent about it. And okay he absolutely broke one of the hinges. Whatever. Fuck that door.

Valerie just sighs and shakes her head, well aware of Danny’s hatred for Christmas and well used to him turning into an angry chihuahua this time of year. Dash also rolls his eyes, even if he’s slightly intimidated. The rest of the class just looks on concerned as Danny walks over to the whiteboard, him smacking it hard enough to make the cracking spread, “alright so the next fucker who asks if I’m going to decorate this room will get stabbed and I will use your blood as the decoration to make this place look like Satan’s personal spa retreat, including something demonic-looking getting summoned into the corner to stare at you all menacingly”, glaring at a couple of people in particular, “and the next person to give me a bag of feathers as a present is spending the holidays with Boxy in a warehouse. Got it. Good. Anyways, since we don’t need no stinking stupid-ass review periods because we’re already done with that shit, what the fuck do ya wanna talk about and preferably loud enough to block out the crappy Christmas music”.

Todd blinks, “what crawled up your ass and died”. Danny snapping at him immediately, “my will to live in this god-forsaken time of year”.

🎵Who doesn’t love to sing We Wish You A Merry Christmas?🎵

Danny’s rye twitches, him half shouting towards the ajar door, “I fucking don’t!”.

🎵Good tidings we bring🎵

🎵To you and your kin🎵

🎵Good tidings for Christmas🎵

“Take those ‘tidings’ and shove them up your ass!”.

🎵And a happy New Year!🎵

Scowling and looking at the class, “y’all better start talking or I’m going to get in trouble for vandalism and destruction of school property”. Now that gets the class chuckling at him a little, making him roll his eyes somewhat fondly.

James shakes his head, “so I take it you don’t exactly like Christmas”. Valerie turning to him, “understatement. Danny hates Christmas more than the Box Ghost hates circles”.

“Well damn, that’s actually impressive”.

Danny sighs and glares at the ceiling, “and I actually hate it less than I used to”. That gets him some disbelieving staring. Whatever. Yes his hatred might be excessive but he’s a ghost goddamnit, excess is the name of the game; fuck off.

Amber purses her lips, “soooo… you don’t want presents then. Or any more anyway”. Danny sighs, “it’s fine. But make them Christmas-themed at your own peril”. The class absolutely laughs at him, not that he gives a shit. So long as no one gives him Christmas socks they can laugh all they want.

(Does basically everyone eventually give him something? Yes. Was it mostly ghost-themed/related? Also yes. Did at least one person be a complete jackass and give him something Christmas-themed? Definitely; but no one else did after he dumped ectoplasm-infused eggnog on that particular teen's head)

“Ignoring Danny’s hate boner, I vote we talk about Phantom”.

Dash grinning, “well duh!”.

Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, “I swear this town has a mass obsession or something”, shrugging, “eh what the heck why not”. Val rolls her eyes which makes him smirk, even if his mood’s still shit. He pretty much just lets everyone chat amongst themselves; him flopping down in his chair and pretty much zoning out.

By the time class is coming to an end Danny’s got his feet up on the whiteboard ledge, Danny glancing at the clock, “whelp this has been fun”, lifting his feet off and spinning his chair around to face everyone, “guess this whole teaching thing was, like, an actually good idea. Dealing with you people wasn't terribly horrible”. He’s amazed the whole Phantom thing never got caught.

“Yeah fuck you too, teach”.

Danny grins and finger guns. Emilie getting up and tilting the door to get it open graces his ears with more fucking Christmas music though.

🎵Let’s sing Merry Christmas and a happy holiday🎵

🎵This season may we never forget the love we have for  *bell sounds*🎵

Danny snags his quill and flicks it at the speakers, shorting it out and making it smoke worryingly. Then blinking, “wait did they censor ‘jesus’? Haha nice”, smirking a little, that was probably Sam’s handiwork. Whelp anything that defaces a Christmas song is a plus in his book. Val shakes her head at him, “you going to wreck the other door hinge?”. Danny just gives her a thumbs up, gets up, and kicks the bottom hinge hard enough to bust it apart; the door falling with a thump to the ground. Danny nods, satisfied, to himself with crossed arms. Val rolls her eyes at him and gives him a friendly shove on the shoulder. Normally that would boost his mood entirely but his ghostly ears means he’s still able to hear the stupid fucking music from the other intact speakers.

Fuck this time of year.

(Though fine some of the presents he wound up getting were actually pretty neat. The ectoplasm lava lamp even impressed his folks, even if they were none too pleased about the ‘team ghost’ flag).

---

By the time the staff holiday party rolled around Danny had warned Lancer that if there was Christmas music playing the whole time or -Ancients help him- carollers, then he was going to invite Technus. Needless to say, said party did not have Christmas music.

Lancer shaking his head at Danny, “you can be quite intimidating when you want”. Danny just scowls at him, “you have never seen me legit piss off, Lance”. Even Danny knew angry Danny was a scary -and dangerous- Danny. The man simply chuckles, handing off a cup of punch to Danny. Who mutters down at it, “I could totally spike this with ectoplasm”.

“Don’t even think about it, Daniel. As it is we already had to put a cage over the noodles you brought for the pot luck”.

Danny snickers and side-eyes the writhing noddles with teeth gnawing on the bars. Unsurprisingly he was the only one willing to eat them. Frankly… they were delicious. “I like my food thank you very much”, and nods smugly. He can practically feel Millie glaring at him from across the room; she’s not exactly alone in said glaring. Not that Danny actually gives a shit.

Remi grins at him mischievously, practically slapping a reindeer headband on his head, “at least you made things more interesting, Mr. Grinch”. Danny scowls and subtly sets the antlers on fire. A couple teachers jerk away from him, but Charles laughs loudly, “you’re on fire!”. Danny smirks, “and? I happen to think it’s very friendly fire”. Remi giggles at him while Xander dumps some of the punch on Danny’s head. Rude. Understandable, but still rude.

“Whelp. Now my hair’s wet”.

“And that’s not better than being on fire?”.

Danny grins and nods smugly, “nope”.

Things go on for a while and there’s even a few shitty party games and a little dance thing which honestly just makes Danny think he’s going to die from mortification. What is it with full-blown adults and bad/embarrassing dancing? And pin the nose on the snowman? What the fuck, man. A certain purple cloaked figure distracts him from wincing over Mainers attempt at what appears to be some kind of shuffle? Eh whatever.

Danny grins at the blonde-haired man, honestly it still surprises him sometimes that his Guardian had a human form… well illusion would be more accurate. Not that that should really be surprising, considering their strength. “ClockWork”.

“Daniel”.

Lancer -who has apparently wandered back over for more punch- chokes a little, eyeballing the currently human-looking ghost. Right, he’s pretty sure he explained his Guardian to Lancer; possibly more than once actually. Lancer eyeballing Danny, “… Daniel”, with more than a little worry and warning in his voice.

Danny waves the man off, “it’s fine. ClockWork’s the last one you’d have to worry about”.

The ‘blonde’ nods, cloak moving slightly in a nonexistent wind, “indeed. Not that any would claim me harmless”.

“Nope, just legless”. ClockWork cuffs Danny one over the head for that. Danny pouting and rubbing his head, feigning injury. “Meanie”. ClockWork gives him an almost invisible fond smile.

Lancer blinks a bit harshly, “well… this is still for teachers”. Danny smirks, “and they ‘teach’ me. So there”.

ClockWork shakes their head, “I’m not here to partake, rather to remind someone that he has places to be”. Danny pouts at that, speaking incredibly sarcastically, “but I’m just hAvInG sO mUcH fUn. CaN’t YoU sEe?”, putting a hand to his chest dramatically, “BuT oH hOw NiCe Of My ClOaK bUdDy To CoMe FeTcH mE. oH hOw GrAtEfUl I aM”. ClockWork actually glares at him for that.

“Someone will come to fetch you”.

“Oh I know. But this party is just begging to be crashed”.

Lancer sighs, “for the love of Shakespeare, Daniel”. Putting on some obviously fake bravado and glaring at the ghost, “and where are you trying to take him”.

Danny sighs and sags a little, “Ancients fuck, Lance. Ghosts just so happen to have truce parties and maybe some of them get a little aggressive about me going to one”. More than a few of the other teachers are eyeballing Danny at this point.

Joshep glaring, “of course the ghosts actually like him”.

“Honestly isn’t he a little biased to be teaching about ghosts then?”.

Danny rolls his eyes, muttering, “having someone who dislikes ghosts would be what’s biased. Geez, been over this much”. Lancer claps Danny on the shoulder, avoiding ClockWork though, “for what it’s worth I agree with you, and my opinion just so happens to matter more”. Danny does smile over that, but eh, it’s probably a good idea that he skedaddles at this point.

Danny shrugs at Lancer before turning to ClockWork, “alright, cloak buddy, I’m sure Johnny’s already challenged someone to an unfair race and I’d rather a place get trashed after I’m there than before. But first…”, Danny turns around to grab up one of the Christmas oranges and lobs it through the ajar doorway. Resulting in the now more familiar than he’d like sound of Ghost Writers voice in the form of a shriek.

Lancer grimaces a little as Danny heads to the door, a few people watching awkwardly/cautiously, “I still don’t approve of you tormenting a poet with fruit”. That just makes Danny grin meanly at Lancer, then at the Ghost Writer who’s around the door and glaring at him.

Millie shouts after him, “you could at least dispose of the abomination that you call ‘food’!”. Danny shouting back, “naw! Why would I deny everyone the joy of such yummy friendly food!”, then snickering meanly to himself. Both ClockWork and Ghost Writer shake their heads at him, though ClockWork looks a lot more fond… and amused.

-

So what’s the first thing that greets Danny when he actually gets to Dora’s kingdom -which is apparently the place hosting, for his particular group anyway, this year- why it’s Skulker with a slice of pie in hand of course. Always was, probably always would be. Danny shaking his head fondly at the robotic ghost, “so what’s the flavour this year, my determined little poacher”.

“Berry and fish”.

Danny stares at him a little, “… okay yeah fuck you”, but takes the pie anyway. Like always it’s freaking delicious, but come on? Seriously? Berry and fish? Ghosts are weird, man. Not that he isn’t totally here for said weird.

It takes not even five minutes for Dora to practically skip up to him, putting a dainty hand on his shoulder lightly, “you look well, nest-mate mine”.

“You as well, Aurora”. Danny liked his nicknames, including for ghosties he actually liked. Danny smirking, putting a hand to his chest as she takes a step back, “in fact, I’m wonderfully well off. Got a group of teens to entertain most days,  then there’s the Guardian thing I’ve got going for me, oh and all these fuckers-”, jabbing a thumb towards the random crowd of ghosts, “-actually somewhat respect my human job”.

Ember scowls and snarks, “messing with a Guardian’s duties is just asking for trouble”.

“And you don’t actively want trouble? Huh, guess I misread you”. Ember flips Danny off for that. Dora, however, giggles lightly, hand over her mouth, “trouble-seeking as she maybe, there is a difference”.

Danny rolls his eyes, waving her off, “yeah yeah yeah, I know. Still fun to poke fun at everyone though”, and sticks his tongue out in Ember’s general direction; she throws a guitar pick at him, though she does look a little amused at least.

That was the nice thing about ghosts, they liked picking fights and poking fun at each other… and they liked others doing that back to them. Unlike humans, who usually got pissed off if you snapped back at them regardless of if they snapped at you first *cough cough* Dash *cough cough*.

Dora hums and nods to herself, “well you enjoy the party and may the truce for you be bless-ed, nest-mate”.

“May it be bless-ed for you as well, nest-mate”.

Dora was a nice sorta sister to have, and considering the Queen/mother fucking DRAGON thing he didn’t really have to worry about anyone picking fights with his little -even though she’s legit older than him- sister.

YoungBlood zips over and whisper laughs into Danny’s ear, “you should totally go bug that nasty Aragon about your boring adult stuff”, snicker, “he so doesn’t know”.

Danny grins wickedly, “oh Hell yeah”.

The kid -that Danny’s pretty sure he can only still see because he was absolutely still immature and because of the right to the High Throne thing- laughs and gets overexcited, “can I come! Can I come! Can I come! I’ll bring grapes”.

“Does everyone just know that I throw grapes at that bastard”.

“Yup!”.

“Fuck you, yes you can come”, smirking at the child ghost, “but make sure they’re extra squishy”. YoungBlood giving him a goofy thumbs-up before getting distracted by the sweets table.

Kitty giggles from the side at him, “here I thought teachers weren’t supposed to swear around children”.

“I resent that”, putting a hand to his chest, “why I in fact taught them to”, sticking up a finger, “in ghost speak specifically”. They had totally been taking advantage of that to get away with swearing in their other classes. Which Danny one hundred percent supports wholeheartedly. Kitty laughs at that and Danny’s going to take a guess that Johnny’s off hitting on some other girls here. Kitty speaking up again, “you know…. The flowers are kind of cute”, and giggles, leaning over to fiddle with one of the ghost pipes. Well that feels like proof to him.

Unsurprisingly Johnny comes out of nowhere, scowling at him then smirking attractively at Kitty, “come on babe, whatcha doing with him”.

She just huffs at him; Danny taking the opportunity to subtly slink away from the pair while they go about having one of their typical lovers quarrels. Danny damn near crashes into Desiree in the process through.

She scowls at him a little before shaking her head, “and that is why I absolutely do not ‘want a man’”. Danny chuckling awkwardly, “ah come on now, some of us are at least fun to mess with”. That gets a smirk out of the genie ghost, “true. Still not worth the trouble”. Danny just chooses to shrug before wandering off to the little appetiser table, Desiree’s tolerance for him was minimal at best… especially because he was a guy.

-

Danny barely gets to spend ten minutes demolishing the appetiser table before Walker is there being a pick and shoving a present at his chest unnecessarily hard. Danny letting out a little oof followed by a not so eloquent, “jerk”, in the prison wardens general direction.

The skull-faced ghost scowls at him, “I hope you are teaching those delinquents the law”. Danny rolling his eyes so hard it almost hurt, “of course, Whitey. I might be lazy and have a complete disregard for law but when I have responsibilities I actually tend to do them”, shrugging, “with the occasional shortcut”, smirking meanly at the ghost, “besides, the best ways to break the law require knowing it”, and winks. If it wasn’t the truce Danny is a-hundred-percent positive Walker would assault him right now.

Walker sneering, “you’re lucky it’s the truce, punk”, and stalking off feels like proof in Danny’s books.

Walker taking the initiative with the present giving basically results in everyone else following suit. Which of course means Danny gets pelted by boxes, which the exception of the occasional one that’s actually handed to him. They were all combative motherfuckers alright? Danny laughing probably doesn’t discourage it though.

Like always most would prove to be useless or even slightly insulting. Not that the gifts he chucks back won’t be equally offensive/pointless. He’s pretty sure his gift for Boxy is literally just a shit ton of marbles with square shapes inside them to really bug the guy. ClockWorks was a little touching though, being a gear cog accessory for his staff, and fine maybe Danny also gave ClockWork staff accessories. Like minds think in kind. Too bad FrostBite and Pandora have their own kingdoms truce celebrations to see to. Eh, he’ll visit them at some point. Besides, they all took turns hosting his group's truce celebrations. Technically he could go to those parties too but Danny’s not putting himself through three to six ‘Christmas’/‘Yule’/truce parties every year. He’s not a fucking masochist, regardless of what anyone might say.

Eventually, everyone gets all well and done with their present-based assault of each other. Dora nodding to herself and raising her chalice, “to a blessed and successful-”, everyone glancing judgingly at the Ghost Writer, “-truce!”. Danny, and more than a few others, chuckling at the Ghost Writers expense before sipping their prospective drinks. Was Danny’s the most disgusting horrid-looking concoction he could come up with based on what ingredients he had at his disposal? Abso-fucking-lutely. He even stuck in an orange wedge for the fuck of it. The smell was truly atrocious and the mild glaring that causes only makes Danny feel all the more smug. Drinking what’s effectively consumable battery acid with a devilish smirk as the party begins to draw to an end.

-

And boom bada boom, another year's festivities over. Guess the class shit’s over for another year too, so a nice little two-for-one ending there. Nice. Now to do it all over again in, like, a month. Well okay, a year for the truce crap. Oh whatever. Class starts again in January…

Eh at least Lancer had the decency to put Danny’s ecto-ology class in the afternoon again. Hopefully, that will never change. Though the fact that Danny still managed to show up late would probably cement that afternoon time slot. Ancients Danny might not show up at all out of spite if the man scheduled it any sooner. Lancer probably knew that too, the man had proven he understood waaaaaaay more than Danny ever thought/knew.

At least no one was treating him different due to the Guardian/teacher thing. Much anyways. Goes to show that Danny could probably change into infinitely stranger things and people would probably still go ‘eh that’s just Danny for you’. No one, ghost nor human, should have expected he’d become a freaking teacher (except ClockWork anyway… and the stupid fucking Observants) and yet everything went more or less fine.

But still, fuck Christmas.

And fuck the Observants for good measure.

What the heck, fuck the educational system too.

Throw in a ‘fuck his half-life’ for bonus points and to complete the nonexistent list of things to flip off before he goes to bed.

End.

[contemplativepancakes]

enough to drive a man mad

~7k geraskier fake dating, because that is what this fandom needs. read on ao3 here!

Jaskier smells anxious. He reeked of apprehension all of yesterday, not to mention the fact that he hasn’t been able to sit still or stop tapping his foot on the wooden floorboards this morning. 

It’s grating on Geralt’s last nerve. 

“What, Jaskier?” he finally growls. 

Jaskier jumps, almost falling out of his chair from where he sits tapping his quill idly in his notebook. 

“What?”

“What has you so worked up?”

Jaskier looks Geralt in the eyes before glancing away again. He clears his throat. “Nothing.”

Geralt grunts. 

“Oh, don’t sound so unconvinced,” Jaskier complains. 

Geralt rolls his eyes, turning his back to Jaskier to finish settling all of his things into his pack. He wraps the glass jars carefully and tucks them between Jaskier’s shirts, so they don’t break. “If nothing is wrong, you’re ready to go then, right?”

Jaskier grumbles, but he tucks his notebook away and gets to his feet. 

They make it about three hours before Jaskier finally broaches the subject. 

“So, Geralt,” he starts. “Dear friend of mine.”

Geralt doesn’t even bother to look back at him. Nothing good can come with this as a conversation starter. 

“Have I ever told you about my parents?”

“No.”

Jaskier sighs. “I suppose not. Well, they’ve written to me. They want me to visit.”

Geralt thinks back to the letter an innkeeper had handed to Jaskier a few weeks ago, the one that made him eerily quiet the rest of the night and that he had clammed up about when Geralt questioned him. Jaskier was perky and practically completely back to normal the next morning, so Geralt had almost forgotten about it. Apparently, Jaskier had not done the same. 

“Hmm.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Dreadfully inconvenient for you. What will you do without your loyal companion?”

Geralt frowns. He hadn’t even thought about that, just registered the smell of unhappiness coming off of Jaskier at the thought of his parents. Jaskier  is  rather helpful, though. He’s never afraid to step in the middle of pay negotiations, inevitably getting Geralt more coin, and he’s certain Jaskier has stopped them from getting kicked out of at least three towns after Geralt had stumbled back to the inn covered in viscera. 

“Do you want to visit them?”

Jaskier trips over his feet, and Geralt dutifully looks away, pretending not to have noticed. “Not particularly. But I have to.”

Geralt won’t pretend to understand how a typical human family works, so he just accepts Jaskier’s words at face value. He’s never felt  obliged  to return to Kaer Morhen every winter; it’s something he looks forward to—to seeing his patchwork family. But Jaskier deliberately never speaks of his family, and gets twitchy every time anyone brings them up, so Geralt had accepted it as one of Jaskier’s many quirks and moved on. 

“Hmm. Well, I can travel with you there, at least. I’m sure there will be contracts in the area somewhere.”

Jaskier flushes red. “I was...I was actually hoping you would come with me.”

“What? I’m sure that’s not what your parents had in mind when they wanted you to visit. They wouldn’t want to meet  me .”

“Well, they said it’s unbecoming for someone of my age to be a bachelor. And, so I. I, um.” Jaskier scratches the back of his neck. “I told them I wasn’t. And I maybe sort of perhaps insinuated we were together.”

Geralt can feel a stress headache brewing.

-

Marilla looks down at the letter in shock. 

Dear Mother,

I fear I am not quite as much of a bachelor as you suppose. Have you heard any of my songs? I have gone and fallen head first into my muse. Typical, foolish me, but I’ve never been happier. We’ll visit soon. 

Julian

She doesn’t like to think about Julian’s songs, about how he couldn’t even keep the name she had given him. She thrusts the letter to her husband. “He’s coming to visit,” she says in disbelief. “When’s the last time we saw him?”

Ethbert considers this as he reads the letter. “At least five years.”

“And I can’t believe he hasn’t spoken of this ‘muse’ any sooner. I’m not sure I believe him.”

Ethbert gave Marilla a placating smile. “He’s probably just ashamed he hasn’t found himself a wife yet. We’ll find out when he comes, doubtless with an excuse about where his beloved is.”

Marilla sniffs. “You’re right.”

Nell looks down at the scene in the kitchen with wide eyes from her spot crouched down between the banisters at the top of the stairs. Her brother? With a wife? She could scarcely imagine it. She thinks back to the last time Julian was here, the way he had boasted to her about his conquests for hours, away from the prying ears of their parents. 

Well, surely if he had someone, he’d have talked about her in his songs. She resolves to get her hands on some of his music. She’ll solve this mystery before Julian even gets here.

-

“The first thing to know is that they’re awful,” Jaskier says, ticking down one of his fingers as he walks along beside Roach, seemingly uncaring of the dust that’s drifting up from her hooves and onto his doublet. “Well, except for my sister. Be nice to my sister, please, Geralt.”

“I’m nice to everyone.”

Jaskier stifles a laugh. “Mm. Be extra nice to her, then.”          

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You need to loosen up, too. They’re never going to think we’re together when you look all...constipated like that.”

Geralt huffs. 

“You’re lucky opposites attract,” Jaskier says, before dragging a hand down his face. “This is never going to work, is it?” 

-

Nell squints at the lyrics spread out before her. This doesn’t sound very romantic to her at all. Maybe a breakup song?  She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss , Nell hums. She can’t help but notice there’s three different people the song is talking about, though. Odd. She shakes her head and moves onto the next song. 

This one is just a ditty, so Nell turns the page to see a song about the witcher Jaskier travels with. And then another, and another. Is he all Julian writes about? She expected to see love songs, not this nonsense. She goes through more of his catalogue, briefly regretting spending her allowance on the songbook, but she supposes it supports her brother, after all. 

She’ll just have to see what she can wheedle out of him while he’s here. 

Finally, after flipping through no less than four more songs about the witcher, she lands on one titled “The Eternal Flame.” 

Interesting. 

Around your house, now white from frost

Sparkles ice on pond and marsh

Your longing eyes grieve what is lost

But naught can change this parting harsh

  Spring will return, on the road the rain will fall

Hearts will be warmed by the heat of the sun

It must be thus, for fire still smolders in us all

An eternal fire, hope for each one

There, Nell can read some romance in. She rubs the ends of her hair together in thought. This one song certainly isn’t enough proof that Julian has actually found a wife. More like he’s still pining over some old flame. It doesn’t seem like he’s written very many good love songs at all. 

Nell rolls her eyes, thinking back to all the raunchy songs in his catalogue. Typical. 

There’s the squeak of the door opening downstairs, and Nell hastily slams the book shut and hides it under her mattress. She doesn’t want Julian seeing and getting a bigger head, after all. 

She straightens her dress and runs down the steps, eager to see if Julian’s by himself, which is her guess. She comes to a skidding halt when she sees who is with him. 

Oh.

She supposes he does write love songs, after all. 

-

Geralt shifts uncomfortably from the scrutiny Jaskier’s family is giving him. He wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder, hoping he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. He looks over to Jaskier for help, and Jaskier shrugs off his arm and takes Geralt by the hand, leading him forward to meet them. 

“Mother, Father, this is Geralt. Nell, this is a very large, scary witcher who will eat you up if you don’t behave.”

Geralt frowns. He thought Jaskier told him to be extra nice to his sister?

Nell laughs, a delightful, tinkling thing that reminds him of Jaskier’s. “He’s going to like me better than you by the time he leaves.”

Geralt looks back to Jaskier, only to see him sticking his tongue out at her. Right. Their relationship is definitely more antagonistic than Jaskier had prepared him for, so Geralt is glad he had Lambert to prepare him for these things. 

He’s not sure his interactions with Lambert would be appropriate to apply to Jaskier’s sister, though, so Geralt will let Jaskier handle the ribbing. 

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt finally says. “Jaskier’s told me a lot about you.”

Which, of course, is a lie, but Geralt knows that’s the polite thing to say. 

“He’s never even mentioned me, has he?” 

When Geralt waffles, Nell sniffs dramatically and casts Jaskier a betrayed look. 

Jaskier shoots that look right back to Geralt, and Geralt is so impossibly out of his depth right now. “Hmm.”

“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve made him regret agreeing to meet you in the first place!” Jaskier cries. 

“That’s quite enough, Julian,” Jaskier’s mother cuts in, and—Julian? 

He shoots Jaskier a puzzled look. Obviously, there was a little more he should have told Geralt before they came here. 

“Well, I’m afraid we are absolutely knackered; we’ve been riding all day. I’m going to head upstairs…” 

Geralt shoots him a look. 

“I mean,  we are going to head out to the stables and make sure that Geralt’s very polite mare is taken care of.”

“We have someone—”

“No, no, Geralt is very picky about who cares for his horse.”

With that, Jaskier drags Geralt out of the house and to the barn. “I thought the goal was for them to like me?” Geralt asks. 

Jaskier snorts. “Gods, no. The goal is to have them believe that we’re in a relationship, and they would never believe I would choose anyone they actually  liked .”

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Geralt. It’ll be fine. Just stop acting like you’re terrified of me every time I touch you. Maybe we should practice.”

Jaskier gets a gleam in his eye as he darts a glance back to the house, and then his very warm mouth is on Geralt’s. Geralt’s surprised for a second before he relaxes and kisses Jaskier back. He’ll show Jaskier he’s not  terrified of him. Geralt would scoff if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. 

Geralt brings one hand up to rest on Jaskier’s jaw and one to wind through his soft hair. Geralt strokes his thumb over Jaskier’s cheekbone, and Jaskier melts against him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and tugging him closer. 

“What was that for?” Geralt says, trying to keep his breathing even after they pull away. 

Jaskier peers around him and looks back up at the house. “Well, they  were  watching through the window. Figured we’d give them a show. Alas.”

Jaskier turns and heads to the stables. Geralt trails behind him, surreptitiously bringing a hand up to his medallion to make sure it’s not vibrating. 

He is in way over his head. 

-

Nell stares at them with wide eyes from her bedroom window. She had...not exactly doubted them when Julian showed up with his witcher in tow, but she hadn’t exactly believed them, either. Who could let Julian trail around after them for years and not get sick of him? 

If she hadn’t witnessed them kissing with her own two eyes, she never would have believed it. She pulls the book out from under the mattress and looks at the songs again, this time with a more critical eye. She can’t believe she didn’t see it before. Especially “Her Sweet Kiss.” She’d never admit it to Julian, but she’s glad he won over whoever this  her  is. He looks happy, in a way that he never did while he was here. 

Her mother calls for her, so Nell sighs and puts away the book. She runs down the stairs. “Yes?”

“I need help with supper.”

Nell sets the table, noting they’re using the fancy silverware, which is a surprise, because her mother has never taken a particular interest of what Julian thinks of her before this, so this is an interesting time to start. She’s sure their meal is going to be a very uncomfortable affair. Well, not for her, unless it starts to become painful to hold her laughter in. 

She can’t wait. 

She’s just finishing arranging the cutlery when her mother turns back to her. “Can you believe Julian? I knew witchers were for hire, but I didn’t think their services extended to...this.”

Nell barely holds back a snort. 

-

Jaskier looks over to Geralt and suppresses a sigh. He had just planted a hand on Geralt’s thigh, and he’s sure his parents think that he just stabbed Geralt, from his reaction. He scoots his chair closer over to Geralt and drapes an arm over his shoulders. “Relax,” he whispers into Geralt’s ear. 

Geralt does, marginally, but Jaskier can still see the doubt on his parent’s faces. 

Jaskier’s father clears his throat. “So, Geralt, um. I suppose we know what you do, but, um. Um.”

“Honestly, haven’t you heard any of my songs? They are all the very true accounts of what Geralt gets up to,” Jaskier butts in. 

Geralt takes a gulp of wine from his goblet to avoid commenting. 

Jaskier notices, and elbows him in the ribs. “Geralt loves my songs, right?”

Jaskier’s parents are staring right at him, and it’s more than a little unnerving. “Right. They’re...very romantic.”

Jaskier’s grip around Geralt’s shoulders tightens. “Thank you, darling.”

Geralt is sure Vesemir once told him witchers can’t blush, but his face feels hot all of a sudden, and everyone is looking at him expectantly. 

Geralt takes another drink. 

Jaskier shakes his head. “Geralt’s been so nervous about meeting all of you. The poor dear is overwhelmed.”

Geralt shoots him a glare, before softening the look into something more akin to convincing Jaskier’s parents that they’re very happily together. Jaskier hastily bolts down the rest of his dinner before he drags Geralt up the stairs and to his room. 

He shuts the door behind them, leaning against and tugging at his hair. “There’s no way they’re buying this,” he moans. 

“I thought I was being rather convincing.”

The corner of Geralt’s lips twitch, so Jaskier hits him with a pillow. “You did not, you brute! Geralt if you’re doing this on purpose—”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt soothes. “I’m not. It’s just. Acting is not exactly on my list of talents.”

Jaskier crosses his arms and huffs. Geralt tugs him over to the bed and makes him sit down, plopping beside him. “What can I do?”

Jaskier throws his arm over his eyes and lays back, rather over dramatically, if you ask Geralt. “Nothi—Well, actually.”

Geralt does not like the sound of that. He was offering more to be nice than anything. 

“We have to have sex.”

Geralt’s mouth goes dry. “What?”

Jaskier scoffs. “This is no time to act the blushing virgin, Geralt,” he says, before his hands are on Geralt’s clothes, tugging them and unbuttoning. 

Geralt jerks back, but Jaskier is already done. “There. Nice and dishevelled.”

Geralt gapes at him for a moment, giving Jaskier the opportunity to muss his hair. Geralt growls.

“I know, I know. That took you hours to accomplish.”

Geralt catches his wrist. “Just, hold on a second. What are we doing?”

“We have to consummate my childhood bed, Geralt,” Jaskier says, completely seriously. “Or at least make my parents think we did.”

Jaskier starts moving his hips on the bed, making the headboard brush up against the wall with every gyration. “Mmm, fuck, Geralt, right there!” he cries.

“ Jaskier!”  Geralt hisses, but Jaskier pays him no mind. 

“You feel so good, darling!” He throws Geralt a wink, and Geralt tries not to combust. 

Jaskier undoes three of the buttons of his doublet, revealing a thicket of chest hair. Geralt casts his eyes to the ceiling. Gods help him. “You know, you don’t have to be so stoic all the time, dear heart. You can let me hear you,” Jaskier says, pointedly prodding at Geralt. 

Geralt shakes his head furiously. This is  not  what he agreed to. 

Jaskier gives Geralt a put on sigh before clearing his throat quietly. “Oh, Jaskier,” he says in a deep voice. 

“That doesn’t even sound like me,” Geralt whispers furiously. 

Jaskier just arches an eyebrow, and Geralt knows that’s a challenge. He swings his leg over Jaskier, straddling him and trying to ignore both of their pounding hearts. It’s the heat of carrying out their plan, Geralt is sure, and not at all Jaskier’s proximity. 

Geralt rocks the bed back and forth, making the headboard  slam against the wall now. 

Gearlt gives a half hearted moan, and Jaskier gives him a glare. “You’re making me sound like a terrible lover who’s left you horribly unfulfilled!” he hisses. 

Geralt rolls his eyes and gives a more enthusiastic moan this time. Geralt begrudgingly keeps this up for a few more minutes before he grunts and clambers off of Jaskier. “A little quick to the finish line?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shoots him a rude hand gesture. 

Jaskier gasps in mock offense. “Why don’t you go get me a wash rag?” he suggests. 

Geralt glares at him; this is taking the charade much too far, if you ask Geralt, but he follows Jaskier’s direction to the bathroom—where Jaskier’s mother is standing. Geralt suddenly becomes conscious of what a mess he must look like right now, thanks to Jaskier. “Hello again,” Marilla says. 

Geralt grunts and nods to her, before remembering he should probably say something, anything. “Hi.”

Geralt grabs a washcloth and flees. 

When he gets back to Jaskier, Jaskier is sitting on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, scribbling away in his notebook, the inkwell balancing precariously on the mattress. He still has his buttons undone, and Geralt curses himself for even noticing. 

“Did you run into anyone?” Jaskier asks. 

Geralt’s disgruntled expression must be answer enough, because Jaskier rubs his hands together in delight. “Excellent.”

-

Marilla scurries back to her room, completely scandalized. She can’t believe they would...defile her home like this. It’s bad enough that Julian couldn’t choose anyone they suggested for himself, and now he brings home a  witcher ? He’s trying to make her gray even faster. 

She shuts the bedroom door behind her and looks to Ethbert. Her expression must linger on her face, because he asks her, “What?”

“They—” She makes a floppy hand gesture. 

“Are you sure? What would a witcher want with Julian? There’s something not right about this.”

Marilla fans herself. “I know. They’re not even wed. It’s impropriety, is what it is.”

Ethbert squints doubtfully. 

-

Geralt is not a morning person. When Jaskier first discovered this, he was puzzled. Geralt is the only person who dictates his schedule, so no one would yell at  him  if he chose to sleep until midday. 

The more Jaskier thinks about it, though, the more it makes sense. Of course Geralt would wake up at the asscrack of dawn; he probably thinks of it as a punishment or some other such self loathing nonsense. 

It’s certainly more of a punishment for Jaskier, because he’s the one that has to put up with Geralt’s bearish attitude every morning. 

Geralt blinks awake and squints at the rising sun like it’s personally offended him, and Jaskier closes his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring. 

“Morning,” Geralt grates out. 

Jaskier’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Good morning.”

“I know you weren’t asleep,” Geralt says, sounding annoyed. “You could have woken me up.”

“Mm. And deal with a grumpy witcher first thing in the morning? I don’t think so.”

Geralt scoffs. “I’m not grumpy.”

“Right.”

Geralt swings his legs out of the bed and begins getting dressed. Jaskier stretches into the warmth Geralt left behind, tugging the blankets up over him. 

What? He never said  he was a morning person, either. “Where are you going?”

“Into town.”

“For what? Do you need things for potions? I’ll go with you.”

“No, no, I’m just going to see if there’s any contracts; you stay here.”

Jaskier gives a sly grin. “Does my family make you nervous?”

“ No .”

“Hmm,” Jaskier says. 

“Shut up.”

“Well, don’t go gallivanting off without telling me where. You know I worry.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “No need.”

Jaskier adopts a high pitched voice. “Why, thank you, Jaskier, my dearest friend. I’m so touched to know someone is looking out for me.”

“It’s pretty sad if you have to imagine someone to be your friend.”

Jaskier splutters as Geralt walks out of the room, a smile tugging at his lips. 

Jaskier sighs as the door shuts behind him, wanting to bundle himself back in the blankets and Geralt’s scent, but he resists the urge and stumbles out of bed to pull on his clothes. 

He makes it down the stairs and to the kitchen, picking up a bowl of eggs and whisking them, the need to be helpful overriding his desire to collapse in a chair and go back to sleep. 

“Good morning, Julian,” his mother says stiffly. “Where’s your beau?”

Jaskier lets himself smile at the image of Geralt’s reaction to being heard of himself referred to as Jaskier’s  beau . 

“He’s out looking for a contract. He’ll be back for lunch, I’m sure.” 

He gives his mother a bright grin. He thinks he should have made Geralt suck a hickey on his neck, but, to be honest, he’s not sure if he could have beared that. Geralt had already been so unbearably close to Jaskier when he  straddled  him. Jaskier’s not sure what had possessed Geralt to do that, all the while expecting Jaskier to keep his hands to himself. 

He’s not sure Geralt’s looked in a mirror anytime in the past fifty years because of the whole monster-staring-back-at-him thing (complete horse shit, in Jaskier’s humble opinion, not that Geralt cares to listen to it), but Jaskier is forced to look at him every day, and he suffers. 

He suffers every time he trails behind Geralt atop Roach, watching the subtle shift of his back muscles as he rides, and he’s devastated when Geralt deems Roach too tired to carry him and leads her in his tight leather pants. If Geralt hadn’t been wearing just such a thing when Jaskier met him, Jaskier would be convinced Geralt does it just to personally spite Jaskier. 

To doom him to look but not touch for the rest of his life. As such, he had never expected Geralt to actually agree to this whole charade. But, he did, and now here they are. Here they are, with Jaskier knowing exactly what Geralt tastes like (less onion than one would expect), but still having to not just kiss the blank looks Geralt likes to give him right off his face. 

It’s enough to drive a man mad. 

-

Geralt looks at the pitiful notice board and sighs. He tugs down the one prospect to examine it more closely. Something is stealing a farmer’s sheep. There’s a few possibilities for what it could be, ranging from minor nuisances to things that he shouldn’t even mention to Jaskier because he’ll nag at Geralt until he lets him tag along, and those are always the kind of jobs that Jaskier should be nowhere near. 

Geralt’s not sure how someone with the survival instinct of a fly larva is still alive, especially when he insists on following Geralt around, but Geralt’s not going to let Jaskier get hurt on his watch. 

Geralt pockets the notice and goes to talk to the farmer who set the contract, but he has very little useful information to tell Geralt. All he offers is that the sheep have been disappearing without a trace. Geralt walks the edges of the property and a bit into the woods, doing a cursory inspection for the carcasses, but he doesn’t find them, either. 

Hmm. 

Geralt turns and heads back to Jaskier. 

-

Geralt’s acting out of sorts when he returns from town, so Jaskier tugs him aside. “What’s wrong?”

Geralt just grunts and shakes his head. 

Jaskier sighs. Typical. “Weren’t there any contracts?”

“There were, just—I don’t know what it is. But I’m sure it will be fine.”

Geralt even tries to give him a bracing smile, and even though it looks more like a grimace, Jaskier knows it’s not good if Geralt has stooped to trying to comfort him. 

Jaskier hums at him and leads him to the table where his family are waiting on them for lunch. Jaskier keeps a hand on Geralt’s knee, because he’s allowed to, at the moment. 

He delights in watching Geralt make awkward conversation with Nell, but it seems like they’re quickly warming up to each other. Jaskier’s mouth goes dry at the thought of them teaming up on him. They would truly be a menace. 

Jaskier’s mood is quickly soured when they finish eating and Geralt insists on heading back out. 

“Shouldn’t you wait until the morning? You know, be well rested?”

Geralt shrugs. “It’s been taking the animals at night. Better chance of finding it if I go now.”

“Geralt, we’re not exactly short on coin right now. Why even go?”

“If I don’t take care of this, who will?” Geralt huffs. “This farmer’s livelihood is at risk.”

Jaskier grins. “Geralt, you unbearable softie. You make me look callous.”

Jaskier darts a glance over to his family, who are pretending not to watch them. He takes that as license to tug Geralt in for a chaste kiss. Geralt stiffens against him, and Jaskier is just about ready to pull away, before Geralt starts kissing him back. He makes it  decidedly  less chaste, and Jaskier puts a hand on his chest. He lets himself savor it for one, two, three seconds before he takes a step back. 

“Geralt, there are children present!” he says in a scandalized tone, grinning at Nell. 

She glares, and he shoots her a wink. 

Geralt clears his throat, and Jaskier jerks his attention back to him. “Right. Well, if I’m not going to talk you out of it, be safe.”

“I always am.”

-

Ethbert watches as Julian paces back and forth as he waits for the witcher to return. “Sit down,” he says gruffly. 

Julian looks at the clock, then out the window, completely ignoring him. Ethbert snorts. Good to know nothing’s changed, then. 

“Surely it can’t take this long to murder one measly little thing,” Julian mutters. 

“He’s fine,” Ethbert says. “It’d take a lot to overpower a witcher, right?”

Jaskier sits down in a huff, and Ethbert starts to wonder if maybe their relationship is less of a farce than he thought. It’s certainly an odd one, and he’s still clueless as to what they could possibly have in common, but Julian is painting a convincing picture right now, especially as he tugs his cloak off the hook and settles it around his shoulders. 

“Where are you going?”

“To find him!”

Ethbert jerks out of his seat with a splutter. “You can’t be serious. You think you’re going to be able to handle whatever a witcher couldn’t?”

Julian pauses. “Well, no. He’s probably lying in a ditch somewhere, slowly bleeding to death. Oh gods, what if he’s out there bleeding to death?”

Julian becomes even more frantic and rushes out the door and to the stables. 

Ethbert resigns himself to a long night. 

-

Jaskier clambers onto one of the smaller mares. He doesn’t have the patience to go through the whole process of putting all the tack on, so he clings to the horse’s neck and prays he doesn’t fall off. He digs into her with his knees, and away they go. 

Jaskier has no idea which way Geralt went, but there’s some fairly fresh hoof tracks in the wet dirt of the road, so he follows them and hopes they’re Roach’s. Eventually, they go off the road, and Jaskier is left to squint at trampled grass. He wonders if Geralt would be proud of his tracking abilities, and he smiles thinking about the inevitable jab. Jaskier would respond with something about how Geralt was no better than a dog sniffing the air, and all would be well.

But first, he has to find him. Jaskier slows the horse to a walk as the trail becomes fainter, squinting as he looks at the ground. He comes to an outcrop of rocks with an opening just big enough to go inside, and he dismounts his horse cautiously. He certainly doesn’t want to deal with whatever calls this place its home. 

Jaskier notices blood, and his heart kicks up a notch. It’s a rust red color, so it’s not very recent. Jaskier follows the splatters, and as he goes, they get brighter and brighter, until Jaskier’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest with the panicked tap dance it’s doing. 

It certainly doesn’t help matters when he finds Roach wandering through the woods by herself. “Where’s Geralt?” he asks, and she snorts at him helpfully. 

Jaskier casts a look at the blood glistening under the leaves underfoot and knows Geralt has to be close. Roach gives an agitated whinny before she turns and trots off, and Jaskier rushes after her. 

In the end, Geralt’s not all that far away. Jaskier sees his hair before he sees anything else, and then he’s sprinting over to him with little thought for anything else. Jaskier drops to his knees beside Geralt. He looks paler than normal, even though Jaskier hadn’t known that was possible 

There’s so much blood, and he’s not moving. Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Geralt? Geralt?” he asks, his voice getting louder and more panicked. “Geralt?”

Jaskier resists the urge to shake him and jostle whatever injuries he has, but there’s bile rising in his throat, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do—

His eyes latch on to the infinitesimal rise of Geralt’s chest, and the pressure on his own suddenly lifts. He shuts his eyes for a moment. Geralt isn’t dead, and he can work with that. 

Jaskier takes a closer look at Geralt and finds there’s a chunk missing from his side. It’s still bleeding freely, and Jaskier tries to resist the urge to be sick. He works Geralt free of his armor with shaky hands, so he can take a closer look. 

Geralt moans and starts to stir, and Jaskier plants his hands on Geralt’s chest. “Just stay still; you’re going to be fine.”

“Jask?” Geralt slurs. 

“Yes, yes, it’s me, and you know I’m far too stubborn to let you die.”

“My pack—”

Jaskier could slap himself for not thinking of that. “Right. Um, your potions.” 

He whistles for Roach, and she approaches skittishly. Jaskier glances back down at Geralt, and his eyes are slipping shut. Jaskier tightens his grip on Geralt’s shoulder. “Geralt! You have to stay awake. Do you hear me?”

Geralt murmurs something Jaskier doesn’t quite catch, but his eyes open wider. Geralt’s pupils are so dilated, there’s barely a ring of yellow left around the outsides. Jaskier clambers up to look through Roach’s saddlebags, and his heart clenches when Geralt’s hand comes up to clutch at him as he moves away. “I’m not going anywhere,” he soothes. 

He rustles through the saddlebag. “Fuck, Geralt, do you really need so many tiny bottles?”

Geralt gives him a weak chuckle before he hisses in pain. 

“Which one do you need?” Jaskier asks, hoping Geralt is coherent enough that he’s not about to poison himself. 

Jaskier pulls the pouch out of the saddle bag to show him the options. Geralt points to a few, and Jaskier eyes them doubtfully. He uncorks them anyway, sitting back down and settling Geralt’s head into his lap, helping him get the elixirs down, even when Geralt tries to bat his hands away. 

“Save your energy for something useful, would you?” Jaskier tuts. 

Jaskier prods at the wound in Geralt’s side, jerking his hand back when Geralt winces. “I forgot just how delicate you were, my apologies.”

Geralt barely manages a huff at that, and Jaskier furrows his brows in worry. He pulls Geralt’s shirt away from the wound, biting his lip as it pulls skin away. The wound looks a sickly green underneath all the blood, and Jaskier gasps a little. This is much worse than he thought. 

“Geralt, it’s—Geralt?”

Geralt’s eyes have slipped shut, and Jaskier scrabbles at him, trying to make him wake up again, but he stays stubbornly still. The only thing giving Jaskier even a tiny glimmer of peace is that his chest is still rising and falling. 

Tears are threatening to burst to Jaskier’s eyes, but he pushes them down and takes a deep breath. Somehow, he manages to heave Geralt across Roach. Roach snorts, disgruntled, and Jaskier runs a hand over her flank, trying to soothe her. 

He looks around, but he has no idea where the mare he rode out here went. Oops. Hopefully it will wander back to his parent’s estate, but if not, well, will they even miss it?

Jaskier gathers Roach’s reins in his hand and leads her back towards town at a steady trot. 

-

When Geralt comes to, he’s sweltering. He seems to be in a tomb of blankets, and the fire is roaring in the corner of the room. The room? He’s not quite sure how he got here; he would have expected to be lying on the cold ground instead of a soft and yielding bed. There’s even less lumps than he’s accustomed to.

He groans when he tries to move, and there’s a rustling from beside him. Geralt looks over to see Jaskier jerking from his chair to fuss over him. Jaskier’s eyes are red when he finally looks up.

“You promised me you were going to be safe, you terror,” Jaskier sniffs. 

Geralt doesn’t have his wits about him enough yet to be dealing with crying bards. “Hmm.”

“Geralt, you—What was it?”

“A cockatrice. It got me with its tail; spit a little poison at me just for fun.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you in the ass.”

This makes Geralt look even grumpier, if possible. Jaskier’s glad; he much prefers that to the slack expression Geralt had had while he was sleeping, and Jaskier was terrified he wouldn’t wake up. 

Jaskier looks back at him, and Geralt can’t help himself when he reaches out to swipe away Jaskier’s tears with his thumb. “I’m fine,” he murmurs. 

Geralt tosses the covers off himself so he can see his wound. It’s wrapped rather nicely, and when Geralt pokes at it, it feels like there’s some kind of poultice under the bandages. He raises his eyebrows at Jaskier, waiting for an explanation. 

“A healer.”

Geralt’s surprised Jaskier found someone who would treat him; most people aren’t too keen on helping witchers. 

“I yelled at him until he helped you,” Jaskier admits. 

Geralt huffs a laugh. “I’m sure he was terrified.”

Jaskier finally cracks a grin. “Hey, you’re not the only scary one around here.”

Jaskier’s eyes drop to his hand, the one that was just on his face, and fuck, what was Geralt even thinking, but Jaskier reaches out and puts his hand over Geralt’s. 

“I was worried,” he says softly. And then, sharper, “Don’t you dare say  hmm .”

“Hmm.”

Geralt laughs, and there’s a warmth that settles in his chest when Jaskier does the same. 

“You’re incorrigible,” Jaskier finally says. 

There’s a lengthy silence, and when Geralt looks up, Jaskier is staring back at him.  

“You got the trophy, right?” 

“Geralt, my ears must be deceiving me. You cannot possibly be worried about that right now.”

“How else am I going to get paid? Last time I checked, you liked to eat. It needs done before something else drags the carcass away.”

Jaskier sighs and huffs and does everything short of stomping his feet before he gathers his cloak from the back of his chair. He glares at Geralt before he slams the door shut behind him. 

Geralt rubs a shaky hand down his face. 

He’s an idiot. 

-

Jaskier grumbles to himself as he makes his way back out into the chilly night. His advances are obviously unwelcome, if this is the kind of punishment Geralt is doling out to him. Well, that’s fine. Jaskier will just let him bleed out next time. 

Okay, he won’t, but that doesn’t mean he won’t consider it for a few seconds. 

Stupid emotionally repressed witchers. He can’t say he wasn’t hoping something would happen with Geralt while they were here, but he should have known better. 

Jaskier trudges all the way back to near where he found Geralt, pointedly not looking at the blood stain on the grass.  He’s fine , he reminds himself. Jaskier pokes around for a little bit until he remembers the cave he had seen earlier and some vague knowledge that cockatrices prefer them. 

He’s half expecting another to show up as he plucks some feathers and cuts off the head, for good measure. He almost gags as his knife goes roughly through the bone and sinew, but he manages to keep his supper. He looks around for any last creatures that are just waiting to murder him, but none appear. 

He sighs and makes the trek back. 

When he arrives, Geralt is sitting at the table, talking to his family, and Jaskier wonders for a moment if he should be concerned about a doppler. Nell is eating up every word Geralt says, and Jaskier hopes she has pried some good stories out of him that Jaskier can repurpose as songs later. 

For now, he swings the cockatrice head up onto the table, and silence falls. “There you go, love,” he says cheerfully. 

Geralt is looking back at him with a peculiar expression, and he rises from his chair stiffly. Jaskier rushes over to him to help, and Geralt reluctantly drapes an arm over his shoulder. Geralt leads him to the bathroom, and Jaskier makes sure to say loudly enough for the rest of his family to hear, “Well, if you needed help holding it you only had to ask.”

Geralt huffs in exasperation and shuts the door behind him. Jaskier raises his eyebrows in question. “Did you actually need help, or…” Jaskier trails off, and then Geralt’s lips are on his, warm and hungry, and anymore of Jaskier’s thoughts fly out of his brain. 

His arms automatically come up to wrap around Geralt’s waist, until he registers that this is  Geralt , and he puts a hand on his chest. “Um. Do you need your head checked out, as well? I thought it was your side, but I can go get the healer again.”

“I’m fine,” Geralt growls. 

Jaskier’s not convinced Geralt hasn’t sustained a lasting brain injury, but then Geralt is saying, “I should have done this a long time ago,” and kissing him again. 

What is Jaskier to do but kiss him back? It’d be terribly impolite not to, after all. When Geralt finally pulls away, Jaskier asks breathlessly, “What was that for?”

Geralt shrugs, considering. “You looked kind of hot carrying that cockatrice head. The trachea hanging down really got me going.”

Jaskier stares at him in disbelief for a beat before they both dissolve into laughter. 

“You’re an idiot,” Jaskier says. “You’re  my idiot.”

-

Ethbert looks across the table, where what his son is doing can only be called  terrorizing  his witcher, and harrumphs to himself. This is not exactly who he pictured Julian ending up with, to say the least. 

He wonders the etiquette for having a son in law older than he is. He supposes he’s going to have to find out. 

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Pregnant s/o (Preferences)

Requested by the amazing and breathtaking @ravennightingaleandavatempus​: If your asks are still open how would the batboys be around a pregnant S/O.

A/N: Also just wanted to mention that none of these boys would be having gender reveal parties with explosives or anything else dangerous (or in general) because they have brain cells

Dick

Okay so that might be a repetitive motive in this, but he’ll crank up his protectivness by just about 100%

But first things first

When you find out that your pregnant and you tell Dick he’ll be so over the moon

like he’ll want to throw the biggest party to celebrate because HE IS GETTING LITTLE GRAY-SONS OR DAUGHTERS (see what I did there) 

He’ll definitly brag in front of his siblings and everyone else he knows because HE HIT THE JACKPOT

Honestly will definitly read up a lot on how to be a good dad and would go and ask Alfred or Louis for advice (He’ll rather be caught dead than ask Bruce for advice cause he wants a lot for his futre child(ren), but he definitly doesn’t want them to become the way he and his siblings are now)

He would fully induldge in your cravings and other pregnancy things

you want cucumber pizza with nutella instead of tomato scauce? Guess who’ll be down at the cornor store getting the ingredients

You’re feet hurt and you’re cranky?

Dick will move heaven and earth to make you comfortable and give you a massage

He won’t go out on patrol too much during your pregnancy because the thought of you being left behind alone if something happened to him was too much for him to take

And like I said he’ll get very very protective

You won’t go out alone to any dangerous Gotham areas anymore

No more heavy lifting either

Also he might as well pick you up and move to the manor because there Alfred is there to cater to your every need

Let’s just say it will be an interesting 9-10 months....

Jason 

Okay so Jason isn’t quite sure about having kids

He knows that he is a cesspool of trauma and he isn’t sure if he’d be the best choice to raise other human beings

So when you come to him all excited and tell him that you think you’re pregnant he’s torn

He’ll try not to show it, but it’s quite obvious 

It’s not that he’s not happy, but still

After that it will be a bit tense at home until you had a doctors appointment that really confirms that you’re indeed carying a little Todd

Jason was there with you and you were almost scared how he’d react but in a twist of fate when he found out he immediatly started smiling and kissing you

Because that made it real in more ways then one

YOU WERE GOING TO HAVE A LITTLE BABY YOU MIXED WITH A BABY JASON

Jason knows no matter how fucked up he is, you’re going to be the most amazing mom that could ever be and you’d make sure that he’d be the most amazing dad possible too

Now Jason isn’t as quick to adapt to your pregnancy as Dick is

He’d definitly pour you coffee a few too many times before realizing that you weren’t allowed to drink cafeein

But he would manage soon enough

If he’s smoking at that moment he’ll definitly stop

He will not risk your little ones life no matter how much he like to smoke

na-huh no way

Also he is even more protective than Dick

He knows that Gotham is a dark place

so either he’ll too get you to a safe place where he can take care of you and your future pumpkin

Or he’ll just straight up move to canader or something where there’s no Joker who’d be near enough to bomb up a block when you were in it

Again, interesting times are coming

Tim 

Timothy will be - no matter how much Dick reads - the most prepared, hands down

Because let’s not forget he’s one of the smartest Waynes (even though the other’s aren’t far behind)

When he started noticing that you’re acting weird he’ll loook it up and he’ll figure out that you’re pregnant sooner or later

He’s a very attentive s/o and he pays attention to you

So he’d probably actually be the one to tell you that you’re pregnant

But once it’s actually confirmed he’ll also be the chillest one

He looked up everything he has to know and made spreadsheets and lists and documents for what to do in literally all possible situations so he’ll be realitivly relaxed

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t also just a little bit overprotective

But just a little bit

He’ll let you do your thing as long as it isn’t dangerous or medically seen unclever

But he’ll also be there for you to cater your needs and your cravings, etc.

He also tries to stop drinking coffee, but he fails

He tones it down tho, but still you won’t get rid of the smell of coffee in your apartement

Now if you ever even mention wanting a sip he’ll hide every last gram that contains caffein in a place only he will find it

(It’s probably hidden somewhere really obvious where you’ll definitly find it but you’ll let him believe he managed to hide it well) 

Tim will be the one to start falling into the baby fever the most

will go on online shopping sprees for baby clothes and furnitere and baby proof everything five months before the due date would arrive

Will also write very long lists with possible baby names (from which like 1/3 are references but I digress)

All in all this would possible be the most ’normal’ pregnancy

Damian (aged up obviously)

Okay so Damian is definitly a thing

He wasn’t conventionally raised or even anything close to that

I mean we all know how he was concieved soooooo

But - just like with everything else - he’ll want to be the best possible father (and s/o) there could ever be

So be fucking prepared for a wild ride

When you tell him you’re pregnant he is full with pride about his presticious bloodline to be continued with the added advantage of you 

He’ll definitly annoy his siblings more than Dick could ever 

And he’ll start making “jokes” about how he was going to be a better dad than Bruce

He will never mention anything like that to Alfred tho, it’s the opposite actually, he’ll come to him with pen and paper and ask for advice 

Will boast that he had a child first to Jon and that his child will be better than Jon’s if he will ever have one

Also he’ll actually tell Talia about his future offspring and her grandchild, but only to tell her that if she was ever to endanger you or your future little one he’ll not hesitate to end her life

So yep there’s that

He will want you to stay in the manor like Dick would because there you’d be protected by a lot of vigilantes and money

lot’s of money

He’ll also be the one to - while he’ll try to do his best to take care of your need - ask Cassandra to help you

She’ll be overjoyed and (in a not completely hidden quest to become the godmother of the child) will become your shadow

Not in an annoying way 

She’ll be there to help you with everything Damian can’t and she’d definitly organize a girls day where you and all of her other sisters go out and buy baby things

Also Damian may or may not want to name the child Damian Junior, but you’ll definitly keep him from doing so 

All in all he’s actually somewhere in the middle between his other brothers, but it’s a nice balance

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license​

[characternerdocs]

Logan eyed the dripping coffee as she took the opposite of the ranger. She had a thermos of her own dirty bean water, which was probably lukewarm by now, nowhere near the hot, fragrent, fresh pot that was brewing now.

But she wasn’t sent here to sample the local coffee. (She make that her second priority.)

She dragged her backpack in front of her feet as she began to rummage through its content, the dog that accompanied her attentively watched, perhaps in hopes Logan would produce a treat, or perhaps toy. “Well, my assignment at your park was based on the odd and unexplained activities. But rangers being drunk, while not my area to looking to... isn’t ideal to hear.” As she straightened up in her seat once finding her documents, the hair the hung over the right side of Logan’s face shifted and for a fleeing moment the ranger could see the pink scarring where her eye had once been.

Logan hand over her licenses, ranging from calling her an anthropologist, a cryptozoologist, to a field researcher all of which were stamped and authorized by a Smithes Scholars’ Archives. “I hope that’s proof enough I’m not a fanatic.” A coy smirk raising her scarred lips as Logan reaches back into her bag. In truth Logan would call herself a fanatic, it still seemed strange and unreal to her she was employed to invested and study what “normal” people regarded as faker and myth; finding proof in the legends her grandmother told her at bedtime. it was unbelievable, but Logan loved it. Still smiling to herself, she pulling out a pen and notebook, and a doggy biscuit she tossed to her now very pleased dog. 

“And you can call me Logan, if you like. And you? are you a stickler for the formality of Ranger Stone?”

"I'm not one who typically skips the niceties, Ranger Stone, but the big bosses seemed to be in a bit of a panic; so what exactly have you observed at the park?"

|| Asks || @characternerdocs ||

Jewel walked right past the percolating coffee pot to fish a chilled bottle of plum wine out of the fridge. She didn't need the jitters while on the clock.

She had hoped her boss would have put the investigation off for a while longer, gave her a little more time to... what, fix it? She could hear her boss's voice yammer in her head: How could you expect to fix anything when you don't even know what you're up against?!

Jewel popped the bottle open. She hated to admit it to herself, but time wasn't on her side. Might as well squeeze in a buzz before the ride...

"I've seen long shifts run by sleepless rangers high on caffeine and booze fer the most part. Weather's usually shit all the way out 'ere but we still get tourism somehow. Money's good. Accommodations are decent." She punctuated with a wiggle of her bottle before downing a generous glug. "But yer prolly wantin' the scoop on the monsters, right?"

Jewel blew out a soft sigh as she pulled out a chair, gestured for the agent to sit in the opposing spot. "Lockwood, correct? You got any credentials you can show me real quick? Gotta make sure yer not another of them conspiratorial fanatic types. I'm sure you understand."

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 11 (Part Two)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

Part one: here

On this cold and damp night, the roads of Loveland City are desolate.

Only one lane of bars in the city centre continues to have a hubbub of voices, and young people sway and shuttle back and forth the street.

Standing at the entrance of a luxury private club, I take a deep breath. According to the information I have, there’s an eye-witness to one of the assassinations here.

Based on the leads, the other party is highly likely to appear at this luxury private club, and could perhaps be an important witness to clear my name as a suspect.

I’ve discussed a few contracts here in the capacity of Nox. As such, the staff nod at me politely, and bring me into the room.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door politely.

The moment I open the door, the conversations within the room quieten down in succession.

Eyes sweeping the surroundings, I’m slightly startled. The ceiling light sways and illuminates everything clearly.

This place is even larger than I imagined. The interior decor is extremely luxurious, and even comes off overly spacious.

People of various styles are gathered in different places of the room, which is brimming with an atmosphere of pleasure and merriment. There’s self-absorbed singing, the scent of alcohol and smoke suffusing wantonly in the air. 

Someone sees me entering. Lifting his head, he whistles at me. The man sitting beside him sways his beer lazily.

??: Be careful, that’s Nox from Black Swan. Not everyone dares to toy with her.

While speaking, his eyes flit towards the deepest part of the room, and he arches his brows bemusedly.

??: Officer Gavin, does this count as the police catching an unlucky criminal?

Before I can react to what he means, the other person laughs aloud, holding up the microphone and carrying on the conversation.

??: In that case, Officer Gavin will be wiping us all out tonight~

With this, wanton chortles ring out in the room.

Despite what was said, everyone continues lazing around in their original positions. There is absolutely no fear in their eyes - there’s even a hint of arrogance hidden in them.

Following their gazes, I stare at the end of the room - Gavin’s here too.

Gavin’s wearing a simple black jacket, and is casually leaning against a sofa.

He holds a bottle of wine indifferently, crossing a leg over the other in the shadows, neon lights making his sharp features clear.

Those around him maintain a certain distance, as though showing him a degree of trust, yet unconsciously staying away.

As though not expecting that I’d appear here, he lifts his head to look at me, his gaze bringing with it an icy alienation and lack of familiarity. 

I put on a shocked expression, giving him a nod. Then, I take a deep breath quietly.

Most of the people here are difficult to read, and I can’t give the game away.

Composing myself, I sit on a sofa not far from Gavin.

Seeing me seated, he turns his wrist slightly. The beer bottle shakes, akin to a greeting.

??: Officer Gavin has a wide circle. He even knows someone from Black Swan.

Gavin doesn’t even look at him, bringing the beer to his lips indolently.

Gavin: Do I need to give you a report on who I know?

The man isn’t annoyed at all, and laughs along with others.

??: You should have told us that someone from Black Swan was coming. We bros could have made some preparations.

Gavin: Prepare what? To give her a salute? Anyway, I’m unfamiliar with Nox from Black Swan. The reason for her appearance here has nothing to do with me.

Gavin sways the bottle of beer in his hand, his guarded expression sweeping across my face, faint mockery laced in his tone.

Gavin: I’m not interested in what you’re doing here. You can get out now.

Hearing Gavin’s words, I feign experience as I pick up the bottle of beer in front of me, taking a shallow sip.

MC: I’m looking for someone, and won’t take much of everyone’s time.

I stare directly at the blonde man at a corner of the room.

MC: Old Pi, right? I have some things to ask you.

The man whose name was called doesn’t show any acknowledgement. Gavin snorts.

I turn towards the sound. Gavin isn’t looking at me. His gaze is fixed to the front, light from the screen illuminating the coldness in his eyes.

Gavin: Looking for someone isn’t a problem. But it’s my gathering today. Miss Nox isn’t showing due respect by dampening one’s spirits the moment she enters.

MC: Since it’s Officer Gavin’s gathering, it’s naturally not good to cause too much trouble. Old Pi just needs to answer my questions, and I'd leave immediately.

Gavin: I've never met someone who bosses people around like you.

MC: You have now.

Gavin doesn’t respond, but simply laughs softly. However, the room has quietened down at this point, and everyone seems to be watching the scene before them with rapt attention.

One man sees that things are taking a bad turn, and smiles as he mediates the situation.

Man: Why don’t the two of you have a private chat? After all, the aura of two tycoons is too powerful, and we normal people can’t really handle it.

The others immediately make sounds of agreement.

I nod, shooting Gavin a smile.

MC: Sure, I’m very wiling to speak to Officer Gavin in private.

Gavin looks at me thoughtfully. After a long time, he finally stands up.

Gavin: Everyone, continue.

I follow behind Gavin, leaving the room and entering another. When passing by the window, I take special notice of the building opposite the club--

Within the dark blue glass building, I know that a pair of eyes hidden in the darkness are observing us silently.

Staff: The two of you can talk over here. No one will bother you.

I grin as I watch the staff leave. Once he closes the door, I slump onto the sofa like a deflated rubber ball.

MC: Gavin, how was my performance just now?

I lift my head to look at Gavin. That aura of “strangers beware” has already been kept away. Hearing my question, he smiles.

Gavin: You did very well.

MC: Gavin, how did you confirm that Old Pi was the eye-witness for the third assassination incident?

Gavin: I have my ways. This person is enough to clear you from suspicion.

MC: Did you put in a lot of effort for this?

Gavin: It’s a trivial matter, don’t worry. Now that you’ve cast off suspicion, what follows will be the main task.

On the day I gave my report to STF, Gavin asked for assistance. We decided on a series of connected plans, and today’s performance is just one of them.

As for the others... as I recall them, Gavin stands up.

Gavin: It’s almost time to head back.

I nod, preparing to follow him. However, Gavin suddenly turns his head.

Gavin: Don’t drink anymore.

-

Gavin and I head back to the original room. The moment he steps out of the door, he reverts to his earlier state.

Gavin: Since you’re looking for him, ask him yourself. Whether he’s willing to depends on him.

After saying this, he glances at Old Pi, then sits down indolently, not looking at him again.

Old Pi walks to a bar counter in a quieter area, waving his hand and signalling that I should go over.

Old Pi: Since Officer Gavin has shown you respect, how could I not know what to do?

I walk over to him and sit down, and he starts chattering away endlessly.

Old Pi: I heard that Nox from Black Swan is pretty incredible. I didn’t think she’d be so incredible that even Officer Gavin would be persuaded. Go on, what can I do for you?

MC: Someone said that you witnessed the third Evol assassination incident. I want to ask you about the situation back then.

Old Pi says that he can’t really remember what happened, so MC uses her Evol to read his memories

During the third assassination incident, he was hiding in a corner and witnessed what happened. MC guesses that he didn’t want any trouble, which is why he didn’t bring it up

MC offers him money to be a witness. While Old Pi initially worries about his safety, MC reassures him that Black Swan can protect him. Old Pi writes his desired sum in her hand, and she agrees

Before MC leaves:

I stand up, looking at Gavin who is not far off.

MC: Many thanks to Officer Gavin.

Gavin: A piece of advice for you. Don’t investigate unnecessary matters.

MC: That will depend on the boundaries of “unnecessary”.

Without waiting for his response, I leave the club without even turning my head.

After MC leaves, there’s a small discussion in the club where it’s hinted that Gavin has been looking for an old criminal police officer, whether dead or alive

-

I spend the next few days organising the evidence and actively curating the testimony Old Pi has given to me.

On the day I receive Gavin’s phone call, I'm still combing through the testimony, hoping for it to be absolutely foolproof.

Gavin has arranged to meet me at an unfinished building. Setting down the things on hand, I arrive punctually.

Everything’s proceeding according to our plan.

The unfinished building is empty, and a piercingly cold breeze scatters recklessly. I shiver, and spot Gavin on the roof.

I move closer towards him playfully.

MC: Even if Captain Gavin wanted to protect a spy, he didn’t have to invite her to such a place to talk, right?

But Gavin turns around, staring at me coldly.

Gavin: What did you see in that person’s memories?

His expression is hidden in the afterglow of the setting sun. Together, the abrupt alienation and the cold wind bring me a stinging pain.

MC: Gavin, did something happen?

He doesn’t respond. His gaze seems to tell me that before I give him a reply, he won’t give me any.

MC: ...I saw what happened during an assassination. Old Pi’s an eye-witness of the third assassination incident. I have sufficient proof to show that I wasn’t there at the time. In other words, I have more concrete evidence to prove that I'm not involved in the Evol assassinations.

Gavin frowns, and it seems he hasn’t heard the answer he wanted to hear.

Gavin: That’s all?

MC: Is there anything else?

Gavin doesn’t respond to my question, and grows contemplative.

I can’t help but take a step closer to him. However, he once again puts distance between us without batting an eyelid.

MC: Gavin. Are you hiding another investigation from me, or is there something concealed behind the Evol assassinations? I could help you if you need it.

Gavin: It’s the complete opposite. 

Gavin: The reason why I called you here is to make it clear. Since you’ve cleared your name as a suspect, stay away from this matter. From today onwards, the assassination incidents have nothing to do you with you. Next time, you don’t need to do anything else.

His expression is resolute, as though he wants to push me far away.

MC: No matter what it is, I can help. I don't want you to get involved in danger alone.

Gavin: There’s nothing you can help with.

MC: Why... do you not trust me?

My mouth is agape, and I’m not sure what to say. All I can feel is my eyes stinging from the wind.

When he sees me like this, he sighs. But what he says is still incredibly saddening.

Gavin: I really want to trust you. But I can’t. I promise that everything will be resolved. Sometimes, it’s safest not to know anything.

It’s as though my heart has been wound tight, making it a little difficult for me to breathe.

MC: Are you going to shoulder everything on your own again? I can help you! Why don’t you believe that I can help you!

Gavin turns and walks to the side of the roof, staring into the distance at the dusk of Loveland City.

I follow him, walking to his side, and looking afar off. The dusk of Loveland City is bustling and harmonious. The dirty undercurrents simply surge in places that can’t be seen.

MC: At your side, I won’t face any danger, right?

Gavin turns his head, giving me a prolonged gaze, and is silent for a very long time.

He takes a step backwards quietly, and I turn around to face him incomprehensibly. 

Gavin’s expression is cool. The light casts a distorted shadow on his face.

He reaches out, giving me a light push.

I stop breathing. It’s as though the world has suddenly turned upside down, and the sound of wind at my ear grows even louder.

Gavin: I’m the greatest danger.

The passing wind brings Gavin’s voice to my ear. The loneliness in his voice brings a wave of anguish to my heart.

He stuffs his hand into his pocket in a suppressed and restrained manner, akin to the final gust of cold wind in spring. 

The blood-like dusk is behind Gavin, and it looks as though its drowning him.

I reach out to him. Everything in my view overlaps with the hand which he has hidden in his pocket.

If I were to be just a little closer, I could hold his hand.

Just a little.

Gavin: This is just a warning. Stop investigating.

I struggle to look at Gavin for the last time. But before I have the time to see anything, weightlessness takes over.

All that’s left in the world is the sound of wind.

Many images of Gavin’s face flash across my mind--

When he’s smiling. When he’s calm. When he’s quiet. When he’s tired. When he’s asleep.

One after another, Gavin’s face appears before my eyes, vivid and real.

He’s a normal person too. He experiences pain, gets tired, feels sad, and feels anger.

There’s clearly an easier path right in front of him. There’s light, fresh flowers, and applause.

But he chose a different path. He chose to act cautiously at every step, chose to carefully guard against every dash from the darkness.

He chose to carry the death of the director, the death of Yang Ping, and all the innocent and silent deaths of those in the assassination incident, and perhaps many more people’s silences, by himself.

As compared to light, darkness is always one step ahead. It hibernates, waiting for light to arrive.

He’s determined to find the truth for this group of people. Even if this path is deep and lonely, he’ll continue walking without wavering.

The weightlessness of the descent encases my entire body, and the coldness of the wind stings my skin.

I struggle to keep my eyes open, but can only see the ginkgo pendant fluttering in the wind on the wrist of my outstretched hand.

I suddenly recall that autumn day from a very, very long time ago, when I first saw ginkgo leaves dancing, the entire sky of yellow flying freely in the clear air.

But today, the blood-coloured dusk has entrapped that youth.

He’s all alone, walking towards his conviction, proud and forthright.

I don’t want, neither will I allow, such a Gavin to be alone, fighting this war alone.

The scenery speeds past, and I can’t see the surroundings clearly.

Clenching my fists tightly, I continue looking in Gavin’s direction stubbornly.

But at the last second of my fall, a layer of wind gradually spreads around me, quietly catching me.

This gust of wind gathers at my back, bringing me to the ground gently.

I’m lying in the wind, falling slowly to the ground.

Yes. This is just a warning.

I lift my head towards the roof of the building, and can vaguely see a figure there.

That figure seems to be looking at me too, woeful yet resolute, for a very, very long time.

I close my eyes, standing up quietly.

I walk to a small alley at the side, pretending to be fatigued as I lean against the wall and recall everything that just happened, afraid that I had left something out.

The city lights are unable to reach the depths of this alley. Lifting my head, I seem to see the stars which are covered by the neon lights.

I hope that my performance today was sufficiently realistic, and can allow the plan Gavin had talked to me about that day in STF to proceed.

After all, this is most important, second phase of our plan.

-

Here, there’s a flashback to the meeting Gavin and MC had in STF, where he explains that he’s been investing a “New Year’s Eve Change Incident” that occurred four years ago

That incident involved a majority of Evolvers who staged a riot, and had to be suppressed

Gavin suspects that there’s more to the “New Year’s Eve Change Incident”, because it’s incredibly difficult to find the people related to the incident

During the hospital hostage situation, there was finally a substantial development, but the person is still deciding if Gavin is worth trusting

That person is an old criminal police officer who participated in the “New Year’s Eve Change Incident”, and many people are hunting him down - either to find out the truth, or to silence him

He guesses that this incident is actually a scandal involving STF and those who are on an even higher level

Gavin has been investigating privately, but acknowledges that it’s only a matter of time before someone notices

And here’s a big reveal that I hope I can explain clearly enough: Gavin has already met the old police officer. It happened in the scene from Part One when the random guy in the alley spoke to him. And the reason why the officer even decided to meet Gavin was probably because of what he saw during the hospital hostage situation (he was the guy who offered the crying girl a tissue)

What Gavin plans to do is to investigate this matter more openly to pique the attention of the people behind the incident, and get them to think that he’s still looking for the old police officer

And Gavin needs MC to be the blind spot

Gavin plans to step down from his duties for three months. All the attention will be focused on him, and MC will be able to act without worry

Gavin’s task for MC is to cooperate with him. When the people behind the incident no longer has their eyes on MC, she has to leave a USB flash drive at the location that he tells her to, because he won’t meet the old police officer again to ensure his safety

Understanding his logic, I can’t help but applaud.

MC: That’s incredible. It’s just like a scene from a detective novel! Everyone thought that the time of death was in the morning, but the murder actually took place in the afternoon. So the murderer had a perfect alibi.

Gavin: Even though we’re the detectives, this analogy isn’t bad.

I stretch out my hand solemnly. Gavin pauses for a moment. With a turn of his wrist, he grips the USB drive back into his hand.

Gavin: Have you given it proper thought? After this, it means you’ll be roped into this matter with me.

MC: It’s a little late for Captain Gavin to say this now.

I put on a relaxed smile, wanting to reach out to take the USB drive in his hand.

When I touch his palm, I realise that Gavin, whose hands have always been steady, are actually trembling slightly.

When my hand draws closer, he holds it gently.

Gavin: But I’ll worry about you.

MC: But if I let you face everything on your own, I’d be even more worried. No matter how dangerous or difficult it is, I’ll face it all with you.

Gavin simply looks at me fixedly. I understand what he’s thinking, and return his stare seriously.

MC: As compared to keeping me out of the matter, knowing my movements at all times makes you feel more at ease, right?

Gavin: You’re right. After all, Nox from Black Swan knows how to keep herself busy.

He finally releases a sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He releases my hand, and turns his gaze elsewhere.

Gavin: [sighs] Also, with you around, the performance for the other party will have the most persuasive effect.

MC: Why? Is it because our positions will be opposite when investigating this matter?

MC: ...or is it because it’s most unlikely for the STF to work with Black Swan?

Gavin: Neither. It’s because the other party definitely knows me inside out.

He looks at me again, his gaze shining.

MC: ...huh?

A little confused, I stare at him. Under my gaze, the tips of Gavin’s ears redden slightly, and his eyes avert to the side subconsciously.

Seeing such a Gavin, I’m even more confused. I can’t help but stand up from the office chair, walking to him and meeting his gaze.

He looks at me, the red hue spreading from the tips of his ears to the corners of his eyes.

Gavin: Cough. Under these circumstances, the person I’d want to involve least in this matter...

Gavin: Without a doubt, that person would definitely be you.

When he finishes speaking, he gives me a gentle pull, leaning his forehead against the roof of my head.

The tips of our fingers are incredibly close. Gavin’s hands are at his side. He simply stands in front of me, but doesn’t let me see his face at this present moment.

Gavin: After this, we won’t meet for a very long time. So, give me a little more courage.

-

[ back to the present ]

Gavin’s worried expression seems to linger in front of my eyes. I understand that this decision is incredibly difficult for him.

I can’t let him and his trust down. No matter what, I have to cooperate with Gavin and complete this sham performance.

Returning to my senses, I adjust my breathing in the alley, settling my heart rate, and once again step into the unfinished building.

Gavin has already left.

From the perspective of the person keeping watch on Gavin, Gavin’s private meeting with me today was to protect me in the form of a warning.

Because the other party has a sufficient understanding of Gavin, he would guess that Gavin’s cold attitude was meant to frighten me and push me away.

But he wouldn’t have guessed that this was all a performance that Gavin and I had arranged in advance.

They’ve underestimated the mutual trust between Gavin and I.

After the curtains have fallen on this performance, the other party will have a mistaken judgement--

That I’ve been removed from Gavin’s plan, and that he’s continuing the investigations on his own.

This way, I can convey information to Gavin in secret.

But today, I decide to add a solo to this performance.

After running back to the unfinished building, only the evening breeze flutters on the empty platform.

I pretend to be searching for Gavin, glancing at the residential building opposite.

I release a dejected sigh, so that the hidden person watching me in the darkness can see how upset I am.

...I just hope that my acting isn’t too exaggerated.

At the end, my shoulders are slumped as I leave the roof.

-

My phone rings in the empty building. I answer the call, and Zehn’s anixious voice drifts from the receiver.

Zehn: Boss, the eye-witness we saw at the club two days ago has been taken away by Gavin.

MC: Got it. Find a way to get him back. I want know what exactly Gavin’s up to.

Zehn: Understood.

I end the call, letting out a sigh.

Since I don’t know if my phone calls are being eavesdropped, I didn’t tell anyone about this matter.

Over the next duration, I’ll have to play the part of someone trying her best to chase after Gavin’s footsteps.

As a bait in this act, I’ll lead the other party to a completely different path from the goal.

I also have to continue playing the role of a suspect involved in the assassination incident, and a boss managing the various tasks of a media company--

There are many other things waiting for me to get done.

I have to find an opportune time to send Gavin’s USB drive.

At the same time, I have to continue investigating the information left behind by the deceased director - to see if Evol can lead to pathological changes in Evolvers. In other words, whether there’s a relationship between Evol and pathological changes.

And whether the mess of information is merely a gap or critical details related to the Hunter Game.

There are many things to do, but my heart is surprisingly very calm, and filled with motivation.

Gavin is walking down his path, and I naturally want to become the person who can stand beside him.

My footsteps become more determined, and my heart continually silently thinks about, and hopes--

That Gavin may be safe.

-

Gavin’s Post: While doing a thorough cleanup at home, I found a CD I used to hear frequently in middle school. 

MC: Did you also like this singer last time?

Gavin: Not really. I just heard it being broadcasted in school often.

-

Gavin’s Post: While doing a thorough cleanup at home, I found a CD I used to hear frequently in middle school. 

MC: Is today’s playlist a nostalgic style?

Gavin: Mm, I recalled some things from the past.

-

Gavin’s Post: While doing a thorough cleanup at home, I found a CD I used to hear frequently in middle school. 

MC: Keep it properly as a memento!

Gavin: Things that are truly worth remembering will never be forgotten, and won’t require these things.

Cheri’s Thoughts: There are so many issues with this chapter that I don’t know where to begin... T^T 

Papergames wrote S2 Gavin to be so mentally fragile that his conviction was wavered just because of two bullets (which he, the Special Operations Team, or the STF could have stopped...). 

Back in S1, his conviction wavered because he was indirectly contributing to the deaths of Evolvers, his Evol was going berserk, he could no longer protect the girl he loved, and even injured her accidentally.

I expected that one reason for his conviction to waver in S2 would be because his feelings for MC conflicted with his sense of justice. But clearly, this isn’t the case (unless Papergames is setting us up for another twist) because Gavin is more than willing to work with MC.

Also, what happened to never putting her in danger LOL 

S1 Gavin would never rope MC into a dangerous mission possibly involving the “other side” that has no qualms about resorting to violence to achieve their ends???

I’m happy that Gavin trusts her, but it just progressed too quickly that I don’t know how to feel about it...

💙 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[the-last-cuddlebender]

I straight up check your profile daily for the southern raiders analysis you’re working on. 👀👀 where IS IT 😩

bRUH I am so excited to drop this analysis you have no idea (It’s creeping up to 22k+ I am gonna cryyyyyyyyyyyy). The only problem is that my TSR analysis and “Moon theory” are so incredibly hard to structure and articulate. I’m happy you’re so excited for it, though!!! Truly, it’s an honor. I’ll give you a taste of my madness and what’s to come, but be warned: it may be a bit hard to follow because TSR (from how I’ve come to understand it) is about the vagueness of beginnings, endings, and cycles, so there isn’t really a starting point for me to begin with. (So it may seem a tad bit like a ramble in some points that I haven’t fleshed out yet/am summarizing for this ask)

This analysis has me on trails like THIS brilliant nonsense, and I am 1000000000% here for it:

Roku: “The spirit's name is Koh, but he is very dangerous. They call him The Face Stealer.”

Katara: “We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.”...“That’s him. That’s the monster.”

Lion Turtle: “To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable, or you will be corrupted and destroyed.”

Roku: “When you speak with him, you must be very careful to show no emotion at all. Not the slightest expression, or he will steal your face.”

Hama: “Congratulations, Katara. You’re a bloodbender.”

(If Katara had killed Yon Rha, she would be giving up her identity--her face. Not only would she have become a killer, but she would be killing what made her Katara)

Aang: “Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Forgive him--approach him for what he is, not the faces your memories or your heart are having him wear. See him for the pathetic man he is in that moment right in front of you.

Aang’s forgiveness is seeing someone for the sum of their parts. It’s judging them and seeing through into their very soul, just like the Firebending Masters saw through Zuko being the Crown Prince and Aang being the Avatar. That meant nothing to the Masters. What did matter to them was who the boys were right there, right then, right in front of them.

“Why should I hold a grudge against you for something you did in a past life? After all, you’re a different person, now. You’ve come to me with a new face.”

But anyways...

If I can give no other take-away from my analysis and moon theory, it’s that Yin and Yang are not two entities; they are three. I think the fandom’s misunderstanding of it may be why the discourse on TSR (and Aang, Katara, and Zuko) is so black and white (pun intended lol). 

“But Yin and Yang are obviously two things. Don’t you know the symbol?” I hear some people already saying.

Wrong, sir.

It has never been just Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang have never existed as just two things.

They are Yin and Yang and Wu Wei.

(Aunt Wu has her name for a reason, and she has the mark of the wise in her hair for a reason, too...AND she is at odds with Sokka in The Fortuneteller for a reason, too!!!...but that’s for the analysis😉)

Balance isn’t good triumphing over evil. Balance is good and evil. Balance is standing on the flow between two opposites--it’s the compliment that connects them. (The koi fish live in an oasis for a reason.)

I’ll explain what Wu Wei is later in the full analysis (like many things in here), but here’s some of my evidences and proofs for the “Yin Yang trio”:

The Tibetan “Wheel of Dharma”

(I’ll also explain the Wheel and Dharma and etc. later because it has everything to do with Koh and the moon) Long story short, the wheel and its spokes are representative of the 8 steps to enlightenment and the cycle of rebirth. 

Look at the hub of the wheel. It’s a swirl made of 3 parts.

It is also a white lotus

Here’s the colored version of the wheel (as an alter):

Recognize the colors?

BLUE, WHITE (or gold, depending), & RED

These are the “THREE TREASURES” OR JEWELS.

They symbolize DHARMA, BUDDHA, & SANGHA respectively. 

KATARA, AANG, & ZUKO

water, air, & fire

T H R E E

Bato: “Ice dodging is a ceremonial test of wisdom, bravery, and trust.

Bato: “The spirits of water bear witness to these marks...”

Why does Bato say spirit(s) plural? The Ocean and the Moon are only two spirits. The Ocean can’t be two things. Right?

WRONG

Yue: “The legends say the Moon was the first waterbender. Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

The Moon--singular. The Tides--plural (push and pull)

Lion Turtle: “In the era before the Avatar, we bent not the elements, but the energy within our senses.”

The moon pushing and pulling the tide is the moon bending the energy of its world. 

Katara finding balance between “being too weak to do it” or “strong enough not to” is her bending the energy within herself.

It’s two solutions written as a question but said as a statement.

Yue: “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves”

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ABOUT AANG AND ZUKO LEARNING FROM KATARA. Katara had already learned from Aang and Zuko all leading up to TSR. That was her studying. TSR was her test.

TSR is Zuko’s and Aang’s studying. Sozin’s Comet is their test.

Bato: “For Sokka, the Mark of the Wise. The same mark your father earned. For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us. And for Aang, the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe.”

Aang - Wise (”you’re pretty wise for a kid”)

Katara - Brave (the same mark her mother earned)

Zuko - Trusted (”I was the first person to trust you”)

Sokka - Bato ("I am to have no part in this--you pass or fail on your own.”)

Yin and Yang are nothing without their dance. The Avatar and the Firelord mean nothing if they don’t have a world to rebuild.

The valley means nothing if there isn’t anyone to live in it.

Fighting is useless if there isn’t someone to fight for, otherwise it is “selfish and stupid”

Katara had to have a reason to return from Yon Rha. She needed to have Aang waiting for her. If she didn’t have a reason to stay, then she wouldn’t have a reason to go.

To have a reason to sleep, a person has to have a reason to wake up.

Katara: “Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone; that it's all his responsibility.”

Hakoda: “Maybe that's his way of being brave.”

(Bato: “For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us.”)

Katara: “It's not brave! It's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him! And I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind?!”

(It was, in fact, not easy for Aang to ‘do nothing’)

Katara: “I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I'm so sad and angry...and hurt.”

Hakoda: “I love you more than anything. You and your brother are my entire world. I thought about you every day when I was gone, and every night when I went to sleep, I would lie awake missing you so much it would ache.”

(AND YUE IS ONE OF THE ONES TO SAVE AANG IN THE OCEAN FOR A REASON)

Thinking and missing: a matter of mind (who) and heart (want). 

Iroh: “Who are you? And what do you want?”

Sokka: “We need to go back. I wanna see Dad, but helping Aang is where we're needed the most.”

Mai: “I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

BUT YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT THE MOON FOR A HOT SECOND???

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE MOON

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT 2 MOONS

OH

OH REALLY???

OH REALLY, ZUKO

A FEW HOURS YOU SAY?

THEN TELL ME, ZUKO

WHY IS THE SUN GOING UP

WHEN IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT A FEW HOURS LATER

AND KATARA IS SLEEPING SO YOU CAN’T TELL ME IT’S BECAUSE YOU RISE WITH THE SUN OTHERWISE SHE’D BE WIDE AWAKE DURING THE FULL MOON THAT SHE USES TO BLOODBEND NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES LATER

THIS, MY FRIENDS, IS A HARVEST MOON

WHICH IS THE LAST FULL MOON OF THE SUMMER 

(and looks off color when it rises/falls because of the angle of the rise/fall in the atmosphere...it’s normal once overhead)

AND SYMOLIZES HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF

“We’re going to find the MAN who took my mother from me.”

“That’s him. That’s the MONSTER.”

8 spokes on the wheel

Katara was 8 when Kya was killed

8 steps to enlightenment (the “Eightfold Path”)

8 phases of the moon

8 faces of Koh

“One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me! Be it 8 or 9 hundred years ago” (but time is an illusion, so hundreds mean nothing)

THE OTHER TWO MOONS THAT ARE CONSUMING MY EVERY WAKING MOMENT???:

1.) The WOLF MOON--the first full moon of the new year (a love between the wolf and the moon in the harshest winters...connection is kindof obvious lmao)

2.) THE THUNDER MOON

The Thunder Moon is the full moon of July. It is also known as the Buck Moon--for when young buck regrow their antlers.

Yue: “My hair turned white.”

Zuko: *cuts and re-grows his hair*

Aang: “I have hair?”

The Thunder Moon--the full moon of July--is also the beginning of a certain Buddhist holiday.

DHARMA DAY

WHICH CELEBRATES THE BEGINING OF BUDDHISM AND THE FIRST OF THE 8 STEPS (the first spoke of the Dharma Wheel) TOWARDS ENLIGHTENMENT

AVATAR IS ALL ABOUT CYCLES

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ALL ABOUT BREAKING THEM

I haven’t even touched Jung, Koh, Hinduism, and Buddhism yet

or the fact that Katara and Kya are the only characters in the entire series to wear moons on their clothing and that, together, they form an actual lunar phenomenon

or why the spirit oasis isn’t a complete circle

or the fact that this thing that Aang is told to chase is just like Whaletail Island:

or how important the Great Divide and the Solstice are

AND I’M JUST GETTING STARTED

BECAUSE EVERYTHING IN THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS--RIGHT DOWN TO THE SOUND DESIGN--IS ABSOLUTELY MONUMENTAL IN UNDERSTANDING THE SHOW, ITS MESSAGE, ENERGYBENDING, AND LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE

TLDR: Idk how the heck I’m going to arrange or articulate this analysis because it is WILD. Be warned: There is literally no exact beginning and ending to this analysis because the whole point of Yin and Yang is that is has no beginning or ending (...kindof...), so you’ll have to bear with me once I’m done editing it into something that’s somewhat coherent.

These are just SOME of the things I’ve been able to answer with my moon theory and analysis of The Southern Raiders as it currently stands:

Why “letting go” isn’t really letting go (as we understand it...see: Aang’s confrontation with Koh)

Why Lake Laogai and the Spirit World are symbolically the same thing.

Zuko’s advice to the bullfrog is actually a summary of the show, energybending, the origin of bending, and the definition of Aang’s “forgiveness” I stg

Why “Sokka’s instincts” are the reason Katara yells at Sokka

Believe it or not, every time Katara mentions her mother, it is at specific times for specific reasons.

^^^same thing for the moon, lack of moon, moon positioning, etc.

Katara’s mother’s necklace is more important than we realize.

Who the faces of Koh are and WHY they are there.

The true meaning of Jet’s sacrifice.

Why Jet’s episode about the dam explains the entirety of TSR as it pertains to Katara (all the way down to the little girl who runs to get her doll after the dam breaks)

Why Katara actually DID forgive Yon Rha, and the fact that she doesn’t even know it is proof that she did

^^^^^Aang’s definition of forgiveness is completely misunderstood by the fandom, and the way he “forgives” is sososo much deeper than “moving on”, and it is DEFINATELY by no means “doing  nothing” or “excusing” past actions.

The importance of lightning, Zuko, Aang, and Katara.

The absolutely monumental and not nearly talked about importance of Jeong-Jeong like holy crap.

How Katara and Azula are just as much of a Yin and Yang as Zuko and Aang but not in the way we think they are

Why Koh has the Blue Spirit’s face

Why Koh DOESN’T have the Painted Lady’s face.

Who Ni-Ni from Katara’s campfire story in The Puppetmaster is 

How and why Iroh was able to learn firebending from the Masters even though he didn’t have a partner. 

How/Why Azula had her breakdown and why she saw her mother in the mirror

Why “Leaves from the Vine” and “Four Seasons” are the same song, explain Azula’s downfall, and explain the Yin and Yang of TSR.

Why Katara and Sokka are so often mistaken for parental figures.

Why Aang’s flashbacks to the Air Nomads are so important in understanding TSR.

Why Toph and Suki disappear after the campfire in TSR.

How Hakoda, Gyatso, and Kya are all connected.

Why it is so dang important that Azula shows up in the beginning of TSR.

The importance of the Spirit Oasis.

Energybending, healing with waterbending, Aang’s trauma, and Zuko’s scar.

Why Zuko gives Katara the exact opposite advise in TSR that he gave her in the catacombs. 

How everything could be predicted and read by the moon.

WHY YIN AND YANG ARE THREE THINGS AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THREE THINGS.

HOW ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OF THIS TIES BACK TO THE MOON AND BUDDHIST BELIEFS--AND YEAH THE MOON AND BUDDHISM AND HINDUISM ARE MORE CONNECTED IN ATLA THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.

AND HOW IT LEADS INTO OUR MODERN UNDERSTANDING OF THE SELF--BECAUSE JUNG TOOK GREAT INFLUENCE IN HIS DEVELOPING THEORY OF THE CONSCIOUS AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS FROM THE HINDU/BUDDHIST RELIGIONS 

^^^^AND ALSO THE THEORY OF THE SHADOW AND THE PERSONA 

The ocean is a deep, dark, unknown place with a lot of hidden monsters (like Yon Rah). Katara needed a light to find her monster, but she also needed somewhere she could breathe when she came back up for air.

If she didn’t have both Zuko and Aang, Katara would have drowned. 

I wasn’t kidding when I said this was a thesis, and what I’ve said and listed here isn’t even all that I have.

btw This all does line up on the traditional Yin Yang symbol we know and see in the show, but I don’t have enough space here for that lmao. That’ll be in the analysis

I hope you enjoyed this little taste, my friend, because I need to sit down for a hot second before my brain leaks out of my ears. Sorry for the ramble. I promise the analysis isn’t like this lol. This is just me trying to summarize as best as I can. 

***Disclaimer: My points are always subject to change since I am still researching. These are the facts as I’ve found and applied them to the evidences I’ve noted from in the show. I’m always open for friendly discussion or any directions to better sources on Buddhism/Tao/Jung!***

[captaincoffeegirl515]

What the hell was that last act???

So first of all I want to say that I did enjoy most of the movie. It was okay. The sex scenes didn’t do anything for me though since I’m just not interested in sex at all. But while I more-or-less liked the movie, I felt that the big plot twists in the last act and the ending were badly done because… how the fuck did ANY of them manage to get away with ANY OF THAT??? Like from a legal standpoint it’s just ???

This got so much longer than I anticipated, so the rest is under the read more. And yes, there are so many spoilers. So if you haven't seen The Voyeurs yet and don't want spoilers, please avoid this.

Seb and Julia literally confess to selling their old apartment in order to spy on the people who live there and use them for their art show. Like, yes, they put that clause in the Terms of Agreement for the apartment (which literally no one ever reads) but there is still the matter of Informed Consent. Informed Consent is usually in the form of a contract Pippa and Thomas both need to read and sign, or via verbal questions and answers which is filmed so Seb and Julia would have physical proof of an agreement. This is basically telling them what footage was taken, how it will be used, and if Seb and Julia have permission to share the footage publicly. In Thomas’ case, since he’s dead, his next-of-kin will be asked. Only then are Seb and Julia legally allowed to publicly share and showcase the Pippa and Thomas’ pictures. And Seb is a professional photographer! He should know that!

Have you ever seen prank shows? Like even the ones on YouTube. Have you noticed at the end of some videos, there would be a part where the filmers would approach the person who was pranked and ask if they could use their footage in the video. That’s Informed Consent. They need to ask permission to use a person’s footage in a video or if they need to blur out the person’s face for privacy. Seb and Julia even showed a picture of a dead man for chrissakes! Remember the outcry when that YouTuber posted a video of a suicide victim in Japan???

The Japanese interviewer was right to disapprove of their methods because even though there was a clause in the Terms of Agreement, the prank (because isn’t that what that whole show they did was?) or experiment still resulted with someone killing themself (yes I know it was murder, but the world doesn't know it). They can possibly still be held liable for causing Thomas to kill himself the same way a prankster can be held liable if their victim dies from a prank because of this thing in Law called the Eggshell Rule or Eggshell Plaintiff.

What this means is that a defendant is liable for any injuries caused by the defendant’s actions, regardless of how unforeseeable or uncommon the plaintiff’s reactions to the defendant’s actions are. So for example, there is a scary prank where the prankster jumps out of the bushes and terrifies people. One of them turns out to have a heart condition, suffers a heart attack, and dies. Regardless of the victim’s frailty, the prankster can be held liable for exacerbating the condition and causing the victim’s death. Likewise in the movie, they can say that Seb and Julia, by orchestrating the whole thing and making Thomas see his girlfriend cheating on him, could have caused him to become broken-hearted and kill himself. Therefore, Seb and Julia can be liable for Thomas’ death.

And then here’s the kicker! The famous photographer and his wife, a famous model, both suddenly end up blind AFTER their big art show where they displayed Pippa’s scandal. And not by accident. No. This was obviously surgically done. And NOBODY suspected foul play?? Nobody thought about revenge?? Nobody thought it strange how their blindness was clearly done with a surgical/medical precision nor suspected the couple’s subject, Pippa, who they thoroughly humiliated, who also worked as an optometrist technician at a lab that has the machines that could cause that kind of blindness??? And they're both still alive! They can easily tell the police who did it!

It should have been way too easy for the police to know that it was foul play. Blood tests can tell that Seb and Julia had been drugged. How they were blinded can be traced to the optometry lab. Pippa would be the easiest main suspect due to her connection to them with revenge as the main motivation after they humiliated her in that art show.

And yes, I agree that what Seb and Julia did was wrong. They used Pippa and Thomas, and then murdered Thomas so they can have some juicy story to tell!

Even so, what happened to Ethical Codes in the medical field? What happened to the Hippocratic Oath? Non-maleficience rule? “Do No Harm”? Pippa should have been slammed with, idk, medical malpractice or something, after using her knowledge of the LASIK machine and using it to permanently blind people (which is an actual fear real people have about LASIK surgery), have her license revoked, be fired from her job, and possibly serve jail time. Why is she walking free all willy-nilly and still being allowed to continue stalking Seb and Julia?

I’ll admit though that maybe I’m being more harsh towards Pippa because I myself used to be a Board Certified medical professional (my license expired last year because I hadn't been working in that field for a while) and because of that, her actions angered and horrified me more.

Normally, we as an audience are made to root for the main character or hero, but I found it difficult to do so because Pippa herself is a terrible person. She's a pervert and a creep. She was obsessed with the lives of other people, stalked them, and even went as far as committing crimes in order to fuel her obsession - trespassing, breaking and entering, destruction of private property.

And my goodness this actually makes me think of a few Ben Hardy stans who are like this. Well, idk if going to Ben's school so that she can get a copy of a school film he was in can be considered a crime, but it's still fucking creepy.

Pippa’s got that Savior Complex where she tries to rescue this poor neglected wife from her horrible cheating husband (the same one she herself wants to fuck because she’s obsessed with him). And then when it all goes south, she immediately turns around and blames THOMAS of all people because “he started it”. Like, so what if he did?? He still had enough maturity to realize when they were taking it too far, and decided to stop with the stalking. He told her to stop multiple times but she was too blinded by her obsession and lust for a man that she doesn’t even know.

AND THEN!! She stalked a grieving husband (I know we know that was a lie but Pippa didn't know that) and proceeded to cheat on her boyfriend with said grieving husband. And frankly, I don’t understand why she’s so vengeful about Thomas’ death considering how easily she forgot him so that she could cheat on him. Like. Who knows, maybe he still would’ve killed himself regardless of the poisoned drink because the last thing he saw was his girlfriend cheating on him with the man she’d been obsessed with for the past idk how long. Even in the scene after Thomas died, there was a momentary grief where Pippa was all “it’s my fault Thomas died” but it was all too brief and immediately after she went back to obsessing and asking about Seb. And they want me to believe that she’d want to avenge Thomas’ death? No. I think she blinded Seb and Julia because she was angry at being called out for her obsession. For being told that she was wrong to go that far. It wasn’t about her “love” for Thomas. It was about how humiliated she was about being wrong.

Can you believe that Pippa gave this whole speech with the fable about being content with what you have and not to try to be greedy by wanting more and then she just immediately DOES THE OPPOSITE OF THE MORAL by cheating on her boyfriend because she wanted more aka Seb???

The more that I think about it, I feel like the true villain of the movie is Pippa herself. Her obsession with Seb is what started the whole thing. If she had been able to keep a healthy distance, none of that would’ve happened to begin with. There would be no fights over how far things were going. Seb would have no scandal to tell. She worsened Thomas’ insecurities of not being enough for her, making him go to great lengths just to try to please her. Poor Thomas. He truly deserved better.

Pippa also has awful friends. Instead of stamping down the creepy behavior, they’re giving tips on how to listen in on other people’s private conversations! And then later try to excuse her cheating on Thomas. And then help with her obsession AGAIN.

Acting-wise, I felt that Natasha, Ben, and Justice were incredible and I loved them. I love how conflicted Ben played Seb and how you can see it in his eyes. My favorite scene was the one where Seb and Julia had that confrontation over the wine where Seb asks if she ever felt guilty and Julia just stares right back and stares him down. Natasha was brilliant as Julie pretending to be all friendly and vulnerable with Pippa. Justice was very emotional and I love the scenes where he was horrified at how far Pippa was taking everything. For me, Sydney was the weakest one at acting. While there were some okay parts, her face can be really stiff at some points, like during the sex scenes.

Overall, I thought the movie to be quite thought-provoking especially in this day and age where people can find the most intimate details of another person’s life so easily, be that through Carrd, Instagram stories, Facebook feeds, and other social media sites. It makes you think about parasocial relationships, how people can be so obsessed about people that they’ve never even met, and how that obsession can easily grow into something dangerous that can ruin lives. Good movie, terrible last act. Too much sex for my taste, but then it wouldn’t be called an erotic movie.

Outside of the movie, I really love the chemistry between the four of them. I love watching their interviews and seeing how they interact with each other.

Last but not the least, I know this may be random but my brain likes to zoom in on the weirdest things. How on earth did Pippa manage to get Seb on top of that operating table?? No offense but Pippa is fucking tiny. Seb’s like twice her size and mostly muscle AND unconscious. Like ??? Sorry but that threw me off so much it’s ridiculous.