#happy ending zone

[hinamie]

long way home

[headcanonthings]

Sam: I don't want Steve to die Sam: You don't want Steve to die Sam: So now we need to make sure that Steve doesn't make Steve die Bucky: Fantastic plan, but have you fucking met him?

[heybaetae]

maknae line + gestures of love 🫰🏼💋🫶🏼🌹🤟🏼 happy birthday @jkvjimin! ♡

[saradiation]

A recap of (almost) all of my Homestuck art :D

I made this one for instagram but I think it would fit here too, especially considering that tumblr was the first place I started to post my Homestuck art to :)

So here’s a recap of three years worth of Homestuck art from me!✨ …at least most of it because while making this I realized I couldn’t fit every single drawing, oops! If you remember some of the first ones omg thank you for being with me this long! ❤️ And once again Happy 413 everyone! 🎂✨

[theside-b]

LOVE FOR LOVE'S SAKE (2024) episode 1 | episode 8

[natalievoncatte]

Few moments in Alex’s life would stick out like this one. There was a rising panic in her throat, pulsing against her airway. Panic and grief gripped her like icy hands, working to strangle, and she wasn’t sure if what she choked down was a sob or vomit. Her hands trembled as they held the paper. She hadn’t thought of this.

The letterhead read simply, PAST DUE- FINAL NOTICE.

With everything going on, she’d simply forgotten about the matter until she swung by the loft. She should have sent Kelly, should have set up something earlier to deal with this. Kara was six months behind on her rent and she was going to be evicted if she didn’t pay.

Which she never would.

Alex had quietly accepted, about a month ago, that Kara wasn’t coming home, that all their methods had been exhausted, that her sister was lost in an infinite, shattered Phantom Zone, never to be found. She’s finally gotten the martyrdom that she’d been unknowingly seeking since she arrived on Earth.

She was keeping it bottled up, because the others still believed, even Brainy, who had to know the odds.

Alex seethed with a towering rage. There were some nights when, lying awake in Kelly’s arms, she’d fantasize about how she’d punish Clark for failing Kara, or what she’d do to Lex Luthor if she got her hands on him. Sometimes it would even be J’onn she raged at, or Lena.

She saved them all so many times, threw her life and body and soul in front of all them as a shield and took on their misery and suffering on top of her own, and though it was like drops cast in the ocean of Kara Zor-El’s grief, she felt every blow, every loss. Alex’s falling tears stained the letter as she thought of every time Kara paced this apartment, excoriating herself for her failures whenever she couldn’t be in five disasters at once.

Alex didn’t want her to be a superhero. She didn’t want that need to throw herself between others and their own suffering to consume Kara’s life, but it had.

Not for the first time, Alex wished that Kara had just stayed on the ground and let her plane crash. It was a selfish, hateful impulse. Kara would never have let it happen and even if she had, something would have prompted her to put on that red and blue costume and fly. It was what she was for.

Alex raged anyway. Fuck that little shit Wynn for making her a costume. The little pervert probably just wanted to make her try shit on to see her half naked. Fuck J’onn for recruiting her, fuck Clark for abandoning her… and… and…

The paper crumpled and so did Alex, sobbing. This was all her fault. If only…

“Alex?”

She hadn’t heard Lena come in. She’d long ago given up heels. Hell, shed given up. She was a wearing a hoodie that Alex knew was Kara’s and her hair was in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, and if asked when she last ate or sleep, she’d have lied. Alex already knew the answer: she ate when someone remembered to feed her and she slept on a cot in her lab as she tortured herself.

Lena was the only one that Alex couldn’t rage at because Lena was already punishing herself. Kara would be furious if she knew how they were letting Lena treat her health.

Without a word, Lena gently grasped the letter and Alex released it.

Lena read it, frowning.

Then she pulled out her phone.

“Jess, I have a task for you. I’m going to send you a pic of an eviction letter. I want you to pay off the back rent.”

“Lena,” Alex began.

Lena waved her off.

“I want the building. Set up some shell companies. No one can know it’s me. Try to negotiate so it looks legit, but they can name their price. I want it done by tonight.”

Lena hung up.

“This is her place,” Lena said, softly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Alex.

“Yes, I did. This is her place. She deserves to come back to it,” Lena dropped onto the sofa beside her. “I will never give up. I don’t care if I’m still trying to bring her home when I’m old and gray, it’ll be worth it to see her one more time.”

Alex felt a wave of grief overwhelming her.

“Besides,” Lena forced cheer into her voice. “I spent a billion dollars so I could hang out with her at work. What’s an apartment building?”

Alex jolted. It was as if she watched a wine glass, which had toppled and shattered and cast its contents across the floor, leap back into position. As if the shards of crystal returned to their proper places and the cracks sealed, and the wine splashed back to its proper place, not a single shimmering golden drop lost. When the understanding snapped into place, it was like a lightning bolt. She felt too large for her skin, and the fine hairs at the back of her neck stood, as though bearing a charge.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Lena was in love with Kara.

She could see it now. The love radiated from every pore of Lena’s skin, undulled by the grief that draped her like a nighted cloak, as gold shimmered untarnished beneath dust. Alex’s heart was about to break again.

“I have to get back to the lab.”

“Why are you here?” Alex said, softly.

“I was… I’ve been spending the night. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

“Kara would want you to.”

Kara would want you to move on, Alex thought. She would want you to find someone and be happy and think only of her in fond memories. She would gladly martyr herself for you, too. You above all. She never stopped defending you even when…

Now there were two wine glasses, side by side, almost touching but not quite, promising a toast unsaid.

Oh.

Oh God.

Alex launched off the couch and threw her arms around Lena, holding her tight. Lena recoiled a little; she seemed to dislike hugs, almost like she didn’t understand them, even as she’d melted in Kara’s embrace dozens of times.

How had she been so blind?

“We’ll get her back,” Alex said.

“We will,” said Lena.

Later, Alex stood off to the side, her veins singing with unbridled joy after Kara released her from a full on, no-powers bear hug. She watched as the others embraced her and slapped her back and welcomed her home while Lena stared at here like she couldn’t believe she was real.

Limping, haggard, Kara suffered their joys with quiet reserve, pushing a little closer to her ultimate destination with each one until she stood in front of Lena.

The hug was awkward, tentative, but Kara thrust herself into it after a hesitant moment and Lena molded against her, the pair standing cheek to cheek a beat too long. Lena pulled back and Kara pulled after her, leaning in, only to dance back and do that awkward little shift.

“Kara,” Alex blurted. “For fuck’s sake, just do it.”

Kara looked at her, wide-eyed and a little betrayed. Kara was beyond honest to a fault: Alex knew that after Kara nervously told her about the infamous “I flew here on a bus “ incident. Kara was honest to the core of her very being, sickened by the act of lying.

To Alex’s surprise, it was Lena’s hands on Kara’s shoulders that turned her away. Kara looked back and her and Lena brought her hands to Kara’s cheeks, resting her palms against the abnormally pale skin of her face. Kara froze for two heartbeats and then gently put her hands on Lena’s sides and pulled her in, there bodies slotting together as their lips found one another, Kara leaning over Lena a little more with the added height of her boots as Lena collapsed into her, tears glittering on her cheeks. The kiss carried on until Alex cleared her throat.

Everyone in the room was stunned save Alex.

“Guys,” she said, “let’s give them a little privacy, huh? We can celebrate later.”

As the others filed out of the room, Lena raised her head from where it had lain on Kara’s shoulder and mouthed a silent thank you.

[rudeguacamole]

Drifting time misplaced.

Happy Halloween everyone!! 🎃

Close up! ↴

[bitterbutblue]

the person you're calling has turned into an ethereal...

let my last thought be you ☆ zzz x fem!reader

characters : Ellen Joe (platonic), Anby Demara, Grace Howard, Zhu Yuan

~ LMAOO U TURN INTO AN ETHEREAL AND ITS THEIR FAULT LMAOOOO.. also i wrote this for my fav artist yurieater69.. hi yurieater69.. <33

warning for zhu yuan's- INACCURATE POLICE TALK. PLEASEEEE IM A UNI STUDENT IDK ABOUT COPS ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

let me see tomorrow ☆ platonic!ellen joe x reader

This was supposed to be one of their easiest missions yet. There wasn't even supposed to be any weapons drawn, for fuck's sake. Lycaon sent in you and her for a reason- an in and out hollows mission. You were her closest... coworker? Could she call you a friend? She would like to call you a friend. You were around her age, but you always managed to somehow balance this odd job and your school work flawlessly- something she deeply envied. You never seemed tired, always at the top of your game. For the longest time she despised you, until you two were sent on this mission.

Just the two of you.

And she realised there was much more to you than just perfection. Of course, perfection is only an idealistic dream but to her you were perfection. Your moments of weakness she found herself overlooking because she had already idealised you in her head. It was really only two hours, yet she found herself regretting not talking to you earlier.

But now, Ellen can only watch in horror, unable to move, staring in horror as you collapse to the ground. She finally manages to move, pushing herself off the ground, dashing towards you.

"Hey, hey, stay with me."

Cool, calm, collected. That's how a maid from Victoria' Housekeeping should be acting but as each second ticks by she can feel herself losing her calm. You lunge at her, fear swallowing your every move and thought as you grab onto her collar.

"Ellen, Ellen I don't wanna turn- Ellen please-"

You both knew it was too late but you were panicking, tears falling before you even know it because you can just feel yourself falling down that abyss. All she can do is watch. She doesn't know what to do, she doesn't know you well. Should she hold you? Should she grab your hand and run? She can feel her own panic surfacing, eyes darting all over the place. Her head feels light, breathing shallow as she tries to calm herself because this isn't about her. This isn't about her.

"Ellen, call Lycaon, Rina, please, Ellen-"

Your begging is all she can hears and she's never heard you sound like this. So afraid, frantic, desperate. Your usual put together self now thrown away as you scramble to keep yourself together.

"Ellen, I'm scared. Ellen, please-"

Her instincts take over, rushing over to you. She holds you in an awkward embrace, collapsing to her knees as she pulls you in close.

"It's okay."

The words sound awkward coming out of her, and she can hear how choked her own voice is. She's scared, she has no right to be but she's scared. She doesn't want to lose you.

"I want my mom, I'm scared. I don't wanna turn, Ellen-"

The last thing you hear is her heartbeat and the last thing she hears is your cries before you go limp. And it's only a matter of time until you start moving again so she grabs her weapon as fast as she can. She doesn't even realise she's crying until she moves to stab her shears through your now-ethereal body. She doesn't even realise she's sobbing and her chest hurts until she hears Lycaon's voice calling out to her. The puzzle pieces click in his head when he sees your weapon lying on the ground and the usually stoic and emotionless Ellen Joe on her knees, tears flowing silently as she lets out choked cries of apologies.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

love me one last time ☆ anby demara x reader

When she fell in love with you, Anby swore to herself she would always put your safety over her own because to her, you were more than the world itself. Working with her in the Cunning Hares is and always will be a danger, and she knows she can't let her emotions get the best of it all. But you always saw it differently. You always wore the softest smile around Anby, one that had her usual stoicism fading into an embarrassed and shy smile. You were her exception, and that was the problem.

Yet this time it was all her fault. She led you guys the wrong way, deeper and deeper into the hollows while thinking you were on your way out. You told her it's okay, you told her that you trusted her no matter what and she just wanted to believe that but the sinking feeling in her gut had her growing more and more worried over time.

You play off how you feel something going wrong, because you wanted to trust her so badly but something was definitely not right. And your theories came true when you feel yourself growing dizzy and weak. Anby catches on, growing more and more panicked when you suddenly stumble and fall to the ground.

"Don't worry- I'll call for someone, I'll-"

"Anby?"

Your voice is so quiet, so hoarse. Her heart drops when she looks into your eyes because she sees it too now and she feels like throwing up. This can't be happening.

Was this... her fault?

"Just stay close."

You were hunched over, her kneeling next to you and she hated feeling so helpless. She hated knowing that right now it was happening all over again, she's losing someone and it's her fault.

"Don't talk like you're dying." She hisses out angrily, scrambling to help you up onto your feet but you refuse to budge.

"Anby please."

You sound tired, drained. If she listens carefully she can hear the hint of fear you are so desperately trying to hide from her.

"Just stay close."

You knew what was happening- you weren't stupid.

"It's not your fault."

Anby didn't register the tears falling until she feels your hand reach up to wipe away the stray tears that are falling from her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

She's never heard herself sound so vulnerable and afraid. The sound of her own voice has her shocked.

"It was bound to happen."

She hated how casual you sounded about it all, how you tried to swallow back the tremor in your voice.

"No it fucking wasn't." She's lost control now. She snaps at you despite the fact that she knows she shouldn't be doing that but she can't help it because she's so scared. "I could've gotten us out, I shouldn't have been..."

She trails off when she sees the look in your eyes. Even now it's still soft and loving and she wants to hold you forever. Instead she pulls you in for a hug. Tight, but gentle. Your hearts are beating against one another, like a perfectly tuned macine.

"It's okay. I'm still me."

She's breaking down now. She can feel how hard you're fighting to stay in this body for just a second longer.

"I love you, Anby."

She can feel herself shaking and trembling, swallowing back her sobs as she whispers out the last words you'll hear- right before piercing her blade through your still-human chest. You slump over, head in her shoulder, a ghost of a smile on your face as she sobs into your still body.

"I love you."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

let us love for another day more ☆ grace howard x reader

Perhaps it was time to put it all to rest. Maybe she had taken it too far this time. You had warned her not to get to carried away at night with her experiments and she keeps brushing you off, promising to be home soon... soon... soon.

You grew sick of waiting for her, so one night you decide to venture off to Belobog Industries on your own. She's been spending too much time with her robots (or her children, as she likes to call them) and staying out this late in New Eridu is always unsafe. So you drive to her, but on your way there you find yourself lost. The surroundings grow unfamiliar, and you feel a cold chill down your spine when you realise your situation.

You've fallen into a hollow.

Grace realises far too late that you're not picking up her calls, and that her messages aren't going through. She panics as soon as she realises, calling Koleda in a frantic rush. They woke Phaethon up at 1 in the morning (frankly, both of them we're still awake so was it really waking them up?). She follows the Bangboo into the hollow, Koleda tailing her.

"Seriously, sis, why didn't you just let her know you would be home soon?"

"Not the time, Koleda."

Koleda pauses when she hears her name slip out of Grace's lips. No pet name, no 'sis' or 'sweet pea'. 'Koleda'. Grace is scared. Her usual, lighthearted self now replaced with a pale, worried and shaky demeanour that has Koleda growing anxious too.

"She's okay, seriously."

"GRACE-!"

The Phaethon's panicked voice causes her to jump, she turns around, quickly identifying the source of the sound. Her heart drops at the sight.

The Bangboo is crouched next to this figure, who is slumped over next to their car. Grace could recognise that figure from fucking anywhere because that's you. That's her fucking wife. A pang of guilt hits her so hard she almost stumbles. She rushes towards you, picking up your limp body in her arms.

"Darling, baby, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Your eyes fluttered open, breathing shallow as you looked up. A ghost of a smile forms on your face.

"Grace.. I made dinner for us.. at home.."

Your voice was weak, shaky and she can feel her throat closing up as she blinks back tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby-"

"Can you take me home?"

Koleda just stands to the side awkwardly, watching as Grace pulls your limp body close to her.

"Yes, let's go home, darling."

Grace knows the situation. Koleda knows the situation. Fuck, even Phaethon knows the situation. You're not making it home.

"I feel weird."

"I know, baby."

Grace pulls you onto her lap, your head resting against her chest as you struggle to breath properly. Ethereal matter is no joke, and Grace knows it too but right now she can't care that they're in a hollow with limited time. All she can think about is you.

"It's gonna be okay, just look at me?"

She can't even have it in her to remain calm, her words come out through her tears as she holds you closer. You can feel her regret through her actions, and you can feel her tears dripping down her face and onto the top of your head as she hugs you close.

"Grace... I wanna go home."

She breaks down now, sobbing messily as her cries echo through the night. She tells you false promises, tells you that you guys are going home. She tells you she will prepare a warm bath for you, and you guys can go to bed together, and sleep in the next day. She tells you it will be alright, and that she will make you breakfast tomorrow. You let out a content sigh, before closing your eyes.

Koleda takes this opportunity, watching you right as you turned to an Ethereal, and strikes it down. Grace can only watch as the rest of you fades from her arms into the air, hugging herself- as if clutching the remains of you to her heart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

my mistakes haunt my nights ☆ zhu yuan x reader

The day she became the captain of N.E.P.S. was essentially the day she devoted her life to protecting you and people like you. Each night she would come home with a grateful smile that she could come home to you. You spend the rest of the evening cooking dinner together, laughing, talking about whatever case she had going on that day and whatever stupid thing your boss had told you to do during work.

Zhu Yuan put you first. She always had put you first.

So the one time she doesn't, it comes back to get her.

The unpredictability of New Eridu meant that anyone could fall into a hollow any day. Zhu Yuan knew that, so did you. And you trusted that if it were to ever happen, she would find you. And she promised she would. And like predicted, You and other civilians had fallen into a hollow one day. And Zhu Yuan intends to fulfil her promise.

It was just a rescuse mission, save those who have fallen in hollows. The civilians they were after had already been saved, yet they kept mentioning 'someone who ran off'. Zhu Yuan clicks her tongue in annoyance.

"Another one who ran off?"

"Captain?"

She quickly picks up the walkie talkie. They had managed to get the first group out, leaving her and Qingyi trying to find the others.

"Yes?"

"W-we found the others, but..."

"What?"

"We're north of where you are now, you need to come, fast. It's- it's your wife, we think she's-"

She runs. She runs before he even finishes his sentence. She hears the fear in his voice and that fear is what they can't have on field because that fear is what breaks them. Qingyi follows her, right at her tail as they finally find the group of PUBSEC officers that stand with their guns pointed up.

"Captain, she's-"

"PUT THEM DOWN."

She feels her heart dropping when she sees the sight in front of her. You were curled up into a ball, looking pale and sickly and so scared of all the officers that had their guns pointed at you. Your eyes widened when you noticed Zhu Yuan.

"Zhu Yuan- please, they won't let me leave..."

Zhu Yuan's heart stutters in her chest as she approaches you slowly, dropping onto her knees in front of you. She can feel the tears pricking at her eyes because she knows she's too late. She's encountered innocent civilians turning into Ethereals, she learned to predict when it was too late and when there was still time left to save them but this.

"I just wanted to see you at work." You croaked out weakly, holding onto her jacket.

Never has she ever let people see her cry, or have her fellow officers see her in a moment of weakness but she can't hold back this time. She takes in a shaky breath, feeling her tears fall from her eyes as she takes off her glove, before putting a hand to your cheek. You sigh at the skin to skin contact, leaning into her touch and that simple act has her letting out a pained sob.

"I'm sorry, baby-"

She wasn't fast enough. If she had come earlier, you wouldn't have ran to try to help the civilians. Curse you- curse you and your stupidly kind heart and your need to help everyone. Zhu Yuan just wants you to be selfish for once because if you're selfish then you would've still been here, smiling with the intention to go home.

"Are you going to kill me, Zhu Yuan?"

The fear in your voice is evident and Zhu Yuan shuts her eyes tight, taking in a deep breath as she pulls your head onto her lap. She moves a hand, gently stroking your hair. She feels the softness thread between her fingers, and you feel her tears drip onto your cheek.

"I just- wanted to see you."

You were shaking now, gripping onto her hand as if it's a life raft that could ground you, take you home.

"I don't want to die."

Zhu Yuan screws her eyes shut, biting down on her lip to prevent another sob from escaping but she can't stop her shoulders from quaking.

"Please..."

"I love you."

The words flow out of her, unstoppable. She knows this is the last time she can talk to you.

"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. I'm sorry, baby, I love you. I love you..."

"Zhu Yuan-"

Your words are hoarse and choked, your grip on Zhu Yuan's arm is so tight. She can feel your nails digging into her skin but she can't care about that in the moment.

"I don't want to die... please..."

"I love you-" she cries, moving to hold your hand tight "I love you, I'm sorry, I love you-"

And she can only watch in horror as you let out a sharp gasp, body freezing up as your eyes widened. And Qingyi steps in, firing a shot right through your head- right before you turned.

Officers could only stand and watch- another successful case, majority of the civilians rescued.

But at what cost?

She couldn't stop herself- she let out a scream, grabbing onto your body and holding it close as she sobbed out meaningless apologies that only fade into the night sky.

Zhu Yuan returned to an dark and empty home, cold and harsh. She takes off her jacket, now stained in your blood, and just stares at it. She stares, and stares, before her knees finally give out as she breaks into loud wails and sobs. She clutches the jacket close, it's the last of you she can hold onto. But also a painful reminder of why it's all she has left.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

[front-facing-pokemon]

[redeemed-wren]

I think my favourite part about Tales of the TARDIS is that we get to see companions who have grown old, who are allowed to grow old.

Because in NuWho its become a trend for companions to leave in violent and brutal ways, only leaving because theyre ripped away. But Tales of the TARDIS let us see companions who grew old, lived lives after the Doctor. They get the soft ending of growing old.

Jamie gets to have daughters and grandchildren. Peri becomes a warrior queen. Vicki gets to live with her love. Tegan gets to chase her own adventures. Jo lives a life with her husband.

They get the opportunity to grow old. Leaving the Doctor isn't the end of them, rather it's the start of a different, maybe even better adventure. These shorts hold then companions and say 'it isn't a tragedy' and it's refreshing after the tragic exits of modern companions.

[darthfrodophantom]

Death Is My Gift

Summary: When Danny becomes the personification of Death, his new powers are the least of his problems. Summoned as the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, Danny tries to sabotage it from the inside while also contending with the other three horsemen, the one who summoned him, and the knowledge that if he fails, he may have to help bring about the end of the world.

AO3: Link

Chapter 1: Still Dead - Thanks for Checking

“What the hell is that on your phone?” Sam asked, her tone dripping with derision. 

Danny looked up from his screen and cocked his eyebrow. “What?” How could she see what was on his screen when she was on the other side of the table? Not that he had anything embarrassing on there, but look it wasn’t his fault that he messed up his Insta algorithm because he watched one video about large superheated copper balls melting through a telescope lens and now he couldn’t stop watching more of them. But still, how could she see it?

She gestured toward the back of his phone. “That sticker - what the hell is it?”

Understanding dawned on the usually clueless boy and his face brightened. “Oh, it’s my new sticker! Isn’t it great?” he preened as he moved his hand to the side so they could see the sticker in its full glory. He had been waiting for them to notice it, and somehow it took all the way until lunch for them to comment on it. 

Tucker craned his neck around to see the purple coffin-shaped sticker plastered onto the back of Danny’s phone case. In white letters it read: “Still Dead. Thanks for checking.” Tucker snorted before he devolved into cackles. “Dude, that’s great!”

Danny grinned even wider. “Right? I thought it was too funny.”

“No, it’s stupid,” Sam argued, and her harsh attitude completely ruined the mood. “Danny, the less people associate you with death, the better.”

“Oh come on Sam, if they haven’t figured out that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton are the same person by now when they have the exact same hairstyle, then a sticker is not going to phase anyone,” Tucker argued, ever in defense of his friend.

“Exactly!” Danny seconded.

“Or it’s exactly the last piece that helps people make that connection because there’s already so little separating you!” Sam exclaimed, though she did try to keep her voice down so no one else would overhear.

“Or maybe they’ll just think I’m a moody Gen Z kid that says this kind of dramatic stuff all the time. Which is why you should have let me keep that shirt.” He still thought that “Dead Inside” shirt was ironic and iconic, but Sam conveniently spilled black ink from her fancy new quill set  on it and refused to give it back for this very same reason.

“Yeah, he could just make it his brand,” Tucker agreed. The two of them always seemed to be on the same page.

Sam reached out like she was about to rip the sticker off his phone, but decided against it and shook her head. “Fine. You want to keep the sticker on your phone? Fine, but don’t cry to me when people start putting the pieces together,” she huffed.

“Well since that’s not gonna happen, you’re gonna be waiting a long time,” Danny grinned. He struck an overly exaggerated victory pose with his neck cocked slightly to the side while he tilted his chin up to the sky. 

Sam jerked back as the color drained from her face. “Danny what the—“ she cried out, so loudly and so suddenly that it caught the attention of other people in the lunchroom. 

Danny immediately looked behind him, assuming that whatever caused Sam’s sudden reaction had to be behind him. His need to protect his friends from whatever threat caused such a startled response rose up and hammered in his throat as his mind spun with the possible horrors he would see behind him. 

But he saw…nothing. Well, not nothing. He saw other students eating their lunches at other tables throughout the room. Students drifted in and out of the cafeteria as they finished their lunches. No ghost. No threat. Nothing that should cause Sam to turn as white as she did.

He turned back to face Sam, concern etched deep into his brow as he studied her face. “Sam? What’s wrong?” he asked in quiet urgency. If she truly saw some danger that he couldn’t, then he needed to know.

Sam studied Danny for a long moment, far too long for Danny’s liking. She wasn’t looking past him, she was looking at…him. “...Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing. I think I’m just seeing things. I thought I saw…nevermind. It’s nothing,” she assured them. 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because something freaked you out.”

She shook her head and plastered a forced smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m sure. Too little sleep and too much caffeine has just got me jumpy. I’m fine, really. Besides, we need to act like we’re having a normal conversation: too many people are watching.”

“Well yeah, you practically jumped out of your seat,” Danny pointed out. 

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a half smile before she reached across the table and grabbed his abandoned phone. “It did let me get your phone though.”

“Wait hey!” Danny protested as he reached across the table to recover his phone from her clutches, but she deftly moved around his grasping hands. 

“Now let’s see about that sticker,” she teased. Danny immediately doubled his efforts to retrieve his phone. Not being able to rely on ghost powers made it a little more difficult than it should have been to win it back (was he maybe relying on those too much? That felt like too much of a Jazz question for him to think about it too long), but he did save the phone and his ironic sticker. He was so preoccupied saving his sticker that he didn’t notice that Tucker had gone quiet and regarded Sam with a very significant and curious stare.

Lunch wrapped up shortly after the scuffle over the phone, and the three of them rushed off to their lockers and then off to class. Just outside the door to the classroom, Tucker held a hand out to stop Sam and waited for Danny to get a few feet inside before he spoke up in a whisper.

“Did you see the skull?”

Sam blinked and her face grew pale again, just like it had in the lunchroom. “The what?” she asked with a slightly shaky voice.

“The skull? Over Danny’s face?”

“What? Yes! Yes I thought I was going insane!” she exclaimed, though still in a whisper to not catch any more attention. The briefest moment of relief washed over her, but it immediately washed away into even more worry.

“No, I saw it this morning,” Tucker admitted. “Thought it was just some trick of the light or something. It was there one moment and then–”

“--Gone the next,” Sam finished. “And when I saw it I just felt…off. Like this moment of dread. Like I was–”

“--Looking at something I shouldn’t have seen,” Tucker validated as he nodded his head. “Yeah, same here. It was a weird feeling to have looking at my best friend.”

“What does it mean?”

“No idea,” Tucker sighed as he looked towards Danny pouring over his textbook in the hope that he’d be able to at least pretend that he did the reading before class. “But knowing Danny, it’s probably nothing good.”

Danny noticed odd glances from his friends a few more times that day. He worried maybe he had something on his face, but then again Sam would have said something. Tucker would have stayed quiet to have a good laugh about it later, but he’d have clued him into the joke by now. Maybe he was doing something ghostly without knowing it? But if that was the case they would have definitely let him know. In the end, he chalked it up to his friends being weird and went about his strangely quiet day.

There weren’t any ghost attacks. He couldn’t remember the last time he went through a school day without being interrupted by ghosts. It felt…nice, but unnerving at the same time, like he missed something. Like he was supposed to clue into something happening in the Ghost Zone. But in the end he decided not to worry about that either, especially once school ended and he could just hang out with his best friends ghost free.

By the time they hit up the game store (Tucker was still trying to get them into tabletop games) and the record store (Sam wanted to browse the LPs), Danny had forgotten all about his previous warnings…until he hit the Boba shop. Second up to bat, he placed his order with the barista, a smiling young woman who wore fun earrings that looked like watermelon slices. He paid for his drink and left a decent tip, but when he looked back up from the pin pad, her haunted expression caught him by surprise.

No longer kind and smiling, her unfocused gaze stared beyond him with eyes opened so wide her eyelids disappeared. Her pale, gaunt face looked hollow and lifeless. Her mouth fell open unnaturally.

“Fifty-seven years, one hundred and thirteen days, seven hours.”

Her flat, emotionless voice echoed within the sudden silence of the rest of the room. Chills shot along his body as the hair on his arms stood on end. His gut twisted uncomfortably as the presence of something…wrong and haunting fell over him. The silence of the world pressed in around him and left him only with that eerie voice thrumming though the void.

“What?” he finally stammered out.

“Do you want a receipt?” she repeated in her normal voice. Suddenly the whole world came back around him. The noise and the commotion of the busy Boba shop almost felt overwhelming after the sheer absolute silence.

“Oh uh…no,” he answered lamely.

“He’s good,” Sam spoke up quickly from behind. She pushed him to the side and took over the situation, but concern etched deep lines into her forehead. “But I’ll have a…”

What Sam ordered was lost on him as Tucker pulled him over to the drink pick-up counter. “Dude, what happened?” he asked in an urgent whisper. “You just froze.”

“I don’t…I don’t know. I heard something totally different…” The eerie tone of her voice, the chill that shot like livewire up his spine (like the accident, but he really didn’t want to think about that), it all stuck with him and wouldn’t leave him. His memory was absolute trash at the best of times, but he could still remember every number she quoted to him like it had been etched into his very core.

“What did you hear?” Tucker asked as Sam joined them. Those concerned lines across her brow still made him feel like something more was going on here, because Sam usually only worried when there was actually something to worry about.

“Just…some numbers, like years and months,” he shrugged, trying to pass it off as normal, even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Like a countdown?” Sam pressed.

Danny’s eyes grew wide. Exactly like a countdown. Down to the hour.

He didn’t need to say anything for Sam to know she was on to something. “So what was she counting down to?”

“You think I know?” Danny rebuffed as he pointed at himself. “But you guys heard it right? How…creepy she sounded? How hollow?”

“No, we didn’t man,” Tucker responded, strangely serious. “We heard her ask if you wanted a receipt and then you just froze.”

He looked between both of his friends, hoping for some kind of alternate answer or for someone to say they were pulling his leg, but they weren’t. “So you…you didn’t hear it?” he implored, desperate for someone to agree with him.

“No Danny, we didn’t,” Sam confirmed. “But Danny, we need to–”

“Pomegranate boba,” another barista announced. Danny automatically turned towards her, only to see the same lifeless stare directed his way.

“Twenty years, two hundred and twelve days, two hours.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes as the pressure of the void threatened to swallow him again, but then like before, everything opened up and the noise of the world rushed back to him.

“Danny?” Sam fretted as she stepped closer to him. 

He opened his eyes and looked out on the brightly lit boba shop. “Sorry I…it happened again,” he admitted.

Tucker and Sam exchanged significant glances behind Danny’s back before making an executive decision. Tucker grabbed their drink orders while Sam gently placed a hand on Danny’s back. “I think we should get out of here,” Sam suggested.

Danny could see the sense in that. The last thing they needed was to make a scene, and he could feel the eyes of both the people behind the counter and the ones standing in line. Best to beat a hasty retreat and figure this out somewhere a little quieter.

He scooted around the line of customers, hoping he could make a quiet exit. He caught the gaze of a young boy in line, but he only saw the vacant stare on his young face.

“Eighty three years, three hundred and two days, eleven hours.”

Danny spun quickly away from the boy and placed his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help as he locked eyes with a college student at a table who happened to look up from her laptop.

“Three years, thirty days, seven hours.”

And then the gaze of a well-dressed woman striding through the door.

“Forty years, eighty-eight days, nineteen hours.”

And the older man sitting with his grandchildren at a table.

“Ten years, one hundred and fifty days, three hours.”

Macabre countdowns from various shop patrons echoed around him. Anyone who met his gaze morphed their faces into the gaunt masks and intoned their countdown in that same hollow voice.

“Stop! Stop!” Danny cried as he curled in on himself. Tucker and Sam immediately pushed him through the doors and outside of the shop full of curious onlookers, but if they thought ushering him outside of the shop would be better, they were terribly wrong as Danny confronted more people on the street. The constant chorus of lifeless laments descended upon him in a deafening whirlwind.

“Ninety-eight days, twenty hours.”

“Sixty-eight years, two days, one hour.”

“Seventeen years, two hundred and ninety days, eight hours.”

Until they finally culminated in a chilling “Thirteen seconds.”

A morbid curiosity came over him as his gaze lingered on the older man who intoned the foreboding knell, just before the man clutched at his chest and dropped to the ground. Everyone around him rushed to his side and barked out orders to call an ambulance, but Danny knew deep, deep down in his core that it wouldn’t do any good. 

The man was dead. 

Dead, exactly thirteen seconds later.

Realizing this area was about to get a lot more attention, Tucker and Sam pushed Danny into a nearby alley and shrouded him from view. “Danny what the hell is happening?” Sam practically yelled.

Danny dropped to the ground as he clutched at his core that ached with the pain of what he just witnessed, and the horror of what he’d come to realize. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or to the world as a whole, but he had a horrifying feeling he knew what the times meant.

They were a countdown to death.

“I don’t…I don’t know why, but people keep telling me how long…how long they have…left,” Danny squeaked out between shallow breaths. The world swam around him and he clenched his jaw to try not to be sick.

“Left to what?” Tucker asked.

“To live you idiot!” Sam chastised. “Danny, are you sure?”

“What else could it be?” he exclaimed as he gripped at the hair on the sides of his head. “Someone said thirteen seconds, and then thirteen seconds later he…he…” His breath quickened in his chest. His heart thrummed too fast against his ribs. Sweat beaded on his brow as he shivered. This…this was a panic attack. Oh god, he was having a panic attack. But could anyone really blame him? He heard a man was going to die and just…just…watched it happen and couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything!

“Danny…Danny just look at me,” Sam pressed delicately as she knelt next to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

His eyes reached her chin before he remembered - as soon as he met someone’s gaze, even from afar, they told him how long they had. He couldn’t know that about his best friend. He couldn’t. What if it was a small number? What would he even consider to be a small number? Would any number ever be large enough?

He slapped her away in a panic and retreated into himself as he buried his head into his arms. “No!” he screamed. “No, any time I look at someone they tell me how much time they have left and I can’t…I don’t want to know that. I can’t know that!” he practically screeched.

Sam and Tucker exchanged worried but uncertain looks. They’d dealt with a lot since the accident, but this was certainly a new complication where their very presence seemed to add more stress. 

“Okay Danny, okay. We don’t know if that’s what’s happening.” She paused as she felt him tense beside her. “But if you think that’s what’s happening, then we won’t look at you.”

Danny grabbed his hair tight in his hands as he shook in a huddle on the floor. How was he going to do this? Never look at anyone he ever cared about again? Make sure they never looked at him? What kind of life would that be? He couldn’t live like that, with that paranoia that some day one of them would mess up and they’d meet his gaze and then he would know how much longer he had left to spend with them. His breathing quickened again as he found himself spiraling further down into his panic, down into a depth of foreboding terror that he didn’t know if he could climb out of again.

“Okay but Danny, even if you aren’t looking at anyone, I need you to breathe okay?” Sam pleaded. “Just breathe with me. In and out slowly. In and out.”

He did as he was told because he didn’t really have it in him to argue. In and out, in and out. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth like Jazz taught him. It probably didn’t help that he was still curled up in a ball and didn’t have great air circulation, but he didn’t dare uncurl.

“Okay, good,” Sam praised as she finished sending an urgent text. “Now let’s figure out what’s going on, because we will figure it out.”

“You mean figure out why I can tell when people are going to die?” Danny snapped.

“Yes,” Sam replied, voice calm despite Danny’s barbed tone. 

“...I don’t know if this is the right time, but there probably isn’t a right time so I’m just gonna say it,” Tucker sighed. “Danny, we noticed something weird earlier. It would only happen for a second, but it was like your face was covered by…like a translucent skull.”

Danny looked up but immediately thought better of it and ducked his head back down again. “A what?!”

“A skull. We didn’t know what it meant at the time–”

“We still don’t know what it means,” Sam added.

“--but it has to be related,” Tucker finished.

“This has to be more than a new ghost power,” Sam brainstormed. “This feels like something more significant.”

“More significant? What the hell does that mean?” Danny rebuked. He knew they were just trying to help, but honestly without an answer it was just making him feel more anxious and overwhelmed. He didn’t know if he could handle something more significant than being a half-dead, ghost-fighting freak.

“We don’t know,” Sam said, controlled and patient. “But we’ll figure this out Danny, we promise, just like we’ve figured out everything else.”

Everything else. Because there was always something. There was always some other side effect of the accident that all of them had to keep dealing with. Ghost powers, ghost fighting, his parents, new powers, a secret identity, ice powers, and now this. When was he done? When would he finally stop having more and more piled on top of his already overflowing mind? How much was a teenager expected to shoulder before he finally just buckled under the crushing weight of it all?

Apparently it would be one more thing.

He gasped as the cold breath escaped from his throat. He deflated a bit into his self hug. He knew the quiet afternoon was too good to be true. He knew it.

“Danny, you don’t have to go,” Sam mentioned, almost pleading.

“You know I have to,” he sighed with hollow defeat.

“No, you don’t. Let your parents get it, or Valerie. It doesn’t have to be you right now,” she begged.

“They never handle it well,” Danny argued as he stood but kept his gaze on the floor.

Sam shook her head, prepared to put her foot down. “But Danny, you literally just stopped having a panic attack, do you think now is the right time to do this? Maybe you just need to think about yourself for a bit!”

“When do I ever get to think about myself?” he barbed as he transformed. “Besides, a ghost can’t tell me how long they have to live, right? Sounds like I’m safer with one of them.”

Before they could argue with him he shot off into the sky, leaving a cloud of dread behind him. Tucker and Sam exchanged meaningful glances. 

“Follow him?” Tucker checked.

“Absolutely follow him.”

~*~

As yet another ectoblast grazed Danny’s side, he realized Tucker and Sam had maybe been right about letting someone else handle this. His head was not in the game. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that swirled around him and it made the fight against the ghostly crow that much harder to focus on. His newfound popularity also proved to be a complication as it led to more onlookers watching the fight. He couldn’t help but meet the eyes of people in the crowd, and every time he listened to their own voices toll their own death knell, he found himself wide open to a hit from the annoying ghost that honestly wouldn’t have been that much of a challenge otherwise. 

"Three hundred and twenty-one days, thirteen hours.”

He squeezed his eyes tight as he tried not to internalize how little time the concerned woman who looked his way had left, but closing his eyes during a fight was never a good idea.

“Danny!” he heard Sam yell, her voice distant but urgent.

He opened his eyes and saw the crow barreling in to charge with glowing talons ready to claw out his eyes. He immediately acted on instinct and threw out his hands to maybe summon a shield or take the talons to his arms or something.

He felt something cold and heavy fall into his hands, and he swung it without even looking at it too closely. A thin line of green slashed across the ghost and then it vanished. His overzealous slash continued through the brick of a nearby building that weathered and aged as decay seeped out from the fine line in the brick. When the arc of his swing stopped, he finally looked at what he held in his hands.

A scythe. Long and slender, the curved blade made a full crescent as it tapered into a neat, sharp point. The edge of the blade glowed with a faint green light, but it almost hurt to register: like its presence cut through the very existence of what his mind could accept as real. It looked so simple in his arms, and yet it felt dangerous. Deadly.

He stared dumbfounded at the blade in his hands. It felt heavy in his arms, but not because of its actual weight. It actually felt too easy and natural to swing. His fingers gripped around the shaft like he was meant to hold it. It felt so right and natural in his arms, and that scared him even more.

He immediately dropped it, but instead of hearing it clatter to the ground, it vanished into shadows as the absolute black swallowed it.

With panic etched all over his face, he looked desperately towards Sam’s voice, but only after he remembered that he didn’t dare look towards his friends. He dropped his gaze, but they understood his intent and rushed over to him.

“Danny, Danny are you okay?” Sam asked as she grabbed her friend’s arm.

“No…no I don’t think so,” he admitted. As hard as it felt to admit, he wasn’t well. He had no idea what the hell was happening, but he just knew none of this could be good. A sense of dread lingered around him that he couldn’t shake. A whisper of an answer tickled at the edges of his mind, but it was so cloaked in fear and terror that he didn’t dare even acknowledge its presence.

Sam nodded morosely and squeezed his arm. “That’s okay. We’ve got this Danny. C’mon, let’s get to my house. I think I know what’s going on.”

~*~

Danny sat in his favorite chair in the Manson library. Most of the room felt like something out of a middle-aged woman’s Pinterest page: a million shades of beige accented by a few plants or vines. Some books even had their spines facing the wall because their binding was too colorful. Sam managed to carve out a corner for herself. She separated this corner out with deep red curtains and inside its sanctuary she kept all her books (spines proudly out, thank you very much) on black shelves. Gothic sconces of wrought iron glowed with just enough mood lighting to read by and plush wine red chairs provided the perfect getaway to crawl into with a book. 

One of those chairs sucked him up inside its cushions and he let the weight of the fabric surround him. Sitting here with the dark mood lighting while Sam read aloud some new book or poem always felt like a comfortable space. Maybe Sam hoped the familiarity would bring some comfort to him right now, but even its power couldn’t counteract the horrible twisting in the pit of his stomach.

His friends swore they wouldn’t look at his face and would focus on his chest instead, but he still didn’t feel comfortable looking anywhere but at his wringing hands in his lap, just in case. He’d heard about too much death already today: too many times that seemed far too short for the nice faces that seemed burned into his mind. He had no idea who these people were and probably would never see them again, but he would forever remember their faces and would never be free of the knowledge of their death.

Would it be quick? Slow? Painful? Could he stop it? Could he save them? If he remembered their faces could he hunt them down and try to save them? Maybe not the ones in decades, but the ones who would be dying in the next few months? Could he help them so they didn’t end up like the old man on the street who died before his eyes while he was powerless to stop it?

The thump of a large book on a table shook him out of his thoughts as Sam stood near the small round table. “You’re not gonna like this, but I think I found the answer.”

That certainly caught his attention and he looked towards the book. Whether he’d like the answer or not, he needed to know. The heavy old tome looked like every Victorian book that Sam loved to collect, with a dark binding, embossed edges, and thick block lettering for the title.

The Tome of Record for the Myths and Legends of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

No. 

No, that couldn’t be the right book. That was not the answer.

He shook his head and backed up in his chair as far away from the book as he could physically get. “No. That’s not the right book.”

Sam approached both Danny and the book gently, like any sudden movement would spook him. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I know I’m right about this.”

Tucker leaned in from his chair and his eyes grew wide. “Wait, apocalypse? Sam you’re serious?”

“No, she’s not serious because she’s wrong!” Danny insisted.

Sam slowly opened the book and turned to a page marked with a dark black ribbon. “Just look at it Danny. It explains a lot.”

Against his better judgment he peeked at the new chapter: “The Fourth Horseman: Death.” He didn’t let himself read any more, but the haunting image of a black-cloaked figure atop a skeletal horse with a skull for a face and a very familiar looking scythe froze him in his seat.

The death knells. The skull. The scythe. 

No, just because it made sense, that didn’t mean anything. Lots of things in this world made sense without actually being right, and this was just another one of those things. It didn’t mean that he– He couldn’t possibly be–

Tucker trailed a finger along the text of the book as he read, his mouth and eyes falling agape. “Wait Sam are you…are you trying to say that Danny is…Death? Like the Death?”

He felt an irrational anger towards Tucker for putting into physical words what his mind refused to acknowledge. Because it was crazy…right? Some crazy, wacky theory. This couldn’t be reality, it just…it couldn’t be.

Sam nodded solemnly. “I am. I don’t know why, but Danny has somehow become the personification of Death.”

For some reason the finality in Sam’s voice forced him to really hear it. As much as he wanted to deny it, the nagging whisper always there on the periphery of his mind had been trying to tell him the whole time. He knew it from the first countdown, but refused to see it. He knew what the symbolism of the scythe meant, but he refused to connect it. And he knew that all of these pieces only added up to one possible explanation. Just like Sam, he’d already reached the same conclusion, but he just refused to see it. He couldn’t avoid it anymore.

He was Death.

He needed to get away from the book, the picture, the proof. He didn’t want to see it anymore. He fell through the chair, momentarily grateful to have some kind of physical barrier between him and the book, but the piercing, empty eyes of the skull on the page followed him even through the chair. He scrambled back along the floor until he hit the bookcase behind him. 

“No no no I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” he screamed in ever increasing levels of panic. He looked at his shaking hands, almost expecting to see bony hands stretching out instead of his normal skin. He grabbed at his face, his arms, anything to make sure that he hadn’t turned into some skeleton. “I can’t–I don’t want to be Death!”

Sam and Tucker rushed over to his side and pulled his trembling body into a hug. They tried to bestow him with whatever comfort they could, but they knew it wouldn’t be enough. Just like they did when Danny first emerged from the portal, they were at a loss for what they could do and they just tried to be a physical support for him.

Danny grabbed onto his friends desperately as he shook in their arms. He didn’t know how much he needed their reassuring strength and strong hug until he found himself in their arms. Maybe he relied on them too much for emotional stability, but something about their presence served as a grounding force for him and he needed that now more than ever.

“We’ll figure it out Danny,” Sam tried to assure him. “We always do.”

They did always figure it out. The accident, the ghost powers, the ghost fighting, the secret identity, Pariah Dark, Vlad, his horrifying potential future - they’d found a way to make it through everything that his strange life had thrown at him. It stood to reason they could make it through this too, but for some reason this seemed so much more imposing than all those other obstacles.

The personification of death. What did that even mean? Did he have to reap souls? Was he actually the one responsible for killing people? Was he now to blame for everyone’s deaths? Did he have to help people cross over or find peace or meaning in their lives? Could he still live his normal human life? He’d already been neglecting it so much because of ghost fighting, but would this completely eclipse everything else? It felt like such a huge burden to throw onto his already overburdened shoulders, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to keep it all up.

But even more than a burden, being Death pushed him even closer to the dark stench of death that always seemed to swirl around him. He already straddled a very fine line between life and death, and while he didn’t always know where he found himself on either side of it, he cherished the balance. He liked being reminded that he was still alive. He died, and he was a ghost, but he was so much more than that too. His heart beat, he kept growing - he still had a life. He needed those reminders to stay sane. But being Death…it pushed him so much further towards that darker side. It disrupted that balance that he held onto so desperately. Those reminders of life seemed so much further away, like they could be snatched away from him at any moment, and he didn’t want to think where that constant focus on death and loss would take him.

He couldn’t keep dwelling on this. He was a boy of action, and he never did well just thinking through things. Maybe that helped Jazz, but he needed to do something. Figure this out, get rid of it, something. So he pulled away from the hug slightly, enough of a signal for his friends to release the warm group hug. He missed that comfort immediately, but he couldn’t stay huddled up against the bookshelf forever.

“How did this happen?” he croaked. Trying to find a reason meant that he had to accept it as the truth, and that hurt, but he’d already accepted it. Now he just had to get rid of it.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “But Danny, we have a much more pressing issue than how.”

“More pressing than this?” Danny questioned, almost hurt that his internal turmoil and need to solve this wasn’t considered a pressing issue.

“Yeah, because it gets worse.”

Panic clenched around his heart again. How could it possibly get worse? This already seemed like a destitute situation with no possible solution on the horizon.

“Worse than Danny having death powers?” Tucker inquired. Well at least Tucker was on the same wavelength.

She nodded morosely. She took a deep breath, but as she slowly breathed out she straightened up, her brow resolute. “The summoning of the fourth horseman…it’s the final sign. The apocalypse is coming, and Danny’s going to be forced to make it happen.”

~*~

I hope you all enjoyed this! It's a little late of a submission for Ectober's Day 17 Gothic Horror prompt, but apparently world-building a multi-chapter longfic took a lot longer than I expected. But I'm excited to share some of my lore behind this ghostly version of the four horsemen over the next two chapters!

[forcebook]

love for love’s sake really said, “get in loser, we’re gonna make the unloved side character HAPPY” and they have all my respect for that

[polisena-art]

I DID A PART 2 OF THIS COMIC: LINK

I've been thinking of doing a small comic series out of the first (rocky) interactions between José's nephews and Panchito. Tell me if you guys would be interested in more of that.

Still need a name for this story but the gist of it really is "Panchito's constant failure of causing a good impression on his boyfriend's 8 years old nephews."

First: x

Next: x

Spa/Port version under the cut just cuz:

[kiwipineappleparasol]

This came to @sparkyblizz in a dream (literally) and so I Needed to Scribble it.

[thevoyagerproject]

“I wish you were still here.”

[skitskatdacat63]

2011 Japan Post-Qualifying