#i forget that it isn’t normal or like a part of the average person’s experience

[babyfairy]

living with suicidal ideation is so crazy because i’ll be having a good day and the sun is out and everything is at peace and in the midst of it all i just passively think about not being here. it’s just always at the back of my mind. even in my happiest moments it’s just there and you get so used to it that it doesn’t even stir any sort of response or emotion out of you. it’s just a part of your day to day routine like brushing your teeth or making your bed

[spitxlfields]

Writing a Character with DID -- Part 1

I would like to eventually make a big master list, but that takes more organization and thought then I am currently capable of, so I’m going to post these little snippets and then eventually put them into one big post/document.

*Disclaimer -- I am not a doctor, not do I even play one on TV, however I have been officially professionally diagnosed with DID and am undergoing therapy for it. I have done a lot of research on the subject, and am also the expert on my own experience, but there may be times when I get things wrong or word things in a way that unintentionally lead them to be misconstrued. 

You cannot tell when someone has DID.

Overt DID is pretty rare. Huge oscillations in accent, affect, clothing choices, etc. in quick succession are the exception and not the rule. This isn’t Clark Kent going into a phone booth and coming out as Superman. Most cases of DID present themselves as covert. However, even in overt cases, most people’s first thought will not be “Oh, this person has DID.”, it will be “Oh, this person is really weird.” You are much more likely to be branded by the average Joe in the street as a rogue theater kid than someone with a dissociative disorder. On that note, when it comes to people noticing changes, most people really don’t care to pay enough attention, and when they do think something is up, the human mind is amazing at brushing it off as literally anything else. There are tons and tons are just weird and wacky people in the world who don’t have DID, who change their looks and likes with every passing fancy because that’s what happens to make them happy. Do you want to know how many times even well before I got diagnosed that I have been called ‘eccentric’? I can’t count that high. Unless you are a trained professional observing a client over an extended period of time you as a lay person cannot tell who has DID.

Specifically looking at the majority of cases that present as covert, you are not going to be able to tell when someone switches. This is not the dramatic eye rolling and head nodding you see on TV. It’s more like several moments of dissociation (hence the name of the disorder), maybe a few blinks of confusion, and then back to whatever they were doing. I think most people have had the experience of walking into a room and completely forgetting what they came in there for. It’s similar to that, but with mild to intense episodes of dissociation and happens a lot more often.

DID is a disorder that specifically tries to hide itself from the host/main fronter. Most people who have DID don’t know they have it, and don’t find out they have it until being professionally diagnosed. That’s not to say that you can’t have an inkling that you have DID and then find out you are correct, but most of the time it’s not until psychiatric intervention (and usually after being incorrectly diagnosed with everything else under the sun). Because DID forms in early childhood, the missing time, the identity alteration, the feeling of lacking an identity, the dissociation, etc. becomes your normal and you don’t notice it. And again, the human mind is really good at making up excuses for itself. Many times, a person isn’t diagnosed or thinks they might have the disorder until they are finally out of the dangerous and trauma inducing situation that they are in and are in a safe space. Upon being in a safe space, sometimes alters will act up or act out because there former ‘job’ has been uprooted.

Too add to all of this, surmising whether or not someone has DID is really gross and literally none of your business. Not only are you making assumptions about a person’s trauma, it is also literally none of your business. It also feels very much like trying to clock someone as trans -- there is not exclusively trans look, and there are no gross details that can tell you for certain that someone has DID. DID is also a highly stigmatized disorder, and openly claiming that someone has it can be detrimental to them. Also did I mention that it’s none of your business. I love to be nebby as much as the next fellow, but you need to learn to draw a hard line.

In conclusion -- if you are writing someone with DID, someone who just met them, or even someone who has known them or awhile, are not going to be able to tell they have the disorder.

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

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

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[nugnthopkns]

if everything could ever feel this real forever

word count: 4.3k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, allusion to sexual content (nothing explicit but minors please be aware!)

recommended listening: everlong | foo fighters

a/n: broke down and wrote for ratty matty. alternalty titled four times matthew thinks you’re the one and one time he knows (4+1′s are fun to write, pls don’t fight me). also pls ignore the fact i don’t know how airports work, i’ve only ever flown domestically lmao

Matthew feels different when you’re around. 

You don’t turn him into a completely different person. He’s still himself – an absolute pest at times – but more genuine. With you he can feel everything deeply, say whatever’s on his mind without the fear of being judged. It’s the best kind of different, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. His teammates constantly ask him when he’s going to lock you down; put a ring on your finger and change your last name, but he needs to be sure before he makes such a big commitment. 

one

It’s the beginning of July, and you’re sweating buckets in the back of an Uber. The driver has the air cranked, but nothing seems to alleviate the heat. You know it will be worse in St. Louis so you do your best not to complain, but it’s hard. Taking two weeks off to visit your boyfriend in his hometown sounded like a great idea, but reading the weather forecast has you re-evaluating the trip. 

Your phone lights up in your lap, and you eagerly unlock it. It’s a text from Matthew. Have a safe flight. Text me when you land. Tayrn will be there to pick you up – Brady and I’s on-ice got extended. I’ll see you when I get home. Love you. 

Though you wish he could be the first person you see when you touch down, you understand that his job comes first. Besides, your re-unification will be more private this way. I get to see the best Tkachuk first, fuck yeah you reply, before following it up with Love you too Matty. See you soon. 

Soon after sending the text you arrive at the entrance of Calgary International Airport. With a polite thank you to your driver, you grab your suitcase and head inside. The working air conditioning answers your silent prayers and you feel your body slowly return to a normal temperature. Check in is fast, and before you know it you’re breezing through security. A slightly nervous traveller, you’re at the gate earlier than you need to be. The plane doesn’t take off for another two hours. You don’t mind the wait, listening to a couple of podcast episodes and grabbing a snack at the lounge before boarding. 

The five hour flight passes in the blink of an eye. St. Louis is busier than Calgary, and it takes you longer than you thought it would to get through customs. Once passed immigration and at the baggage carousel you let Matthew know you’re safely inside the city limits. You grab your obnoxious suitcase – a bright red thing with a giant Flames logo that Matthew thought would be funny to give you – and set out to find Tayrn. She’s easy to spot, waving a giant poster with your name on it. Abandoning nearly all airport etiquette, you rush through the crowd to see her. Over the years she’s become a little sister and close friend, and you really wish you could see her more frequently. 

“Y/N!” Taryn squeals as you wrap your arms around her. The pair of you embrace for another moment or two before making your way to her car. Neither of you can stop talking, so excited to be in each other’s presence.

“It’s so nice to be back,” you sigh. “I really do like St. Louis.” 

Tayrn giggles. “You’re just excited to see Matthew.” 

Though she isn’t wrong, you swat her bicep in faux annoyance. “What? Can a girl not enjoy a nice Midwestern city?” You push your sunglasses up onto the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Besides, I only came here to see you. I see enough of Matt at home.”

She rolls her eyes but extends her arm so you can fist bump her. With a quick look to make sure the way is clear, Taryn exits the parking spot and heads in the direction of your temporary home. The open sunroof allows the wind to whip through your hair and you struggle to tame it enough to put it in a ponytail. One Direction blasts from the stereo, and you join Taryn in screaming the lyrics until your lungs hurt. Being on vacation, even if it’s only to St. Louis, is so freeing. You don’t have to deal with work deadlines or friendship drama. All that matters is spending time with Matthew. 

When you pull into the Tkachuk’s driveway it’s empty. It’s Thursday afternoon; Chantal’s at work, Keith is golfing with friends, and the boys are at the rink. You take a few minutes to unpack, filling Matthew’s drawers with your clothes, before joining Taryn by the pool. St. Louis is just as hot as the city you left, and the travel has left you feeling below average. A quick swim is sure to be the perfect remedy. 

The water is the right kind of cool, and alleviates any stress you were possibly feeling. You’re properly in vacation mode now, lounging on pool floaties and gossiping with Taryn. An hour later when Matthew returns home you’re in basically the same position. Stepping out into the yard he sees you urging Taryn to turn around so you can place sunscreen onto the one spot she missed, laughing all the while at some ridiculous celebrity rumor she’s telling you. Seeing you get along so easy with his sister, and the rest of his family, makes his heart swell.

In the couple of months you’ve been separated, Matthew’s thought a lot about his future. Specifically about his future with you. When he closes his eyes he can see it clearly: the two of you married with children and a dog, living in a house in the mountains and loving life. It’s idyllic, and even though he knows you’d say yes if he asked you, Matthew still can’t bring himself to do it. There’s something in the back of his brain telling him to wait until he knows with absolute certainty that you’re it for him.

Not wanting to be separated from you for a minute more, he snaps out of his daze and scurries over. Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing a kiss to the base of neck, he relishes in how you mould to him immediately, not even questioning who it was. 

“Welcome back baby,” Matthew mumbles into your skin. 

With a chuckle you wriggle slightly in his grasp, allowing yourself to face him. You press a kiss to his lips and it feels like heaven. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, you suppose, because you could stand here kissing Matthew your the rest of your life and be happy. 

“Hi Matty,” you giggle against his lips, parting from him only to rest your forehead on his and twist a curl around your finger.

From somewhere inside the house you hear Brady yell,  “Jesus Christ, you two, get a room.”

Without taking his eyes off you, Matthew replies, “Fuck off Brady!”

two

The energy inside the Saddledome is electric. It’s the Flames’ first home game in nearly a week, doing an east coast road trip and sweeping every team they faced. Six games later the team is on a nine game winning streaking and are hoping to keep it going. You know how much it matters in this moment – the playoffs are fast approaching and all points they can tally up are needed. 

You had decided months ago to buy rinkside tickets for this game, planning to surprise Matthew. He loves when you sit in the regular crowd, cheering and spilling your beer like any old fan. It’s humbling for the both of you, and honestly you enjoy it. Though you love those in the Better Halves box, you were a hockey fan before dating Matthew and sometimes like to enjoy games by yourself. Plus, your friend was supposed to be in town and join you at the game, and you figured she’d like to experience how insane the area is firsthand.

So you do your best to quickly shimmy around those blocking your seat, beverage in hand. It was all you could do to get to the rink on time, sitting in the dense downtown traffic for nearly three quarters of an hour after rushing out of work. You wanted to make it before warmups started to make sure Matt knows you’re there supporting him. No one really bats an eye at you, which you’re thankful for. In no way are you notorious, but it wouldn’t take a die-hard fan long to recognize you. Sitting down and letting a soft sigh escape your lips, you carefully place your jacket over the seat beside you. At the last minute your friend had to cancel her trip to Calgary, leaving you solo. With a quick look at the clock you see that warm up will start in just under a minute. The players begin to step onto the ice as you sip your beer. Matthew is yet to notice you but you don’t take offence. He’s in the zone and most likely won’t realize you’re sitting right in front of him until halfway through the third period.

“Look daddy, it’s Matthew Tkachuk!” you hear a young boy shriek in excitement. “He’s so fast, I want to play just like him.”

You turn to look and see two rows above you there’s a father and son, who looks around eight. He’s wearing a jersey identical to yours, and from the sounds of his excited chattering it’s his first game. Seeing the young boy so happy to be here, to see your boyfriend, has your heart swelling. You want to make this a game he’ll never forget.

“Hi,” you smile at the father. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I know Matthew quite well. Would you like me to get his attention so your son could meet him?”

A shocked expression makes its way onto the dad’s face, but he doesn’t react negatively. “You’d do that?” he asks. “Riley loves Matthew. Wants to be just like him.” When you nod, he lets you approach the boy. 

“Hey there Riley, I’m Y/N,” you say, smiling and extending a hand to him. “I’m a special friend of Matthew’s. Would you like to meet him?”

The boy looks at his father tentatively, and only once he nods encouragingly does Riley respond to your question. “Yes please.”

“Why don’t you come down here with me and we’ll get his attention?”

With a little help from you, Riley climbs over the seats and plops unceremoniously beside you. You help him straighten out his jersey before beginning a conversation. He tells you he plays in a local youth league and wants to make it to the NHL one day. When prompted, you explain to him that you work a boring office job that you love even though it makes you angry sometimes. It’s all very formal, but after cracking a few jokes you get him to loosen up.

Matthew, still not having noticed you, begins to skate along the boards in your direction. “Watch this,” you whisper-yell to your newfound friend, “I bet he’ll jump super high.”

As soon as Matthew passes your spot you bang on the glass and scream his name. Sure enough, his skates lift a good three inches of the ice and he shrieks. Teammates around him laugh and the look on his face is priceless when he discovers you’re the culprit. 

“Babe!” 

You smile. “Matty, this is my new friend Riley. He wears number nineteen just like you!” A glance at the boy lets you know he’s starstruck, and your eyes lock with Matthew’s. 

He leans down and rests his hands on his knees, at eye level with the child. “Hi Riley,” he begins. “I’m Matt. I like your jersey.” 

After that, Riley’s a tap that won’t turn off. He details every bit of his day to Matt, and even though their voices are muffled a bit from the glass they get on like two peas in a pod. Matthew is great with children and doesn’t shy away from having legitimate conversations with them. He talks to them like they’re people, which is something you admire about him. The warmup time runs out, but before he heads back to the dressing room Matthew hoists his stick over the glass, giving it to Riley. The younger boy beams and waves goodbye. You blow Matthew a kiss, which he gladly returns, and turn your attention away from him as his figure retreats. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”The question makes you laugh.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask, to which Riley just shrugs. 

“He called you ‘babe’, and my mommy calls my dad that. That means you’re in love,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. 

Matthew cannot pay attention in the locker room for the life of him. He’s trying really hard to listen to everyone’s hype speeches, but his mind keeps wandering back to the interaction you shared during warm up. You looked so happy watching him interact with the boy you found god knows where within the arena. It’s then he realizes he wants to watch you act like that for the rest of his life. He wants to see you bring excited children to meet him because you have the power to make their nights. His suspicion is confirmed when he steps onto the ice and looks in your direction, finding you and Riley pressed up against the glass cheering loudly.

three

The Giordano’s are hosting an end-of-season barbeque before everyone scatters into the wind, and you’re going to be late. No matter how much you reminded Matthew of what time you had to leave he still started getting ready as you were finishing up. This typically wouldn’t be a big deal, but he has recently started taking care of his curls, and the routine eats up a lot more time than he anticipates. 

“Matty, are you almost ready? There’s going to be no parking!”

His footsteps echo off the hardwood floor as he comes towards you. “That’s what you’re worrying about, baby? Parking?” Matthew laughs, pulling you into his side and kissing the crown of your head. 

“Yeah Matt, I am. You know I have parking anxiety.”

“I’ll drive then,” he says sweetly. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve driven us. Have some fun tonight.”

The short drive across town is full of laughter. Neither of you are great singers, but it doesn’t stop you from belting out lyrics at the top of your lungs. At some point Matthew breaks out a rather terrible impression of Axl Rose and you just have to post it to your instagram story. Captioning with a simple microphone emoji, you slip your phone back into your sweater pocket. Though most certainly warm enough to spend the entire evening outside, Calgary currently has a bit of a proclivity for wind, and you’d rather be prepared. Outside of Mark and Lauren’s house Matthew finds a spot and parallel parks with ease.

“Shut up,” you mumble, poking your tongue out at him. 

Matthew ruffles your hair in retaliation before jumping out of the vehicle, booking it around to the other side so he can open your door. He isn’t slick about hiding his intentions, grabbing a handful off your ass before leaning down to kiss you. Though you’d much rather stand in the cul-de-sac and make out with your boyfriend, you both have appearances to keep up. You get him to stop being a pest kong enough that you can enter the party and pass him off to his teammates. 

You congregate with some of the other girls in the corner of the yard, and enjoy a drink while the sun sets. It’s fun to gossip with them, to catch up one final time before most of them leave. You’ll be staying in Calgary, job tying you down for the foreseeable future. The only thing that’s better than spending time with your friends is glancing at Matthew from across the space. 

He’s enjoying himself, glass of water in hand. When he offered to be the designated driver he was serious, and he took the shit the boys were giving him in stride. Though you’ve only had one gin and tonic and can’t feel the effects of the alcohol, you’re glad he’s staying true to his word. The heightened water intake makes his skin glow, and you’re having a hard time staying focussed on the story Lauren is telling. He catches you staring and shoots you a dazzling smile. Tired of keeping your distance, you excuse yourself from the conversation and saunter over to your boyfriend. 

“Hey Y/N,” Noah says breezily, raising his glass to you in mock salute. You wrap your arms tightly around Matthew’s waist.

“Hanifin,” you smile. “I’m really sorry to do this, but I need to pull Matt away for a quick second.”

No one in the group is the least bit surprised. The two of you have a reputation for being young and in love, sneaking off often and doing everything that entails. Once the two of you are alone you rest a hand on his chest, dangerously close to the button of his shirt. You then move kissing along the underside of his jaw, pressing your body closer to his to ensure he gets the point. 

“Needy baby?” Matthew tries to smirk, but his voice wavers when you reach the junction of his jawbone and earlobe. 

Declining to speak, you continue your actions until he’s just as desperate to get home as you. Though you try to be sneaky as you exit through the back gate, you won’t be surprised if you wake up to a few crude text messages. You’re too far gone to care, solely focussed on showing your boyfriend how much you love him. 

The entire ride home Matthew can barely focus on the road. Not because you’re doing anything particularly risqué, a few too many close calls have put you both off of initiating things in the car, but because he doesn’t ever want to stop sneaking away from events with you. It’s exhilarating in more ways than one, and he hopes the feeling never goes away. Being with you, his best friend, is something he wouldn’t trade for the entire world. So what if he gets chirped by the boys for having precariously placed marks on his back.

four

September brings a chill to Calgary, but you couldn’t feel warmer. Matthew is due home this afternoon after nearly four months of being away. Of course you visited him in St. Louis, and he even flew back to the city once, but the two of you were mostly separated. Your shared apartment felt cold and lonely without him to annoy you, so you had spent as much time away from it as possible. No longer do you have to fall asleep with Matt’s side of the bed stone cold. 

Though you know he likely won’t care, you’re nervous about the new decor. In an effort to make yourself feel better in Matthew’s absence, you completed some home renovations. Most are superficial, like a new sectional and an ungraded home speaker system, but you had redone the entire kitchen after scrolling through pinterest. The cabinets are a bright yellow, and the walls are a warm cream. Subway tile has also replaced the previous backsplash. You’re quite proud of the way it looks – doing pretty much all of it yourself and only calling your dad when you really needed help. 

You spend much of the morning not doing anything productive, pacing the hallway back and forth. It’s nerve wracking and exciting to have Matthew home. Things will go much smoother with his presence even if he can sometimes be the most annoying person on the planet. You force yourself to eat a small meal before continuing to wear holes into your floor. He’ll arrive in a matter of minutes, and you’re practically vibrating with how much your legs are shaking. 

A key twists in the lock, as though it’s a Pavlovian response, you bound towards the front door. Not even letting him step over the threshold you wrap yourself around him as tightly as possible. Matthew giggles sweetly, and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. Tears flow freely down your cheeks and soak through his shirt. In a very ungraceful waddle Matthew carries the both of you inside your home and shuts the door lightly. 

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Matt asks, obviously concerned because this is more emotional than any homecoming you’ve ever had. 

Through hiccupping sobs, you stutter out, “I painted the kitchen cabinets yellow and you’re going to hate them. And then you’ll want to break up with me but I won’t be able to take them with me.”

“Woah woah woah, slow down baby,” he soothes, rubbing circles on your back. “Why am I going to hate it?”

When you can’t come up with a justifiable answer, he knows your anxiety just got the better of you. Repositioning you slightly so you’re tucked into his side, Matthew walks through the apartment to see the kitchen for himself. He’s blown away by its beauty, and he can see just how much work you put into it. The room is so much brighter and inviting – he can’t imagine having any other kitchen now. 

Once you ramble off an apology for being so dramatic that he won’t accept, the two of you settle into the couch and start a reality television marathon. It’s a tradition that both of you take very seriously, and though he’d never admit it to anyone but you, Matthew looks forward to watching the outlandish dramas. The night is quiet, with you getting through quite a few seasons of Desperate Housewives, and at some point you fall asleep on Matthew’s chest. He knows he should gently move you off of him, start to unpack his bags, but he can’t tear himself away.

He can’t help but stare as you snore softly. There’s nothing Matthew would like more than to spend the rest of his life relaxing after coming home to you. If he’s being completely honest, St. Louis doesn’t feel like home as much anymore, and he finds himself counting down the days until he can return to Calgary. Matt supposes you’re the defining factor, and even Antarctica would feel like home to him if you were there. He never wants to lose that feeling. 

+ one 

There’s ten seconds left on the clock. Ten seconds until the Calgary Flames will become Stanley Cup champions. You’re holding your breath – you know a lot could happen in such a short amount of time. The lead isn’t as wide as you’d like it to be, only one, and you squeeze Taryn’s hand tightly. Everyone in the friends and family box is just as amped up as you. If the choice had been yours, you’d be sitting in the stands of the Saddledome, but in event the Flames win you need to be with everyone else if you want to join the team on the ice. 

Matthew carries the puck up the ice, and you audibly gasp. At the last second, a Bruins defenseman is blocking his view of the net. Not letting the scoring opportunity go for his team, he snaps a pass backwards to Elias Lindholm. A nano-second later the puck is in the back of the net. You possibly scream the loudest of anyone in the box, jumping into Brady’s arms excitedly. 

“Holy shit, they’re going to do it,” you whisper, and Brady nods enthusiastically. The clock now only has two seconds, and there is virtually no way the Bruins can make a comeback. 

You untangle yourself from your boyfriend’s brother and approach his parents. “How exciting is this!” Chantal gushes. 

“So fucking exciting,” you say honestly. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.”

The Bruins’ head coach is halfway through his timeout, so you have to talk fast. You explain that you want to hang back while the family celebrates with their son and brother. Keith and Chantal try to argue, but you insist. You want them to be the first people to greet him as a Stanley Cup champion. 

A horn signals the return to play, and you return your attention to the ice pad below you. Everything seems to move in slow motion; all you remember is the final whistle being blown and getting crushed in a group hug by everyone else in the room. Your voice goes hoarse from screaming, and tears stream freely down your face. 

The party continues for a short time in the box, but then you’re being led through the arena and out onto the ice. Nodding in the direction of Matthew, you urge the Tkachuks to greet him. You congratulate other members of the team, snapping candid pictures of everyone to share in the group chat later. So many families will treasure the photos that you can’t bring yourself to stop, trying your hardest to grab everyone. 

Once enough time has passed for Matthew to properly be congratulated by his family, you make your way towards him. Wasting no time, he skates over and lifts you off your feet. Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, and if you weren’t so proud you’d have reservations about sticking your tongue down Matthew’s throat in a packed arena. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper against his lips. “My champion.”

Matthew blushes profusely at your words, and you can tell he likes them. “Couldn’t have done it without you supporting me,” he responds, leaning into your touch as you rake your fingers through his hair. 

While you celebrate with the rest of the team, holding babies and snapping pictures, Matthew realizes he can’t live without you. No one else will fit into his life as perfectly as you. There’s no one he wants besides you. Matthew makes a mental note to go through your jewelry box in the morning to get your ring size. His mom always said he’d know when someone was ‘the one’, and now he understands what she meant.  

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[ficauthor]

inspired by the prompt by @danphanwritingprompts:

Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion. “Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. Maddie scowled. “Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him. “It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

and some other headcannons that I've seen float around tumblr about trans Danny fic below cut if you dont wanna follow the link.

Looking out the window was making him nauseous, like really  really nauseous. The kind of nauseous he only got when sick or from a good punch. He knew a thing or two about good punches. He’d been taking them for a few years now.

It really wasn’t fair if you asked him. One should ask him because it was an experience that only he could experience. After all, halfa's were rare as can be. Skulker had certainly told him enough for him to know. Every brush with alcohol in his younger days was, well, a mixed bag. He processed it faster than the average person so he was lucky in that aspect that he got drunk faster. But if anything his messing about with alcohol before he was 21 told him it was that it also left much faster than normal. Bullshit ghost rules and all of that. Genuinely being a ghost even half one had very few upsides. Some people online speculated about how cool ghost powers must be to have but clearly none of them knew about the burden that it came with. Sometimes he still wished that he didn’t know. 

However this time for whatever reason the alcohol was hitting him and staying. Maybe it was because the previous times he’d been drinking cheap party booze in Dash’s garage with Sam and Tucker, no one but the three of them aware that they were even there. Instead this time the booze was some semi expensive shit, he didn’t know the name or type but he’d been promised quality. Why he of all people was being given quality alcohol he'd never know but he wasn’t going to turn it down.

That being said seemed the trade off was intense nausea. It wasn’t that bad all things considered, he actually preferred being sloshed for the upcoming event but his body was not agreeing with that. Not that his body agreed with a lot of things. The disagreement between ghost and human sometimes really bit him in the ass. His head was floaty, the world in front of him was spinning badly, maybe it’d be worth it to never drink again. Especially if he was going to have this reaction . If only he’d invited Sam and Tucker. They were great fun and always knew how to reel him in. Man he missed them, if only they didn’t all go to different colleges. But nooo all of their majors just had to have few overlapping colleges. At least they were all within a drives (or in his case a flying) distance. When he wasn’t feeling too sick and unbalanced he’d have to fly over to their dorms for a movie night. It’d be nice. Sam might even be able to get them into someplace cool again.

In a stagnant attempt to push the feeling away he turned away from the window and towards his family. Jazz was studying a text on her phone. Probably a message from her girlfriend at university. Maybe she was inviting her. That’d be nice. She seemed nice when he’d saved her as Phantom a month ago, then everyone was nice when their life had just flashed before their eyes and they were rescued from it’s visions. Even when he and Valerie were on the worst of terms he was always grateful when ever she rescued him in either form. Bar Johnny 13 his sisters' taste in partners wasn’t actually all that bad. He actually liked her last girlfriend. Even then with Johnny he wasn’t sure how much of that was actually her taste and how much was Kitty’s possession. 

Certainly Jazz’s apprehension couldn’t be blamed, three of her previous partners both highschool and college were driven away by how weird their family was. She claimed she was fine with it, something about them not truly accepting all parts of her but still. That sucked. School had been rough enough, he couldn’t even count the amount of people that had been weirded out from being his friend because of his parents. Well there was also his reputation but his parents being renowned ghost hunters and chaotic town kooks certainly did not help. Looking back on it more of that might have actually been on his reputation. A nerd with A+ grades until highschool only to then end up with Ds on the best of days and bruises on the worst. Yeah some of that was probably on him.

Jazz gave him a look, he’d spaced out and looked at her for too long, it was weird now. He gave her a shrug and turned to their mother.

Laughing would be rude; he had to remind himself when he spotted her dancing along to the car radio in her dorky adult grooving. It was peaceful in a way. A down time he didn't usually get to appreciate before something bad (normally ghosts) interrupted. It was almost nice in a way to be calm with his mom and sister. Even if the former looked really really stupid.

He snorted anyway at his mom’s dance moves. Discombobulated shoulder jerks and little hand motions mixed in with little head rolls that had no rhyme or reason. It was wildly out of beat and didn’t match the tone of the song on radio. It was definitely the kind of dancing that Tucker would disparagingly call “white people shit”. The thought alone of Tucker's pain at his parents' dance moves was almost enough to send him into hysterics.

Man he missed Tucker.

He’d have to check in on Tucker soon, since he started the latest school assignment he’d sort of ghosted everyone, for the lack of a better word. It was probably the stress of dealing with his assignment partners, he’d done the same last time. Still… in a town and world with ghosts it couldn't hurt to try to check in on him. Tuck was a big boy now he could hold his own in a ghost fight but he didn’t like the idea of leaving him to it. Call him what you will but obsessions were just like that. 

Maybe he was a little possessive.

Just a touch.

“Oh Danny!” his mom squealed as a new song filtered in. The Uber driver rolled his eyes, clearly he thought no one could see him but Danny caught it in the rear view mirror. ” I love this song, isn't it rad!”

He tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was so ridiculous. His parents were doing this on purpose! They had to be! There was no way that they weren’t no one was that out of touch. That behind on lingo. Warm giggles and chuckles bubbled forth, messy and loud. The kind of laugh only those closest to him could coax out of him. Back in school it was only Tuck and Sam that got him to laugh like that (maybe Jazz if she was lucky) make him lose his composure so quickly, but more and more readily his parents had been able to also force the laughs out of him.

If only fourteen year old him could see him now. He’d be so embarrassed. Sitting in the back of an Uber laughing openly at something silly his mom was doing.  She said something he couldn’t catch, teased him probably for laughing. A random pop song and the air coming in from the drivers open window were just loud enough to cover even a raised voice. Even still the there was comfort. Whatever she said was from a place of love.

He loved car rides sometimes. He didn’t always appreciate them when he was younger, kind of like how he felt about his parents. Especially when he was 14 but now? They were some of his favourite times spent with his parents. He just couldn’t help it, something about the rolling scene and music with easy conversation lulled him. It helped keep his obsession at bay, blocking it from flaring if he could see that some of the most important people in his life were there, in front of him safe and sound.

He still ached. Felt that compulsion to check Sam and Tuck. Rather than scream like normal it was a soothing whisper. He was able to drunkenly send them a text about how much he loved them without the skin crawling need to see that they were still standing.

 The Uber slowed to a crawl, the Sudan squealing as they stopped. Man that guy really needed to replace his breaks. He could get in a wreck and then whoever he was ferrying around could get seriously hurt.

No!

He shook his head; he couldn't let his obsession obsess on something so small. It was probably safe to look out of the window again so he chanced a look. Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion.

“Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. 

Maddie scowled,“ Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him.

“It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

Damn he hadn’t meant to forget the occasion but he couldn’t help it his mind was already prone to wandering and the alcohol was just making it worse. Really it was a miracle he passed highschool in the first place, even when sober his mind just struggled to latch onto subjects, and that was before he had to nightlight as Phantom, hell it wasn’t even nightlighting it was a full double life. Really he didn't even know how he was managing college with the heroing on the side. Best guess if he was pressed to give one was that his parents’ disappointment and the desire to go to space was combining into the ultimate peer pressure. Funny how his brain worked like that, maybe Jazz could explain that to him. She was good for stuff like that. Explanations for why his brain was weird. She tried to give him an acronym for it one time something with A's. An attention thing of some sort. He'd have to ask her about it again sometime so he could wrap his mind around it.

“Hey!” Jazz opened the door, her face inches from his, the scent of some fruity cocktail on her breath,” get out Danny, and remember, act normal. At least for dad’s sake.”

“Yeah,” he waved her off stumbling to his feet, honestly it wasn’t fair that the ground was so unsteady beneath him, kind of transphobic if you asked him. “If you wanted me to act normal then why’d we all get plastered?” he joked.

“Shush,” Jazz clamped a hand on his face, their slow amble up the church's  many  steps paused. “Don’t lick a gift horse in the mouth Danny, you know this will be insufferable.” 

He licked her hand, she recoiled, wiping the spit off on her fancy black dress. 

“Danny!”

He stuck out his tongue in retaliation.

“Behave, ”she chided.

He rolled his eyes and followed her. It was just a funeral, what was the worst they could get into?

 The second he stepped in the church threshold he knew. It put his whole body on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the faintest trickled of mist? ghost vaper? Ghost breath? He actually had no clue what it was that came out of his mouth. 

Well he never really understood what he was saying half the time anyways, his mouth had a habit of running out from under him. The worst case of that was just the other week, he was talking to Sam over skype about something and he’d forgotten that she knew about Phantom, how really he had no clue, and he just went on for about twenty minutes making some out there wild excuse for why he’d missed their last hang out when she’d stopped him.

Honestly it was getting embarrassing, even worse was trying to keep things he said to his parents in each form separate. He really had to tell them soon.

It was so easy when he was 14 the breadth of his conversations with them as Phantom at the time could be summed up with a snarky quip from him or a “I’m gonna dissect you” from them. Now though they seemed to be fully taking seriously the notion that ghosts had depth to them. Which while true was deeply inconvenient for him. That meant he had to have interactions with them as Phantom and keep his identity straight ( ha  ). Maybe he should be grateful, they weren’t threatening to dissect him anymore that was certainly a plus, they still definitely wanted to examine him however.  He had considered it, in the depth of the night, allowing them to examine him only to drop the transformation part way through. It’d be funny, just a little bit to catch them off guard like that. But they didn’t deserve a coming out like that. He stifled a groan, he thought he was done with the closet when he’d come out but no life just had to never end and add in ghosts.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed at him. 

He slurred out a huh at her in confusion.

Damn he’d been staring out at nothing, the Pastor? Priest? He didn’t know the difference to be honest, was still talking about Vlad. Shit that’s right! The second he’d walked in his ghost sense had gone haywire, Vlad was still (half) alive in that plush ass casket. He wondered how bad it'd be to fake a stomach ache and transform into Phantom for some ass kickery. Knowing his luck though Vlad might just feign full death embrace just to make a fool of him. 

He would do that, fake his death, hell he was doing it right now! Motive was still unclear to him but Danny was going to get to the bottom of it. The man at the front, religious figure of whatever denomination, was gesturing large and big as he wrapped up.  It was really official, and stuffy, when he finally fully died he wanted his funeral to be nothing like this. Maybe Tuck's ideas of dramatic funeral pranks were where it was at. Or maybe even Sam's ideas of celebratory parties that remembered the dead's life. He wouldn’t object to either of those. 

Alcohol was fading out of his system again, well it’d been nice while it’d lasted but it’d probably be best to not be sloshed if Vlad wanted to cause a scene. 

He sat at the edge of his seat as his father came up for a speech.

“Vlad,” his father stopped to blow his nose,” Vlad was a good friend of mine in college, w-we,” his lip trembled, his large jaw hammering up and down as he stammered for words. It took everything in Danny to not sink into the pew bench in embarrassment. Jack was for all intensive purposes the only person in the entire church that seemed genuinely broken up about the billionaire’s death.

“We drifted apart for a while, and he’d just started to come back to mine and my wife's lives a few years ago and- and- I-I sorry,” he winced as his fathers voice died.

While he didn’t understand his fathers affection for the man his heart couldn't help but ache for the man’s sorrow. His father had such a large heart. He was so trusting and held so much affection in his large beating heart. It was a weakness and a strength. One his mother often said he inherited. He didn’t know if he could see it. He wasn’t so soft, so trusting, so eager to love and care as his father. Then the larger man hadn’t been burned the same. Hadn’t had his heart half electrocuted to death like him.

His mom walked up on the stage, he was briefly impressed by her composure, she was buzzed but also in heels and looked to all the church exceedingly well put together. Quietly she was speaking her hands gently on Jack’s shoulders patting his back soothingly. She often sold herself short. Stating her heart not to be as big, Danny didn’t believe that, not really, his mother was just more careful in those she let in.

“I wasn’t as close to him as my husband,” she admitted, having softly taken the mic from Jack. her fingers were curled around it softly, but her other hand was in her hair. She was fidgeting and searching for words,” but I’m sure those he was close to will miss him dearly.” she said tight lipped. Jack whispered something to Maddie quietly making her smile tightly and nod. The man moved to his seat and let his wife continue his speech in his stead. 

It was nothing notable really, Danny wasn’t one for paying attention to speeches or lectures and a funeral would not be an exception. He caught a few snippets though, his moms implication that she liked him better in college. A line hoping that in death that he could hopefully move on from the past. He really tried to not laugh at that one clearly because she'd noticed the exes. How many of them had known before? How many of the exes had to learn of their blueprint right then and there in the funeral.

Still he sat teetering on the edge of his seat, half paying attention to her words and mind half trained on that open casket. Vlad lay there in the plush box waiting. What for he couldn’t tell yet but he wasn’t going to be caught unaware.

The speeches couldn’t have ended any slower in his opinion. He wished that the alcohol hadn’t run it’s course already. It was so much easier to get through shit when his mind was quieted and his obsession was dulled. Instead he was forced to wait, his waking obsession tearing at his insides making him wait. Watch the lingering guests with apprehensive eyes. A few were expected. Gaggle of divorced exes. Some smattering of people that vaguely had Vlad's chin and nose. It was bizarre, some looked wildly like him and others well. They were utter strangers to Danny. They all were but they seemed almost faceless in how unknown they were. Interestingly none of them really seemed that choked up. He’d never expected troves of people depressed about Vlad’s passing. Still to only have one sobbing mourner? Maybe they just grieved differently...

Yeah maybe.

About when he got his water from the refreshments table he realized that Vlad really wasn't pulling a stunt. Still he had no clue why he was in that damn casket if he was still (half) alive in there. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, his worst nightmare was being trapped in one of those, yet Vlad had clambered in willing foot after foot laying stricken and board straight for all that he knew to see him. It didn’t make sense. There had to be some trick.

There had to be.

He thought maybe after his father had bowed his head over the casket head in hands loud body wracking sobs shaking his shoulders that Vlad might then spring to life (ha) and attack them. No, instead he remained laying in that coffin, the soft plush pillow under his head holding him still, the flowers in hand still clutched in strict fingers. He must have some sort of long con going on then. Some sort of goal he was aiming to reach by laying stricken and dead.

Wouldn’t be the first time the man had pulled a bizarre stunt. The time he’d kidnapped Danny and his mom sprang to mind. But there were few situations that came to mind where faking one’s death could come in handy. 

A severe looking man walked up to him a small plate of hors d'oeuvres in hand.  Sam would hate the sight of the small snacks, not a single one was vegetarian. And Tuck? He’d be laughing his head off at the name and size. He really had to rope them into a trip to the movies or arcade sometime soon.

The man greeted him, straightening his professional looking tie as he spoke. The man was exceedingly out of place, in a clean and crisp business suit that hardly matched the tone of mourning clothes. Then his parents were wearing their jumpsuits under their fancy clothes so glass houses and all that.

The man was painfully dull giving Danny his condolences in a rather stilted and clunky tone. The man clearly didn't want to be there. He raised an eyebrow at the man as he finally asked how he knew the ‘deceased’. 

Telling the man something to the effect of, “Just through my parents,” somehow making it clear to the man that he wasn’t particularly choked up by the billionaire's death. Gee he wondered what gave it away, his flat unaffected tone? Or the fact that Vlad was a billionaire with no moral backbone. 

Huh, he must really be missing Sam a lot to be thinking like that. he hated to admit it but she was kinda right. 

Business suit was disinterested in conversation with Danny after that, he hastily wrapped up the conversation. Man even muttered “shame.” under his breath, if Danny wasn’t half dead he wouldn't have caught it. But well nothing ever really worked out well for bureaucrats did it?

Had Vlad seriously faked his death to avoid paying a few measly bucks? The man was a billionaire! He must really owe them a mean amount of money for them all to arrive at the funeral like this. Maybe they hoped the will would work in their favour? Not far in front of the refreshment table were two suits talking unabashedly about the amounts that Vlad owed them. If it weren’t for the setting Danny would think that they were coming or going from an important meeting.

For what was probably the first time he properly looked at all of the guests. Actually taking them in, a good chunk like he’d noticed before were the exes that half looked like his mom, and their kids (hopefully they weren’t biologically Vlads). Then there were the vague family members that looked like Vlad watered down with kindness. But the rest? Suits and-

Oh.

Oh he had to step behind an archway and stuff a fist in his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Vlad had fucking bounty hunters being sent after him! It was karmic, he had to stop himself from busting a gut right then and there in the middle of a church. It was already blasphemy enough to be the walking dead he didn't want to also throw in disrespecting the (only mostly) dead into the mix. 

Well at least they weren’t all debtors, lurking around the corners and edges of the room was a guy he’d worked with as Phantom a few years ago. He was kind of hot in a rugged sort of way. If it weren’t for Sam and Tuck he’d have considered flirting seriously with the other man. As it was his joking flirting got him in trouble with the other two.

He was really acting up being normal, that rugged man. Mingling about with other people dressed neatly.

Clear to only  Danny what he was, what the others like him were, the man wandered unaware that Danny was watching him. Ironically he only knew they were bounty hunters because Vlad had hired the rugged man and his crew to hunt Phantom that time a few years ago and now? Oh the tables have turned. Someone, maybe one of the exes, or the debtors wanted him dead. Damn what had Vlad done?

Ghost Zone inhabitants had mixed opinions on him, many of which wanted him dead or knocked down a peg. But that was the Ghost Zone, half of them wanted  Danny  dead at some point or another. This was the human world. Earth and shit, it was much harder to piss off someone to the level of murder. Not impossible but damn. He grinned at this, Vlad was (half) alive and (sorta) well in that casket and he couldn’t do anything if he started to stir shit up. Life was beautiful, twinkling and gorgeous, he decided. He Didn’t need Tucker and Sam to have fun.

 He started with one of the exes. He went out of his way to ignore her dyed red hair and pale purple eyes as he talked with her. It wasn’t her fault that Vlad had a complex, he reminded himself as the woman talked. Fault couldn’t be pinned on her for the parallels he could search between his mother and her. She was nice in a weird way, again really like his mom. It was unnerving. He kept trying to ignore her beady eyed gremlin of a child as she talked to him about the will. 

Whatever Vlad had done for all the people in his life to only care about the will and the will alone Danny wanted to do the express opposite. It was almost painful in a way to watch all of these people act like they weren’t only here for the money. Served the man right, it was still depressing, the man had everything on paper but not a damn thing in reality.

“Do you think his daughter will show?” he tactfully added into the conversation after the woman had made some condolences about his family and Vlad. 

“Daughter?” the woman asked, her large eyes blinking slowly,” I'm sure you're mistaken, Vlad told me he doesn’t have kids.”

“Oh,” he said, feigning apology, inside he was loving this, sure Vlad couldn’t admit the truth about the clones but clearly the man had seriously left out some details to his ex lovers. “Are you sure? ‘Elle is nineteen now,” he said, it was technically true if you counted right. She was also only seven if you counted right. It was all about semantics.

“Ninete-” the woman stammered something hard settling in her eyes,” he told me he didn’t want to have children,” she looked down at her angry eyed child (he hoped the little dude didn’t kick him in the shin) who had a hand fisted in the end of her dress. “If you’ll excuse me, Daniel, this was an- enlightening conversation.” he watched her walk away to a woman with a big chunky bracelet.

Also a redhead. Of course.

A sharp pain seared in the top of his ear he prevented himself from yowling out as the fingers attached dragged him over to a corner.

"ow ow ow," he whined out quietly trying heard not to draw attention to himself. It didn't really work.

“What the  fuck  are you doing?” Jazz hissed at him when they were hidden away from the rest of the group.

“First of all: ow!” He rubbed his ear delicately between his finger pads,” I’m not a child anymore, maybe borderline sibling abuse was funny in 80’s sitcoms but it's not anymore.”

Jazz rolled her eyes,” second of all?” she pressed, she was still slightly buzzed and yet she was still holding herself with so much composure. Kind of impressive, if she hadn’t just physically threatened to rip his ear off.

“Secondly I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Not do-” Jazz floundered,” Daniel!” she hissed out again struggling to keep her tone low. Damn she was mad, she only pulled out the full name when really fucked up,” I know your relationship with Vlad was- complicated.”

He snorted,” he tried to kill me multiple times, Jazz.”

“Yes bu-”

“Dark Dan,’’ he pressed further.

“I get it!” she snapped in a whisper-shout,” but a funeral isn-”

“He isn’t dead Jazz. Or really fully dead I guess I should say,” he laughed

Jazz rolled her eyes,” This is concerning behaviour Danny.”

“W-what?” he asked.

She tapped her chin pensively, she was psychoanalyzing him again, gag, “You must be transferring your complicated feeling about him into-”

“Jazz,” he groaned. It was best to stop her before she got on a roll, “Ghost senses remember? He’s still not fully dead, I can tell. He faked his death.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh," I'm not saying I believe you, but say he did fake his death-”

“He did.”

She shot him a look, “Why? Why would he fake his death? He’s a rich ceo multi-billionaire with more money than most of us can conceive of, nonetheless actually obtain, what does he get out of faking his death?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, this was easier when Jazz was talking to one of Vlad’s cousins ignoring him stirring the pot. 

He explained what he’d pieced together so far, with the suits and hunters lurking around the edges of the room it was easy to point out how out of place they look. Slowly a realization fell on her face, an acceptance of what he was saying.

“When I was talking to the stepford exes they were all talking about who would get the estate.”

“Do they know who?” he asked.

Jazz shook her head,” no the will was kept really secretive from all of them. There was even a bit of an altercation from two of the younger ex girlfriends over it.”

He winced at that, he couldn’t blame them for being mad he just wished Vlad wasn’t faking death for them to take it out on. “The bottle red and the one with the big bracelet?” he prompted, remembering the end of his conversation with the former.

“No that’s Maddison and Maggie, the two that fought were Morgan and Melenie.”

“Maddison? Maggie? Morgan? Melenie?” he repeated with a grimace voice getting higher with each name.

“Yeah I know,” she said with a sigh,” a textbook case of projecting an ex, or in this case crush, on future partners leading to a string of failed relationships,” she frowned looking over at the group of clustered red heads. Danny followed and examined them, they were all looking at something their eyes occasionally darted over to- 

Oh of course, mom, they ‘d probably done the math already. He winced at the thought. He’d half thought about it before  finding the notion funny. Now in his sparkling sobriety of the evening he couldn’t find the humour.

“At least they all mostly get along,” Jazz offered, trying to look away from how the dozen or so women were looking at the one woman they were all stacked against.

“Really?” he blinked at her,” I’d have thought that they’d all be fighting cause of the- well you know,” he gestured to the, everything, of the situation.

She shook her head,” no, they seem to all understand that it was all on Vlad, two of them, Mackenzie and Melody,” she clarified to even more of his confusion,” even found out that they were seeing him at the same time. How they didn’t know with all of the press that followed him I’ll never know, but they decided to team up on the legal front if there are any issues with the will.”

“Really.”

Jazz nodded,” yeah I was surprised too, but good for them, Vlad went around causing too many issues in their lives.”

He nodded in agreement as he looked at at the sea of redheads, some of them had grown out their hair revealing dark roots, some had hair styled in poufy curls reminiscent of his mothers old style and one of them had completely cut her hair into a half shaved look, it was actually similar to the look that Sam had now.

“Want to cause some problems for him?” he asked.

“Danny, legally and socially he’s dead, what could we do?”

“Legally yeah,” he agreed,” but technically he’s still half alive in there, and can hear everything that people say-”

“Are you suggesting that we ruin his reputation?” Jazz asked with a poorly hidden smile. He loved that in the years she’d loosened up. It was a good look on her, relaxation.

“Ruin?” He said, in mock scandal, ”I'm merely suggesting we bring it down to where it belongs.”

“Oh ‘merely’ what is that a fifth grade word? I'm impressed!” Jazz teased.

He shoved her lightly with a laugh,” oh fuck off I’m in college now you know.”

“Really? Accredited and everything?”

He stifled his laugh,” shut up, you know dealing with ghost shit messed with my grades.”

Truthfully he’d expected her to joke further about it, to razz him about doing so much, or maybe analyze him, diagnosis him with trauma. Instead she hugged him.

“I’m sorry so much was put on your shoulders so young,” her voice was raw. Too raw.  

He patted her back, stomach squirming. Because what was he to do with that? The tender care held for him in the cracks of her fingers. The sorrow that settled in her pores all for him?

“Hey stop that,” he eventually said, pulling back,” or I'll make clockwork take me back in time so you never find out.” He didn’t mean it, he never did.

Jazz laughed a little wetly, he didn’t comment on it. Why would he? Also didn’t get a chance as she ruffled his hair, despite the fact that he was now much taller than her. “People are allowed to care about you, asshole.”

He scrunched his nose up at that,” ew what? I detest affection.”

“Oh detest another good one, really racking up those vocab words huh?” she sniffled her hands on her hips, a little lean in her back as she smirked.

Snorting, he stepped back and fixed his hair,” how about we make this a competition?”

“Huh?”

“First one to make Vlad burst out of his casket and rage in ghost mode wins.”

“Really? What would the winner get?”

He tapped his chin making a humming noise,” how about this, loser has to reveal their secret.”

Jazz laughed nervously,” I don’t have a secret Danny.”

Danny gave her a look,” Jazz, I’ve met your girlfriend.”

She bit her lip looking down at his outstretched hand, a debate playing in her eyes.

“Hey you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he said softly,” this is just meant for fun after all.” he knew better than most what forcing this stuff did.

”No, it’s fine,” she took his hand and shook, if a little clumsily,” that doesn’t mean they have to meet her though.”

“Oh don’t worry,” he said,” it won’t be my fault if they do that’ll be entirely on them.”

“Danny!” she exclaimed at him as he fled to the other side of the church. Finally this funeral was going to be interesting!

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the swaying uncle of Vlad. The man smelled of beer and hors d'oeuvres. Not that Danny could judge if it wasn’t for the thick layer of spray on deodorant that his mom smothered him in right before he got in the uber then he’d probably smell just as rank. Then there was the fact that he’d pregamed to.

The older man narrowed his eyes at Danny, he was shocked to see the man he looked to hardly be much older than Vlad yet he was his uncle? He’d gone to ask about it but thought better about it, the less lore he knew about Vlad’s family the better, he really didn’t want to know about how many kids and when and how the Masters ‘clan’ had. Conversation with the older man was… stilted, to say the least. But he was certain that if he told him something then it wouldn’t get back to him. And that was half the game wasn’t it? Finding a way to spread the most rumours without people finding out it was him or Jazz. All without powers of course, that almost went without saying. 

The man didn’t seem too broken up about Vlad, they probably weren’t that close and Danny had always gotten the impression from the billionaire that he was a smidge too snobbish to fully have developed relationships with people. As often as he teased Jazz for being snobby, she at least was nowhere near as bad as Vlad. Man damn near invented snobbishness and assholery. He’d have to ask clockwork if Vlad’s ancestors were just as bad. Judging by some of his family, probably not.

“Well before he passed,” Danny prompted, pausing in a way to snag the older man's attention.

“Yes?” the older man asked when he didn’t continue.

“Well,” Danny fidgeted with his nail,”  you know his signed Packers jersey?”

The older man nodded eagerly.

Danny looked to the side,” it’s a fake,” he whispered to the man.

“Really?”

He nodded,” yeah, but please don’t tell anyone,” he added,” it’s bad enough that they know he was banned from buying the team-”

“He was what?” 

Danny fought to hide a smirk. He knew it’d be easier to sell this lie if he started smaller.

“I thought everyone knew!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, most of the town knows, it’s just, no one talked about it to be polite.” okay that might have been overselling it a bit but the distant relative seemed to really be drinking it in.

“What did he do?”

Danny looked side to side like he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

“Well a few years ago when he was closing the deal to buy the team he got caught stalking some of the members!”

“Really?” the uncle asked,” wha- why?”

Danny shrugged,” they never really found the reason he was following them, he was even trying to seduce some of the wives.”

The man gasped,” I- really?” 

Danny nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone you have to promise me.”

He watched as the man smiled in what he thought was slyness,” of course! I just, with all of those wives he had!”

 Within the next five minutes Danny heard the rumour circulate across the room and it had grown legs. How glorious those rumours legs were. 

“I heard he’d tried to break up a marriage on the team!” an ex wife (Maggie maybe?) hissed.

The other ex (Mary? The other woman might have called her) laughed,” would it really be any surprise? With what he did to Morgan and Melenie?”

The first woman nodded sagely,” fair I can’t believe I even fell for his tricks.”

All things considered the rumour was spreading well, and there was not even a gasp of a suggestion that he was the source. He couldn’t wait to hear what Jazz had invented, with the rumbles he’d already started to hear, it was probably great. Jazz always did have a way of getting into people’s heads. Find what interests them the most.

“So this daughter of Vlad's?” the woman he was talking to prompted, he vaguely remembered Jazz saying her name was Maddison. She’d found him again some time later; her child now safely deposited over by the other kids with their group babysitter. They were in the middle of the church now, the other two still whispering about the packers' spouses.

“ ‘Elle?” he asked as if he’d forgotten.

The woman nodded her curls bouncing as she did.

“Can I see a picture of her?”

He pulled up an older photo of them hanging out, the picture was grainy and they were both sticking their tongues out at the camera. Shit he’d really forgotten how alike they looked.

“You both-” the woman said before stopping. She glanced at his parents. 

Shit he had to go into damage control,” well she’s also my cousin,” he fibbed.

“Cousin?”

“Yes! Technically once removed? Or something like that, I didn’t meet her until a few years ago, we were really blown away with the family resemblance!” he laughed. "Really it's uncanny!"  He continued.

Too far! Too far! He was leaning into it too much! It wasn’t like he could just tell her the truth, that Dani was Vlad's only successful half dead clone of him! Then he’d also have to out two things about himself to her.

“She travels a lot,” he added. He really needed to learn when to shut his big mouth,” she was in Paris a few years ago actually.”

“Really?”

He couldn’t even blame the alcohol! He was just this stupid naturally huh? They’d been saying it for years Sam and Tucker, if only he’d taken them seriously before this. His idiocy might really be terminal.

“Yup, I haven’t seen her in awhile though, hopefully she visits again!”

Scrutinizing eyes scanned him up and down, darting from each corner of his face hunting out the ruse. He really needed to learn to shut his big mouth.

“Do you have her number?”

Crashing noises filled his brain. Her number? The last thing that he had expected was interest in ‘Elle. he’d just thought that they’d get upset at Vlad and leave it at that.

“ ‘E-elle's?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry if this is prying but me and the other ladies,” she gestured to a few of them,” we’re talking and we want to support her!”

“I-” he hesitated, he hadn’t really planned for this,” what?”

The older woman nodded,” we all talked it out and if we get the estate we’re going to support one another and the kids, and it seems like ‘Elle just got stuck in the middle of this like the rest of us.”

“Yeah uh, let me just text her first?”

“Of course honey!”

Danny walked away from that conversation feeling distinctly weirder than before. Regardless he pulled up his phone and slid out the keyboard.

He opened up the “With an I” contact.

  Hey i accidentally got you adopted by like fifteen random women that used to date vlad

5:43 p.m.

  You what? Lul

5:45 p.m.

 He looked up around him before typing out the next message

  Yeah long story short he faked his death. Its weird

5:46 p.m.

I’m at the funeral and the exes wanna like support you?

5:46 p.m.

  Well Vlad wasn’t good for much but at least i now have a multitude of mothers

5:47 p.m.

  So i can give them your number?

5:47 p.m.

  Yeah have at it! If this causes chaos for vlad im all for it !

5:48 p.m.

“So her phone number is.”

By the time he’d separated himself from that conversation a few more rumours were floating.

“I heard that the reason he died in a car crash is because he was on the run from the law!” one of vlad's relatives whispered.

“Really!” another responded.

Elsewhere some of the attending staff were murmuring too. “I heard that he got caught smuggling maple syrup cans from canada!”

“Cans?”

“Yes apparently the good stuff is canned there.”

He walked to a new group this time with the suits.

“I hear that the money in the accounts is dirty.”

“According to my source his invested stocks were backed with illegal funds.”

“If there’s drugs really attached to it like I was told then I don't want anything to do with it.”

“I agree it's hard enough to get money from wills with spouses involved. It's even harder if the feds sniff any drugs.”

“It might not even be worth it to try with all of the ladies,” a different suit complained,” I overheard them talking about lawyering up together if anything goes wrong.”

Another much older suit scoffed,” this business was much easier before the exes started working together.”

Finally he heard his own new rumour starting to gain some traction.

“Wasn’t it found out that he was stealing science equipment from the nearby college?”

“Oh whatever for?”

“I heard it was for making a specialty shampoo.”

“I’ve always wondered how he kept his hair so nice and shiny.”

 Jazz was good, too good, considering that neither of them had really clicked into any social cliques in highschool. Now she was gossiping better than even any of the A-listers.

“It’s just such a shame that they can’t come,” Jazz was even fake sobbing, damn he was going to have to up his game.

“Who couldn’t come?” One of Vlad's older cousins asked, Danny wondered if Jazz was screaming inside at the hand she had around one of the older exes' waists, it was casual and tender. If one of Vlad's exes was getting together with his cousin because of the  funeral , Danny would shriek from laughter, hell if he accidentally used his ghostly wail it’d be well worth it. Vlad of all people deserved to have a partner snatching occur to him. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Jazz said,” I thought that everyone knew,” she looked from side to side,” please don’t tell the other ex wives Monroe I’d hate for their feelings to get hurt over this.”

Damn she was good. The wife- Monroe who was leaning comfortably on the cousin nodded.

“Of course Jazzie,” she said in a deep comforting New York accent,” this can be brought up to them later more delicately later.  Though I must admit,” she said after a pause where Jazz thanked her for her discretion.” I myself am curious who wasn’t able to come.”

“Well you know how he used to do ghost research with mom and dad?”

Where was she going with this? She was selling it well, Danny had to admit but for the life of him he couldn’t guess where this was going.

“Yes of course,” the cousin nodded as Monroe spoke.

“I can’t name the amount of times he used to write home in our youth about his little ghost adventures,” the cousin added.

Jazz nodded ,” well at the school there was the Lunch Lady Ghost and the Box Ghost, he was seeing them romantically in between their stays in the ghost zone.”

Danny held back a snort box ghost! If he laughed too hard in that moment he’d drop the ghost form and would fall on top of the group that’d gathered around her. As much control as he’d mastered over his abilities over the past couple years there was nothing that would be able to save him from Jazz’s wit. 

“I’m sure box ghost is very helpful for moves,” one of the crowd commented amicably. The others though had nothing to say. Clearly they’d all actually met Box Ghost. 

The gossip might have even stayed in that circle if it weren’t for another one of the cousins being right there and then deciding to tell his wife, who then told one of the ex-wives, who then told another, who then told a suit. So on and so forth.

By the time that Danny was back in human form and settled on the opposite side of Jazz’s conversation he was hearing the children that some of the wives had brought talking about Vlad ‘holding hands’ with the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady. Why couldn’t he have thought about that? It was so good, it was perfect, literally no one could prove it wrong. And embarrassing, seriously Box Ghost!

All the stuff he knew to be true about Vlad sounded so far-fetched.

Half ghost?

Well most people didn’t know about them.

The time he infected his two closest and longest friends with ghost pimples?

Needed the half ghost context. 

If only there was some-

“I hate Vlad!” one of the kids near him cried out stomping down his foot.

Unsurprisingly all of the kids agreed, okay he was a little surprised, usually Vlad had the wool pulled over on most people. So the fact that all of these kids  hated him really meant something.

“He stole my cotton candy at the fair!”

“Well he told me that I didn’t need to see daddy anymore cause he was gonna replace him!”

Eager ears pointed at them he drank in their every complaint. He’d known that Vlad was cartoonish levels of evil for awhile (see the infecting teens with ghost acne for personal gain as proof, or kidnapping him and his mom) but never had he truly expected for him to be so stupid as to do it all in the open in front of all of these kids. Then again some of this might be his obsession making him act out. Smallest sliver of him almost felt bad about that, the fact that Vlad was in a way forced to be this way, but it wasn’t really anything he wasn’t before. Obsessions just highlighted what was already there. Made it more severe.

 “Uhm excuse me,” he tapped the shoulder of one of the shorter women,” Mallory?” He'd asked the babysitter for her name but for the life of him he was struggling to keep all of the exes straight in his head. There were just too many of them and they all looked too similar to his mom.

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with recognition,” Danny?”

He laughed,” yeah that’s me!”

“Some of the others were mentioning you!” she said with a bright smile taking his hand,” thank you for telling us about ‘Elle! I can’t believe he kept her a secret from all of us for so long.”

He nodded in agreement,” well about Vlad-”

“Oh no, what else was he hiding?” she asked, there was a laugh ringing from her but Danny didn’t need ghost senses to know it was dead on arrival,” I’ve learned so much more here at his funeral than I ever did when we’d been together.”

He laughed a little at that, a stilted awkward laugh that only filled his chest halfway. He almost felt bad telling her about this, but she deserved to know the truth. “Well I overheard some of the kids complaining about Vlad.”

He filled her in on what he’d overheard about the kids, the petty little actions of Vlad. The cotton candy he’d stolen (which was weird he’s rich), the fathers he threatened to replace, it was all so bizarre. Danny was about halfway through when the casket began to shake.

Vlad masters was not an impulsive man. He was calculated, smart and forward thinking. At least he certainly liked to think so.  No impulsive man goes out of his way to plan his nemesis’ death and demise for twenty years. No reckless person would spend his time building an empire carefully crafting his abilities and connections for taking down his enemy.  Vlad however to his greatest distaste was in fact still half human and not infallible. While he was meticulous and in his personal opinion exceedingly intelligent he had no way to properly plan for wrenches in his schemes.

The fenton boy, Daniel was his biggest hurdle but it was only a matter of time before he found the right way to tackle the issue. He was just a particularly big roadblock. If only his emotional attachment to his dunderheaded father wasn’t so strong. These issues were all small potatoes compared to the one he was in now. The details can be spared and smoothed over all that was truly important was that he was at his own funeral.

He’d always wondered what people's reaction to his death would be. Contact with his extended family had been… loose, for the lack of a better term since his ‘accident’.  Deep down however he knew that when or if his time came, truly came, that they’d have a reaction. Probably sadness, he had been close to a few of them before his accident, hell he’d been close to them before his company had taken off. At the end of the day he simply had better things to do. Plans to make, revenge to ruminate on. It wasn’t his fault that they’d fallen to the wayside. They simply weren’t as important as Maddie.

He’d toyed with the idea that maybe his dear Maddie would sob over him, that she’d denounce Jack when she saw that he was no longer an option. How deeply poetic it’d be for that to happen. He never liked the idea of her only realizing their potential then but he couldn’t ignore the artful symmetry of it all. Some of the books that Maddie used to read in college had those even beginning and ends, those swooping through lines that tied it all nicely in a pretty bow. His first death had ripped her away from him. It’d gifted her to Jack on a silver platter, and his second oh how glorious it’d be if it drew her to him. Making her denounce her imbecile of a husband. Leaving the stocky man discarded.  Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and even with its harsh edges his death bringing her close to him was something to behold. If only that was what he was watching happen.

Unfortunately for Vlad Masters Owner, Ceo, and founder of Vladco. Life was not an art piece nor a well orchestrated game of football. No instead he got to lay still (half) alive in his exceedingly expensive casket and listen to the dolt sob.

It started like all of the worst things while heading to the Fenton's for another plan to be set in motion. The restraining order was still being held up in the courts so there was technically nothing legally stopping him from seeing them, or especially her. Besides he was a billionaire, those things were more fine machines than anything for him. Once it was enacted all he’d have to do was pay a fine.

Unfortunately it was during the drive that issues started. Again finer details notwithstanding for he’d run them all in his head a thousand times now while laying in this blastedly comfortable casket. While on the drive it became clear to him he was being followed.  No matter , he’d smugley told himself. He’d been followed by techbro fans before they were easy to deter. Easy to remove from his time and life. However in a deeply detestable turn of events the car following him did not belong to a fan.

He knew from the offset of seeing the make and model that it wasn't his average follower, those types usually had older beaters or worse highly expensive care that they had no business owning. No, instead this car was perfectly down the middle of class and price. How he detested those cars, they had no class. It was effectively similar to the many unmarked police cars that he used to have follow him during his brief stint as mayor. 

Regardless the car was tailing his limo, it was simple at first to attempt to outmaneuver them. Eventually his limo was pinned.

Blah blah blah mindless details later some pointless shooting at him with guns and he’d jacked their car. In the end it was simply easier to fake a fatal car crash. then there were all of those witnesses that had to see his death. Walking it back was impossible all circumstances considered. At least when they attacked him they only knocked his driver out, the legal case of that would have been a logistical nightmare and he still had some hopes of getting access to his funds later. 

It was almost funny in a karmic way. Almost as poetic as he had wanted pretending to be dead to be. Only problem was it was poetic in exactly the opposite way. The person that he hated most there sobbing the loudest. It’d be so much easier if it was Madeline sobbing. If she was sobbing, a faked death could be almost satisfying. If she melted down it could almost be worth it. Instead it was Jack Fucking Fenton. 

Numerous things were to be expected from his funeral, Daniel's arrival, yes, Maddie’s, undoubtedly. Even Jazz’s and Jack’s all expected arrivals. Some of them were more annoying than others but they were the requisite arrivals. Even his gaggle of ex flings was to be expected (they had to try and get their hands on the estate and money somehow. Well jokes on them he’d left it all to Maddie). No, what he hadn’t been prepared for was Jack’s incessant wailing and sobbing. 

The man was besides himself absolutely losing his mind right next to his goddamn open casket. It was getting hard to keep a straight face when he wanted nothing more than to leap from the plush silk sheets and throttle the man. His hands might not quite reach around the other mans thick neck but he could give it a good try he was sure. To put it simply and without intense amounts of rage he had mentally calculated for a lot of variables, not one of them being Jack of all people struggling to breath, choked out sobs instead of breaths coming from him as he hovered nearby. Not a single variable included being cried on by the most loathsome man in all of Amity Park. Every tear that fell on Vlad’s extremely expensive make up was another tally against the man’s. Had he no clue how hard it was to not flinch every time a drop of water splattered on his face? It was much harder than it looked he’d have him know.

Didn’t the idiot realize that he hated him? That he’d never cared for him? At least not since his death. 

Worse was when Maddie and the Fenton children staggered in, he could smell the alcohol on them from a mile away. It was tasteless! The smell alone nearly made him leap from his casket and throttle them where they stood (Maddie with exception of course). Have they no respect for the dearly departed? Have they no care for social decorum? Those Fenton spawn would never survive in high class society. Not like himself and Maddie. Oh how he wished he’d never gone for those pale imitations. They hardly kept up with all that he needed.

All he had to do now was ignore everyone and get through the funeral and he could be Plasmius full time. Pursue Maddie 24/7 with no worries of the law (though with some worries of Phantom). If only those blasted Fenton's would stop spreading rumours about him! And he knew it was them! Who else would say such outrageous things?

Okay certainly if one wanted to be technical Danielle was his daughter, but he hadn’t raised her. She was not his blood, she was not his in the most important ways.

Then there was that rumour about the-

“He-hey Vlad.”

Oh, oh no.

“I uh, I’m gonna miss you.” 

No no no no no! He couldn’t do this! He wouldn’t do this! He would not stand for this! He did not go out of his way to fake his death for this. 

Jack blew his big blubbering nose into a handkerchief so hard it honked. Honked! He was going to throttle this man at his earliest convenience. Getting cried on he could deal with, revolting as it was. What he couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with getting yammered at. That was not in the details. He did  not  plan for this.

“I- uhm- I know we weren’t really close these last few years.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Or really at all since college,” there was a wet laugh from Jack.

If that oaf ended up coughing slobber on him- Maybe if he tried hard enough he could die for real, that’d be nice. He’d never really craved death before, not like in this moment. It’d be so much easier if he just didn’t have to hear this.

“I-I know you didn’t really like me in the end.” 

Wait what? Had he finally gotten a clue? That was a first. Maybe his overt plotting had finally gotten through to the oaf. If Jack attacked him now that’d almost make this all worth it. He might even consider revealing he’s Plasmius if he did.

“I know I messed up, I-I must have hurt you, I don’t really know how, but- but uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Yes ye- He was what?

There was another laugh sob from his  ex  friend,” It’s probably too late since you’re uh- dead, but whatever it is I did to hurt you, I'm sorry. I hope,” he trailed off into a high pitched keening whine. 

Stop stop stop! This is not what he wanted!

“I hope you rest well Vlad.”

Footsteps receded away from him at that. 

Well what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? What in the world was he supposed to do with that knowledge? Internalize it? Grow and change as a person? He was (half) dead! He was well past the point of growth! He was beyond growth.

For all Jack knew he wasn’t coming back! For him and basically all of them he wasn’t coming back! The only person that would know was Daniel and maybe his sister if he told her. Maybe his brat friends if he messaged them. 

What did Jack get out of telling him all of that?

Certainly not money, the will had left everything to sweet Maddie, not him. Some sort of moral upper hand? A sense of feeling like he got one over Vlad?

No the dolt wasn’t that complex, his intelligence lay somewhere between absentminded and incompetant on a good day, there was no moral forethought. Yet why did the words settle so deeply in a corner of himself? Carving out a crevice in him that ached and burned?

“Did you hear about why Vlad couldn’t buy the green bay packers?”

Why? Why did it dig in his flesh? why when he’d thought he’d burned all of that away.

I'm Sorry.

“No, why?”

Life was easier when he was fully alive. College life was simpler. At least then he could fool himself that Maddie thought of him equally as she did Jack.

“Well I heard that he was stalking the team!”

What?

Why would he stalk them? He’d never stalked someone once in his entire life! (death maybe but he’d never admit that) he could buy all the tickets to their games he had no reason to stalk them!

There was no practicality in stalking them. Just like Jack had no reason to apologize to him! The idiot didn’t even know what he’d done to hurt him. He hadn’t ripped the apology from Jack. He wasn't on his knees begging from him. Hell he didn’t even know that he’d killed Vlad. Jack Fenton was as oblivious to the fact that he’d died back in college as he was to the fact that his own son was dead and playing hero as Phantom.

The density of the man was rivaled by no other.

But then why did he apologize?

“Did you hear?”

He got nothing out of it.

Why did it ache?

Burn? He wanted for years nothing more than to make the man sob and beg for forgiveness.

Why did having it fulfill nothing?

“About him and the Box Ghost?”

Would it burn just as painfully if he finally got sweet Madeline’s confession? Would it ring just as hollow?

“I thought it was the lunch lady ghost?”

No. There was something about Jack that made it wrong. Something about that blathering moron that lashed the words to him like a blade.

“I think it was both.”

And what the hell were they all blathering on about? What was all of this nonsense about Box Ghosts and smuggling and stalking? What were any of their empty little words? 

Did any of that really matter? Their blathering human rumours and petty squabbles when he, the very guest of honour in all ways but one was laying here before their very eyes on the precipice of something? He was teetering at some edge, he didn’t know what it was but he could just make out the shape of the hole he was almost toppling in, he just had to know what it was. He just-

“Well I heard-”

They heard- they heard! What did it matter what they’d all heard! Nothing that they heard could matter in the slightest not when he was dealing with this! Not when he was reeling with whatever this was! The weight and size of it completely overtaking him and yet none of them aware, he was suffocating being overtaken by the edge of knowledge some realization he’d yet to make and hee still couldn’t read it. All because they wouldn’t stop blathering on and on about what? Lies?

Stupid foolish tales spun by his greatest enemy!

By a child.

If it were not for the show and pageantry of it all, if it were not for the display that he’d set about around him he’d be yanking his hair by the roots, tearing it slowly strand by strand from his scalp. And if there was one thing that Vlad Masters was, it was a showman! He was dramatic and he was going to be so unabashedly it was not his fault that there was no one that yearned for his life to roll onwards like Jack. None of it could be held against him. He was a romantic! Everything he did was for  her.

Had it truly all been for nothing?

All these years.

Had she never really cared?

“Dirty money, attached to drugs. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pool.”

All this time.

Did he really-

“Never even mentioned a daughter!

All his schemes!

Jack's tears were so warm when they cut the thick funeral makeup.

“So many secrets for him to keep.”

Dozens of attempts on his life!

Did he really  care? The water on his face was still warm.

“Wasn’t the cause of his crash a run from the law?”

“Would you all just shut up already!”

Silence blanketed the church as Vlad’s voice finished ringing out the wooden box still perched on its little stage. The casket was still shaking and the flowers were falling from the box as the hush grew sharper. Energy crackled from the casket shooting out and blowing the bulb above. Glass fell from the light falling gently on the flower petals. 

None one spoke, Danny’s father had a hand over his mouth, new large tears welling up. He looked green and pale, unlike most of the stunned guests he looked like he was about to be sick.

Danny shot a glance at Jazz, she nodded and jerked her head to the side. He ducked out. Things were about to get hairy.

There was no response from Vlad for a second as it seemed the outburst was done. Even the children who’d been shrieking with laughter and joy from their play for most of the funeral were silent. The falling glass and shaking box were deafening in the silence. Danny ducked behind a pillar and into the doorway that led to the restrooms. There was no one there. The closest person was his mom but she was standing silent and stunned not an eye tilted away from the casket. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t everyday your incel stalker had a breakdown after he’d legally died.

He transformed. On the most part there weren’t many people near the casket. It was just a few lingering Exes, most people were near the refreshment table. His first line of action should be to grab the people near the stage and get them to safety. Then?

Well the rest was adlib. 

At least he had stored the Fenton thermos in his suit jacket (just in case). If only Sam or Tucker were there. Things were so much easier with their help.

Just as he was about to jump into the situation, the group of exes all swarmed Vlad. Shit he’d have to replan everything. He wouldn’t be able to get in an ecto-blast with out the fret of hitting one of them. He could always try Ice or a little storm cloud?

Just as a new plan was starting to formulate one of them (Maria?) slapped Vlad hard across the face.

Smack.

The noise echoed loudly across the church.

He grimaced.

Oh.

He did not want to get in the middle of whatever that was. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of it at all. Backing back into the bathroom he turned back to normal. Didn’t matter what the situation was, he was not going to get in the middle of a dozen or so angry exes and Vlad. It was his grave (even if Danny had helped him dig it a little) like hell Danny was getting buried with him.

“Vlad Masters!” one of the exes screamed,” you slimy pathetic excuse of a man.”

Yeah Danny was not getting in that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch.

“Ow!” Vlad cried out, his eyes were glowing red, but aside from that he still looked very much the same. 

Weird, Danny didn’t expect him to stay in human form. He guessed it made sense if he changed into Plasmius the gig would be up. There’d be a lot of questions too. Knowing Vlad’s tendency to monologue he might even explain the concept of Halfa’s.

“M-Maria!” the older man stammered out,” darling hello-”

The woman smacked him again,” I’m Maggie,” she spat out.

Danny winced, yikes. Makeup covered Vlad's gaunt face but Danny could imagine the smarting red forming on his cheeks.

“Y-yes of course, how could I mistake your beauty, how foolish of me to compare the two of-”

The clearing of a throat interrupted as Maria herself tapped her foot.

“Maria!” Vlad exclaimed this time correct, even if taken by surprise.

“Yes,” the woman agreed,” but don’t mind me, what were you saying? Something about comparison?”

The billionaire awkwardly laughed as he seemed to take in the fact that he was surrounded by all of his exes. Phantom wasn’t even needed. Villain defeated right then and there by the rage and power of his many exes. Again Danny found himself desperate to find out whatever the older man had done to make everyone hate him so just to do the express opposite.

When he actually fully died he hoped his funeral wasn’t this… whatever plan he actually ended up with he just didn’t want this.

“So,” Jazz said as she settled next to him leaning on the pillar with him,” any idea what got him up?”

“Nah,” Danny shrugged looking over to his sister. She looked more sober now, less unstable on her feet.” He didn’t really decree what his gripe was this time.”

Jazz sighed,” so no winner yet.”

“Unfortunately,” he said,'' He also technically didn’t go ghost mode.”

Jazz groaned resting her head on his shoulder,” I wanted to go home, these heels are killing me!”

He stuck a tongue out at her,” shoulda transed your gender like I did,” he teased quietly.

“Ha! Really funny Danny,” she flatly commented with a roll of her eyes at the tired joke.

“Ah meany,” he pouted.

“You walk in these heels at a funeral,” she complained again,” At least if he went full ghost It’d be socially acceptable to ditch them.”

He bit his tongue remembering a rant that Sam had gone on recently about heels and social pressure. How she’d then thrown one of her platform boots at Tuck when he made a remark. Jazz probably wouldn’t appreciate his lovesick ramblings about them.

“Looks like we'll just have to continue to watch this unfold.” he said instead with a sarcastic twinge.

“Oh what a shame!” Jazz said flatly,” sucks to be us.”

Danny snickered as Vlad continued to try to dig himself out of his hole. How he wished Sam and Tucker were here. Unfortunately for him they were both far too busy. Ah well he’d just have to video it all for them.

How unfortunate for Vlad that he was made to sit through his own will reading, and how fortunate for Danny Fenton that he was the one that got to watch it all go down. In the entire time that he and Vlad had been nemesis he never knew just how much he wanted exactly this to happen. Actually if someone ever suggested this happening younger him probably wouldn’t have appreciated just how funny this was. No fourteen-to-fifteen him was far too invested in things like learning his powers and finding out just how observant the rest of town was. Also looking cool. Adult him however? Freshly 21 and college attending him? Oh he could enjoy the fuck out of this situation.

There was some minor debate among some guests over how ethical it was since Vlad's ‘ghost’ was now here to view the reading. Some point could be made that it might be weird...

“Isn’t it rude?” one family member had suggested.

But...

“It might be in bad taste,” another guest had even pipped up.

No one really liked Vlad anyways

“Oh no!” Morgan said,” I want to know what it says, and who better to see how accurate it all is.”

Oh how glad he was that those few were beaten out. How glad he was that the crowd was seeing blood. That the group was too nosey and invested in the drama to really get caught up in such small things as ethics.  How grateful he was that the exes were in half a mind to Kill Vlad a second time.

Fortunate he was, that his luck was finally turning up. It might even be the universe trying to pay him back for all of the shit he’d been dealing with since he was fourteen. Return investment on the untimely youth death. Honestly if it was it was a pretty bang up start all things considered. He’d have to find out if there was a ghost involved in the control of karma. They might just end up with an edible arrangement on their lair door. Older adults loved that shit so ghosts should too.

“Hm,” the lawyer said when they entered the room with the walking corpse of Vlad masters. The office was small and hardly held everyone, but snugly, far too snugly for comfort they all fit on the other side of the large desk.

No one said anything to the lawyer. Whether the man had been privy to the rest of the funeral or had just arrived Danny didn’t know but he had to admit this entire situation was bizarre even with full context. Not many of them knew ghost rules and the only ones that did were in either stunned or gleeful silence. There was no objection to the fact that Vlad had dragged his body with him, not a voice descenting on the fact that his form hadn’t shifted. Not a single attendee seemed perturbed by the fact that Vlad was not really a ghost.

Even the paid bounty hunters didn’t know how to discern ghosts from humans judging by their stunned expressions. Though he’d love to watch one of them attack Vlad in the middle of a church. Stabbing a man in the house of god might just be a big sin, though Danny wasn’t sure.

“Well this is unprecedented,” the lawyer commented,” never in my time have I ever seen a dead man rise for the reading of his own will.”

Vlad grumbled but no one could make out the words as the two exes on either side of him glared. 

Oh how fortunate Danny was indeed, never before had he ever been so glad for his untimely death. If it all led to watching Vlad squirm like this still trying to keep his alter ego a secret? Pain and strife, the many attacks and attempts on his life were worth it.

“Well if there is no protest,” the lawyer said. For a moment Vlad looked very much like he wanted to protest, but the glares of the exes kept him silent and made him snap his jaw shut. Danny knew what went into keeping a corpse looking fresh. Shame the mortician seemed to have skipped wiring the jaw shut. Then, Vlad didn’t seem to need physical wires to keep him silent and well behaved, his Exes were all doing that job very well.

“In that case,” the lawyer sounded queasy, if Danny wasn’t so invested with the drama unfolding he might have turned to verify. “Then I believe we will begin.”

The man started out by reading the long legal preamble, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of titles and information about Vlad that was included. Danny understood that him being the owner of VladCo was technically important for the will but did he need to include all of his ten titles at the company in the will? It just felt excessive. ‘Ceo, entrepreneur, founder, head of decisions, etc.’ did anyone care? Leaving out the most important title of ‘asshole’ was the biggest mistake of his will.

“Yes I think we get it,” Monroe said, her accent clipping the words in stiff professionalism. Bless her for cutting the pain short. “I do have,” the woman glanced at the cousin who was still holding her hand,” A more important social engagement to attend to with Carmila.”

The lawyer stammered,” yes of course ma’am my apologies.”

“It reads:

‘First, I hereby denounce all previous wills made by myself, Vlad Masters, no matter nature or kind.

Second I Vlad Masters hereby appoint,” the lawyer paused making a face before he continued,” Madeline Fenton love of my life as the executor of my estate, networth, and-” the lawyer paused,” the ownership of my beloved cat ‘Maddie the cat, the third-”

“Huh, I guess you listened to my suggestion after all and got a cat.” Danny muttered as at the same moment his mother reached her breaking point

“You what?” Maddie was standing out of her chair, indignation flaring in her eyes,” Vlad! I don’t want any of this.”

“But but,” Danny tuned the man out as he made the normal declarations of love. Trite at this point his mind was already trying to entertain itself. Fast forwarding this would be nice, if only his core was time based. But no he got Ice, and Weather, and other weird disconnected powers. He was electrocuted to death! Cruel that he didn’t get cool electrocution powers.

They were still arguing when he tuned back in. Loath wasn’t a powerful enough describer for this love diatribe that Vlad spewed every three to five business days. His mom yelled something back, a few of the ex wives even chiming in agreement. Well at least they didn’t hate mom that was a plus.

He shot Jazz a look as he repositioned his phone camera to get a better shot.

‘This again?’ he tried to communicated with his expressions. Tuck usually laughed when he tried and Sam told him he looked to constipated.

She shrugged and nodded as if to say  ‘this again.’

“I am happily married! I told you I won't leave Jack for you!”

Tuning out the conversation didn’t seem to leave out many details. Everything was falling exactly into the same patterns as always.

“Maddie please-” the billionaire tried to beg.

This made the woman snap,” no don’t Maddie please me! You have not respected my decision to marry Jack since it happened, well guess what Vlad it’s too late for you! You were never even an option!” she turned to Jack and put a hand on his shoulder. her voice much softer when she spoke,” come on honey we’re leaving. Kids?” She turned to the two Fenton children. The both of them stood with no protest. Like hell they were going to end up on the wrong side of their mother right now. Mission orientated as she was they had no doubt she could commit Vlad's murder and get away with it. legally she might even considering the fact that he was technically a 'ghost' right now.

Just as she was about to step out the door she turned,” oh and ladies, don’t worry about a legal battle I’ll work with our family lawyer to transfer everything to all of you.”

There were some small thanks from the stunned Exes as the office door latched shut behind them.

 The air in the car was-

Well the word tense didn’t really sum up the air but it was the best approximation that Danny had. It could have gone worse, he supposed he could have genuinely ended up fighting Vlad again. Chances where that if he fought Vlad while he was Plasmius that the formerly rich business mogul would then use the moment to out Danny as Phantom. Not just his family but all of the church. If he had to rate the evening it was definitely not as bad as he expected. About a six or seven, depending on his critical he was being.

“Uh so who won the bet?” he whispered to Jazz. he wasn’t worried about his parents, Maddie was soothingly rubbing circles on Jack’s back as the man drove. That and they were sat in the back, sometimes the front seats struggled to hear them at a normal level forget a whisper.

Jazz furrowed her brows,” I guess neither of us really won, he didn’t even go ghost.”

Nodding, he thought back to the man’s loud entrance,” He also didn’t say what rumour got him up.”

“So do we both lose?”

“I guess?” he looked over to his parents,” so we both tell them?”

Jazz sighed leaning back in her seat, hair dramatically laying behind her,” yeah I guess.”

“You don’t hav-”

Jazz cut him off with a snort,” no it’s fine, my things not really as big all things considered.”

Fair, she had a point with that. Their parents already knew that she was interested in men and women but still revealing partners to them was always weird and nerve wracking. The first time he’d introduced Sam and Tuck as partners and not friends he’d expected a lot more questions. Turns out if you hunt ghosts for a living nothing is really weird after that. They just bought him new sex ed books. Sentiment appreciated but still weird considering he could google that sort of thing now.

“So Danny,” his mom said, her fingers tightened on her phone. They were lucky she got old brick Nokias instead of those new Smart phones. She’d break them in a week. Jack wasn’t paying them much attention as he drove, he seemed to still be shell shocked. Hopefully he didn't crash, okay so maybe he didn't always like car rides. Sometimes the looming threat of a car crash really messed with his obsession.

“Yeah mom?” he asked.

“I was talking to some of the ladies.”

“Uh huh?” wherever she was going with this he didn’t like the tone.

“And imagine my surprise when one of them tells me Vlad has a daughter.”

“Weird right,” he said. Please stop, please stop! He begged, wherever this was going it was nowhere good. It would have been better if he’d just died in that accident. Screw whatever he thought back when he thought his luck was turning up. He was still the most unlucky bastard in all of amity park.

She hummed in agreement,” and imagine my surprise when they said she was your cousin.”

Danny didn’t have a response to that, Jazz was stifling a laugh next to him.

“And then,” she said,” she showed me a picture of her.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, Danny," there was a pause as she seemed to collect her words," why does she look like you pre transition?”

“Does she?” sweating wasn’t really something he did so much anymore, not since his core started cooling his mortal flesh, it was nice sometimes. But it didn’t stop nervous sweating. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hadn’t- Danny,” his mother sighed,” sweetie if you want to start presenting as a girl again you can. We won’t judge you.”

Wait what, “ what?!” 

Shrieking loud bursts of laughter came out of Jazz. 

“Jazz!”

That set him off, it was just so ridiculous.

“Honey I’m serious,” his mom sounded so upset her tone lost. She really was trying.

He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault. It was just so out of the realm of what was happening. Man his parents really didn’t have any of the facts.

“Danny?” his father asked the tenseness in his shoulders from the funeral leaving way to confusion.

Him and Jazz made eye contact and the laughing got so much worse. If being part dead didn’t make him need to breathe so much less he’d be choking. He’d die, it was just- they still didn’t know and somehow that was all the funnier. God he was calling Tuck and Sam right after he explained everything they were going to get such a kick out of this. Especially Tucker.

“That’s not-” wheezes high and stringy, cutting him off, he was struggling even with his ghost lungs.

“Danny my boy,” Jack asked quietly,” what’s funny?”

“We’re trying to support you Danny!” his mother exclaimed.

Finally he quelled the laughter enough to speak,” okay okay,” he whipped a tear from his eye. “I’ll explain it all it just probably isn’t something dad needs to be driving for.”

“Danny what do-”

“Just trust me okay?” he grinned at his mom in what he hoped was reassurance. 

She sighed and looked at her husband, Jack furrowed his brows and the pair silently communicated before the man hit his turning signal.

 The small side road was perfectly out of the way enough that no one would be able to peer in. It was some half abandoned picnic area but none of them reached for their seatbelts to leave the car. It was just the closest spot they could stop.

“Okay,” he started giving Jazz a look, she nodded comfortingly,” Remember how the portal didn’t work at first?”

It took them a moment but they nodded in remembrance. 

“Right well I died.” it was best to just rip the Band-Aid off.

“What?”

“Danny- honey you’re not dead.”

He thought so at least, he sighed pinching his nose,” I need you guys to wait for questions till the end okay?”

“But honey you’re not dead!” she didn’t sound so sure as she looked him over.

“What your mother said my boy! You’re sitting right there!”

Danny groaned,” guys please?” there was a pause as they looked at each other and finally finally agreed to wait till the end. “Sam said I should check it out, see if I could fix it. I put on my suit, and,” he made a buzzing noise with his tongue,” the button shocked me to death when I hit it. It was dark so I didn't see,” he looked to the side. The trees outside were swaying peacefully in the wind. Jazz put a hand on his shoulder, he took a steading breath and clenched the hand with the thin invisible scars. “It was an accident but,” he turned back to them resolution in his eyes,” I died that day, When I woke up, well, brace yourselves okay,” he let the tugging cold of hic core shift and change his appearance.

There was silence. He’d expected something but, no, even Jazz wasn’t saying anything.

He cracked an eye open, his parents were staring at him dumbfounded. Yeah that was about par for the course.

“Well this happened and now, I’m half Ghost,” he admitted,” everyone in the ghost zone knows that’s why there were always so many attacks at the school.”

“Half?” his mom asked despite herself.

Danny nodded,” yeah I still age, and need to eat and breath... mostly on that last one. It’s kind of cool I can go invisible,” he demonstrated before changing back,” and phase through things and float,” he demonstrated both in succession allowing the belt to glide through him as he hovered up an inch. “Shoot Ecto-blasts… probably best if I don’t do that one in the car though,” he laughed.

“Okay,” his mom said. 

“Okay?” he asked.

His father nodded,” sure Son, we love you. It’s weird but, well we hunt ghosts for a living.”

He laughed,” yeah fair enough.”

"I-" his mom looked over at Jack," We're proud of you sweetie, that's a lot to undertake at so young."

he chuckled," it wasn't so bad, I had a lot of help," he grinned at Jazz," Between her Sam and Tuck I don't know if I would have lasted half the battles I did."

"You knew Jazz?" Their father asked his tone soft and slightly hurt.

She smiled softly," yeah, I walked in on him transforming. Thought it was best if I let him tell you guys."

"Part of the apprehension might have been the dissection thing," Danny addmited.

"I- honey-" his mom put a hand over her mouth in shock.

"I'm sorry son," His dad said," it was closed minded of us to assume stuff about ghosts we didn't know."

"Well you weren't always wrong. Just usually."

“So ‘Elle?” his mom prompted before Jack could pepper in questions about what the got right.

He sighed,” yeah her full name is Danielle, technically she’s the only living clone of me Vlad made.”

“Only living Clone?”

“Vlad made?”

Man he had a lot to explain. Years of events just gone unsaid. Some small part of the divide between them was shifting, growing smaller. 

“Is now a good time to tell you guys I have a girlfriend?”

Danny choked on a laugh. Not to long after his parents followed after the tension disrupted, Well at least he had Jazz to help explain. Sam and Tucker too when they weren’t busy. It'd be a mess and weird to finally clear the air between them, but at least he knew they were proud of him.

[pink-bear]

NSFW Alphabet: Kazuichi Soda

Pink lemonade boy~

Stuff under the cut. Character is depicted as 18+

THIS IS 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When he’s giving it, he always makes sure his partner has water, a snack if they request it, and plenty of kisses and praise. When he’s receiving it, he lowkey loves being pampered, it makes him feel appreciated :’)

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

When it comes to himself, he likes his hands. He’s good at using them, and learning to use them on his partner is one of the things he perfects first.

As for his partner, he’s a butt guy for sure. Perfect for grabbing and spanking! He also very much enjoys boobs, but it’s not a requirement!

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a basic amount, and likes doing so inside his partner any chance he gets (whether it’s in their mouth or their downstairs area).

He also lowkey likes the taste of his own cum, and often times lick it off himself after he’s jerked off.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Loves smelling his partner’s undies, especially when they’re away for whatever reason. He’ll sometimes even wear them and masturbate in them, too. Dirty boy...

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s super inexperienced. A number of factors went into him not losing his virginity as a teen (his social awkwardness, his anxiety, the fact he wasn’t very popular, ect.). Pretty much all the stuff he knows is from porn, and actually executing that is awkward to say the least-

BUT HOPE IS NOT LOST! Like anything in this world, the more you practice, the better you get! Once he finds an understanding and patient partner, he’ll learn the ins and outs of being a good lover, and he’ll get the hang of it in no time!

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. Gives him access to his partner’s butt, and he loves leaning over and leaving bite marks with them sharp chompers of his. He also likes how deep he/his partner can get, and how he/his partner can reach around and pleasure whoever bottoms as well!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Some silliness can really help settle his nerves, especially his first few times. For sure he likes it when things are passionate, but having a little bit of goofy sprinkled in, especially afterwards, can really make the whole experience that much better. If he can both satisfy and make his partner giggle, then he’s on cloud nine!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His manscaping could be...better, but it’s nothing unbearable. Often times he just forgets to do it (this guy forgets to shower a lot too, pls be patient with him). If he has a date coming up, or his partner asks him to, he’ll trim things up a bit, but he never likes being completely bare.

And no, the carpet doesn’t match the drapes. Its black like his natural hair colour! Though he has thought about dying it too...

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

His attempts at being romantic can sometimes be a bit corny, but the passion is totally there. He’s not the best with words, but he’ll go on and on (and on and on) about how special his partner is when he’s truly found the one.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This poor guy jacks off A LOT. Being as sexually frustrated as he is, it’s not uncommon for him to crank one out daily. Once he finds a regular sexual partner it goes down, but sometimes he just can’t wait!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sexy car washes. Skimpy clothing, getting all wet and bodies being pressed against the hood of a nice car? Oh man, he’ll cream his pants in seconds.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He loves doing it in his workshop, and probably has an old couch there for that very reason (though he’ll say it’s for relaxing/napping to anyone who asks).

Apart from that, you can’t go wrong with the bedroom! Especially if the bed is real comfortable~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing his partner absolutely desperate for some fuck. Talk dirty to him, whisper in his ear, tease him, and he’s READY TO GO!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything unsanitary (pee, poop, ect.), of course. He also doesn’t really like being tied up, since it causes his anxiety to spike when he isn’t able to move his hands.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving oral, especially after a hard day’s work. He’ll happily return the favour, but it may take him a bit of practice to get good at it. Good thing he’s an eager learner! Just be careful with those teeth-

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on how he’s feeling. Sometimes when he’s real horny, he gets down to the nitty gritty. However, when he’s feeling a bit vulnerable, or he had a nice, peaceful day with his partner, he will for sure show his appreciation by being sensual and sweet.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

This man lives for quickies. A good stress reliever, and a good way to spend a break from work!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He love the idea of getting caught, but not so much actually running the risk of it. He prefers to do things in “private public places”. As in places that would normally be populated, but at certain times of the day are vacant with no actual risk. For example: His workshop after closing.

Actually getting caught makes him want to cry :’)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is kinda low, ngl. He can last a few minutes, maybe around ten at the most. He makes up for it however by the amount of rounds he can go, especially spaced throughout the day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Soda loves toys! Vibrators are his favourite, especially using them on his partners. He also has a few sizes of dildos and butt plugs, fleshlights and some nipple clamps too!

He’s thought about making his own toys, but maybe that isn’t the best idea...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Soda likes to tease, with that shit eating grin we all love so much. When it comes to his partners teasing him, however, he’s a total baby lol

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This boy is LOUD. Oh my lord, lots of moaning, groaning, whimpering and begging. And when he bottoms...honey, you got another storm comin’

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Soda wears a tank top and boxers under his jumpsuit. It gets pretty hot in that thing, so he doesn’t want too many layers.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His dick is uncut and pretty average in both length and width. He’s rather self conscious of it, seeing how the media portrays big dicks as the most desirable. Sometimes he even thinks of getting a piercing to “add a little something extra to it”, but is too chicken to actually go through with it. Eventually he learns it’s not the size of the boat that matters, but the motion of the ocean 🌊

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Soda’s unbelievably thirsty, it’s on his mind a lot, to a point it’ll sometimes get in the way of work. So once he gets a sexual partner, the first few months he’s gonna be pretty damn desperate for some fucc. He settles down eventually, but he can still get in the mood pretty easily, and will very rarely turn down an offer.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once the sexy times are over, he’s out like a light. With the combination of his job, his anxiety and the strenuous task of love making, it really tires the poor guy out.

🌸🌸🌸

And there you have it! My first post on here WHOO!

Hope you enjoyed! And if you don’t agree with any of these, that’s fine! These are just my personal headcanons!

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[hypnomicimagines]

Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.  

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

[itsclydebitches]

Just to hopefully add two cents, the story wants me to view Ruby as an entire force (one whole side trying to do what's right) in this battle. But the logic of scale means I just don't. So instead it seems like Ruby's delusional that she can evacuate/fight Salem with a tiny team, and then she just blatantly gives up. The show had to explain why Ruby thought her tiny force could help. It never bothered to try so she just comes off as borderline insane. And incredibly egotistical and selfish.

This is precisely why I stand by my claim that the show needed to establish Ruby's eyes as a formidable weapon for the war, not for daily skirmishes. By making silver eyes over-powered for average grimm fights, it both destroyed the tension of those battles (Ruby says "enough" and nearly finishes the Hound, no strategy needed like we used to see back when they faced the Nevermore or Roman's mech) and created a plot hole every time she didn't whip them out to instantly win (Ruby has seen twice now that Cinder crumbles when faced with silver eyes, but she doesn't try to use them during Volume 8's finale. Nor do they go off when Yang falls, also contradicting the "Silver eyes respond to emotions" setup that has existed since Volume 3). Yet at the same time, the show has failed to established her eyes as the heroes' victory ticket, despite the characters knowing that Salem actively hunts SEWs. Why haven't we had conversations about why that is and how they can turn that to their advantage? Instead we get Ruby telling the world that Salem is beatable because... she would have destroyed the world by now if she wasn't? That's just another plot hole, the writers failing to explain why the action only started when our heroes came on the scene. And we get the introduction of Summer as a potential grimm experiment, rather than tackling Ruby's status as a grimm-defeating weapon, coupled with ignoring the Hound's own silver eyes. The reading randomly became, "Omg. Silver eyes let Salem turn people into grimm, including Summer. That's horrible!" rather than "Omg. Salem hunted Maria, is hunting Ruby, and turned this silver eyed faunus into a weapon of her own... it's almost like she's terrified of this power being used against her. Could that be a weakness? We did see her fall into that grimm pool and become part grimm herself..."

Firmly establish Ruby's eyes as a war gamechanger and you suddenly have a solid argument for a one girl army. SO MUCH gets better in Volume 7 and 8 if that's on the table. Ruby now has a reason for believing she can stand up to Salem and her forces, at least for long enough to evacuate Mantle. Ironwood would have really come across as sacrificing them needlessly because Ruby would have proposed this plan — a decent plan too, depending on how much control she has over her eyes/how often she can use them. Something else we haven't established — and Ironwood still chose to run, despite being presented that option. Her declaration to Salem about beating her isn't a bout of random confidence right before she collapses sobbing, it's a backed-up belief based on all the history she's learned since Volume 4. Ruby's message to the world could have had actual hope attached to it and a personal promise to use this power for the good of everyone, establishing her as their hero. Because what we currently have is a teenager asserting that a world leader can't be trusted, but providing no reason why the world should trust her instead. Now imagine if Ruby and her group actually joined the fight when Salem attacked, both because they're skilled huntresses and because Ruby has a grimm-only bomb planted in her head. Just forget the cane bomb entirely. That came out of nowhere and contradicts the previous authorial comments/hopes of the fandom that it would be time manipulation, not a "kinetic energy" that acts exactly like Ruby's eyes do. Why introduce a new mechanic that functions precisely like one we already have, wielded by the main character no less? Just forget all that and let YJR actually assist in Oscar's escape, rather than arriving when he's already on his way out. Let Ruby destroy the whale, taking out the majority of Salem's forces in the process and saving her friends. Silver eyes should have been the K.O. skill to pull out when their backs are up against the wall — like when an endless army of grimm is at a Kingdom's front door and they only have a handful of people to hold it off — not a party trick used to briefly freeze the mini bosses, eliminating the need for our characters to fight in creative, strategic ways. It all feels backwards to me.

When I wrote my hypothetical Volume 8 scenario, based on if Ironwood had stepped down/died early, a couple of people pointed out that RWB likely would have made different choices too. If Ironwood didn't or couldn't send out his army, they might have felt like they had to step up, rather than waiting in the mansion. Problem is... what could they have done? It's important for the group to help to showcase their heroism and so they could save specific individuals from specific grimm, but if it was only them vs. the grimm army (what Ruby originally proposed once she started the Ace Ops fight. She has declared that her team will tackle this challenge without Ironwood's help), they automatically lose. As you say, anon, the scale is too extreme. Three huntresses — four if we imagine May is persuaded to join them — cannot hold off a force that needed this many soldiers.

Volume 8 presents Ironwood's army as 100% necessary to keep everyone in Atlas from dying and that's because the story failed to establish Ruby as a one girl army of her own. As it stands, the situation is really just presented a handful of relatively normal huntresses against endless grimm and an immortal witch; a fight that they are bound to lose. It does make Ruby come across as selfish and naïve, choosing a "We'll figure things out later because I can't make hard calls" stance and then hiding away in a mansion when she couldn't figure things out. But capitalize on her silver eyes? Problem solved! With those as a consistent, reliable skill Ruby has proven could turn the tide of even a threat this large, the characters and audience both can buy into the belief that this tiny group can take on this overwhelming force and win.

Ruby insisting they face down Salem simply because she believes doing anything else is wrong does not inspire confidence.

Ruby insisting they face down Salem because she wields the one weapon that can destroy her entire army in an instant and, potentially, take her out for a time too... that inspires a lot of confidence.

[amyisherenowitsokay]

You know what just to SPICE it up a bit imma say zadr too bitch

This bitch tryna give me arthritis smdh. Making me out myself for my dual-ship on main, can't even believe a bitch.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

School. We must never forget the infamous handcuffs scene.

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Pure, unrivaled loathing.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Gaz said "kiss already" and throws things at them when they're getting too far away from "I want you dead" territory and well into "you want to fuck me so bad and it makes you look stupid" territory. Professor Membrane thinks they're adorable.

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Dib. Hormones get the best of us all. You can only be obsessed with someone so long before motivations get blurry.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Zim would nearly break his PAK and commit accidental die trying to delete the emotions or install an emotional inhibitor. Dib would have a full mental breakdown trying to sort through it, which would manifest poorly in his behavior and negatively impact his ability to engage in their usual altercations. Pro tip: if you are painfully attracted to someone, being in a position where they pin you to the asphalt or lean over your desk to hiss insults at you is a bad idea.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

I stand by what I said on my ZAGR post in that Zim doesn't know what a soulmate is, or the concept of a soul, but given this is in regards to his arch-nemesis instead of a creature he's mostly indifferent too, he'd be pissed at the insinuation he was in any way bound to Dib. Dib's fragile psyche would not survive the revelation.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Really empty. Their rivalry and parallel situations regarding neglectful authority figures is what keeps them going for so many years.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

As someone who thinks Zim doesn't understand even the concept of not being a possessive jackass, I think Zim just sort of concludes after awhile that, regardless of Dib's feelings, or even Zim's own feelings, whatever they have makes them wholly and entirely each other's. Just completely and hilariously misunderstanding the concept of a relationship, but still being incredibly presumptive in assuming they already have one. He also doesn't let Dib know of this revelation either, so eventually Dib explodes about his crush, and Zim's like "we are already together???? moron???" Dib could argue, and he kind of wants to, but he also never expected Zim to reciprocate, so he just sort of nods and is like "you know what, sure" and that's the end of it. They do not have an anniversary, but Dib's not really like that, and Zim doesn't know anniversaries are a thing anyways.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Again, stealing from my own ZAGR post, but I don't think Zim's really a 'date' person who would plan out that sort of thing. Dib is an awkward moron with arguably worse social skills than even Zim, and mentally comes to the conclusion that dragging Zim on investigations is basically like a date, and Zim doesn't bitch about it anymore than expected, therefore he is a master of romance, so it's fine.

3. What was their first kiss like?

Awkward, and quick. Dib is not a great communicator, nor is he great at explaining things like human demonstrations of affection, especially not when Zim's scowling impatiently at him through is fumbling and stuttering. He just goes for it, and it's quick and he misses his mouth almost. Zim is extremely surprised, especially when Dib makes terrible excuses about needing to be elsewhere and flees. Zim does his own research, and their second kiss is predated by a lecture about being better than Dib at everything/Dib being bad at everything. It is much more successful, even if afterwards Dib instigates a fight about Zim's tongue being weird.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First everything, except kiss. Gretchen kissed Dib in high school as a dare. Zim will never forgive her for it.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

I'd die to make them the same height, but I think the image of Zim being average height while Dib is a gangly big boi is just too funny. Zim would be pissed, and Dib would be so smug but so uncoordinated.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Gaz interacts with them as minimally as possible, because they are loud and gross and annoying, but she's okay with Zim overall. They have a mutual understanding that Dib is stupid, completely reckless, and requires constant supervision to keep him from getting eaten by a ghoul or something. Gaz does genuinely trust him to skewer anything that tries to kill her brother, but she also knows that Dib isn't the only one with 0 sense of self-preservation. Dib was initially wary of Professor Membrane's reaction, because his dad is sort of unpredictable when it comes to his only son, but the Professor's only commentary is that he is glad his son finally made it official with his 'little green friend.' Dib then realizes that the implication in that perpetual comment about Zim had air quotes around that "friend" part all along.

Dib thinks Gir's gross and loud and doesn't get him, but he likes to team up with him and/or use him as a means to annoy Zim. The Base hates him, because now there's two morons with no sense of self-preservation that it needs to keep track of. Minimoose and Dib are bros.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Zim, if only because he is arguably more 'charming' than Dib's fumbling attempts at communication with non-paranormal parties.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Zim. Dib I think would have his 'HTTYD Hiccup moment' as he gets older, but still has that ingrained low self-esteem from years of ridicule and abuse. He is completely oblivious to the new attention he gets. Zim, however, is not. Dib never really notices the cause of his weird snarling and clinginess, but he shrugs it off as Zim just being weird and continues with whatever he was doing.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Zim is a slut, I will die on this hill.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Dib. He says it casually, in the dark, when they're on a stake-out to find some wood goblin or something. He says it like he's talking about something plane and unremarkable.

I think a ZADR relationship would need Zim to be a lot more independent in terms of researching how romantic relationships 'work,' since Dib's not a great communicator, and there's an ingrained rivalry that will never dissolve between them, no matter how many times they kiss, so Zim would be a lot more motivated to figure things out on his own. He would, in this circumstance, know the weight of Dib's way-too-casual admittance, and it would be a huge shock to him. He'd be pretty shaken about it for awhile, and Dib's not bothered when he doesn't reply. Dib would be pretty sure Zim would never admit it, but he does, eventually, because he refuses to be a coward about it.

2. What are their primary love languages?

Verbal affirmations. With their self-esteems firmly in the toilet in Zim's kitchen, being able to have someone validate them who they respect would mean a lot to them.

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Dib. He uses it to start fights with Zim about linguistics and metaphors. Also, he's 99.9% positive Zim secretly is flattered by it, but hates that he is.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Zim is very clingy, but Dib's too on the move to really pin down for a good cuddle frequently. He's twitchy and his minds always racing, but every once in a while when Zim's completely fed up, or Dib's running on fumes but still forcing himself on, Zim will all but pin him to a cushioned surface and force him to sleep. Neither of them are PDA people.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Zim. Dib's really shy about it, and also normally too distracted to pay Zim the attention he so obviously deserves, and often misses Zim's 'signals.'

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

PAK not comfy against sternum. It's also easier to force Dib to sleep if he's the big spoon, because he can pin his limbs.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Paranormal investigations, and morally ambiguous and/or largely dangerous experiments.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Dib, which is hilarious, because he's about as smooth as a cheese grater, but he is very attuned to the person he's been obsessed with for years, and he can also relate to a lot of his issues. While Zim usually shrugs off the sentimentality and the empathy, dismissing it as 'pity,' the affirmation means a lot to him.

9. Who’s more protective?

Zim. He has to anticipate his lover's stupidity to make sure he stays alive to hunt ghosts another day.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Verbal. Hormones are real, but there's something that eases the sting of years of abusive in a crooning praise or a sincere compliment.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

https://open.spotify.com/track/3IvUhEVbbA81QnEVhsFHiH?si=b3c5787c9ff14105

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

It is primarily age-old insults that lack the bite and sincerity they once had.

13. Who remembers the little things?

Dib. Zim isn't inattentive by any means, cataloguing all of Dib's weird habits and nuances and what not, but for all the compensating Zim does to keep Dib safe and healthy, Dib reciprocates in meaningful gestures. He remembers to pack Zim-friendly snacks on their road trips and ways to keep Gir entertained, if they have to bring him. He always checks the weather and has an extra coat, just in case. Never makes Zim feel bad about needing to check, just one more time, to see if he got any incoming messages from home.

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Dib.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

It's just Gaz, Minimoose, and Gir. Membrane is too far away to attend, but that was deliberate. Dib didn't want his tendency to make things about 'the Membrane line' effect the intimacy and importance of the ceremony. Also, Zim insists on incorporating some Irken rituals into it, so it'd be hard to make excuses and explanations to why Zim wants Dib to fuck with his weird pink backpack during their wedding.

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

No kiddos. Neither of them would be interested, even if it was biologically possible.

4. Do they have any pets?

Seriously, Gir counts, right?

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

Dib. Zim refuses to parent Gir when Dib is more inclined to do it, since he's more irritated by it.

6. Who worries the most?

Dib has perpetual anxiety. So does Zim, but he masks it better.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Dib, to prevent the gooey grossness that is Gir's bug-breath.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

Just with Gaz.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Zim will strap Dib to a bed himself to get him to go the fuck to sleep, because it's been over 48 hours you insufferable human, and--!

10. Who’s the better cook?

Dib's idea of cooking is a microwave, salt, and pepper. Zim is forced to learn the wonders of human food to keep his idiot from dying of malnutrition.

11. Who likes to dance?

Gir.

[mallowstep]

What are your opinions on forbidden relationships in Warriors? I've seen people label it as a "trope" because of how common this is. Some find the forbidden romance aspect intriguing, though others find it extremely repetitive and old

I'd like to know your thoughts!

hm. well, it is a trope. i mean, there's an average of one major one a series, right? greysilver, leafcrow (and others, but that's the big one), heatherlion (and implied others), tigerdove, idk i don't remember anything from avos but violetshine luv her but there's probably something, bristleroot. dotc doesn't count bc well it's dotc.

anyway.

definitely a trope.

but that's not a bad thing.

what i think people don't give warriors enough credit for is that these are not all the same forbidden romance. most of them are handled in different ways and bring up different conflicts. i understand why people are tired of them, but let's not discredit one of the only good things in warriors romance: that they make forbidden relationships different.

like, with grey and silver, it's about loyalty and responsibility. leafcrow is just bad idea central, both heatherlion and tigerdove are about responsibilities and young cats, and they have two different answers, and bristleroot is challenging the whole idea from the start.

so like. give credit where credit is due: we're not doing the same (forbidden) relationships again and again. i don't see enough people talk about that.

okay so it turns out i have um. a lot of thoughts about this. idk i just kept writing and now it's over 2k words. so you know. under the cut: matthew does half-baked media analysis to talk about why the code and cats' relationships to it are misunderstood. while actually staying on topic.

anyway from here on i'm just going to say relationship/romance, and understand that i'm generally talking about the forbidden kind. also i'm talking exclusively within the realm of warriors romance, which is, on average, bad. so when i say "X is good," i don't mean "X is good in general," i mean "given what we have, X is good." just to be clear.

right! basically, this is a tool. it creates tension and drama, and that's fine. warriors is a soap opera, remember. soap operas use secrets and relationships and all sorts of plot devices over and over again. warriors is not Serious. it can be dark. it has serious moments. but it is not a Serious Book Series for Serious Kids. it is a soap opera for Future Theatre Kids. yeah?

from that perspective, i'm a-ok with forbidden romance. (also, as a mini-aside, it creates some much-needed genetic diversity when kits are involved.) and again: all of the major relationships are different, so i think that's better than a lot of people give it credit for.

yeah, heatherlion and greysilver and tigerdove are all about the same general idea (loyalty and responsibility), but they all have different circumstances and different resolutions.

so like? yeah. sure. why not?

plus, like, who's reading warriors for the romance? i separate the concept of "romance" from a "relationship" here: i like the relationships in warriors (ivy and dove tension my beloved), but i'm not here to read about tigerheart wooing dovewing. (yes, i do love the tigerdove scenes in oots. no, that's not because i think they're very good at being romantic.)

but i digress.

if warriors was a Serious Book Series for Serious Kids, i'd have a different take here. having been in an IRL forbidden relationship, i have the Personal Insight and Experience to say they're this weird mash of "very much how it feels" and "not at all how it feels."

tigerdove is probably my favourite bc it's the closest to my circumstances, and i think dovewing is a good pov. i like how she breaks up with him because it's a bad idea, but that's not the same thing as not feeling for him.

(heh. twelve-year-old me reading oots like "this will never apply to my life" what did you know)

but to the point, if warriors was serious, i'd point out that the consequences always seem to be internal. we haven't seen characters be punished for their actions. and so on.

but warriors is a soap opera.

and here's my actual thesis: we haven't seen characters be punished for their actions, because "forbidden relationships" are a normal and expected part of clan society.

like no, fandom-at-large, you're kind of missing the point. okay, you know how like. people complain about. idk. ivypool and fernsong being distantly related?

(third aside/very long ivyfern rant, i put a nice big "rant over" after it if you want to skip past it: they're third cousins. they share, max, 2.2% of their genetics. they are fine. do you know your third cousins? do you? yeah. and like. they live in a closed society. there is no one new.

i've never seen someone complain about forbidden romance and ivyfern at the same time, and i do generally agree we should have more mystery fathers, altho for a different reason, but like. idk. this bothers me.

their last shared relative was nutmeg. that's so far back. god. i get it, there was a prophecy saying they're related, but if you remember my rant about how dovewing shouldn't be a part of the prophecy because of how distantly related to firestar is, you know how i feel about that already.

complaining they're related and that's a problem is. deep breath here. it requires demonstrating that warriors has kept track of kinship all the way back to firestar's mother. and even if you wave that requirement, you still have to convince me they would care about that. this isn't a "they're cats, harold" situation, this is a "you would not know your third cousin even if you lived in the same town" situation.

i mean maybe you would. some people do. but my hometown has generations of people who married within its borders. you get as far as "cousin," maybe "second cousin" if you're feeling fancy. i'm not trying to make an always true statement, i just. every time i see someone complain about ivyfern being related, it strikes me as not understanding how extended families work?

i know third cousins isn't technically classified as a distant relative, but you have, on average, 190 third cousins. i feel so strongly about this i looked it up.

like i'm not. okay if you say, "I don't ship ivyfern because they are third cousins and that makes me uncomfortable" you are Valid. in general, you are all valid. i do not think you have to, on a personal level, be okay with ivyfern. you are free to do as you wish.

but. if you want to argue "ivyfern is a Bad Ship because they are third cousins" you have a hell of a burden of proof. simply saying "they share a great-great-grandmother" does not meet that, because like. yeah. we're all pretty damn related.)

(ivyfern rant over)

IVYFERN RANT OVER

right so. anyway. if you remove forbidden romance? you're forcing a lot more of those situations.

i've been messing around with modelling some small-scale fan clan-adjacent stuff to double-check the ratios for wbcd, and it's. it quickly becomes a necessity, is what i'm saying.

but i got distracted like. researching how related third cousins are. my point is not about that, that's like. a different topic. that i crammed into here because i have no self-control.

no, no, what i was trying to get to is: oakheart straight up tells us that cats have half-clan kits all the time, it's not a problem, no one talks about it. and that? that is exactly what we see modelled by warriors.

the only reason greystripe and silverstream have a problem is that silverstream dies and greystripe claims the kits. i feel very strongly that if she had lived, the kits would have been born and raised riverclan kits, that might, maybe, one day, guess who their father is.

we haven't had any half clan kits in a while, which yes! i think is a problem, but like. the fact that the three are medicine cat kits seems to be a bigger issue. which feels right.

and i'm not trying to argue what i think should be, i legitimately believe the text of warriors defends this, even in newer books which throw out a lot of the older world building in favour of more human-like conflict.

as readers, we are naturally following protagonists. we are following the interesting story. but imagine you're just a background riverclan cat. minnowtail, if you will. do you think, do you honestly think, anyone cares about minnowtail?

not in a bad way, just. if she's meeting up with mousewhisker at night, do you think anyone cares? of course not! no one cares. she's not a Protagonist. her kits aren't going to be prophesized about.

heck, finleap switches clans! and it's barely a big deal. it feels like one, but when's the last time anyone bothered dealing with it? that's what i thought.

(also i forgot like all of avos so that very last point might be a bad one if it is my argument stands i just literally do not remember anything in avos but violetshine. none. zero.)

but it's easy to get caught up with characters like hollyleaf and bristlefrost and forget that like. not everyone cares about the code. most of our protagonists do, because it's become mostly equivalent with being moral. and i have an essay draft titled "the code as religion vs the code as law" where i want to expand on this more, but i think like. that idea, that we as readers should use the code as a way of evaluating cats' behaviour, is flawed.

like, i'm not talking about being inconsistent with how that is applied. if you want to say, "the trial leafpool goes through for having half-clan kits is legitimate because of the code," i still think your approach is flawed.

because the cats themselves don't seem to think that way.

the code doesn't, to me, feel like the ten commandments. it does not feel like "you must do this to be a good cat."

rather, it feels like aesop's parables. "here are mistakes cats made and what we do instead of that."

i don't think the cats know the code the way we do. i do not think they memorize a list of rules as kits. i think they know what is and is not part of it, but i imagine they know the stories far more than the rules.

(i'm working on my lore stories to replace code of the clans.)

and even if that's my thoughts, i do think this is supported by the text. no one ever teaches the warrior code, cats just learn it in pieces. "don't waste food because we don't have enough to spare" is taught, not "there's a rule about food and starclan on the code."

that's why the whole arc of the broken code even works: the reason the imposter is able to manipulate things is because cats don't treat the code as a rigid set of rules and commandments, but guiding principles.

the parts of the code that we tend to focus on the most are relationships, apprentices, and battle. or that's my perception. i didn't do a poll to obtain that. there's also the leader's word, but readers don't usually think of that as a good rule, so i'm not including it.

but the parts the cats focus on most are food, territory, and the leader's word. which makes sense: those are basic needs: food, security, and...i don't want to say authority so much as some kind of social system. explaining it would be a whole thing. just trust with me, if you don't mind.

i don't think we have any real reason to believe cats care about half-clan relationships half as much as we do. yes, apprentices are chastized about it, but that's not really the same thing as being punished.

and it's hard to tell, because apprentices being punished has really fallen off, and that's kind of the problem with any argument i try to make about warriors, but.

wow.

i'm actually still on topic? i'm 2k words in and i'm still on topic? a day i never thought would come.

let's wrap this up. cats seem to care about half clan relationships in that: a) they lead to conflicted loyalties, b) they mess with borders and prey, and c) they are in the code as bad. in that order.

and again, if the code was some high and holy religious doctrine, we couldn't have the broken code as an arc. it does not work if the cats are already following it to a t, and know it word for word, because it's signfiicantly harder to manipulate people if they do.

not to the level the imposter does, at the speed he does.

and yes, you could argue that it's more bad writing, but. i think that discredits warriors. yeah, it sure has its fair share of bad writing, but i don't think that's in the way the imposter works. instead, he seizes on a big important doctrine that's nebulous, and uses that to control people.

and that? that feels much more interesting.

so with that in mind, i don't think the cats would care about your typical, non-protagonist forbidden relationship, and i don't think we should, either.

as far as a plot device, i think we're okay with what we have. don't get me wrong, i understand why people are tired of it, but i think we also should remember that warriors is not repeating itself. having multiple forbidden relationships is not repetitive. now, if medicine cats were having half-clan kits every series, i'd make a different argument.

but all of the major forbidden relationships have different outcomes, lessons, and circumstances, and for me, i think that's signficantly interesting.

i didn't really check sources and quotes for this, so like, if you spotted something wrong, feel free to correct me. my overall point stands, but there's a lot of warriors and i have a bad memory, so i could have missed somthing major.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Hi! I saw that you might be interested in writing fics about Sigyn x Loki and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do this because it is a little angsty and doesn’t really fit your description of what she was doing during Thor but could you maybe write something where Sigyn dies somehow a little before the events of Thor happened and Sigyn’d death was what lead Loki to do New York. And maybe he was pardoned and joined the avengers and they notice that Loki wears a ring and they start getting really curious. Maybe they ask him or Thor about the ring and find out about Sigyn. I know it doesn’t really fit what your version of Sigyn was doing during Thor but I would really like to see how you write this.

A/N: You’re right, this isn’t how I picture Sigyn in the MCU. I want her to be a more active character and really don’t like fridging my ladies if I can help it. That all being said, it’s a fun thought experiment.  Consider this just an AU where Sigyn dies.

Also, this kinda turned into a thing, so enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3K

The transition was gradual, to say the least. Nobody really trusted Loki, apart form Thor. But then again, Thor would trust a rabid dog not to bite him if it asked nicely enough.

He had vouched for his brother’s changed ways and Loki himself hadn’t done anything directly to contradict Thor’s word. Plus, it was hard for them to deny how he had come to the rescue on their behalf and the world at large.

Still, there was an unspoken understanding to stay out of each other’s way. Only occasionally did Loki interact with the rest of the team outside of missions and even then it was mildly antagonistic, like a little kid looking for attention from their siblings.

Eventually, it just got comfortable, for lack of a better word.  They’re weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies either and that seemed to be enough.

So perhaps it wasn’t a surprise it took them almost six months to notice the ring.

Natasha was the first to catch it.

She stood on the edge of the mat, watching Loki spar with his brother. 

It was just a casual observation.  She spent most of the match counting how many times one of them missed a weak spot of the other. Finally, Loki took the advantage and managed to disarm his brother, but not before something fell out of his shirt; a silver chain with a solitary gold ring dangling from the end of it.

Natasha frowned, her eyes focusing on the tiny object. It was just a simple band, no jewels or markings from what she could see. The only thing which struck her as odd was the size.  It was much too small for the likes of Loki.

Her eyes darted to the man in question, who stared back at her with a guarded expression.

Without a word he helped his brother to his feet, and tucked the necklace away.

He wasn’t telling and she wasn’t asking.

The next was Steve.

He couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t so unusual.  Even before he went into the ice he wasn’t much of a sleeper.  The scientist who worked on him said it had something to do with the serum. He just didn’t require as much sleep as the average person.

On nights like these he found himself wandering, allowing his thoughts to shuffle lightly in and out as he feet carried him where they liked. It therefor came as a surprise when he noticed one of the lights in the kitchen turned on and a single figure sitting at the island.

Steve stayed in the shadows, watching with suspicion and curiosity.

Loki did not seem to know he was there.  A long forgotten mug of something sat on the surface beside him.  His eyes were only for the ring between his fingers.

Steve stiffened waiting for something, anything to happen.  Knowing Loki it was a magic ring of some kind.  Perhaps he was working out a kind of spell or curse.  But, the longer Steve waited, the more he realized nothing was going to happen.

His eyes then turned away from the ring at to the man holding them.  His heart twisted.

Sorrow permeated Loki’s features, and the resignation that it was all there would ever be.

Steve knew that look.  He had worn it often enough on sleepless nights.

“Do you require something, Captain?” Loki said, turning his head up to meet his gaze.

Steve immediately stiffened, automatically preparing himself for a fight.

“No, just getting some air. What are you doing up?”

“The same as you,” he said, smoothly.  “Just getting some air.”

It was obvious neither bought what the other was selling, but it was also obvious neither were in a position to ask any further questions.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He turned to leave, but found himself pausing before he could stop himself.  The familiar ache was back in his gut.  It was what had woken him up and it was back with a vengeance, recognizing it’s own pain in another.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before he could stop himself.

Loki’s gaze darkened, but still his grip on the ring remained ever gentle.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I think you do.  And I’m sorry.”

The other man remained silence, but gave a small nod.

Steve took it as his leave to go and walked away.  It wasn’t his place to ask and so he wouldn’t.

It was Clint who finally got it out of him.

He never trusted Loki, for obvious reasons.  The rest of the team might have been able to buy the changed man act, but none of them had had their mind permanently screwed with like his had. He played nice while on missions, but was soon as they were off the Quinjet, he kept as far away from Loki as possible.

So, when Natasha told him about the ring, he was more than a little suspicious.

There had to be something about the ring.  It had to be a talisman Loki could use to trick them.  Maybe it turned him invisible or he used in for illusions or whatever magic crap he called it.

Clint started to keep his eye out.

Once he was looking for it, it was obvious Loki took it wherever they went.  It was always tucked away, buried under clothes and armor.  Even when they were back at the compound, Loki never let it leave his body.

Once in a while, he’d catch Loki running the metal between his fingers in thought, followed almost always by some sort of interjection about whatever mission was at hand and how to improve it.

He had to begrudgingly agree that most of Loki's suggestions were decent ones.  Maybe the ring gave him a type of insight; seeing into the future perhaps? 

Either way, his suspicion was growing stronger everyday.  There had to be someway to figure out what it was. 

It took about a month for him to get his chance.

Loki always kept the ring on while he was around other people; however, he wasn’t so careful while he was alone. Through some carefully place cameras, Clint discovered he did slip it off before going to sleep and whenever he went into the shower. 

Sneaking in when he was sleeping was out.  Clint observed easily enough the man was a light sleeper.  Even with all his training, he doubt he could come up with a decent excuse if he got caught, which only left one other option.

He waited until the end of a particularly grueling mission.  Everybody was exhausted and a hot shower seemed like heaven, just the opportunity he needed. 

Clint followed Loki to his room.  He didn’t enter until he heard the water running.  After that, it was easy enough.  In a flash he was in and out, holding the cool metal between his fingers and booking it to the lab.

A part of him felt childish. It was more like stealing a few bucks out of his brother’s wallet, rather than a high stake’s espionage to reveal a traitor.  Desperate times, he guessed. 

Just his luck, Tony and Bruce were already tinkering away when he burst in.

“How quickly can you guys analyze this,” he said through panting breath.

The two scientist looked up in confusion.

“Somebody sell you a knock off ring?” Tony said, dryly.

Clint shook his head, not having time for jokes.  “It’s Loki’s.”

That got their attention.

“What does it do?”

“How’d you get it?”

“I don’t know and it doesn’t matter.  We have maybe ten minutes before he realizes it’s gone.”

Bruce shot Tony a skeptical look, but Tony ignored it.

“Let’s see it.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Clint handed it over.

“I’ll get a sample and see what it’s made out of. If there’s anything not of Earth we’ll find it.  Bruce?”

Banner gave a reluctant sigh.  “I can check for energy readings.  If it’s anything like Thor’s hammer, something might turn up.  But, I honestly not sure what I’m looking for. You never said was Loki was using it for.”

Clint shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I just know he won’t go anywhere without it and he keeps it out of sight as best he can.  Nat only spotted it on accident and apparently he gave her this really weird look.”

“Weird how?”

“Just weird, like she saw something she shouldn’t.”

“Good enough for me,” Tony said, already placing the ring under a microscope. “Ten minutes you said?”

“Eight now.”

“Let’s get to work.”

Two minutes in Tony discovered the ring was mostly gold.  There were trace amounts copper and nickle, but only enough to keep the metal from being malleable.  Really, it wasn’t anything one wouldn’t find at a local jewelry store. 

Bruce meanwhile, found nothing.  No radiation, no magnetic field, no anything to indicate it wasn’t just a completely normal ring.

Clint ran his hand through his hair in agitation; they had three minutes at most.

“There has to be something!”

“I’m telling you there isn’t,” Bruce insisted.

“It can’t be, why else would he have it?”

“Sentimental reasons? Maybe it’s his mother’s.”

Clint scoffed, but a nagging sense of doubt crept into his gut. “No.  You missed something.  Tony?”

“Not much, just that it’s stronger than it should be.”

Clint perked up at this. “How do you mean?”

“I mean there isn’t a scratch on it. If it has the amount of gold the computer says it does it should have some kind of wear on it, but nothing.  It’s perfectly preserved.”

Clint turned to Bruce.  “See, that’s weird right?”

Bruce rubbed his hand behind his neck.  “It is a little weird, but let’s not forget Loki isn’t exactly a local.”

“You’re defending him?” Tony accused.

“I’m not saying that.  I’m just saying we have to look at all the options.”

Clint opened his mouth to protest, when the doors slammed open behind him. 

They were out of time.

“Stark,” Loki snapped. “I want a look at those cameras you–”

He stopped, physically halting in his place as he eyes quickly shot to the ring on the table.

His expression remained cool, but Clint was just able to catch look of panic flash across his features. 

“Ah, there it is,” he said, smoothly.  “I’ll take that back now, if you don’t mind.”

He made a move toward it, but Tony was faster.

“You were looking for this,” he questioned.

Loki’s eyes narrowed.  “Yes.  I had misplaced it, but now that it’s found, I would like it back.”

“This is yours then?”

“Of course it’s mine.”

Tony nodded, giving a “what do you know about that” expression.

Clint straightened.  He could feel the tension rising between the two men.  Something was going to happen, he just had to be ready for the signal.

He was so focused on the scene in front of him, he failed to notice Bruce sneak carefully out of the room.

“It’s an interesting ring,” Tony said.  “Sturdy.”

“Indeed,” Loki said.  His mask was slipping, the frustration slowly melting it off his skin.

“I’m curious," Tony continued, "what exactly is so special about it? I’ve been running every test I can think of and nothing’s wrong with it.  Absolutely nothing.  It’s literally, the most perfect ring I’ve ever seen.” He took a pause, casually glancing in Clint’s direction.  “Might want to step back from that Barton, highly corrosive.”

Clint looked behind him to see a full beaker of bubbling liquid behind him.  Holding back a smile, he instantly understood.

“That’s all very well,” Loki said. “But it does not stop it from being mine.” He held out his hand.  “Return it to me, now.”

Tony smirked.  “Think fast.”

In a second, the ring was in the air, not towards Loki, but right for Clint.

He caught it mid-air, just in time for Loki to pivot towards him with murder in his eyes.

Clint didn’t hesitate.  Spinning around, he held the ring over the beaker silently daring the so called “god” to move.

Loki stayed in place, even as he vibrated with rage.

“Careful with that,” he warned, his voice sharp and cold as a knife.

“What is it, then?” Clint challenged.

“It’s a ring. Nothing more.”

“Really? Then I don’t see what I can’t just…” The chain slipped between his fingers.

“Don’t!” Loki snapped.

Clint caught it.  The ring remained intact, swinging dangerously close to it's demise.

Loki visibly sighed in relief, but something in his eye gave Clint pause.  It wasn’t just anger or even fear, it was pain.

He pressed his lips together, his mind whirling with what it could possibly mean.

“Why do you care about this?” Clint asked, again.

Loki’s eyes never left the glinting metal, as he shook his head.  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.  Clearly you’ve already convinced yourself it serves some nefarious purpose.  You will not accept anything short of that explanation.”

“Give me a better one then.”

Loki lip twisted.  “I think not.  You see Agent Barton, I believe it’s perfectly within my power to take my ring back from you. The only choice you have is whether you want to keep it or your hand.”

With a flick of his wrist, a knife appeared in each of his hands, glinting sharp and ready.

“What is going on?” Thor’s voice echoed in the small room.

On instinct Clint turned his eyes away from Loki.

It happened in an instant. The sting of the cut. The cool metal slipping between his fingers.  A blast from the corner of the room. A brush of air. And a knife embedded in the wall behind, with the small chain dangling from the hilt.

Clint turned to see Loki thrown across the room.  Tony’s now armored arm was still raised, and ready for another attack.

Looking down at his own hand, Clint could see a trail of blood sliced across the back.

“What the hell?!” he snapped.

Loki struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.  His brother was at his side in an instant.  Bruce stepped in the middle of it all, his arms spread wide.

“Everybody, calm down,” he said.  “Let’s not make this a bigger mess than it already is.”

“You’re seriously showing your belly, now?” Tony accused.

“Take it more like a warning growl,” Bruce countered. 

The threat was obvious, making Tony visibly shocked.  He backed down, lowering his arm.

Thor supported Loki, bringing him fully to his feet.

“I’ll ask again, what is going on?” Thor said, will all the authority a prince of Asgard could muster.

“Just a little disagreement over stolen property,” Loki said, smoothly. 

Thor’s eyes went to the necklace still swinging against the other wall. The anger on his features nearly matched Loki’s.

“Stark?”

“Me,” Barton interjected.  “I wanted to know what Loki was hiding.  From the length he’s willing to go to to get it back, it must be something.”

Thor shook his head.  “Do you have any idea what you might have done?”

“No, that’s kind of the point,” Tony said.  “What is it, the One Ring or something?”

“It’s a personal matter,” Loki said.

“No good enough.”

“Clint, drop it,” Bruce snapped.

“No! What is it? What the hell can be so important that you’re willing to finally drop your changed man act to get it back?!”

Thor let out a long sigh. “Barton, you can not–”

“Enough, brother,” Loki cut in. “You wanted a story Agent Barton? I’ll tell you one.

“Once upon a time in a land far away, there lived a prince.  Second born of his family, he grew accustomed to being looked over by others; his subject, his friends, even his father would easily pass him over."

"Does this have a point?" Clint interrupted.

Loki said nothing. 

Clint's frown deepened, but it was obvious there was no other way he was going to get an answer out of the would be king.  So, he kept his mouth shut, until Loki started again.

"The prince grew resentful, turning deeper and deeper into himself. It came to the point where nothing else existed, except the darkness.  Until one day, he came upon a maiden practicing spells in a garden."

For the first time in Clint's memory, a soft smile came to Loki's lips.

“She was beautiful and intelligent, and the prince offered to teach the maiden what he knew.  She asked what he wanted in exchange, and the only answer he could give, was her company. And so they practiced and talked, and little by little the darkness around the prince began to fade. He was still second to many, but their opinions no longer mattered.  In the eyes of the maiden, he found light.”

He shook his head.  “The prince was never sure what the maiden saw in him, but it was enough for her to agree to marry him.  He then presented her with a ring.  An ordinary ring to some, far too simple for a soon to be princess, but in it held a spell.  The ring would never fade or tarnish, as long as his love for her survived.”

He blinked, his expression darkening.  “But love cannot protect one from death.  Long after they were married, but not nearly long enough, a plague tore through the kingdom.  It infested every corner from the lowest commoner to highest lord, until finally, it arrived at the palace gates.  The prince’s eldest brother, his mother, and wife all caught the disease. After weeks of uncertainty, it was determined they would pull through, save for one. The maiden, his light, died in his arms while they slept."

Loki paused, swallowing down the emotion clearly rising in his throat.

“The darkness returned with a vengeance, to which the prince succumbed.  He turned against his brother, his father, and everyone else he blamed for his failings. Slowly but surely, he pushed them all away until he found himself falling to an abyss, completely and utterly alone.

"But, that was not the end of the prince’s story.  For you see, the prince was not as alone was he thought.  Another found him, and offered him something he had no had in years; hope.

"He told the prince he sought six stones, that when combined would bend the universe to his will, including bringing back what was long dead."

Loki's eyes grew even more distant, his hand going to his chest, instinctively reaching for a familiar chain.

"He promised the prince he could bring back his light.  All the prince had to do was conquer a single planet. A simple task, the prince thought.  And so he went, ready to burn a world for the chance to see his love again.”

A sardonic smile spread across his face.  “But the prince failed and in his failure, he realized while he might be willing to pay such a price for his love, she would not feel the same.  And so he set to make amends, all the while keeping a symbol of their love close to his heart as a reminder of the light he must always remember is there.”

Loki paused, looking up to his captivated audience. In a room full of people compelled to give the have word, not a sound was uttered.

Maintaining the silence, he walked passed all of them to where his heart hung.  With a small tug, he pulled the knife from the wall, and lay the necklace gently in his open palm.

“Does that answer your questions, Agent Barton?” he asked, taking a moment to run his finger over the flawless gold.

Clint blinked, unsure of what to really say.  He really only had one question left to ask.

“What was her name?”

Loki glanced at him, and for the first time Clint saw him, not as a would be god, but as a man, tired and filled with regret.

“Sigyn.”

[transhawks]

So does that mean bakugou is also a abelist too and so was most of the kids in the class since you call Inko one I mean if you are going to go that far

"Go that far"

Let's unpack this because this is more than just an opinion about anime and hopefully what I write can change your opinion on a lot of things going forward in your life. Which is an opportunity I am very happy about. A lot of people really get upset when you call something "ist". Racist, Ableist, Cissexist, etc. Or the phobic words.. You get my meaning. But the upset over it shows that people mistake what is really being said because we think very simplistically about this - that everyone who is an "ist" or a "phobe" is inherently a bad person.

Why? It's due to a lot of people getting caught up in individual actions over the societal motivations behind them. So, if I was to say "every white person is racist" or "every man is a misogynist" it feels like an unfair absolute, right? Not all people are like that, right? What if someone is actively trying to be an exception? The point blank statement feels mean, right? How could you just generalize?

Here's the thing, the reason the general statement is made is because it more talks about society than individuals. What I mean is this - not every white person (in the US or West, though we can talk about other places too) is actively being bigoted, but we are born in societies that have historically (and today too!) been built and profited off the oppression or exploitation of people of color. And like in a lot of things dealing with unfair power structures, there's a lot of motivation to make sure shit does not change you know, which is why people end up, even if they don't realize what they are doing, defending things. Are they trying to be actual bigots? No, not always, and something to learn is that a lot of these ism do not equal just plain bigotry. There's always a power structure behind it, or an imbalance. So, you can find someone who is bigoted but isn't actually being an 'ist'. When a lot of people complain about 'reverse' anything, what they are usually talking about is bigotry, which is an individual action that on its own doesn't confirm or defend a power structure.

I know this is a bit complicated. It took me a few years to grasp it too, but understanding the difference is really important.

Now, let's go back to Bakugou. In my post about Deku and Inko and how Deku states how much her initial reaction to his quirkless was hurt him for much of his childhood, I did mention that Inko admitted she didn't support him. So there's no argument about whether she did or didn't because Inko took accountability for her mistake. Now, the reason she did it in the first place was because she grew up in a society that tells people quirks are their personalities.

I made a post a couple weeks ago about Deku and Hawks and being 'selected' out of their circumstances where I talk about how the Quirkless are sort of seen as lesser humans simply due to the way Quirk society has folded. You can see it the older name given to Ujiko before the changes, and in Izuku being read as 'Deku'; the implication is of wooden people, puppets, etc. Then you have lots of ranting on the MLA part that revealed that a there kid's books that teach kids people aren't always their Quirks but that this is seen as a very PC concept and not really taken in by the population. Sure the average person probably isn't a Geten level supremacist, but we see how the Fox lady was treated when she was walking outside by her neighbors, or how Spinner was bullied, even by his own family, or just what Endeavor did to 'fix his quirk'.

Inko is a 4th generation quirk owner. That means one, or more, of her great-grandparents have been quirk users. Dr. Tsubasa, upon seeing Deku, also says it's rare for someone to be like him these days, implying the statistic given to us by the manga, or the 4:5 are quirk owners, is very much based on age (I've seen people put forth it might also be location based too). Toshinori adds to this by saying it was more common when he was a kid, and he is likely in his 50s.

Okay, so that's the society Izuku is born too, right? Stay with me, I know this is long but we're getting to Katsuki right now.

In the ask that you messaged about where I explain why Inko's initial problem can be criticized, I said what she did is very similar to how parents treat children with disabilities or illnesses. Hence, why you said I was calling her ableist. As I've been trying to explain in this ask Inko may not be actively trying to be 'ableist' and bigoted, but her apologizing to her son was an issue that he felt insecure over. And that this is of course tied into the fact quirk society does not treat the Quirkless well.

You see this early set of panels? This was Deku explaining that Katsuki only began to bully him really when he manifested his quirk. Why? Because there was a clear difference in the way he was treated and the way Deku was.

These panels show Katsuki looking at Deku and seeing how he's being talked about. Children are impressionable and understand that there are these dynamics even if they don't get why. Katsuki is being told here that he's amazing, that he's going to achieve greatness, and being praised. Deku is being whispered about, pitied. They are not the same. It even goes into their teens:

Katsuki is immediately praised even if he was the one in need of rescue. Deku's actions bought time for All Might but he's seen as reckless especially when he's Quirkless. I've said in the post I linked that Deku's amazing traits - his natural skill at analysis, his quick wits and reactions, and dauntless nature are really where he shines, but until he had a quirk, that society didn't see any of that about him. This is a clear example of how much importance people place on quirks. So is it any wonder in a society like this that a little kid like Katsuki soaks it all in?

Deku also calls Katsuki a bully a few times. I'm not going to post the panels here but I collected a few so there's an absolute acknowledgment on Deku's part that he is bullied for being quirkless.

As I said in the previous ask, you can't remove a lot of these actions from greater societal trends. I also, personally, refuse to label Katsuki as an abuser because he is a child and abuse is usually a very intimate thing which is not the relationship Katsuki had as a former friend. He was, however, a bully who does bigoted things like tell Deku to jump off a roof if he wants to be a hero so he can get quirk in the next life. So, he was bullying out of bigotry and doing so out of societal norms and ideals that he has absorbed growing up.

Most children that are bullied are bullied on differences, and a lot of the time it really does fall on the same divides that as adults turn into oppressions. The children's bullying reinforces the same dynamics marginalized faces outside of childhood.

So, to finally answer your question, if 'quirklessness' is pretty much a bnha-verse disability and is treated very similarly some that we have in real life, then yes, Katsuki as a child and a tween was indeed 'ableist'. But again, this is not remarkable..I don't want to say he's exceptionally bigoted even since so much of it was also fueled by his own insecurities and cognitive dissonance when it comes to Izuku. And unlike Inko, who unconsciously hurt Izuku, Katsuki did so actively but, again, he was a child and he is capable of maturing, reforming, and learning which I think perhaps he might be heading to. EDIT: a few hours after I posted this, he apologized to Izuku so he has gotten there! Katsuki was this was because he was raised to be, so outright condemning a 16 year old for a norm doesn't really solve the real issue that it was a norm, does it?

Now, I will say for victims, it's often very hard to parse this too. Even if it's normalized, the individual bigotry of a person does hurt, and it really doesn't matter to kids that it's other kids. It's why a lot of people who are marginalized will bring up childhood memories, because we are shaped so much by our experiences as kids. But kids don't always have cognitive ability to challenge the norms and ideals around them, it's one of the biggest differences between an adult and a child. Making Katsuki out to be 'biggest bigot ever' is not what I am trying do with this ask, and it's silly to think so.

I will thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this answer. I often forget that my style of applying what seem to me very basic concepts in discussions of identity to anime analysis are not as basic I assume. Your ask seemed incredulous but it reads as someone genuinely new to the concept of societal vs individual actions, and how oppression and strata work with that. I hope that whatever you gained from this ask is something you can apply to a realize situation in the future by the dynamics I speak are real life ones, with genuine real consequences, and I'm happy I can use a manga as teaching or outreach tool. Thank you for allowing to do so.

[rawbins-undertale-blog]

How do monsters age? Also how old are the brothers?

~ Sincerely, a very Library Anon ~

Hello! Thanks for the ask, and also sorry for you, my friend, who’s about to have pages of me rambling about my thoughts and headcanons that may or may not be entirely supported by the game for a socially unacceptable amount of time <3

HOW MONSTERS AGE

I’ve actually had multiple different headcanons when it comes to monster age! They all go into three different categories: “all monsters age slower”, “they age the same way (unless they’re a boss monster without a kid)” and “some monsters age like humans, some slower and some quicker depending on species”. But, I now have one that goes into a slightly different category.

Now, I think, “what if their aging is a bit of everything?”

Allow me to explain what I mean.

My first headcanon was that monsters age 10x slower than a human does. Just choose a human age for a character and then tack on a 0 to the end of the number and you’ve got the right age. A part of me still wants to go that route, simply because it’s easier…

… but then, a monster would be a literal child while being 100 years old. It would make it a bit awkward to write about human kids being friends with monster kids lol, ngl. (Also I don’t want to write Sans and Papyrus as being like 250 years old.) Not to mention, it’s a bit boring. So I decided to spice it up a bit, if you will.

Let’s start explaining this by taking a monster with an average mental state who is the most average of species. They’re not suffering from any mental disorders, illnesses, have no trauma or physical ailments and are overall just what you’d call an averagely happy person. There’s nothing special about this monster. They’re literally the most average of average monsters, maybe so average they don’t even actually exist - they are made up by the statistics.

At first, they age quicker than a human does. While they’re what would translate to 5 human years (AKA when they’re 5 monster years), they are actually only 2 human years. At age 10 in monster years, they are 5 in human years. Their aging starts to slow down at 16 monster years, and by the time they’re 25 in monster years, they are also 25 in human years. Then it slows down even more quickly and on a huge scale, so that when they are 50 in monster years, they are about 500 in human years. On average, a normal monster becomes 2000 human years old. (Keep in mind, that this monster is so average they don’t exist - this aging varies a lot between species.)

Now, let’s take another monster of this same statistics-made species who is more happy than the average monster. They’ve experienced many good things, and bad things happening to them are unusual, but not unusual enough to make the happy moments meaningless. They make sure to care of themself and take their own feelings into consideration, they know their own worth. A monster like this may become up to a staggering 4000 human years old with some luck.

Finally, here’s a monster who suffers and just… isn’t happy. They suffer from trauma, have gone through horrible things, overall just not a very good time. They’re very likely to only get to 800 human years or less, if things don’t start looking up for them.

However, these aging mechanics also get more complicated when we get into species of monsters and monsters having children. Gerson, who is a turtle-species, ages about 5x slower than the average monster, which is why he was alive during wartime (though he is near the end of the line now, he’s only maybe 20 years from dying by the end of the game). A whimsun definitely won’t live past 1000 years, even if they’re the happiest whimsun on the planet, because their magic isn’t strong enough to last.

A boss monster (Toriel, Asgore, Asriel) doesn’t age past 30 until they have a child. When/if they have that child, they age at the same speed as the kid does. If the child dies, however, they stop aging again.

Speaking of not aging when their kids die, the same kinda goes for every other monster to a much smaller extent.

A non-boss monster will slow their aging after their kid dies. If they survive losing their kid (because a lot of monsters would dust from the hopelessness they feel after losing somebody so important), their aging slows by about 150%, again depending on the species of the monster.

However, despite their slow aging, monsters are weaker than humans. Too unstable emotions or living in conditions that make the monster feel unsafe may fuck up thair aging, as mentioned previously. To go into more detail about this: the aging process is not messed up by the situation the monster is in - the monster could be in the most horrible position without their aging being affected at all - but it has to do with how their hope is affected.

If a monster loses hope, their aging is affected so it speeds up. If they gain hope, it slows down.

Taking this in mind, let’s talk about the skeleton brothers’ ages!

Let’s start with the Undertale brothers, since they’re the “base” for the ages.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what I think their ages are, but I would say that:

At the time the game takes place, Sans is about 24-28 years old in monster years and Papyrus is about 19-23 in monster years. In human years, Sans is about 23 and Papyrus has recently turned 18. This has to do with their experiences in life.

Sans only has 1 HP. Skeleton monsters are among the groups that age more slowly, which ends up with him aging a tiny bit quicker than the ‘average monster’. This HP is mostly brought on by his clinical depression (which is actually very rare to have for a monster).

Papyrus ages slower than the ‘average monster’. He’s full of HoPe and is one of the most compassionate monsters, which says a lot by the way lol. But, we can’t forget that he literally didn’t have any friends, which did deal a huge blow to his self-confidence even if he won’t admit it. He aged just a little quicker than a skeleton monster should, at the time the game takes place (though this does change in my fics and headcanons right away, all he needs is one (1) friend to age as slowly as he should, or well. Slower, actually).

So, now that I’ve put down the base for what the two brothers are, let’s just straight up say: all the AU brothers are the same age in human years and there’s only small differences for the monster ages. Except for in Horrortale, which takes place later than the base game does.

I can’t say how old they are here, though, not exactly, because it would obviously vary depending on how long we wait to see them after the starvation starts, as horrible as that sounds. All my headcanons are off the basis that they were left in the Underground for about five human years after Frisk left, so let’s just go with that. After five years in the Underground, Dusk (Horrortale Sans) is about 38 in monster years and Aster (Horrortale Papyrus) is about 37 (he caught up quickly to his brother, as the things that happened took a bigger toll on him).

I want to mention, however, that all my headcanons for ages are very loose and not entirely my “final decision” on how I think monsters age lol, and they may change in the future. Anyways, this is what I’m going for as of right now! If you want any clarification feel free to ask :-)

[zeravmeta]

nasuverse/dr stuff still exists rent free in my head as a treasure trove of concepts so not only am i imagining kamukura in fgo but also naegi because of the absolute shenanigan's that would entail (long self indulgent crossover post ahead)

ok so something that's incredibly important to understand abt makoto fucking naegi is that he’s a walking plot device breaker because his bad luck works at the meta narrative level across dr. he survived the first game specifically because of the bad luck that would come from suffering through the deaths of his friends, and later on managed to defeat junko because of his optimism and belief in others BUT ALSO because it would lead him to being the most wanted person on the planet for stopping humanity’s downfall. 

to kinda expand off the loosely defined cinematic universe this makes from previous posts, naegi entering chaldea would work out pretty much the same way it did for guda bc he’s an average dude being put into extraordinary circumstances. UNLIKE guda, however, naegi is actually incredibly sharp without realizing it and also has an extremely unbreakable willpower while simultaneously being gods funny little man which would translate to chaos but Worse for chaldea. There's also the dynamic with izuru which would be incredibly hilarious bc to most of chaldea they'd see izuru as this above it all prick since most wouldn't actually Know His Deal and for those that do they just pity him but since naegi is an unpredictable enigma he’d be one of the handful of people who izuru consciously seeks out and actually does get along with izuru, leading to the staff relegating him to “the difficult person handler”.

he’d def get along with the main chaldea quartet but romani would probably look to him on how to handle izuru at certain points bc of romani’s guilt in these types of situations. what would really spice up the dynamic here is that naegi would actually pick up on romani hiding something very early on and slowly work towards uncovering it. There’d also be how much like izuru was targeted by rando mages, so would naegi, but his bad luck would constantly protect him from whatever fucked up magics a mage tries to use on him specifically because it would keep him alive to experience the grand order and the lostbelts. 

now for actual servant parallels that come to mind, i feel like the obvious answer is edmond but the supremely sexy answer is siegfried because both of them are hugely self sacrificial characters who are defined by how their bad luck ruined their life. THE THING IS THOUGH that siegfrieds misfortune is what always kills him and leads others to tragedy, but it would 100% be overpowered by naegi’s own bad luck specifically bc it’s that much more powerful (and the total opposite: naegi’s luck leaves him with tragedy but ensures he can survive) and would keep them alive. naegi is someone who carries tragedy on his back and runs a marathon with it because he can’t stop going forward so coupled with his optimism he’d def get along supremely well with siegfried and probs inspire him the way sieg did in apo. Actually one of naegi’s most consistent character traits is the fact that he 100% trusts shady bitches way more than normal people (considering he forgave kirigiri for setting him up like twice, gets along decently well with genocider and decided to save class 77 regardless of their crimes) so you stick him next to any evil bitch (clown quartet) / expressionless badass (arjuna, altera, scath, etc) and he’s basically good. ALSO i wouldn't say its all peaches and roses bc nasuverse defines the act of being a hero as being someone who has blood on their hands and naegi is a staunch believer in ‘no reason is good enough to kill ever’ so he’d def have some struggle with heroes who are proud of their lives if it were particularly gruesome but he also wouldn't preach to them about it since he ultimately respects others choices on the matter.

When naegi would come to chaldea with izuru, he’d probably fly to the wayside to the drama with izuru/romani initially, but then take a more proactive step in making sure they actually resolved the grand order (actually, the combination of izuru and naegi’s bad luck might even ensure olga doesn't get deep fried in singularity f, which would directly lead to alien god being more proactive about their hosts in part 2 what bad luck lmao). naegi isn’t someone who would ever struggle with his humanity, but rather he’s someone who seeks to understand the humanity within others. Its why he saved ultimate despair regardless, why he didn't want junko to kill herself, he’s someone who always reaches out and tries to understand in his own imperfect way. being the ultimate hope doesn't mean that he lacks despair, but rather he can carry that with him without being crushed by it, and a mission to save humanity would be right up his alley. But when the lostbelts roll around, he’d definitely struggle with the idea of destroying other worlds. But much like he did with the killing game, he would never forget them. He would take that pain, and continue to move because what else could he do. 

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria’s Prophet Ch1

I shut my laundry alarm, slipped on my flip-flops and headed to the basement to get the clothes from the drier.

My frustration lead my hands to my eyes while taking the steps down. I had been hyper-fixating on Sinbad's character arc again. Constantly vacillating between love and hate for this fictional character was driving me, and everyone who had to live with me, up a wall. I needed to get my Sinbad feelings under control before I ranted my best friend/sibling/roommate's ear off again. They would just remind me that you don't get to choose your hyper fixations. Or your comfort characters. Or who you're attracted to. As they've said before, "people are attracted to appearances and personalities. That's why it hurts so much when we find out someone is a bad person."

"Ah!" Vertigo pulled me out of my thoughts as I tried to take another step down after already hitting the bottom of the stairs. I groaned at my own lack of awareness.

The lighting was different. 'Did the power go out?'

The space around me was pitch black. I felt like I was being pulled. It was like feeling the current in a stream. I got walking.

A very dim light grew around me. All of the shelves of my basement were gone. Was I dreaming? I've been a lucid dreamer since I was 5 so it was possible -sure as hell felt similar. Given my mental state, it made sense that I couldn't control the dream like normal and only had awareness.

Hopefully, having to do laundry was part of the dream.

Worried voices came from a turn up ahead.

As soon as I made the turn I saw a bunch of people panicking around a child on the ground. More people came from behind them to see what was going on.

"He isn't breathing!"

I had first aid training back when I was a student and had experience using it into my time as a teacher. I was by the child's side in a flash, having squeezed past the useless people swarming around them.

Long blue hair in a braid, open blue vest, turban, and a golden flute. This was Aladdin from Magi, and I knew what was wrong with him.

I ripped the flute from his hands as Alibaba and Morgiana rushed over. Alibaba pulled Aladdin into his arms and pleaded for his friend to hold on before I could check his condition. At least I had removed the flute so he wouldn't die.

Maybe I *was* a little too obsessed with Magi to be reliving it in a dream, but this gave me an opportunity to do a thing I always want to in scenes like this -hell, I've had to do it with real people.

"Put him down! And stop shaking him!"

The two just stared at me.

I gestured to the ground. " He's weak so holding him like that could hurt him. Put him down."

The desperation on Alibaba's face was one I've seen before in series and on real people. I knew Aladdin would live and I had training, so I could face this calmly, but he didn't.

My words finally register and he put his friend back on the ground. I passed Ugo's flute to them adding, "Keep this away from Aladdin." Holding the flute would hopefully give him something to focus on. "He was pouring all of his magoi into that empty vessel -basically killing himself."

Luckily Aladdin's breathing had returned immediately. I pushed up the sleeves of my oversized hoodie, and adjusted his posture to help his breathing and checked his pulse.

The crowd watched while I checked Aladdin's condition. His pulse and breathing were both uneven, and I felt a weird sensation like I could tell he was drained of energy -like a nearly empty well. I knew the future though so I wasn't too worried.

"He's unstable but holding together," I said. Alibaba and Morgiana were still in shock at seeing their friend like this. "He will live, and wake up when he's ready in a few days. I promise."

"Thank you." Both teens said with shaky voices.

Then I looked up at the crowd, "Can someone get a stretcher or something so he can be moved safely?"

Gold eyes were watching me with an unreadable expression.

How could I forget that Sinbad and Ja'far were in this scene?? Sinbad was the one who originally yelled to remove the flute from Aladdin's hand. There was a look of recognition in Sinbad's eyes as our eyes met, and I felt that strange current again. My stomach went cold. He might be my favorite character, but I also knew all of the horrible things he has done and will some day out do. And I knew I'd probably struggle to keep composure around him.

All the same I felt a pull towards him that I couldn't deny. I tried to play it off, and turned back to focusing on Aladdin.

A guy left and returned with the stretcher, so Aladdin was moved safely.

I hung back as the main cast followed the stretcher to wherever Aladdin was going to be staying until he obtained Solomon's Wisdom. The more space between Sinbad and me, the better.

I needed to decide where I was going next. I tried to change the dream. I didn't want to live through the revolt in Balbadd nor have to deal with Sinbad or my feelings. Still nothing. I could still feel that current strongly, so I couldn't be awake. And yet it seemed the only thing I had an affect on was myself.

A few people were watching me. I was wearing an over sized zipper down hoodie that was just long enough to hide my short-shorts -not to mention my flip-flops and glasses. I didn't exactly fit in. Even I thought it was weird though; in dreams I'm normally in a t-shirt and jeans or at least have my legs covered.

Thin fingers pulled my sleeve to get my attention. "Please come with us." Morgiana stared at me. I could tell she wasn't just asking me to come, she wanted me to help look after Aladdin since I knew what was wrong with him.

She was only slightly shorter than me. She'd get taller in a few years.

I sighed. I couldn't bring myself to say no -especially not when the others also seemed to be waiting for me.

---

After securing Aladdin a private room, Ja'far confirmed his condition.

"How did this happen?" Alibaba panicked over his friend. "This is so much worse than in the dungeon!"

"He used too much magoi." Sinbad and I said in unison. We glanced at each other, and I gestured for him to do the honors, inwardly cursing my tongue. I knew he was going to explain but I couldn't stop myself from answering anyway when I saw Alibaba's worry in person. I identify with aspects of Sinabd for a reason.

The violet haired king explained how even though Aladdin was a Magi, he was too weak to call upon the unlimited magoi of the surrounding Rukh so could only call upon his own.  Even a Magi can die if he loses too much magoi.

During his explanation, Sinbad had watched me out of the corner of his eye. No doubt he was looking for my reaction to the boy being a Magi. I couldn't find it in me to act surprised given the circumstances even though the last thing I needed was for him to pay attention to me.

I took note of his unnecessary lingering on my chest and bare legs though. Sinbad will always be Sinbad after all.

I decided to add information. "The Djinn isn't even in the metal vessel anymore., so his efforts were wasted."

"How can you tell?" Sinbad asked. I couldn't tell if it was genuine curiosity or a test.

I pointed to Ugo's flute in his hands, "The most obvious sign is that the star isn't on the metal vessel anymore." It was something Sinbad was going to take notice of anyway. "Besides, it wasn't Aladdin's magoi fueling Ugo, so when the magoi ran out during the fight there was nothing left keeping Ugo here."

Alibaba and Morgiana were too worried about their friend to notice the name drops, but the King and his aid caught them.

"Regardless, Aladdin needs rest."

We all left the room. Alibaba and Morgiana went to tend to more of the injured. Sinbad and Jafar were supposed to meet up with Masuru and help manage the situation, but instead pulled me aside to a different private room. It was the one with the small table they used after joining the fog troop. Sinbad sat on one side and gestured for me to sit across from him. Ja'far stood behind him.

"Now then, who are you? You're clearly not from around here." Sinbad's nonthreatening smile didn't actually put me at ease. "I could have assumed that you heard Alibaba call Aladdin's and Ugo's names earlier, but you didn't blink at hearing Aladdin's a Magi and now you even know why his attempt to save his friend didn't work. You don't seem to be a magician or a dungeon capturer." He smiled, but he was gauging how much of a threat I was. "Hmm?"

I couldn't blame him for being suspicious of me; I appeared out of nowhere, dressed like no one in this world had ever seen, and knew way more than average. He may have even thought I was a member of Al Thamen. I had to swallow my nerves if I was going to get through this. I tried to think of it like a business meeting, so at least I'd be half put together.

I shrugged, "I doubt you'd believe me even if I told you, King Sinbad." No way he'd believe I was dreaming. I purposefully said his name and title to make it clear that I knew who he was even though he hadn't introduced himself yet. I tried not to, but the longer I looked at him the more nervous I got, and even though he was the Sinbad that I had fixated on and found so comforting he still gave off a slightly dangerous air. I felt a light blush coming on.

"You'd be surprised how much we know. Why don't you try anyway?" Of course Sinbad wouldn't be deterred.

I sighed. "Then would you believe that I actually read this world's fate many times. And I mean more than feeling it's waves. I know exactly what's going to happen next."

"What?” the room seemed to gasp with them. They had been through many adventures and seen many unbelievable things, but never had they met someone who could read fate. The way Sinbad tensed when I mentioned the waves gave me a good feeling -almost like I actually had some level of control.

Part of me regretted saying it of course. However, I thought it would be safer to tell the truth than to lie and reveal it later. Besides, there was no believable answer I could give.

"What type of fools do you take us for?!" Ja'far yelled at me.

Sinbad put a hand between us, quieting Ja'far. "Can you prove that?"

I thought for a moment and looked between them. "If I can 'predict' events that will happen during the next 24 hours, would that be proof enough?"

Sinbad's gaze was piercing, but I knew I wasn't lying and returned it. His eyes were like molten gold with all of his focus. It was the longest I had looked at him directly since I arrived in the world. He was much prettier in person -too beautiful. If he didn't say something soon, I was going to start studying him and get distracted. He had glanced at my legs and chest a few times already, and I was ready to return the favor -even if I'd appear weak to him in the process. Seeing him without his metal vessels was a rare sight after all. He was a good art reference when fully gilded, but it was much easier to see his form when there was just clothes covering it. He almost looked soft; he definitely look about 10,000% more touchable when not covered in a thick layer of gold, silver, and jewels.

"Fine." Sinbad's words shook me from my thoughts. "What is going to happen next?" His smile widened. His sudden charming act must have meant he noticed me ogling him a bit, but I wasn't about to drop my guard for a gorgeous face even if I was blushing.

I answered, "Tonight, the person who has been leaking information to the fog troop will reveal himself -no, I won't say who 'cause it's more fun that way, but let's just say he normally stands behind the king of this country- and he will let everyone know that said king plans to sell his citizens as slaves to pay off his debt to the Kou Empire in order to keep his luxurious life style."

This garnered an even louder, "WHAT???"

I ignored them and carried on with my recounting of the story. "Alibaba will struggle with the stress from being asked to fix things by Morgiana and the informant due to his inexperience. You will step up again, and in turn become more disappointed in Alibaba's abilities than you've done already. Then while drunk tomorrow morning you will voice your disappointment only to be over heard by Morgiana, who will tell you of a past accomplishment of Alibaba's that will make you realize you judged him too quickly. Jafar will call you out as being a drunk idiot-"

"HOLD on a second! You seriously think he would sell his own citizens?" Sinbad's had to be remembering King Rashid and not wanting to believe his son would destroy his legacy that badly. Things were worse than he thought, but it explained many of the problems he was seeing in Balbadd.

I figured he probably only had such an animated response unlike in the original because of how I said it -like the outsider I am, without emotion.

I put my hands in my hoodie pockets. "Soon enough, you will be able to ask the leak yourself."

"Hmm." Sinbad seemed to think he'd find answers somewhere on my form if he looked at the right spot or he was just checking me out openly. His eyes were piercing as he said, "That's still a very serious accusation. What will you do if it turns out you're wrong?"

I sighed and looked away. "Probably the same thing I'll do if it turns out I'm right: try to use what I know to help people and survive another day." If I was going to be dreaming this seriously about any series, I was going to do my best to help, even if I end up changing the plot in the end. I've never been the type to stay still.

"It will be interesting to see what happens." Sinbad seemed to accept my words. "I do have another question."

"Oh?"

"What's your name?"

Ah that. I had been hoping he wouldn't ask. "Call me whatever you want." I really didn't want to hear him say my name.

"Then," the smoldering look he turned on me was too much, "how does 'Beautiful' sounds?"

My face became red as the setting sun as it crashed into my hands. I couldn't tell if I was more embarrassed to be called such a thing or if it was second hand embarrassment for Ja'far having to put up with such a man.

"Whatever! Fine! I don't know why I was expecting anything different from the womanizer of the seven seas, but here we are!"

Ja'far looked at me with pity as Sinbad chuckled at my reaction.

I continued spewing embarrassed nonsense, and left before he could try to to get anything more from me.

I can only assume that the two would go to do whatever they originally would have during this part of the story.

---

This was becoming the most realistic dream I'd ever had. I'd had dreams before with smell, touch, pain, etc, but this one had no time skips, and I felt hunger. In some of my past dreams when I got tired it was actually a sign that I was about to wake up, but it felt different here. It felt more real.

I couldn't take it. I either needed food or sleep or both, and I had no money to get either.

It was a bit sneaky, but I went back to the room Aladdin was resting in. Alibaba would spend some time there later that night after getting asked to save the country. He wasn't there when I arrived, so I was pretty sure Sahmad hadn't revealed himself as the informant yet.

Aladdin was doing as expected. I was a bit disappointed that I wouldn't get to actually meet him before I woke up. He was a good boy -a perv, but still good.

One of the corners of the room had a gap in the supplies so I sat down in it. Some poles would block view of me from the door and most of the rest of the room. I pulled my hood up, my hoodie over my knees, and laid my head on my knees. Hopefully, when I'd wake up I wouldn't have to do laundry.

---

Honestly, I didn't want to wake up. The air was dry so my throat hurt, my back hurt from sleeping in a bad position, and I was really hungry. It would be easier to just sleep a little longer until my hunger subsided so I could move to actually get food.

My stomach growled at me for not taking better care of myself, and I groaned back in frustration. 'I really should get up and feed the cats at least...'

"H-how- How long has that thing been there??"

I blinked my eyes open and looked up at the source of the voice. With my hood no longer protecting me, the sunlight from the window assaulted my eyes. I jerked my head back down with a squeak, "Too bright."

The voice was Alibaba. There were others with him, but I didn't get a good look. How was I still dreaming?

I think I heard someone say, "so this is where she was hiding," under their breath but I could have been hearing things.

Gentle steps made their way towards me and stopped about a yard away. "You're the one who helped Aladdin before, right?"

I lifted my head up slowly that time. I tried to look Morgiana in the eye while adjusting my crooked glasses. "Yeah. That was me," I mumbled.

She was crouched in front of me. "Can you look at him again please?" Her eyes pleaded with me.

"You said he'd wake up in a few days. How long will he need??" Alibaba joined her on the floor making me jolt.

This was not my idea of a good wake up call.

"Calm~ down~" I said through a yawn as I stretched my legs out then stood up.

I walked past them both and up to the sleeping Magi. My too long sleeves covered my hands and I couldn't be bothered to fix them as I yawned into the fabric again.

The two got up and watched me. There was definitely someone else in the room but I couldn't see them past my hood, and I was still too sleepy to care.

Aladdin was sleeping like he would be for a while. What was I supposed to see? "I don't remember exactly how long. He won't wake up until after his Rukh goes and visits Ugo."

A cluster of voices shouted "What?" and "How?" with varying levels of detail.

"Oh right.. That was a secret, wasn't it? Forget I said that." I really should have waited until I was more awake to say anything.

Not looking at any of them, I closed my eyes and moaned. "I just woke up. And now I'm achy from being in that position for so long." I flapped my sleeves in frustration and in an attempt to wake up more. I opened my eyes again, still looking down at Aladdin. "As long as you take care of his body, he'll be fine."

And then my stomach growled again spoiling the moment. My left hand pressed into my stomach. I really felt that one. "Can I impose on you guys for food? I don't have any." I was glad my hood was up. I could feel my eyes getting watery. When I was young I got hangry, but as I got older I started becoming sadgry instead.

There was a light clapping sound and a jovial voice answered me, "Food is not a problem, Ms. Prophet! Just come with me and we'll get you fed."

I turned to the source and saw Ja'far giving me his best professional smile.

[mariaiscrafting]

Thoughts on Wilbur Soot? I want a full-blown essay at least 10k words/j. All jokes aside, this is an amazing blog, I come to it every day to see if you've posted something new :]. Keep going forward OP, you're truly amazing.

That is so sweet 😢 (/gen)

I was really  gonna write, “I dunno, I just think he’s a nice dude,” but then you asked for 10k words, so now Imma actually rant. Wilbur’s probably one of the first people who got me back into Minecraft, around 2019, and he was the first person I felt comfortable enough watching the Dream SMP vods from, back in November. 

First of all, the guy’s fricking gorgeous, like, ???? I never see any simping for him on my dash, and I’m just like ??? I’m not very good at simping over people’s appearances myself, so all I will say is that he’s fricking beautiful, jfc.

Second of all, I’m a music nerd, okay, and I really fucking like his singing. Back then, I listened to his music covers so much that I learned the lyrics from songs I’d never even heard of before I started watching Wilbur, by heart. Lol it helps quite a bit that a good chunk of my musical taste is made up of Life is Strange-esque, shitty indie songs that fit right into the covers he made back when he first started streaming. I’ve listened to YCGMA so many times that I have that same familiarity I have with songs I’ve listened to for literal years, knowing exactly what song comes next and when each measure ends and when the breaths are taken, etc., etc. He doesn’t have much finnesse when it comes to the technical qualities of his singing abilities, but he’s a damn good musician. His lyrical composition, chord progressions, little guitar riffs, emotion - ahhh, I just love Wilbur Soot’s music so much. I’m certain I’ll be listening to YCGMA in the middle of the night, when I need a good cry, for years to come lol. 

Third of all, I really, really appreciate his openness about his mental health just, so much. He talks about his anxiety and getting depressed so candidly, he so easily lets his audience know about what kinda mental state he was in during uni and as a teenager and while he wrote YCGMA, and it makes me feel so normal. As dumb and cliched as it is to need a public figure to validate my own lived experiences, I do, and for someone like Wilbur Soot to succeed and be so talented, encouraging, empathetic, and socially active, despite losing motivation and energy at times, gives me a little bit of hope for myself.

Fourth of all, I mean, the guy’s fucking hilarious, are we forgetting this? People always talk about his talents music-wise and writing-wise, or how nice he seems to be, but they always gloss over his genuine comedic ability, and I ??? It takes so much to keep my attention these days, and Wilbur Soot’s videos are still some of the only ones that can manage that feat. He has undeniable chemistry with practically any CC he meets, his editing style is just *chef’s kiss*, and his laugh somehow makes even the most mundane of jokes seem fucking hilarious, it’s just such a delight to watch or listen to him do bits, man.

I left the best for last, lol. The main reason I fricking love Wilbur Soot is his political consciousness and the fact that his political beliefs align pretty well with my own. I’ve dealt with cishet, mostly white guys, both on and off the Internet, for so many damn years, and it’s exhausting. I am so tired of deconstructing myself and suppressing myself for the sake of social interaction, community-building, preventing ostracization, and being able to consume content without feeling enraged or hopeless. It is an exhausting endeavor to want to like and love all the gamers I’ve watched since middle school, and having to just push down and numb the parts of me that want to flinch at offhanded jokes and comments and exclusion from online spaces. Wilbur Soot is a whole other breed of CC. Lol uhhh, I guess he’s what most of the people in the social media circles I used to frequent would call, “a feminist cuck” and “self-hating white guy.” Which all really just means that he goes just beyond human decency. Don’t get me wrong, I do not by any means let white, cishet guys dictate my self-worth anymore, or even let them educate me; that’s what all the wonderful female and POC and queer CCs that I’ve discovered over the years are for. But there’s still something deeply satisfying about listening to this person who fits all the demographic checkboxes of the kinda person who used to make me feel so Other and Wrong, instead rant about how teenage girls can’t express their interests without being denigrated for them out of deeply-entrenched misogyny, or about how society needs to stop villanizing poor people and realize that government aid and social services do a great service for community betterment and are not just used by people supposedly leeching off the taxpayer’s dime. That’s not even to mention the fucking beautiful satire of the E-Girl Trilogy. I always wanted to rant about this, but I don’t know how exactly to put it into the proper words... Basically, as someone who has spent years and years retconning, observing, and caught in the midst of incels, conservatives, and just extremely depressed cishet men of all races, I am deeply familiar with all the resentment, anxiety, misogyny, homophobia, gender essentialism, and self-hatred that goes into creating the average 20-something man’s view on women, society, romance, friendships, and sex. The E-Girl Trilogy is fucking brilliant because it so accurately captures this cocktail of emotions and ideologies, creating a fucking perfect caricature of the average man who looks and is just like Wilbur Soot. The persona is so well-crafted that most listeners who aren’t familiar with Wilbur as a person, or his political views, actually believe these songs are genuine and empathize with the narrators, can you imagine? And the fact that, in the process, Wilbur himself realizes that all of it is a fucking joke, that the narrator’s views on his love interest are weird and creepy and not at all normal or correct, is what makes it genuine satire. He embodies something so perfectly, only to mock it in the process of showing off how much he can embody it... I love satire, but I fucking suck at writing or accurately embodying it, so I’ve always been so fucking jealous of and beyond impressed by the E-Girl Trilogy’s use of satire. 

Lol this isn’t 10k words, but it was much longer than I fucking thought it’d be. Basically, I really like Wilbur Soot, and writing all of this made me realize just how much I missed watching his VODs and streams...