#is not personally better off that a white trans man with a loving family and access to health care and money

[freckledsweetpea]

btw if you come on my blog to compare types of queerness in bad faith I'm blocking you. I don't care what you have to say at all and respect is gone. You are quite literally sowing division of community and doing THE EXACT SAME THING THAT THE LGB PEOPLE DO. Of COURSE different individuals will always have it worse than others. YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE WILL ALWAYS FEEL WORSE THAN OTHERS AND TO FIGHT TO MAKE IT SO YOUR LABEL IS SEEN AS THE WORST CASE SCENARIO IS ACTUALLY STUPID.

[thetantiger]

Pride Doodles 2024!

Most of these are based off of real things I saw when me and my husband went to a pride faire this year, with my own goofy OCs as inserts. I'm going to talk about that a little bit and what it meant for me under the cut, but if you're just here for the art, all you need to know is: shoutout to that samoyed with the rainbow-dyed tail I saw.

So in order to really put into perspective as to why this pride event in particular was so meaningful to me (though, if you, reading this, are queer yourself, I'm sure the feeling isn't unfamiliar to you), let me give you a little bit of backstory. I live in rural Indiana, which is a statement in of itself. Last year I was unable to attend any pride events because me and my husband were getting married in June and, as you can imagine, being a bride the month leading up to such an event is an extremely busy time, lmao. If we could have fit it into the schedule I'm certain we would have, but it was just not possible at the time. Usually, I attend some sort of pride event every year.

Additionally, my husband's family is.. not the most supportive. I am bisexual and genderfluid, as well as demisexual (though this is not public knowledge in my real life, I'm not exactly closeted about it, I just don't bring it up a lot) and questioning polyamorous (which me and my husband are closeted about). Many members of his family regularly and casually use homophobic slurs (as well as racial ones) but his grandmother in particular is the main issue. When I first started dating my now-husband I was very forthcoming with the fact that I am genderfluid and this resulted in her somehow managing to find a way to steer the conversation into political debates surrounding trans people (trans people in sports, HRT, etc) every single time me and her interacted without fail. She has since at least slowed down about this, but highlights of conversations I've had with her since include: A, her questioning whether or not I'm actually bisexual because I've never been physically intimate with a woman (apparently being in a six month long committed relationship with somebody who thought they were a woman at the time [they're out as a trans man now] is not "bisexual enough"), B, her consistently pressuring me to dress more "feminine" because "your husband will like it better," and most recently C, where she made an entire event at dinner in a public restaurant while we were discussing planning to go to this pride faire, arguing that there should be a "straight pride parade" (and my father-in-law, bless his heart, proposed that it was as stupid as saying there should be a white history month, to which my grandmother-in-law vehemently claimed that there should be because "straight white people have been oppressed too"). I physically had to get up and leave the restaurant.

Anyway this is all to say that I was feeling particularly insecure about myself leading up to this event. It was repeatedly hammered into me that who I am was not worthy of acceptance or validation or love and even though I pride myself on being an extremely honest person about who I am and what I believe in, I felt myself repressing those things about myself. My husband has supported me through all of this (and sincerely, to that post about "please don't bring your straight cis male partners to pride," suck my fucking dick) and I cannot thank him enough for his unconditional reassurance that he loves who I am. As a matter of fact his parents were supposed to accompany us to the event but they flaked out on us, and he expressed great disappointment because he knew I was struggling with myself and that his grandmother was being bigoted and hateful and he wanted his parents to express their support by tagging along.

And then we got there.

I saw people flying their flags as capes upon their backs. I saw supportive ally parents walking alongside their kids. I saw service dogs with pride-themed vests. I saw lesbians with hand-knitted crop tops in orange and white and pink and I saw polyamorous couples enjoying each other's presence and I saw a trans woman in bright red mesh clothing and red leather heeled boots. I saw vendors selling vibrators and leather bondage harnesses with gay furry art decaled on the side of the tent and original graphic tees with giant cocks on them and yet no scarcity of asexual flags anywhere. I was offered free healthcare (though unfortunately we had crossed state lines to attend this event so I couldn't take advantage of it) and STI/STD tests and I stopped somebody to compliment their extremely well-made (and cool-looking) fursuit head and somebody else stopped me to compliment my shirt. I saw a guy just strutting down the street with his abs out, I saw amputees, I saw black women with fishnet stockings and pride-themed makeup and at least three pairs of men I'm nearly certain were partners and I felt at home. I was stopped by an older woman, who offered me a "glitter blessing." I asked what that was and she half-explained it to me and I offered her my hand. She put glitter on my hand, and told me I was loved, that I was accepted, that there will always be a place for me, and to never lose my sparkle and I cried right there in the street.

To see so many people come together, to love each other (platonically or otherwise!) unconditionally and to support one another, to craft a safe space for each other and to see people like me, unapologetic and unfiltered.. it meant the world to me. It meant everything to me.

My online friends are extremely supportive of me and my 60+ characters that are almost all unanimously queer. I've expressed insecurity about making so many of them queer, convinced it was redundant or tiring or "shoving it down their throat" and was only met with "okay and? make that bitch gay anyway." I can't thank them enough either, but sometimes you'll always run into that person that will never accept who you are no matter how "palatable" you attempt to make yourself. No matter how many shavings of yourself you lose trying desperately to smooth out the edges to please other people. No matter how much you try to conform.

So.. I've been reminded of something: to be myself. No matter how much I have to kick and claw and bite and gnash, nothing is more important than being myself. Nothing is more important than never losing myself for the illusion of acceptance from people who will never be convinced anyway.

Nothing is more important than never losing my sparkle, one could say. But perhaps that's a little cheesy.

And to anybody that can't publicly celebrate, to people that have to stay closeted for any reason, whether you're in a country that'll kill you for it or a household that'll leave you homeless for it or maybe you're just simply not ready yet, as I've said before; know that you being alive as a queer person is a radical protest in of itself to those who would have it otherwise.

I love you so much. Happy pride <3

[auxiliarydetective]

Thanks so much for your ask @faerieroyal !!! As usual with my beloved Kit, you'll be getting answers for both 80s!Kit and movie!Kit, so buckle up!

1. Can your OC admit to mistakes or weaknesses? Can they accept help?

Oh boy, both of them are so bad at admitting to not being the best™.

80s!Kit might be a little better at admitting to mistakes of character. She'll at least admit to being "a little stubborn" or "slightly impulsive". However, she hates having to say that someone beat her in a fight or - even worse - she may have possibly been kidnapped and can't get out on her own, and she hates having to be rescued because she failed to protect herself. Hannibal gets to save her after he learned not to rub it in her face. B.A. gets to save her because she loves to see the look on her captors' faces when he stares them down. Murdock gets to save her because he has never rubbed it in her face and never will - he's trying to get her to understand that getting saved is okay. Face does not get to save her. It's supposed to be her saving him. He's her damsel in distress, not the other way around.

Movie!Kit, on the other hand, will admit to being physically weaker. He's strong, alright, but he's an acrobat, not a strongman. Too much muscle mass would get in the way of his flexibility and it would be too heavy. However, he is always right. That's a law and that's a fact. There's only one person that can make him admit that he was wrong, and that's Face, with his power to make Kit's brain and heart melt with his kisses. Hannibal, however, knows how to harness this power for himself.

6. Are they dramatic?

80s!Kit isn't very dramatic. She prefers staring people down or walking away - or punching them. If she gets injured, she's gonna play it off or ignore it, usually with less than optimal results.

Movie!Kit is SO dramatic, especially if in the presence of Murdock and/or Face. These three together are the kinds over people kidnappers would give back willingly if they had only two of them, let alone three. They'll call Hannibal to pick up his kids because they're sick of these clowns and their constant whining and chattering and joking around. Also, Kit sometimes dramatises his injuries if he wants to be carried. His precious acrobat's limbs need to be protected. Ever heard of fatigue fractures? Or maybe he pulled a muscle, who knows...

7. How would they prefer to die?

Both of them want to die young and quickly. As much as they love their found family and their life, they can't imagine growing old or settling down. However, "young" is a very vague term here, because they probably wouldn't mind getting close to Hannibal's age if they're still as healthy as him then. And they'll definitely take a slow and painful death if it means their loved ones will be saved.

8. What is guaranteed to make them angry?

Everything? No, it’s not that bad, but both variants of Kit are very hot-headed. Criminal offense #1 is hurting Face, #2 is hurting the rest of the team. But now for some variant-specific reasons:

80s!Kit gets especially mad if kids are in danger. She will beat anyone up who even dares threaten a kid.

Movie!Kit, being trans, definitely wages war on transphobia. Talking shit? You get hit. This extends to homophobia as well. If his opponent is lucky, Kit will leave it at summoning Face just to make out with him in front of the homophobe's face. Generally, anyone who shows any bias against people who are not cishet, male and white will be flattened, but he shows the least mercy when it comes to transphobia.

9. What do they get really petty about?

80s!Kit gets petty about her gender. "Are you a woman?" "No!" "Are you a man?" "No! I don’t identify as a man or woman. I might occasionally feel like it though. I'm both and neither. What's there not to understand?" "So you identify as genderless? How does that even work?" "No. Weren't you listening? If you don't stop being stupid, I'm gonna start identifying as a problem, fool!"

Movie!Kit is an acrobat, not a gymnast. Yes, he does gymnastics, fine, but he's an acrobat, because he's an artist, specifically a circus artist. Do not call him anything but an acrobat.

Thanks so much for the ask, Dolly, my beloved! It was really fun to talk about Kit again!

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene and my beloved A-Team girlie @datasgirlfriend - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

[remove-the-stairs-bitch]

A tangent about myself, corporations, and absolutes, or My Experience.

I am going to speak on my own experience as a now cis white woman, previously a transgender/nb person. I might say things that you won't like, and that's fine. I know that there are people who don't like what I'll say. And that's good. Disliking certain things about people is a great opportunity for growth. It teaches nuance and depth, and there are things about even my closest friends that I don't like and yet see past. I still love them. My best friends are either far left or far right or wholly centrist, and that's okay. Because they're people. And we need to be able to see people as people, instead of just mirrors of our flawed selves.

As a disclaimer, this includes what some might consider transphobia, but I don't. Like parents keeping someone from transitioning bc of their age or someone breaking up with a new trans person. Also includes a death in the family. My own views on topics are heteronormative and based in Christianity, my parents views, my peers views, and the things I've seen and experienced, online and off. Don't discount my views for any of these, and if you do, please explain why.

I'll start with 2020, the year I joined tumblr and started doubting my identity as a woman/girl/female person. It was a rough time for everyone, and my 15 year old egocentrism did not help. At the time, I was dating a man of 16 years. I call him a man because he was wise in many ways, and in my mind he earned the title. But when I started questioning my gender, I told one of my friends about it. Consequently, she told her parents about it. And they told the man I was with about it. Because of my egocentrism, I was blind to how much it hurt him to think that his potential future wife was intent on becoming a man. I would have left him, as it's called, a trans widower. I say would have because there are nuances to this story that I'll explain later on here.

After a while of thinking that I was either a male or something between the genders, I eventually began identifying as a demigirl. The reason I thought I was a man or between the two at the time was my isolation from others, the natural desire to rebel at that age, and the fact that I was seeing so many trans men on YouTube tik tok compilations. On top of these was my stress from school, my stress from switching chores with my younger brother, and the stress of transitioning in itself. I blamed all of my problems on my gender. This did not solve anything. Because it didn't solve anything, I blamed the others around me, growing more and more abrasive towards the people I cared about until my mom pulled me aside and told me that there are people in my life who had it far worse than I did. It was not an actual of transphobia. What she did opened my eyes to the idea that I was not the center of the world, not even the center of my own. She told me that one of my best friends had been the victim of a violent crime, and while I was caught up in my own gender, I completely ignored her pain. I was a worse friend, a worse child, and a worse person, because I was focused solely on my problems and my image. That was when the facade began to break.

I began detransitioning in 2021. It was easy, free, and more freeing than trying to cram who I am into an agender box. I'm very glad that I wasn't able to find hormones at the time, or I'd be suffering the effects to this day. It was an emotional drain for the pressurized bottle I had built up in myself. And it was a struggle. There were times when I'd look in the mirror and think to myself, "I'm very masc presenting today," and then realized that's just how I normally dressed when I was younger. When I completely identified as a girl. It was hard because I saw other people transitioning. And when they finished transitioning, nothing changed. Their circumstances did not get better. Their grades sometimes dropped. Their quality of life went down. Their already strained relationships with their families broke entirely in some cases. It hurt to see.

My ideology then changed. I returned to my religion in August of 2021, and was able to find some peace. It was a great comfort to me, even when tragedy hit. My older brother left the family in pursuit of a narcissist. They were trans as well, but had multiple mental illnesses that made them arguably unfit to take care of another person, much less the polycule they had amassed. This hit my family hard, almost as though my brother had died. (I say this with the experience of losing a parent, not with the intent of coming off as saying "he was dead to us.") He left on a sour note, not telling us that he loved us anymore. I started a D&D campaign in the hopes of having some small connection to him, and it succeeded. Eventually, he was a victim of the very person he left us for, and he came back, traumatized. We have a place for him to this day, and he's at least slightly more comfortable with himself and his gender than he was when he returned to us. He doesn't lie when hardship strikes anymore, and he knows that we love him no matter his choices or his struggles.

In 2022, I got high grades and was nearly able to graduate. I had no need for other curriculum, as I had already met and exceeded the requirements for my state's high school graduates. I was undecided, so I opted to go through the summer of 2023 and see which way the wind blew. Over that summer, my father died. It was during a family trip that we had been planning for a while. It was unexpected, but wasn't as awful as I thought it would be. This may just be because of my religion, as it gives an answer for what goes on after death, and gives anecdotes of folks being brought back to life. I understood that no tears would bring him back. But I also understood that I was his legacy. And that he died proud of himself, his family, and his peers. In all likelihood, he died contentedly.

I quit my part time job and decided to try school again, if for nothing else then for the social security benefits. This proved to be a bad move. The friends I had there promoted unhealthy lifestyles, and although I loved them, I couldn't stay and let them affect me. So I left school, which wasn't something the teachers wanted me to do (I'm sorry Ms. F, I'll come back to show off my sewing projects!), but it was necessary in order to push myself to grow up. That was immediately stifled by a knee surgery (which was prescribed basically the week after my dad's death, bc I dislocated my knee right before going to the hospital to see his cadaver). It is now December, and here I am yapping about my personal life online.

I intended to speak on the near-widower that left me after I came out. We're back together. He still loved me. I just needed to grow up to see that.

There are people out there who might hate you as a trans person. But there's a solid difference between hate, ignorance, and concern. Hate is active oppression. There is oppression, and from what I've seen it's on a systemic and corporate level. But it's not on a personal level. On a personal level there's either ignorance or concern. What I experienced when I was struggling with my gender was concern. There was no ignorance in my case. The people who left me left for the same reason I left my school. It was because they saw the path I was taking and did not want to be shouted over while I was wandering. People can leave people they love because it's better to give a situation to the authorities than it is to try and fix it yourself. If my fiance hadn't left me, my mental and emotional state would have rubbed off on him and hurt him. I could have done more harm if he didn't cut me off when he did. For that, I think I'll forever be grateful. The people who stay stay because they know you need support while you'd still say they're toxic or hateful. That's what I thought of my parents until I was able to see the bigger picture. If your parents are actively beating you or shouting at you or gaslighting you, of course don't stay. But I recommend taking a second to ask about what's happening around you instead of within you. Because of today's culture, I took the notion that the answer was always inside me far too seriously. Sometimes the answer is in the people who care about you.

But this brings me to the second part of my little rant here. I came to the realization that the less people identify with solid and tangible things, the more the corporations in control of our country can manipulate us. There's pridewashing, virtue signalling, deflecting when serious issues are brought up, and we ignore it for the sake of letting these corporations remain the one stable thing in our lives. There are far more tech jobs these days than agriculture, and because of this, we could end up starving while corporations pull an Orwell on us and say there has never been a steady supply of grain. Or that there has always been a poor AQI. Or that we need the new Juicero Pro to do our taxes instead of making juice. I don't feel like America itself is the problem, but the corruption within it. I still rely on a device created with slave labor to share outlandish opinions and borderline radical ideology with you few, but I don't want it and I don't need it. I could just as easily toss this thing against a wall and be fine. (I won't bc my mom would be rather miffed if I did, but you get my point.) I could survive for a good long while without it, and probably be far happier. Same with all the trinkets and plastic I've accumulated, in my bloodstream and otherwise. I have no need nor desire for these things, and yet I keep them.

But there's a need and desire for at least a little tradition, which is expressed by many women who are sick and tired of being lumped into the modern idea of "man, woman, or nonbinary," and just want to be allowed to be tomboys again. Or just want to be allowed to be a wife. There's nothing inherently wrong with desiring a home with a working man and kids. There is something wrong with telling women what they can and can't do, according to modern feminism, and yet the women who want to be homemakers are silenced and shouted down, along with detransitioners among the lgbt. Aren't these people valid too? Isn't their plight just as understandable? But they're pushed to the margins as low statistics that really don't matter in the long run. Along with trans widows/widowers. Is it not wrong that we're ignoring the people who we harm with our movements? Isn't the point that we help the hurt? So why aren't we helping the people we're leaving behind? It's concerning is all. A society based on a single voice is no society at all.

Sorry for the rant. If anything here has resonated with you, feel free to comment about it. Same with anything that has struck a nerve. I miss being able to speak about the things I disagree on in a kind manner. I miss the good that disagreement brings.

[angel-milano]

November 30 – SwynRP Character Wishlist (Scad Edition)

There are characters that I've had ideas about picking up in the future. If there are any that you'd like to see more than others, feel free to react with their emoji! (You can vote for more than one lmao)

☠️Bones (Chef Remy Bones from Vampirina)

So I've been wanting to use Con as a grumpy character for aaaages now, and reading through the Hauntley Inn characters, this one clicked! I have a story brewing for him and I think he'd make a good "straight man" to all the crazy supernatural shenanigans that goes on around him. He just wants to die and God won't let him.

🧪Cornelius Lucy Robinson (Cornelius Robinson from Meet the Robinsons)

I would not be Scad if I wasn't on my trans bs 24/7. A bit of a different perspective, Lucy transitioned rather late in life and very much in the public eye. She's still working out the changes in her relationships, her career, and her reputation, while also trying to be a better spouse/parent than she has been. There's a lot of growth to be had, and I think it would be fun to play someone established in the Swynlake community.

💃Morgan (Morph from Treasure Planet)

So this is actually a character I have from other rps, but definitely one of my favorite to play. They are a drag queen, and in Swynverse they'd be a shapeshifting MAFIA member working at the local salon to help others transform into their true selves. I've always wanted to play them working off another villain (John Silver ideally) but I think there's a ton of fun connections they'd be able to make. Definitely the most social of any of my characters.

🔔Quasimodo (Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

MY BOY!!! Quasi was actually my first character in Swynlake when I was here years ago, and is the character I've taken with me across every Disney rp I've been in. The reason I haven't brought him back immediately is because his story was tied around some characters who aren't here anymore and I've been brainstorming how to re-adapt everything. I have some ideas, but you'll have to wait for the wanted connections edition...

I've been messing around with the idea of having a glamour fc (canonically he looks like his movie self) and am looking at Alfredo Minea.

💎Devyn Morey (Dopey from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves)

I love rping family dynamics and I think it would be a lot of fun to complete a set. I have a gift idea in mind, I'd want to play him as deaf, and I have a general personality, but if I did go this direction, I ofc would be checking in with a lot of people first!

🩺Barry Makaguchi (Baymax from Big Hero 6)

Robot characters not getting enough love!! Transhumanism themes are so much fun and I'd love to be able to explore them with this character. I think it would be really interesting watching them play off others, Magick and Mundus alike, and develop their view of the world as their AI continues to learn.

🐭Bernard Newhart (Bernard from The Rescuers)

In terms of groups I'd like to wriggle my way into, RAS is up there. Rescuers has a special place in my heart and Bernard has always been a favorite for me. Ofc I'd want to play him with his partner (whoever that might be, see wanted connections) but I think he also could be interesting on his own. What is his mission? How can he connect with other RAS members in Swynlake? Can he not blow his own cover??

🌺Tala Wailiki (Gramma Tala from Moana)

I have wanted to use Rena Owen to play Tala for soooooooo long, but haven't had the right opportunity yet. But when I saw Moana's bio meeting with her estranged grandma, I was like, huh! What's going on with that! So I have a story cooking--the idea that Tala is a revenant in Swynlake, looking for Answers to Something, while generally just being the village crazy lady. That's her job.

👻Terry House (Terry from Soul)

Listen, as a certified Annoying Virgo(tm), I love playing other Annoying Virgo types. Terry was my favorite part of Soul and I think it would be a hoot-and-a-half to play them. We got some undead types around that they could bother, but they're also an accountant at InterPride so there are those connections too. They'd be fun BECAUSE they're so boring!

🌊Ponyo (Ponyo from Ponyo)

And ofc, you can't forget about the mers! I was actually planning on picking up Ponyo in my original Swynlake run, (before my life fell apart lol) and the muse is still there. She'd be excitable and silly, which isn't a character type I get to play all too often.

💘Bebe Proud (Bebe Proud from the Proud Family + Erato)

So looking at the muses, Erato definitely stood out to me. I was wondering if I should just make an original OC or try to connect them to another Disney character, and then thought about the idea of Bebe and Cece as twin muses. Cece could be anyone, and it would open up for wider Proud Family shenanigans! The joke with Erato is instead of writing love poetry, they're a prolific multi-fandom Ao3 fic author.

[radiodont]

several things. one: going through ex-terf tumblr is supremely healing and i wholeheartedly recommend it, good luck to all the people currently dragging themselves out of that particular hell

two. almost every ex-terf i could find was deradicalized by one of two things.

A) they left a harmful church/cult/family situation and once they were out of it, they started reexamining their views

B) they met a real-life trans person and, upon realizing that trans people are just regular people and not vicious predators and/or brainwashed waifs, their entire worldview crumbled.

like. that's it. meanwhile, if you ask them why they got into being a terf, it'll almost always be "i was in a really low point in my life and they seemed like the only people who understood me" or "i was 15 and my brain was still easily malleable" or "it felt good to hear that i wasn't imagining misogyny and it spiralled from there". like, the contrast is staggering, and it's no wonder terfs are so hateful and insular; their entire worldview is built around suffering and being victimized and not being able to trust anyone.

it's almost painfully transparent that they're trying to cope with various traumas, but through some lack of accessible help or desire to have a scapegoat, they lashed out. it's a desire for control in a world that's frequently uncontrollable and unfair; it suddenly isn't enough that institutionalized misogyny benefits most white men through a complex system of bias. that's big, and hard to fix, and frustrating, and not knowing who to trust is terrifying. it's much easier to write off all men as inherently unsafe and predatory because then there's no possibility of being hurt.

and into this worldview of fear and paranoia enters trans people. under this lens, if all men are evil and incapable of experiencing joy and fear and love as purely as women do, then there should be no reason for a trans woman to transition except to prey on weak and vulnerable women (which is a layer of internalized misogyny so complex that it would take litres of mane and tail to detangle).

and, under this lens, there's no reason for a trans man to transition except to escape the Inherent Suffering and Oppression that women face. they're so consumed by their worldview of suffering that it's impossible for them to imagine someone doing something to follow a good feeling, rather than escape a bad one. it's this view that also fuels their staunch opinion that trans women are "performing a persona and making a mockery of womanhood"-- seeing someone be unabashedly happy being a woman and engaging in stereotypically feminine things is inconceivable to them. women who enjoy heels and makeup and being sexy are just brainwashed by the patriarchy-- so why would a trans woman, who was raised without that societal pressure, want to do it, except to make a mockery of the Suffering And Tragedy of all womanhood everywhere?

it's all so tangled in trauma and misery and fear, and it's no surprise that almost every ex-terf describes an immediate relief and freedom upon deradicalizing. it's exhausting to operate like half the population is a threat-- i would know, because despite making up a small, small percent of the population, the assault and rape rates among trans people are higher than either cis men or cis women. and despite that, and despite all the laws making it illegal for me and people like me to live happily, and despite all the misinformation and hatred and vitriol, i am joyful. i am kind, and patient, and not once have i ever resorted to kicking someone more marginalized than me to make myself feel better. i feel sorry for terfs, but not sorry enough to forgive them.

[slowdripsunrise]

yippee more reading !!!! spoilers for lone women by victor lavalle under the cut!

ohhh my lord this book was so good. the atmosphere, the characters, the plot !!!!!!!! this is one of those stories where the setting/landscape really feels integral or like another character... if this story had taken place anywhere else, it wouldn't have been the same at all. the cold montana winds and mountains and just. flatness was perfect. the darkness. the imagery of a single light out on the plains in the dark. wonderful amazing showstopping i love her she was brutal. as for the actual characters, i loved all the characters the audience was supposed to love, and hated all the characters the audience was supposed to hate oml the reeds. fuck them jfc like the very quiet subtlety of mrs. reed at first like how. above it all she seemed from the jump even as she was positioned as a community focused figure in the beginning... there's always something off with extremely small town rich white women... and sam.... and elizabeth... and adelaide and birdy and fiona and grace and ough...... theres so much more i have to say but i cant keep my thoughts in a straight line about it so ill try to be coherent but. no promises. anyways i totally loved the ending as well... at first i thought it was going in a kind of lindwrym direction through the power of sisterly and familial love but. honestly i think i like it better that elizabeth just stayed as a dragon and entertained the kids in the new town like thats so fucking awesome i love that. imagine your sister being a dragon its fucking awesome. and i'm glad that adelaide learned to love her sister as she is through all of these other women who are also seen as outcasts and queer folk. grace who murdered her husband and has a imo adhd coded trans son (also thought it was funny and very very relevant and fitting that the conservative rich lady was pretty chill with murder and not with letting her child be happy. like yeah man thats it right there) birdy who was one of two black people in town, one of one living black person, before adelaide arrived, and was dating a young chinese woman. all outcasts, all with their own burdens, and adelaide found them through her sister and her stuggles, and herself and her need for connection. going back to the landscape, one of my fav scenes was when adelaide and fiona were traveling through glendale (if that's what it's called icr and i havent seen it spelled lol) and how eerie and creepy that was, how it was never really explained, and how ig shit like that just happens in montana. like yeah ill believe that. also probably part of the reason why everyone was so ready to believe that theres a flying monster out on the plains killing people. also supported by the fact that allegedly a black woman summoned it. but either way i had a really good time listening to the audiobook, the narrator did a fantastic job and i ate that shit up. 5/5 creepy as fuck and i liked it

[obsessive-bear-walking]

I was talking to @hussyknee and she suggested I post this.

At every turn I am reminded that white people, especially cis white women feel absolutely entitled to keeping marginalized people as pets and accessories, as tools to be used to raise them up while they stand on our backs and pierce our skin with their heels. Or even strictly as a fetish with no real human value or soul. I know I'm saying this as a white person, and I know there's probably of better way to say it but I've never been good with words and I am talking about white women(and some afabs in general) here and I wont beat around the bush.

I have rarely met a white woman of any other demographic who gave a shit about me, my community, or our struggles. I was always her fun gay friend or cute little build-a-boy she could dress up. (I have a negative physical response to being called "cute" and that's mostly because of white women.) It was always about them, and how I was her ticket to other gay men and the attention and how she could feel holier than thou for being so kind to a nasty little faggot like me who society loathes so much while getting a front row seat to my gay life so she could, I don't know, get her rocks off or something. If that meant half heartedly supporting gay rights, then sure that's fine I guess, but you know she's really here for the pet fag. (and most don't even do that beyond performative I LOVE THE GAYS)

I can't even trust a majority of white queer women, personally. I know that's so incredibly taboo to say these days. I've had countless mspec and even lesbian white women treat me like accessories and pets and feeling absolute entitlement to my time and even my body. I'm constantly thwarting advances from mspec women and wlw who will not accept no because I'm a trans man and they're into that, so therefore they're entitled to my vagina.

(But if I say that, even on my own time when m to f rape isn't even being discussed, I'm erasing man on woman rape and silencing female victims being a misogynist. Funny how that all works out.)

That's without even getting into the women who go to gay bars then have the nerve to get mad when the gay men don't give them enough attention, or worse, get pissy/disgusted when a woman hits on them?

It so frequently becomes a narrative about how "Oh, women feel safer with queer men! You're just misogynist/over reacting." I could go on. Yeah okay, but I don't mean Emily whatsHerFace who just goes to a gay bar with her friends and minds herself and get drunk. I mean the majority who want to keep me and my fellow queer men as pets while never wanting to think about the fact that wlw exist.

When it comes to them, what about me, my life, and other queer men's psychological well being and safety? What about us, who are being used as toys and exploited to make these white ladies look good and moral and get attention and book deals for all they've done to help these lowly queers?

What about queer amabs who were exploited by the fucking Aids Angel and their families? When will white women truly be held accountable for their abhorrent behavior without being able to scream that they're oppressed too? This is such normal entitlement for them, she's not special, just a little bold. When will they be knocked down a few pegs?

Those men watched their loved ones suffer and die around them while they too withered away and she fucking banked on that, like so many other white women I've come across in my brief twenty-five years of life, over fifteen of those have been as a queer man.

She directly paraded one of them around to sell the story of his dead partner! She inserted herself into their lives and forced herself into some savior with lies and bullshit all for the renown and fucking money. Her own fucking woke points or whatever, and that is so disgustingly normal for too many white women.

It's like when these white women insist on adopting a kid in each fucking "color" and throwing them around on social media begging for attention because they adopted some poor brown orphan. Or who want a pet east Asian boyfriend because they listen to Kpop or watch anime or just in general. I am looking directly at the Asain Boyfriend Tags of the mid-2000s. (Which, I'm aware straight abled South Korean Men aren't marginalized in SK, but it's the same principle. Different, not really human, free grabs as a pet.) They're the same with disabled people, it's all the same shit.

Not in severity, because you can't even begin to compare that. But in the entitlement. The pure, unfiltered entitlement and privilege that makes them believe that they're entitled to all of this. Entitled to be furniture in our lives, helping us only when it suits them and makes them look good or when they can play with us like dolls, or get their rocks off to us without giving a shit about us as humans.

Then they cry misogyny and hate again the moment anyone says a damn thing against them. Using crocodile tears to avoid being held accountable for anything. I know six year olds who can take responsibility better, honestly pathetic. Toxic femininity at it's finest.

Anyone affected by white afab folks making them fetishes or trinkets can add to this or if you're wlw and have been excluded by fag hags, I wont gatekeep too much but if you're just going to try to argue about points to silence us like "but POC and gay men can be toxic too!" or try to argue that I just hate women, this isn't the post for you. Because 1. That's not relevant 2. Because I'm fucking tired of kneeling to white women. I'm tired of being fucking stepped on and my humanity torn away because they looked me and decided I was up for grabs and I'm tired of seeing them do that to others. I'm Disabled, I'm Queer, and no you can't keep me as a damn pet or wear me like a fucking dog in a purse.

[inndelibles]

While I fully agree that we should be able to critique media we like and it's not fair to attack others for doing so, I'm genuinely baffled by the first two points. I don't say that as a slight or attack, I just really don't understand, because this is how I see it.

On Terry: I took a look at his step 4 just because it's been a while since I've seen it and I don't see how it's sexualized at all. Nothing about his design draws attention to any particular body part and he's not in lewd clothes or a suggestive pose. Calling it sexualized just seems inaccurate. What is accurate is saying that he doesn't look super duper masculine.

Yes he has narrower shoulders and wider hips, but that's just... how some people look? I feel like it just implies he didn't have surgery to make his body appear more masculine, which lots of trans men also choose to do. And that shouldn't make their transness any less valid. Yes, some trans men might be self-conscious about it, but others might not be, and even for those who are, they may not have access to resources to give them the look that they want. Should we just not acknowledge that those people exist? Should we just never portray trans men that don't look completely like cis men? That feels pretty dangerous to me. I actually think it's awesome that Terry's design is the way that it is; it represents a real group of trans people that exist, and shows that (general you) your identity as a trans man is valid even if you don't want to/can't use resources to make yourself look like a cis man.

Not to mention plenty of cis men look like that too. Narrow shoulders and wide hips are not exclusive to women, nor are wide shoulders and narrower hips exclusive to men. In the same way that gender is a spectrum, the way that our bodies present biological sex (which is also not as black and white as XX vs XY) is a spectrum. Terry's body type in step 4 could easily be that of a cis man, just a cis man whose body doesn't look super traditionally masculine.

On Baxter's Parents: I assume Baxter is the LI being referenced here. Not only is the white supremacy (which yes, I do agree is there) actively portrayed as a bad thing, but Baxter's character wouldn't make much sense without it. The reason he is the way that he is comes from the fact that he is a queer man from a bigoted family, and he realized he didn't want to be like them after becoming friends with other queer and poc kids in the neighborhood and seeing how awesome they are – basically seeing how wrong and horrible his family is. He actively decides to be better than them by not following in their footsteps and choosing to accept people the way they are. Remember the whole "they would hate me if I wasn't their biological son" thing? He's fully aware that he is a person his parents would hate because of his queerness and willingness to interact with those who are """below""" him, and they only reason they don't hate him is that "oh he's our offspring, there must be reasons he is the way he is. We'll extend grace to him because deep down he's really like us and just doesn't know what he's doing."

Without the explicit bigotry of his parents, Baxter is just... a guy that cut off all contact with his family because they were strict, I guess? And his whole issue with not believing he's worthy of relationships because "he has nothing to offer" is no longer because of his family's wealth and seeing middle and lower class families as "lesser," so what would be the cause of it? I don't know if I'm making sense but his story feels way less impactful and doesn't even make sense in some ways unless it's made clear that his family is awful and bigoted, especially now having the context of the characters of OLNF.

Now, I will say that I understand not loving the white supremacy in a game that's meant to be comforting and accepting, but it's presence in this game is so small, and again, it's condemned, not portrayed as neutral or even positively. Not to mention it's in a dlc, so people who just play the free version wouldn't encounter it at all.

Anyways this went on for way longer than I meant it to. I hope I'm not coming across as aggressive, because that's not my intention. I do agree that acknowledging criticism is very important. I guess I just wanted to give my perspective because I don't see how these points specifically are actually things that should be criticized.

Ya know, as someone who has been in this fandom for nearly 2-3 years, I have seen so many people jump at other people for being critical of OL when there are very obvious fuck ups that the game devs should have taken time to correct instead of letting it stay and fester.

For example:

Terry's step 4 design in general and how grossly sexualized it is when he's a trans man

The inclusion of white supremacy through one of the LI's parents

Cliff never having a set enthicity and therefore letting people decide what race Cove should be so they dont have to worry about confronting their feelings on dating a mixed man

I can go on and on about this, but you can enjoy a game and criticize aspects of it that wasn’t handled well. You should, at the very least, be neutral on when people criticize those aspects because each criticism is an improvement that the devs can take forward to their next games

[freedfromthegalactichivemind]

I just finished a slew of fanfictions to be released later.   Anyway, while I was working on them, I came across this Youtube analysis of J.K. Rowling that I was watching / listening to of all things.  I was never much into Harry Potter.  I saw the movies like most people in this wide world, but I never read the books.  It just wasn’t something I ever got into.  It was tailored to a younger crowd than I was at the time, it was a bit overhyped, etc. Or maybe I just have an aversion to most things that take place in a school-heavy environment because I am still traumatized from being the Weird Kid.  Whatever. I still find myself interested in media analysis of the work in regards to the fall of the author in the public eye, how she went from progressive icon to cancelled.   The guy doing the media analysis was a cis gay man who was a big fan and spoke of how it helped him form his identity as a kid, even helped him in his journey to come out, and while he is not trans, he knew trans people who had a similar journey, and therefore everything going on with Rowling feels like a betrayal.  I’ve personally wondered “was this always even there with her, beneath the surface?  Or are her Terfy-views entirely new?  After all, people do change, their worldviews included, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.  I mean, the me of 15-20 years ago was an obnoxious evangelical and a lot of my current views couldn’t be more different. I went from conservative --> progressive, utterly sincerely and I think that the opposite can happen, too, people being sincere progressive ---> conservative, because we’re all a bunch of humans and no one and nothing is completely “pure.” Maybe the person who wrote those books really was a completely different person than the one who exists now, holding the authorship rights.   Anyway, since this is a She-Ra fan blog... getting to the point.  Watching this media analysis made me think about how I feel like I have an advantage in certain fandoms I choose to be in, and what seems to choose me.   Harry Potter fans, by and large, seem to have the inability to divorce the story from the author.  This is a fundamental part of how the story is set up.  The books have a single origin-point, this specific author. Films and games and other media are a group-effort, but they all center back to the origin-point of a single author.  The story is inexorably tied to one person, so anyone who is in fandom for it - even if they’re making their own art and stories from it, have to process the fundamental truth of a single origin-point of the thing they’re doing their own derivatives of.   The analysis I watched made no judgement on how people process their grief, as it were.  The host said that he’ll spend no more money on the franchise, but that he’s not giving up his enjoyment of what he once loved and already has.  He knows others the same way - people who refuse to let even the author herself take the good thing they enjoyed away from them. Some, of course, choose not to engage.   I spared a brief thought to “What if someone on the She-Ra crew did something that I thought was really awful?”   And that’s when I realized some of them have.  Not J.K. Rowling levels - obviously, the entire show is incompatible with that.  There are actual trans characters, gay characters, racially diverse characters, disabled characters - they can’t do much that’s really anti-progressive.  But... a few of the creators have said things that I know some of the fans have found off-color... I remember a fiasco when one of the voice actors on Twitter made a joke about Entrapta working for Trump because she’d want to be in the Space Force and she just got reamed by the fans over that.  (She seemed to have forgotten that Entrapta is not white, for one thing).  Then there was the debacle where a joke was made about Bow’s family in the writer’s room that came out in an interview that seemed to me like it was “innocent, but tone-deaf” - like it wasn’t meant as awful, it just “You weren’t thinking, were you?”   In-series, on-screen, the “Let’s leash Entrapta, the confirmed character with autism” joke was...um...it was a thing.  And yet, I’m here, in a fandom, doing fanwork, unbothered by it for the most part because... I think it’s because Spop isn’t tied to a single vision.  It was a group-effort with many writers, a director that conferred with the writers, character designers and story-boarders who eventually got their storyboard running gags into the series (I heard that Rogelio x Kyle wasn’t originally going to be a thing until it became a story-board crew’s running thing).  The writers, artists, voice actors, etc. all had different takes on what they were doing, and to boot, the whole thing was a derivative-property to begin with, a reboot-adaptation of something that existed before some of them were even born.  (I think a lot of the Crew-Ra are younger than my nostalgic and modern-animation loving ass).   Enjoying this property isn’t as much intrinsically tied for me into any single-point origin.  Some people treat it as “N.D.’s vision,” but I divorce it a little from even him, because he didn’t handle all of the story aspects.  (In particular, I’ve heard that he wasn’t much interested in dealing with Hordak, so much of Hordak’s arc was handled by others).  My “side” of the fandom has taken this football and run because we know that the “main creator” wasn’t really the “parent” to our blorbos, that Entrapta and Hordak were largely handled by others on the crew.  So, you know, there’s just not this worshipful “my creator must do no wrong” thing for me at all.  It’s almost like Death of the Author is particularly strong with this property.  I am very much an advocate for Authorial Rights - like, if an author says “my work means this” that fans should listen.  I mostly am into this because I do original work, myself - not that I’m ever going to become well-known, and I just...really, really don’t want far-right bozos pretending my work means something it doesn’t and adopting it as their own, which happens to way too many authors.  (That poor guy who made the frog cartoon even tried to kill the frog off in story, but people still did their own thing with the image and I just feel sorry for the guy).  At the same time, I do believe in a degree of Death of the Author, because, obviously, I write fanfiction and create my own stories, and sometimes my own stories are really off-the-wall of the canon, and purposefully so.   A couple of my upcoming collection stories have... “Ugh, I know that this plotline is so out of character for Etheria, I honestly don’t think it would happen if canon continued beyond a certain point, but I need to include it to make MY plot work!”    I guess I just want to say that I have an easy time of this in fandom because I seem to become most enamored with fandoms that really are “group effort�� and are generally cooperate / collective-owned from the get-go with no One Shining Idol-Person to put on a pedestal.  Zelda is a big fandom for me, too, and it’s like that.  In fact that property has some Ship of Theseus shit going on with changing crew working on it over the 30+ years the games have been a thing.   I just wonder if it’s easier to “divorce creator from fandom so you can ignore problematic creator-bullshit” is just easier to do if you know that the base canon has tons of fingerprints from lots of different creators on it.  

[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.

[crushing-on-nico-di-angelo]

This is kind of a random question but...

Do you know why people hate Rick Riordan?

I just have no information, and I’ve seen a lot of stuff lately talking about how he’s problematic.

hi!! yes, I've seen things about this as well. I can list the reasons I've seen. I don't agree with all the points made, but its just what I've seen and I think it may answer your question. I also recommend going through the tag #rr crit, as it will give you a lot more and detailed information regarding him (beware: there are quite a few buzzwords. I recommend taking the facts and forming your own conclusions). I also think it's important to note that many people don't hate him, but they acknowledge that since he's a cishet white man there's things he didn't handle well and he needs to listen to critisicm.

Completely mishandled Piper's native American heritage. From the feather in her hair, to her dad being from a reservation that doesn't exist in Oklahoma, to having kaleidoscope eyes (some say that it suggests brown eyes aren't beautiful enough for aphrodite, more on this in the next bullet), to being a kleptomaniac, her character is, ignorantly or purposefully, chock full of stereotypes. having a cornucopia being her weapon. when Rick was told that this isn't good he became defensive and didn't listen to any critisicm

not giving female characters chances to be young, or not have a boyfriend or be unconventionally attractive. if they do get to not have a boyfriend, they're thrown into the Hunters of Artemis. their eyes are anything but brown (I do disagree with the eye thing but it's important to note), suggesting that having brown eyes should be considered less than. Sadie got a 1000 year old boyfriend when she was 14. 13 year old Hazel had a 16 year old boyfriend-- that could be a seventh grader and a junior or a freshman and sophomore depending on how you look at it (and I LOVE frazel, don't get me wrong. the age gap is just,,). in fact, the only female non-hunter without a significant other I can name is Meg, and she's 12.

Sadie Kane and the fanart he boosts of her. he frequently shows her looking completely white, despite saying she "stood out in class for being mixed." It honestly wouldn't surprise me if a white girl were cast to play her in the Netflix movies.

treatment of characters with invisible disabilities. this can range from the coment of "You anemic loser" targeted at Octavian (as someone with an iron deficiency, I don't see anything wrong with it, but cmon. kids can see that, rick. you can't control anemia) to Clovis' chronic fatigue being treated as a joke. invisible disabilities are hard and just as painful as physical ones. it doesn't help if you treat them like that.

too much misogyny to list all of it, but we can start with young girls being expected to be, and acting, more mature than they are; the strong female characters portraying the "I'm not like other girls" trope; the entire way Hera was treated.

The way Nico's outing was handled (this is one I especially disagree with, and this post said it best, thanks ghost). A violent outing by the God of love taking place before Nico was ready, according to some, was not what younger gay people needed to see. he should have had a loving environment and, at the very least, it should have been from his own point of view and not Jason's.

anti-acne and fat phobia: Apollo having a deep hatred towards his acne and Frank's glow up including severe weight loss (not being a cuddly teddybear anymore, getting taller) isn't the best thing for kids who have acne or are fat to see.

Samirah al-Abbas: "reversing the stereotype (Rick's words)" of an arranged marriage by having her be in love with a distant cousin is... not reversing the stereotype at all actually. it just falls into it. Having her take off her hijab around floor 19 because they feel like family is also not great, because, to my understanding as a non-hijabi and non-muslim, that is not how being hijabi works. similar to the piper situation, when Rick was told that this isn't good he became defensive and didn't listen to any critisicm

ANTISEMITISM, ANTISEMETISM, ANTISEMITISM. this is one of the ones I agree with the most. Having Hades' children be Nazis, having a plot point revolve around one of the most traumatic events in world history, ignoring the fact of generational trauma and ignoring the fact that It Didn't Matter That It Took Place In World War Three, it could have not had any correlation to the death of over six million Jewish people. it legitimizes evilsurrounding Hades and death, and -- well, this one makes me so mad, I can't explain all of it so here is a post explaining more in depth

Slavery issues: similar to the holocaust, Rick Riordan made one of the most terrible issues in American History into a fight between demigods. this lowers the legitimacy of the issue, makes it seem fictional, makes Camp Jupiter seem terrible and awful, except it doesn't. because camp Jupiter isn't terrible. but the confederacy was. if children, especially white children, learn about the confederacy through camp Jupiter, it makes it seem way less bad than it was.

again, I don't agree with all of this, it's just reasoning as to why. in my eyes, Rick Riordan is a man who has grown in his telling of his stories. he started with a canonical all white, all straight, all cis cast. he has now a series featuring a latino genderfluid queer person. This Post said it better than I ever could.

I know that it's impact over intent in so many situations. and this isn't to say I disagree with all, or even most of his critisim. I just think that he has good intent, and I hate him for absolutely none of it.

I am gay, I am Latino, and I am trans. that is all I can speak on, and I think his rep for that was great. I hope this answered your question, dear anon. again, I encourage you to do your own research and form your own opinions. I only touched on a few issues that Rick has had and there's a lot more to be talked about. I would say to keep in mind his intent and his growth. thank you for the ask, thank you for directing it to me that made me feel happy lol. ily I hope you have a good day

if anyone else has anything to add, by all means please do!!

[pokesplendor]

carmela’s team from my pokemon shield playthrough! not as happy with this bunch... info beneath the cut!

Graves - Inteleon - she/he - lesbian White - cis woman - age 30

Graves came from a very unconventional background prior to entering into the League circuit. Having raised since she was young by Interpol for undercover operations, she was there and experienced things a child shouldn’t for the sake of ‘justice.’ Who’s justice is really to question in this situation, as she never had a say. It’s only once she reached legal age did she take a ‘vacation’ and decide to try the league. That’s where she re-encountered Ella, who she had met on the job in the Champion’s guard. She uses her combat skills she gained from her rigorous upbringing, which you’d think would cause her to dominate the field, but that isn’t the case. She’s actually fairly bad at it. 

She has a bit of a problem interacting with others. She was trained in how to act natural, friendly, and unassuming, but she doesn’t know how to not act. What’s Graves’ personality? Well, she’s a crybaby whenever she’s alone. Little things upset her, her anxiety ramps up her paranoia, and she keeps it all saved beneath the surface until she’s alone and then she cries. Other than crying in her off time, she’s a voracious reader, and particularly likes poetry.

If Graves could ever be honest with herself, she’d admit she’s fallen for Ella quite hard. That bright ball of sunshine brought a smile to her face in a way she hadn’t experienced before. But she wasn’t able to voice her feelings, and Ella is now sadly taken. She’s also a poor leader, along with a poor battler, and she doesn’t garner much respect from her team. She’s often spoken over by Crusher.

Crusher - Sirfetch’d - she/her - lesbian White - cis woman - age 34

Crusher likes to think she’s a gallant, chivalrous knight that leaves women quaking with soaked undies are her arrival and her deep, rusty voice sends shivers up their spine when she announces herself, and she’d like to think that everyone wants her around, but she’s wrong. She butted her way into Graves’ team, seeing its lack of, well, many things, leadership, power, attractiveness… They obviously would benefit from her accompaniment. She didn’t care what they had to say, she was going to be on their team and they were going to worship her for what she brings to the table. She’d like to think she’s wanted, but honestly, not very much so.

As if it wasn’t evidence enough, Crusher is extremely up her own ass, overconfident, and unfortunately, with enough power to back up her words. She’s a demon on the field, knocking enemies out with a single sweep sometimes. She works out on the regular, and doesn’t wear armor to show off her many (sexy) battle scars. Otherwise, she’s into collecting antique tea sets and little glass kittens to display back home. Her house is full of them.

Crusher likes to think (man she likes to think a lot of things) that everyone on the team is slightly in love with her, when she is tolerated at best. Goliath likes her, but Goliath likes everyone. He spots for her when they’re working out together, and she respects him for his strength. She’s especially hard on Thrasher and Maverick for not pulling their weight until they evolved, citing them as a weakness.

Goliath - Grimmsnarl - he/they - gay Japanese - nonbinary - age 21

Goliath hails from the Glimmwood Tangle, from quite a large and loving family, but he got it in his head that he had to see the world beyond the forest clearing, he wanted to see where all the people braving its endless maze to reach the gym were about, he wanted to know! A regular yearning princess wishing to see what’s beyond her tower she’s been trapped in. And this is the family business Matilda had to leave her swamp for, bringing his ass home. She got there a little too late, however, already picked up by Graves’ group and registered into gym fights. He couldn’t leave! He made a promise to help! And look at his cool new friends.

When not spent daydreaming about adventures he could be having, he likes to keep in shape. His family home requires constant upkeep, lest the magical wood overgrows anything manmade within a few days. He likes to read, despite struggling with it due to his dyslexia, and he hopes to write his own book one day about what he’s experienced, he wants to have an adventure worth filling a book with. He’s a very positive lad, a happy one, who tries to share the happiness with those around him.

Goliath is still young, but he’s pretty sure about who he is as a person, he knows where he stands on morals, and her own identity as well. He’s chivalrous and kind, always trying to get the team to work together and get along. It has varying results. Grievous loves to mother him, and he likes to think he’s pals with Graves. Despite being younger, he tries to protect Thrasher and Maverick.

Blitz - Centiscorch - she/her - queer White - cis woman - age 33

Blitz, like Graves, was raised by Interpol for infiltration and undercover work. Unlike Graves, however, while the Inteleon was sanded down to being a weak, anxiety-ridden mess, it only strengthened Blitz’ nerves of steel, causing her to become cold and calculating. She only joined the League circuit because she had a mandated vacation following losing her leg from the knee down, and she didn’t want to get rusty on her skills. Not to mention she saw Graves attempting to lead and failing at it and thought she’d stick around to demean her for her lack of anything worthy of use for Interpol’s workings.

She doesn’t have many hobbies, she likes working out, staying fit, and occasionally cooking some ultra healthy superfood, but it’s not like cooking is her passion. She doesn’t understand why people think you need to have a life outside of your work, she’s perfectly happy to just always be on the job and do as it demands. She smokes, but only the occasional cigarette so as to not negatively affect her health. She’s a woman of few loves, few words, and she thinks that’s just fine.

Blitz scoffs when the team tries to have any sort of ‘get to know each other’ exercise. It’s never in good faith, and just ends in disaster so she tries to avoid it. Grevious tries to mother her on occasion, for whatever reason, she never had a mother and she doesn’t want one, so she doesn’t understand why her face gets flushed and hands get sweaty when the dragon’s around.

Maverick - Corviknight - she/her - lesbian White - trans woman - age 32

Maverick is a failed knight from olden times; she was sealed in a tomb in the slumbering weld with her previous king as a way to protect him in the next life, only to be revived by Graves and Ella exploring the area. Being awoken in modern times, she had a lot to learn and get used to, part of it being her king is no more. The body is gone, and the tomb ransacked. She failed, and this weighs heavy on her shoulders through the journey. She agreed to follow Graves, sensing a nobility to her, Ella already having Thomasin by her side while Graves had no one. She is skilled in battle, if not unsure of herself due to her failings during both in the past, and while she was asleep.

She holds herself to high standards, almost impossible for her to meet, but no one else. She does not expect others to keep up her strict training regime, it is for her alone to shoulder the burden of being known as a failure. Despite that statement, Crusher constantly challenges her, and they’re often sparring with one another. In her off time, she enjoys weaving and is learning the modern trades of ‘sewing’ and ‘crochet.’ She enjoys making clothes for herself and others.

Her strict lifestyle doesn’t give her many moments to herself or to consider her feelings for others. She dedicates herself to a cause and thinks of little else. However she enjoys Grevious’ company. She does notice the occasional stares from others, such as Thomasin from Ella’s team, and she wonders what it could mean. Does she resent her for not joining Ella? It seemed only fair at the time.

Grevious - Dragapult - she/her - bi Vietnamese - trans woman - age 45

The ghost of a test pilot that went down during a new dirigible’s trial run over Galar. Her body was never found, believed to be incinerated by the blast, and her spirit has hung on to the area as she never got a proper burial. Graves, hearing her plight, followed her to her remains, giving her the burial she deserved. Freed from her prison, she was free to pass on, but she denied doing so, she had to repay Graves for her service. And so, she was conscripted to the gym challenge, one she had seen many travelers pass by speaking of such a thing and she was always curious just what exactly it was. She had heard things of course, but nothing is better than first hand experience.

Grievous is a very noble person, but not too stuffy either. She loves a good joke, she loves puns, and she loves giving people a good fright with her ghostly status. It’s all in good fun, she’d never do anything malicious or something that would genuinely harm others! She loves to fly, she had always loved to fly, and dying didn’t exactly rob her of that love. Now she can do it without a plane! She spent so long as spirit, she kind of forgot what having hobbies is like, and she’s trying new things!

She’s a very motherly person, and, being the oldest of the group, feels very maternal towards all the young little ones around her. She’s particularly concerned for Graves and Blitz upon hearing around their upbringing. That’s no way to treat a child! She does her best to tend to the others of the group. Though she would be lying if she didn’t say that Crusher pushed her buttons more than once.

Thrasher - Obstagoon - they/them - lesbian Black - transmasc nonbinary - age 24

Thrasher comes from a foster home full of wayward kids who grew up on the downward spiral of life, and they themselves weren’t an exception. Originally from Spikemuth, they never knew their parents and their foster home travels were rough. No one seemed to want to keep them, and at one point they got sick of it and ran away from home. They ran and ran and never looked back, and found a job working in the professor’s lab in Postwick. They didn’t ask them where they were from, nor tried to contact anyone else, so it was good for them. They met Graves early into their gym circuit and decided to join her to perform some field work for the professor.

They’re quite down on themselves, never feeling like they’ll accomplish anything of worth. They couldn’t be a good child, they’re not a good battler, it took them a while to come into their own, and Crusher needling them constantly didn’t help. In their spare time, they play guitar and sing covers of existing songs. They don’t have a knack for writing, just another thing they fail at. It’s been a tough life, and they stumble along the way constantly trying to get to a better tomorrow.

Thrasher is a shy sort when it comes to their feelings, they haven’t been engendered into showing their vulnerable side to others. And Graves’ group isn’t exactly what you’d call family. But it’s a nice change of pace and they almost feel… wanted. And Grevious is a nice addition to their life. To have such a motherly person doting on them is, well, a dream come true.

[space-city-traffic]

yet again im back on my bullshit so... (gazes with mixed feelings at the TV show Firefly) i could fix him.

my extremely long thoughts about my Own Personal Good Version of Firefly (with plenty of spoilers for the show and the movie) under the cut:

things that are getting axed first thing no question:

out with the whole “let’s add in a thin veneer of Chinese cultural aesthetics out of context for ~flavor~” deal. just no.

instead, let’s hire some actors from a bunch of different cultures and work with them to figure out how their characters would bring those cultures into space with them!! and also hopefully bring some experiences with immigration/alienation/travel into it, since the Whole Core of Firefly is about how humanity always brings our doomed and silly and stubborn and unique warmth with us even into the cold void where nothing is familiar or homey in the slightest.

let’s respect our sex worker character shall we?

i do appreciate that Inara’s work as a companion is described as legitimate and well respected in the show. however please stop having your captain and hero call her a wh*re every five seconds against her clearly expressed wishes and portraying this as just a totally acceptable thing

let’s be more respectful of our characters of color and also have some more diversity, shall we?

others have put it better than me but yeah, the way Zoe and Book are treated is very uncomfy, and the rest of the show is depressingly monochromatic. come on let’s do better.

stop the weird confederacy hat tips

again others have pointed these out with much more thoroughness than I could, but the names of some characters and locations, as well as some of the language used to describe the browncoats, has uncomfortably confederate vibes. instead i propose we very Clearly tip our hats to the Alliance equaling space capitalism instead! you can’t go wrong with space capitalism as a villain.

don’t! make! the! psychotic! character! violent!

listen i love River Tam with my whole heart. but you should absolutely not portray your only character with psychosis as violent because of that psychosis!!!!!!! and yeah, a huge part of her character is that her brain got fucked up by the alliance and so she hallucinates and is also a super ninja. but like. she doesn’t need to be a super ninja for her character to work, okay? the crew does not need to be scared of her for her character to work, okay??? more on this later bc it would take a lot of care and nuance to make her character work but i really think it can be done

things we are absolutely keeping:

found family tropes my fucking beloved

this should be self evident. this is why the show is as appealing as it is despite its flaws, at least in my eyes.

malcolm reynolds, the knight in dusty armor

there’s something so appealing to me about what Mal stands for. because at his core is this ridiculous, silly, stubborn, doomed devotion to what he thinks is important and right, a romantic idealism thinly covered by cynical cowboy platitudes that he thinks make his bleeding heart totally invisible. and he is so obvious and entirely incorrect. bless. this is a man who will do anything for his family, who charges into swordfights to defend his friend from a man who wants to turn her into an object despite having no clue how to hold a sword. at his worst, he starts brawls in bars just for the martyr’s thrill of being persecuted for supporting the right; at his best, he inspires downright religious belief from his crew because he represents a romantic and chivalrous and doomed dedication to the right thing over any practical concerns. and then he throws a “selfish” quip over it with 100% confidence that everyone fell for his clever distraction and believes him to be a dirtbag. he’s oblivious and ridiculous and god he makes me want to be a better person because he’s just so goddamned sincere. stupid, but sincere. 10/10 himbo. <3

Mal and Inara ultraslowburn friends to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to friends to...

there’s nothing i love more than a ship that’s just two people who know each other way too well, and they’re each the only one who knows the other well enough to call them out on their bullshit. the way Mal and Inara interact in the show sometimes makes me uncomfy but like. the core of their relationship has to stay.

space western aesthetic

i need the cows on a spaceship scene to stay like i need air okay

that sweet sweet religious shit

mal, who lost his faith in gd and a whole lot else during the war. who lost his faith in himself, and now feels he has to hide the part of him that still wants to be good, because he knows he can’t be anymore, and he feels like it’s embarrassing for a guy like him to want something so unattainable. who takes a preacher on board, and the preacher has lost something, too. the preacher has his own past, and his own questions. but not questions like the observant neurodivergent girl, the one who wants to interact with and understand this thing that’s so important to him, but it just doesn’t click with how her brain works and she feels like something needs to be fixed, either the Bible or herself. and Mal takes care of them all, and slowly, he begins to find gd again, not in a prayer but in humanity. humanity doesn’t need to be fixed, like the alliance thinks. the shining imperfect strawberry sweetness of it in his family’s smiles is something to be worshiped and served and devoted to. and he finds he has something to believe in again. (and his crew find that he’s given them someone to believe in, too. and maybe suddenly he’s a saint.)

and finally, my brilliant ideas as to what i would like to add:

TRANS WOMAN KAYLEE RIGHTS

listen her femininity is so important to me okay? it’s so thrilled about everything that’s pretty, from dresses to the spaceship’s electric innards, and it’s so non-traditional and grease stained until it’s not and it’s pink and ruffly and twirly, and she never sees any of it as a contradiction, because none of it contradicts, it’s all just her! her gender is warmth and love and prettiness, feeling pretty and appreciating the pretty and making her friends’ days pretty too.

i want us to find out she’s trans in that episode with the ball, and i want us to find out alongside Mal who just never asked or never realized. Kaylee gasps and squeals at the dress in the shop window and Mal makes an off handed, ill considered comment, and then... someone yanks him aside and hisses a few very significant words in his ear. and suddenly he remembers what the blue white and pink she painted all over the engine room means, and he knows he has something to make right. so he buys her that dress himself and lets her know just how pretty she looks, and when he walks into that ball with her displayed on his arm like something precious, he looks the proudest out of any man there. and she notices. for a few seconds, of course, until there’s chocolate, and ‘nara, and a chandelier—and some horrible girls, but she’s used to that, until—suddenly, she finds her people. a group of old men who light up when she jokes about compression coils and whack presumptuous boys who ask her to dance. they adopt her as a treasured granddaughter, and Mal is beaming at her like a proud dad, and she finds that one of her new elderly friends gazes a little too long at her bracelet, and so she gives it to xem and teaches xem a few new words, and... it’s a good day, huh? it’s a really good day. (of course, then the captain has to go and punch somebody in the face, but it was a real nice party up until then.)

also she and Simon are both transhet t4t im correct and you know it

time for a better River Tam

the first thing we’ve established is that this version of her is not unpredictably violent and the crew is not scared of her!!!! it makes no sense to take a kid who’s primarily brilliant, experiment on her brain, give her telepathic powers....... and tack on the fact that she also has super strength and speed and dexterity and what not, AND say that they programmed her to be super violent. no! no. not only is that extremely harmful rep, that’s also just stupid.

instead!! my version of River is in fact not terrifying to the crew, but is actually the one they feel safest around. River has always been totally blunt, she was one of those kids you could tell realllllly early was autistic, and she doesn’t like being disengenous at all. so you can always trust her to tell the truth and not play weird passive aggressive games or have any hidden agenda, which makes her just a really chill person to be around. also, one of her longtime special interests is music and dance, so whether or not she’s nonverbal on a given day, there will always be some sort of beautiful sound when she’s around. she does have the singing voice of a dying crow unfortunately but that’s ok bc Simon’s is even worse and they’re both incredibly competitive so you’ll at least get free entertainment out of the affair.

my version of River does have psychosis and hallucinations because of the trauma of the experiments, and they are really troubling to her. she and Simon work together to find ways to cope and meds that help, and it’s a process, but there are some things that help.

the only thing she gained from the academy was the ability to hear people’s thoughts and sense the future a little bit. and yeah, that led to her picking up a few spooky secrets at the beginning, which, yikes. and for a while, it was hard to figure out which voices were real and which were hallucinations. but around her friends, she always feels safe to ask “did you just think about triple cheese burritos or was that just a me thing?”, and they’ll always tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing their thoughts are, bc it’s important to all of them to respect her and help her sort accurately through what’s reality and what’s not. and bit by bit, she gets better and better at figuring out what kinds of things tend to be telepathy and what kinds of things tend to be psychosis, and that each one feels a little different. and because of the trust and respect and support of her found family she’s able to do that in a safe environment!!!

trans man Simon rights

listen i wanted to keep him as just a side note on Kaylee’s list but he is my son and he’s important to my heart so here goes

out on the outer rim where Kaylee’s from, gender ain’t much of a big deal, there’s an individualistic quality to life out there, and so if the trail you blaze is the trail of a woman or a man or neither or both, that’s respected even in the rare cases where it’s not outright encouraged. but in the inner planets, where competition and connections and public faces and family names are everything, you have to be what’s expected of you to survive. you can’t change your brand, you can’t be anything other than what your family planned for you since before you were born, it’s incredibly hard to survive in such a hyper competitive environment, and so your very identity becomes just a tool in how to market yourself for better success.

needless to say Simon (just as autistic as his little sister and also very trans) fuckin hated it there. but he was very good at it. correction: he was very good at his very specific field of STEM, good enough to where people stopped talking about how cute he looked in bows and started talking about how impressive his work was from a very young age. and his work had no gender. he could be whatever he wanted to in equations. so that was where he could express himself, and gd, he got so much praise for it, he never wanted to stop.

not until he discovered that his sister needed him, and ran away, and needed a disguise, and realized... suddenly, every stifling rule and prying eye was a million miles away. he was freefloating, freefalling, with none of the charted paths he’d been following all his life... so you know what? fuck it. he’s always enjoyed the name Simon. and since it’s not on any legal records, it’ll make him just that much more untraceable.

and on Serenity, starting over with new people who never knew him before his transition feels like an unbelievable blessing that just dropped right into his lap. he has to keep up the secrecy, he has to make sure they never find out who he used to be, because gd, it’s so nice when they look at him and say his name right, and he doesn’t know if he can handle losing that, not when it’s so new and so important to the person he’s finally becoming. but then one day, the unthinkable happens, the wanted posters for his arrest have an old name on them, they’re looking for the Tam sisters, and... nothing changes. the crew of Serenity could not give even a tenth of a percent of a fuck, and it doesn’t seem like they even know they’re supposed to. huh. that’s new. Simon could get used to that, he thinks.

i’m sure there’s more i could add, but it’s 4:30 in the morning now, so if more occurs to me, ill simply add it in a reblog tomorrow. if you’ve read down this far, i am in love with you. please let me know your Better Firefly ideas, too, bc im always down to yell about this show!!!

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Hi! Idk what came over me but I thought an AU where Sander’s kid is anti-Bowie was the most hilarious thing thanks to @hidden-joy @kylesbishops and @sanderijzermans so I wrote it skdjdj

Disclaimer: it’s all fun and chaos and I don’t really know anything about how to write kids

x, x, x, x, credit to the chaos 🤪

The day Sander Driesen hears the words come out of his child’s mouth is the day he wonders if this is his child at all.

He’s standing there, leather jacket, white t-shirt and all, bleached hair icy even in the summer sun, and he looks down at the small stature in front of him. Grey-green eyes, dark locks and an air of confidence that could only be learned from a certain music-loving individual fill his sight. There’s so much innocence standing before him but a driven insistence breaks through the words spoken.

“Dad,” he hears. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but...I don’t really like David Bowie all that much.”

Sander thinks he’s lost his senses. He is definitely not hearing right. Hell, he’s only a man in his early thirties, he could not be this hard of hearing already. He tries to brace himself on the couch from falling over. Shit, he’s also too young to feel this frail.

“Wh-what do you mean you don’t like David Bowie all that much?”

The question comes out in gasps of air, ragged and winded, like he can’t believe what’s happening. He feels like his world’s spinning, like he’s entered another dimension, like there was no way, absolutely no way, his child doesn’t like David Bowie.

Denial is a pretty powerful thing, though...

See, when Alexandra Driesen was born, she brought light and life to Sander and Robbe’s eyes. She had a chubby face and squishy cheeks and eyes the colour of a summer storm. Her dark hair had been a blessing to match Robbe’s. Everything about her was as perfect as it could get. And then came the perpetual frustrations of parenthood with the screaming and the crying.

Sleep was something to be cherished at the Driesen-Ijzermans household. A few day-naps here and a doze-off there. But God, oh God, did Alexandra know how to cry in the middle of the night. Robbe and Sander spent hours upon hours holding her and swaying her and rocking her on a chair. Sander had read that sometimes music helps so he’d even done all that. Bowie usually floated in the shriek-filled room during these times and yet, Alexandra just wept.

“Come on, baby, just a little bit of sleep. Don’t you get tired of screaming all night?” Sander asked in that exhausted tone of parentese. He held her against the crook of his neck and walked around in sweats until he saw Robbe enter the room with blood-shot eyes and curls disarrayed.

“She’s still crying?” he asked with a rasp in his voice.

“She literally won’t stop and I don’t know what to do, I’ve tried everything. I’ve even got Bowie on for her,” he said.

Robbe took her from his arms and swayed her a little, cooing and kissing her tiny head.

“It’s kind of loud, though,” Robbe said to him as he then stepped over to turn off the music.

And in an instant miracle, the house was all quiet.

It seems that’s what’s always happened and Sander just hadn’t noticed it. Alexandra settled into Robbe’s chest and stretched her mouth in a heavy yawn. Her warmth radiated and glowed through Robbe, but Sander was stunned. He’s completely shocked.

“You-she-“ he stuttered clumsily for a bit. “But it was Bowie,” he said weakly.

How could his own daughter not feel at peace with Bowie? It was a connection he held with him, something connecting him and Robbe and what he hoped would connect their child to them in this little family.

“Hmmm,” Robbe hums pensively. “Maybe Bowie’s not her thing.”

“Not her thing?” Sander just about exploded. Then he suddenly remembered Alexandra’s finally gone to sleep and whispered, seething. “That is not our child!”

“Biologically, no. Legally and emotionally, yes,” smirked Robbe. “Calm down, babe, she’ll learn to like him soon enough. For now, how about we hold off on Bowie for a bit, yeah?”

He swayed her just a little more, just to really make sure she’s easing into sleep and then set her gently back down in her crib.

“How long?” Sander muttered and Robbe gave him a confused look. “How long without Bowie?”

Robbe contemplated.

“Maybe we give it six months or so,” he said.

And now it was Sander who wanted to weep. -

As the months and years went on, Alexandra had gone on without her Bowie-loving phase, only mildly being interested in the lightning bolt plushies and the songs blasting on road trips and the shirts Sander would get for her. Robbe says it just takes time for kids to get into stuff. That it’s better to leave it there in the open for them than to shove it down their throats.

“It’s barely any shoving,” Sander had grumbled.

“I know, babe. But I know how you can get sometimes,” Robbe had placed a soothing kiss upon his lips.

Still, Sander’s worries were increasingly growing.

Then a few years later, they’d adopted another beautiful girl. Mia was a radiant vision of blonde curls and brown eyes. They held a similar warmth that Robbe’s eyes held and Sander couldn’t be happier to lose himself in pools of coffee or dark, earthy soils or any other sort of metaphor for his favourite kind of brown.

To his relief, though, Mia loved listening to Bowie. She loved playing with the lightning bolt plushy and wearing all the shirts and as she grew, she and Sander had lots of music jam sessions blasting Bowie throughout the house. Alexandra was enticed into joining for a bit in the beginning but as time went on, Sander found it that she was making more and more excuses to not be in the same room when Bowie was mentioned.

“Uh, I got homework, Dad,” she’d nervously run her fingers through her hair.

“Uh, Papa needs help with dinner I think,” she’d run out with a tight smile.

“Group project due soon. Léon’s being a piece of shit and not pulling his weight at all.”

“Language,” Robbe would chastise coming around the corner.

“He’s being a dick?” she suggested.

“Fuck him.”

“Sander!”

“Sorry.”

Her interests lay instead in skateboarding with her friends, headphones in her ears listening to rap: BROCKHAMPTON and Stormzy with even a little Ed Sheeran in the mix, and keeping her hair as short as possible. She’d had a bit of a habit wearing overgrown shirts like Robbe did. But Sander found that endearing and he didn’t really think it was a case of ‘not-like-other-girls’ syndrome. He and Robbe just let her wear whatever she wanted.

And in fact, it was at thirteen years of age that Alexandra came out to the family as a boy. Sander remembers it clearly with them all huddled on the couch looking at the person in front of them with beady eyes, waiting.

“Dad, Papa, Mia. I think I’m a boy. I think I’m trans and I’d like to formally introduce myself to you all. I’m Alexander, or just Alex. And I use he/they pronouns.”

Sander had wanted to tear up, emotions flooding inside his rib cage. Happy tears, though, a joyous occasion where his son felt comfortable enough to tell them about this part of himself. That he and Robbe had created a space where he felt safe enough. Loved enough.

“I kept Alexander ‘cause, Sander,” he gestured to Sander. “But really, Alex is fine.”

And Sander wanted to cry all over again.

They’d all been encased in a huge family hug with Mia chirping that she’d ‘always wanted a big brother.’

Robbe and Sander had been quite supportive of it all, calling the school to change both the name and preferred name and asking if Alex was considering wearing a binder or getting a proper haircut. “Yes” to the haircut. “Hold off for a bit” on the binder. He’d whined a “Daaaaaad” when Sander ruffled the short brown locks. Most of Alex’s friends were cool with it, too and while it wasn’t all smooth sailing, he’d never run out of love from his family.

It was a big change and everything, but Sander thought, well...as long as he had his Bowie-loving children, it was all fine. -

It’s his worst nightmare. It’s the stuff that haunts you from the depths of the worst kind of hell, making your limbs feel like jelly. He’s cursing every name and divine entity and he’s really hoping Robbe’s right about those parallel universes because he’d love to hop over to the one where this wasn’t happening right now.

Sander’s having a hard time even looking at Alex in the eye.

“Dad?” he hears his concerned voice.

“I think I need to sit down,” says Sander, grabbing the armrest of the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion.

“It’s really not a big deal,” says Alex.

“Not a big deal?” Sander looks at him with wide eyes. “My own son hates David Bowie.”

“I never said I-“

“The man who infinitely changed my life. Space Oddity, Life on Mars, Ziggy Stardust, Ashes to Ashes. None of them?” Sander waves his arms. “You’re telling me you like none of them?”

“They’re...fine, I guess,” Alex shrugs innocently with a cringe to his face.

“Fine?” Sander squeaks.

“What’s fine?” Robbe trudges to them overhearing the conversation.

“Your son hates Bowie,” Sander squints his eyes at him.

“I do not,” says Alex. “I’m just pretty indifferent to him. He’s not exactly my style,” he shrugs, his hoodie moving with the movement.

“And what is your style?” Robbe laughs as he comes up behind him to rub his shoulders. He looks up at Sander with long lashes and a questioning smile stretching across his face. They share one of those ‘parenting looks.’ The ones where they know it’s not all that serious. But Sander thinks it is.

“A bit of rap, a bit of hip hop, some pop, some mainstream,” Alex lists off. “Not exactly the ‘80s vibes in me,” he laughs.

Robbe cheers as their tastes in music are quite similar and he proceeds to carry out their very own handshake they’d created when Alex was nine. There’s a different one with Sander. Sander, who’s getting more and more agitated by this revelation.

“Oh, okay,” he pats his knees and stands up. “Well, if you two are having such a grand time hating Bowie and bonding over your own music, I’ll just take myself and leave. No child of mine doesn’t like David Bowie,” he says dramatically.

“Sander…” Robbe looks at him.

“Dad…” says Alex.

“No, no. It’s fine. Really,” he begrudgingly walks out of the living room, almost knocking into Mia on the way.

“What’s with him?” she blinks twice and points a finger back.

Robbe sighs as he looks back at Alex.

“Your father, he…” Robbe puts a hand on his shoulder. “Bowie’s practically his life and so are the two of you, so I guess it’s really important to him that you like him, too. He’s just gonna need some time with all this.”

His eyes are apologetic and he gives him a half-smile, hand leaving his shoulder.

Alex takes in the words while Mia wiggles herself onto the couch and finds the tv remote beside her.

“You finally told him about Bowie, huh?” she gives him a gravely sad look. One that says he’s about to be doomed.

Alex just lets out a stressed breath as Robbe follows to go find Sander.

What’s so special about David Bowie anyway?

————————————————————————

Part 2 is coming! IM SO SORRY SKDJJF I just need sleep and rest

[mostly-mundane-atla]

I enjoy learning from your blog sm—ty for all you share. Especially since I’ve found there’s very few sources. Sry if you’ve talked about this before, but if you’re still open to answering questions I was wondering what the culture surrounding lgbt+ identities? You talked a bit about gender roles and co-husbands, but is homophobia still prevalent? (Would it be less so in-universe versus a modern au?) Also, if you’re willing to share any terminology (whether two-spirit is used?) used?

Alright, here's where things get a little tricky.

It's hard to really talk about queerness in other cultures because the idea that sexuality and attraction is an inherent part of your identity is not in any way universal. This is where you get a lot of people claiming certain historians and anthropologists are homophobic (and that's not to say some of them aren't but people tend to make really harsh assumptions without reading into what's actually being said) for saying that x or y doesn't mean this person was gay as we understand it. In a lot of cultures, the people you persue personal relationships with isn't a part of who you are, just something you do. So a man who prefered the companionship of other men, say in medieval England, would likely still marry a woman and have children to help him with work as he ages and take care of him when he's old. Does that mean he couldn't have a loving relationship with his wife, just because she wasn't a man and he wasn't attracted to her? No. Is it wrong if he wouldn't consider this not being himself, because he grew up in a world where attraction and sexuality is what you do rather than who you are? I can't really answer that.

And so you take this idea that romantic relationships are something you do rather than an ingrained part of your identity, and you add to that this concept practically unheard of nowadays that romance really isn't important. That doesn't mean that people never had romantic feelings or acted on them, just that this idea of courtly love, that being in love makes you a better person and thus is inherently righteous, was never a part of the culture. You got together with someone because you weren't related and they were someone you didn't mind surviving and having kids with, not strictly because you were in love with them. And then, unlike medieval England, sex was not something to be considered shameful or sinful, and definitely didn't have to be exclusive between spouses.

There was a bit off accidental accuracy in Kya saying that sort of thing isn't talked about in the comics. You wouldn't hear stories about a romantic love between two men or two women, but you also wouldn't really hear about romantic love between a woman and a man; not unless that was your parents' or grandparents' experience and they shared that with you. The important loves are considered to be between family members. You'll notice in Inuit stories a lot that if a girl is kidnapped and force into a marriage, it's her brother who rescues her, not her sweetheart.

I'm sure there would be some prejudiced people, because let's face it, you can't please them all. But I think the main reason you wouldn't see many gay couples as we understand them to be would have more to do with needing children without access to artificial insemination, as well as very different and comparatively irreverent attitudes toward sex and romance. (In fact, I'm reminded of a story this elder woman shared when my class went to learn a bit about Native cultures back in elementary school. She and her friend left their village and started living among white people. They were still learning English and these two white men, friends themselves, were friendly with them and helped them out, not just that first day, but over the course of, I wanna say some months? Anyway, one of them proposed to the lady telling us this story and the other to her friend. The men had fallen in love and already considered themselves in romantic relationships with these women. The women got a good laugh out of this because they hadn't realized that being so personal and familiar and generally happy to be around someone could be interpreted as romantic interest. Their response to these guys was basically "sure, why not" because romantic feelings or no, they genuinely enjoyed their company.)

If we wanna talk gender, the cultural understanding there is a little different there too. Sipiniq is Inuktittut for "baby that changed its sex at birth" which, as far as I understand, has been used for both intersex and trans people. I can't find anything on the way they specifically were seen by the community, let alone regional specifics but to speak on gender as a whole the cultures are interesting for a few reasons. Inupiat names and third person pronouns aren't gendered. You are named after a person to carry on their soul, and this person is not guaranteed to be your gender. So if you're afab, no one is calling you "she" as opposed to "he" because that's not how the language works and a few people might actually call you "grandpa" or "uncle" because that's who you were named after and that's whose soul is kept in your body. You might be seen as having the body of a man or woman, and the limitations that come with it, but that which makes you yourself is not a gendered thing. King Islanders even had a Messenger Feast tradition where women would dress as men and men would dress as women. They had masks for it and everything.

Queerness is such a nebulous thing and so often we approach it with such a limited understanding, insisting ours is the only right way to treat it. Sometimes the answer to "well were they gay/trans?" can only be "it's complicated" and we all have to be more okay with that. Not every culture has the same concept of or places the same importance on sexuality, romance, or gender.