#haunted phantom student

[megamindsupremacy]

DP x DC AU where the entire JL thinks Danny a dead high school student tragically still haunting his school and pretending to live out the life he never had but he’s just a fucking teacher at Casper High

Reasons they think this:

Danny’s ghost form is permanently 14. Reasonable enough for them to think he’s a high schooler, considering he looks like a high schooler

His schedule operates around a standard school schedule (only free in the afternoons, weekends, and holidays)

Occasionally slips up and mentions “school” as a location (“back at school”, “i was by the school”)

He seems to have a lot of beef with high schoolers, like, as a concept (because he is a teacher. tell me high school teachers do not have beef with The Concept of High Schoolers)

Danny teaches science at Casper High, mostly ectobiology and other science classes. He absolutely loves his job except when he hates his job because he has to cancel class because one of his ghost buddies is tearing up city hall to get his attention or whatever. His identity is kind of an open secret in Amity where We Pretend We Don’t Know Mr. Fenton Is Phantom And He Doesn’t Give Us A Pop Quiz.

Danny CAN change his ghostly form. In Amity he shows up as an adult ghost but he had the Brilliant Idea to disguise his identity by appearing as a 14 year old to the JL, also to lean into the timelessness of his ghost form, because he’s been reported as a 14 year old for over a decade now.

Danny doesn’t know the JL thinks he’s haunting his old high school or something. This is because his a) lying and b) observation skills have not improved since he first died. He thinks he has them fully convinced he’s an immortal being from like, 1000 BC, a la Captain Marvel. He does not.

#mads posts #dp x dc #Danny Phantom #justice league #dpxdc #edit: people are being hilarious in the notes and i encourage y’all to go look at the additions #y’all are killing it you go sweetie

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic idea: What's the Rule again?

It starts with Wes Weston accidentally banishing Danny from his haunt. He didn't mean to, and he panicked along side Sam and Tucker when Danny was effectively evicted Danny from Amity Park.

See the four have become tight-knited friends every since the trio started talking to Wes back during the summer between freshman and sophomore year.

During that time, Wes's other friends had drifted apart once Wes' attention moved from basketball to ghosts- specifically Phantom. Danny had felt at fault that he was left a loner because of his secret identity and had invited Wes to sit with them at the Nasty Burger the second week of Summer break.

Wes was suprise to find out that Sam, Tucker and Danny were much better friends then the ones he hanged out with since third grade. He was used to people only speaking to him in class or the few times they hang out on breaks but the trio would message him about every single thought or meme they had. They could laugh togther until tears fell from thier eyes and they couldn't breath over the silliest of topics.

Wes also found out that the trio was supportive of all their interests. Sure, his old teammates and friends didn't make fun of him for crocheting or painting, but they wouldn't accompany him to an art market. Nor would they actually wear the scarves and gloves he made them.

They sure as hell didn't volunteer to help him run a booth to sell his own crocheting pieces after encouraging him to get a table. And they wouldn't cheer loudly when he made his first sale.

Wes also wouldn't have happily gone with them to an observatory, a Dark Poem Night, or even a tech expo. But he found that he had the time of his life watching Danny, Sam, and Tucker nerd out at the events much as much as he did at his own.

He also never had anyone he knew would be down to do him favors or even take notes for him when he was out sick.

So he became close friends with them, passing sophomore year with far more enjoyment than any other grade, then Junior year came and went just as fast and as fun. It was their last summer as high school students, so Wes wanted to do as many new activities as the four could together before Senior year.

Who knew what would happen to their little group after graduation? He wants to think they would all remain best friends but he's heard so many stories of people drifting apart that Wes was afraid of risking it.

That's why he researched urban myths and legends around the world regarding ghosts- more then any research paper he's ever done- and jokingly asked Danny to partake in some of them as a halfa.

They joked and laughed- throwing salt in a circle around Danny, lighting a candle for him to use Morse code with- but it wasn't until Wes got to the one where he tried smoking Danny out with a banishing spell he found in an old book that things turned from funny to horrible.

It worked

Danny was flung from his haunt- effectively banishing him from the area he was haunting. Dann just happens to be haunting all of Amity Park, so he ends up on the outskirts of town, unable to cross the invisible line.

Wes practically choked on his tears as he apologized for Danny not being able to cross back in, but the other three quickly informed him that they, too, took part in it, and it was no one's fault. Danny just had to find a way to reverse the banishing spell.

The only problem was that the book pages Wes found online were only on the banish spell itself and nothing else. He couldn't even find the whole book since it belonged in a private family library.

The family library was located in the most dangerous city in America. Gotham.

The library also belongs to a very wealthy family that had recently all but perished except for their lone heir- Timothy Drake.

Now Wes attempted to contact Timothy Drake in hopes of having the other teenager send him copies of the book, but he never got a reply. He thinks it was due to not explaining why he needed the book and ending up sounding like a bot or a scam.

With each passing day of Drake not responding Danny's situation grew worse. Jazz luckily covered for them, claiming to have signed Danny up for some camp so his parents wouldn't think he was missing.

That would only work until school started, which was a time limit that was weighing on all their shoulders as they tried to find a counterspell.

Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Wes each took turns driving out of town to bring him food and a change of clothes so Danny could figure out his situation, having to do it in shifts to not alert any of their parents.

However, without his haunt to pick up natural exoplasm, Danny was growing weaker and weaker by the day, looking half stave out in the little motel room Sam rented for him as they tried to get him back into the town.

Danny needed to either make his way back to his haunt or go somewhere that was so infected with ectoplasm that it actually felt cursed.

Tucker found the solution to all their problems with a few hacking skills that he learned to fight off Technus' invasive attempts of his personal tech.

"A full ride to Gotham Academy?" Wes' mom gasped staring at the acceptance letter her son eagerly showed her. "With a promised full ride to any university in America?!"

"Yeah, Tucker, Sam, Danny, and I all got accepted for our work on clean energy generators. We sent it in for the Wayne scholarship, and we won! The only thing is that it's a requirement to graduate from high school in Gotham. I have to go!" Wes gasped, eyeing both his dad's and Kyle's doubtful frowns. He couldn't afford for them to say no when Tucker had worked so hard to bump them up as Winners. Bruce Wayne's computer security is no joke. "This is the once in a life time opportunity!"

"But where would you live?" His dad asks, shaking the letter. "Wes, this is clear across states, and it only covers school expenses."

"Sam's parents bought her a house. She's going to rent us some of the extra rooms." It was a lie; her parents would never let four boys- especially these boys- rent from their daughter. She told them that the school provided co-dorm rooms "I can get a job at the local library- I already sent them my resume and got a call for a interview."

"What will you do for food?" Kyle asks. "We both know you can't cook."

"I can't, but Danny does. He's amazing in the kitchen."

Here, his parents share a loaded look. "So you'll be living with the Fenton boy....."

"Well. Yeah? I already said that?" He returns, confused, and Kuule coughs to cover a laugh. Confused he stares at his older brother, who quirks a grin at him.

"Don't worry about it." Kyle laughs, but his wiggling eyebrows tell Wes he should worry a lot about it. He would inisit a little more to find out what Kyle knew, but he needed to convince his parents more.

Eventually, after five days of attempting, Wes got their permission and could tell his friends, who all shared the same results. The remainder of the summer is spent preparing for their move- finding the house, getting it furnished, packing their things, transferring schools- it's a lot, and he's never been so grateful for Sam's wealth.

She hires people to get it all done for her-including hiring a trailer to take their four cars-, so he only has to worry about his packing. The four meet up at the airport on the day they live, flying first class thanks to Sam's grandmother.

Tearful goodbyes and good luck from their families leave them all a bit down but they board the plane and take off without too much trouble.

While on the plane, Sam turns to the boys. "Does everyone remember the phases of the plan?"

"Phase one: Blend into Gotham until we find Timothy Drake" Tucker states, pushing up his glasses

"Phase two: Get Drake to invite us over to his house and find the book," Danny tacks on, tapping his foot on the ground.

"Phase three: Find all the pieces for the counterspell- usually scattered around the magical family's ancestral home- and get Danny home!" Wes shouts, raising a fist in the air.

Sam nods, looking satisfied. "And what are we not allowed to do? Danny?"

"Become a vigilante when my ectoplasm is on a limited intake" Danny grumbles, sinking into his chair. "Let it to the Bats and keep my head low."

"Good. Tucker?"

"I'm not allowed to hack into anything because it can gain the attention of the Bats or Mr.Wayne, and then we'll be on a wanted list" Tucker sighs "No matter how much fun it would be to battle it out with the legendary Oracle."

"That's right. I'm not allowed to go anywhere near Poison Ivy no matter how much I want to yell at her to go fix the coal riffs and cut down forests instead of wasting her powers on the stupid heist." Same all but bites, and then she turns her attention to Wes, who startles.

"Wes?"

"Wait, I have a rule?"

"Course, man," Tucker laughs. "We all have rules."

"But I'm not interesrted in anything in Gotham besides the Drake grimoire!"

"Wes," Danny says gently, his soft baby blue eyes making him a little hot under the collar as they stare into his soul. "You're not allowed to fall in love with any of the Bats."

Wes mind blanks, then reboots, "Excuse me!?"

"We know you had a crush on all of us here Wes and Val" Sam laughs when he turns wide eyes at her. "It's cute but you really shouldn't try for the Bats. They're the violent sort"

"What?!"

"Yeah, you have a type, and it's a hero or hero adjacent." Tucker shrugs "It's cool."

Wes can only gape at them, no matter how much he tries to convince them; otherwise, the three refuse to remove his rule. He is highly offended by it.

Yes, he's never really gone out with Team Phantom, just because when he joined the group, most of Danny's rouges were long gone leaving behind the tiny ones that he could handle on his own, but he wasn't into heroes!

And okay- maybe, maybe at one point or another he may have had slight crushes on his friends but they were quick and gone before the first school year together!

So the rule is utterly ridiculous!

At least, he thinks so until five days later when he's trying to find his way around the new neighborhood and gets caught up in a mugging. He could have quickly taken the mugger- humans had nothing on ghosts- but he attempted to talk the young adult out of it when Red Robin swooped in like a knight in shining armor.

He may have just stared at the hero's tight-skin outfit instead of letting the hero know that he could handle it, and he may have made a fool of himself when Red Robin asked if he was right.

"Yeah tots fine" He babbles. Ugh, who says tots?! He wants to stop talking but when Wes gets nervous he tends to just word vomit and he could hear himself doing it now. "You know who else is fine?"

Red Robbin raises a brow, likely knowing the pickup line. Cowering, Wes changes the answer in a panic. "Timothy Drake!"

Red Robin stills. "Come again?"

"Timothy Drake, a boy in my class! He's fine that you think he was part siren or something. You've seen him, right? I mean you have eyes!" He repeats with a squeal "I want to get into his private liberty!"

"Do you?" Red Robin tilts his head, a slight smirk forming on his mouth. "You should try flirting with him then. Maybe he can give you a tour."

"Oh, I want more than a tour!"

Why did he say that?!

At least the hero in front of him laughs until a shout has them both looking away.

Danny is running down the street screaming his name, thank the Ancients. When Wes turns around to wave at him, Red Robin vanishes without a sound or trace.

Like a ghost.

Oh no, that's hot.

"Danny, I broke the rule"

"For Ancient's sake, it hasn't even been a month."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #wes weston #Wes/Tim #do they have a ship name? #Wes has a type and it's heros #Tim thinks the new boy is cute #Danny just wants wes to open the childlock on his home town #Sam and Tucker are there for the ride

[harunayuuka2060]

Floyd: Hehehe~ I didn't know you were crushing on Sharky, Goldfishy.

Floyd: You should've just told me. I could've been your wingman.

Riddle: Shut up, Floyd. I am NOT interested with senpai.

Floyd: Oh~? But why would you blush when they hugged you? Huh~? Huuuuh~?

Riddle: *getting pissed off*

Trey: Haha... Calm down, Riddle.

Cater: Speaking of MC, how are they now?

Riddle: They've quickly recovered. They must be helping Malleus-senpai with the Christmas preparations.

Cater: Huh? They're the ones in charge?

Riddle: Yes. Together with Vil-senpai and Leona-senpai.

Floyd: I'm sure that it'll be fun since Sharky is the party planner~.

Riddle: Which is making me extremely worried.

Floyd: Look at you, Goldfishy~. Sweet much?

Riddle: I WILL KILL YOU!

Trey and Cater: Haha... *sigh*

Epel: A hunting event?

Jack: Yes. According to Leona, we will be using guns with special type of bullets.

Ace: Okay...? Who'll be the targets?

Jack: Phantoms.

Ace: ...

Deuce: Why would we be hunting phantoms on Christmas?

Jack: Well, MC-senpai said that every phantom can grant you a wish.

Epel: And if we don't get to shoot a phantom?

Jack: You'll be haunted by one.

Ace, Epel, and Deuce: Yikes!

Jack: So, you have to take this seriously! *looks excited*

Ruggie: My girlfriend sent me a gun for the event.

Leona: Good for you.

Ruggie: And she told me to shoot for the ferocious ones. She said that those phantoms were more generous! *grinning*

Savanaclaw student A: This gets me thinking... Would phantoms want to be shot?

Leona: I don't know. MC just said to enjoy ourselves.

Savanaclaw students: ...

Kalim: I think the bullets taste like candy.

Lilia: *chuckles* Why are you eating them, Kalim?

Kalim: I mean... They look delicious?

Lilia: Oh?

Lilia: ...

Lilia: They're indeed candies.

Floyd: Can I use a bazooka instead?

Azul: No.

MC: Yes. Floyd~. Get crazy with it~.

Floyd: Hehe~! Thanks, Sharky~!

Riddle: What a childish event.

MC: Phantoms can grant almost any wishes~.

MC: Like~

MC: Increase someone's height. *looking at Riddle mischievously*

Riddle: ...

Riddle: I am not interested.

Azul and Floyd: ...

Azul: We could see that you're lying.

Riddle: I SAID I AM NOT INTERESTED!

Trey: Maybe it's only temporary?

Cater: Yeah. Just give it a shot, Riddle.

Riddle: I don't need it! I'm not short!

Cater: *mutters* Buddy, you look 12.

Riddle: Cater.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst riddle #twst floyd #twst cater #twst jack #twst ace #twst epel #twst deuce #twst kalim #twst lilia #twst ruggie #twst leona #twst azul #blithesome!mc

[sunny-mercya]

Bittersweet

Geto Suguru x Male Reader | Platonic! Guilty Gojo Satoru x Male Reader

Fandom -> Jujutsu Kaisen

Masterlist

Gojo always detest it when he had to visit you. It wasn't because he hated—a strong word, more like dislike—you, if anything, it was more out of the still immense guilt he feels in your presence.

A guiltiness which eats him up, making him a pitiful whimpering mess in the nights. Bawling his eyes out at the empty shrines, after every visit—his confidence crumbling into nothing but dust, the insecurity resurfacing again and haunting him like the phantom, dull, pain he feels in his eyes and back.

It was his fault. His damned fault that you're like this now. A mere shell of apathetic lethargy and suicidal tendencies—three tries had almost succeeded.

So yes, Gojo detests, hated it even, to visit you. He had to though, in his sole duty of being your friend—even when you once had said, he isn't anymore a friend but a stranger—and because leiri made him to do.

Trotting up the stairs to your apartment, bags in one hand and the other causally in his pant pockets—playing with the house-keys—Gojo thought what to cook for you.

Perhaps your favourite? No, no, that it is only reserved for the Sundays. A light meal then? Something with fish? Pizza or Pasta? The list is endless to choice from and giving him a headache.

Shoko had told him, in her doctoring lecturing way, to create a Meal-Plan and only cook light meals for you—easy to digest—and nothing too overall fatty and heavy.

Gojo had waved her off, nagging at her how you wouldn't be able to enjoy the goods of foods with something dumb as a "meal-plan".

In the end, Gojo admits that Shoko was indeed right. Considering the amounts of meals and dishes he had taken home for himself, giving it away to his students or the homeless or had to throw it all away. After all you couldn't eat more than, on your good days, three to four bites—till hours later you would heave it up into the toilet again.

A Meal-Plan, huh? Yeah he could do that. Megumi can help him too.

Unlocking the door, Gojo stepped in and announced his presence.

~~~

After emptying out the bags and putting away the items for now, Gojo ventured into the living room—knowing well you're in there, either sitting or laying on the couch and watching whatever is being shown in the television.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, once upon seeing a half finished puzzle on the coffee table and messy toys around it.

Megumi had brought them over during his last visit, telling you; these are much better to beat boredom than some television. Next time I'll bring some books.

Gojo was glad, relieved even, that you played with it.

Crouching down in front of you, blocking the view to television with his still towering high, he takes your hand in his—greeting you with a more softer gently smile.

»Sky eyes,«

Gojo had decided long ago, when you had first muttered those words to him—in the very beginning of your mental downfall, now a in a constant state of lingering decaying—that this was your way of greeting him, how you told him that you're aware of his presence.

Gojo had once made a mistake to come with his blindfold and spooked you so much—you really had believed and still would, if he tries again, that Gojo had been some kind of intruder with evil intentions—you screamed shrill and released a upcoming hurricane of thunderstorms with your cursed energy—now particularly sealed away for your own safety.

So now, whenever Gojo comes over he wears his round shaped sunglasses from his highschool years.

»Yeah, it's me, how are you today [Nickname]?« he asked questions even when he knew he wouldn't get replies from you.

»Hungry? I will made you some nice chicken nuggets, brought the Dino-shaped this time«

Gojo was aware he babbles. He doesn't care, he rather talks nonsense to himself and your apathetic self—than listen to the constant annoying chatter of the television and the upcoming silence which would follow afterwards.

»C'mon [Name], it's bath time,« Gojo picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom and sitting you down on a stool.

He fills the bathtub, making sure the temperature was neither too hot nor cold. He adds some bubble foam to it and two toys.

Gojo undress you slowly, cautiously of your still fresh wounds—self-inflicted days ago, when a night had gotten worse again. Sitting you in the water, he washes you. Humming happily some melody, occasionally joining you in moving the toy ducks arounds.

»Quack squishy wuack«

»Yeah, wuacky quacky [Nickname], look there wants to join another ducky« he showed you the third toy duck, adding it to the water.

A squeal of joy came over your lips, looking with wide eyes at Gojo, happiness radiating off from you as you continue to play.

Gojo's lips trembles, guilt crawling up his throat again.

~~~

Nights are cruel in their own way. Leaving the thoughts spinning and setting them free. Bringing out a loneliness and feelings once deep buried down.

Gojo buried his head in his hands, slightly gripping his snow white hair—you once said to him, how his hair reminds you of the first snow—sitting at the edge of your bed.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, breathing in a pattern of three-five-five. His thoughts are going haywire again, flaring up the guilt—which is now so thick in his throat that he couldn't swallow anymore.

He looks at you—such a peaceful expression on your face, already so deep in the blissful dreamland—moving his hand to slowly drive through your hair with his fingers, all the way down to your cheeks and caressing them.

His gaze goes to the few photo frames on your nightstand, the small nightlight illuminates only so much. One particular photo always captures his attention.

It was a photo of Geto and you, happily married with Nanako and Mimiko—when they had been around 3 years old—in your arms.

A time where you had been the uttermost happiest. Now it was in ruins, leaving you all alone.

If Gojo had been a bit stronger, if he didn't let Geto go, back then when they had argued over jujutsu sorcery's politics and their moral beliefs towards the world, had been more stubborn—than it wouldn't have ended like this.

With his best friend being dead—at fault for this was Gojo himself, he was the one who killed Geto after all—and you, who had already lost your husband and losing your daughters shortly after—till today you didn't know how they died and Gojo thanked the above that it hadn't been him who done that—who is nothing but a decaying shell forevermore.

»Ya know, [Nickname], I've decided you gonna move in with me now. So I can take even better care of you.«

That's what Geto would've wanted.

#male reader #x male reader #anime #manga #fanfiction #malereader #oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #gojo satoru #geto suguru x male reader #geto x male reader

[meiieiri]

WHEN SHE LOVED ME

❁—SYNOPSIS: suguru geto was never the same after that fateful day at the foothills of mt. mushiroyama. but he was not by any means damned. how could he be knowing that he was so loved and adored by the one he lovingly called his little flickering light?

a/n: help i have five drafts on this page. three of them are 18+ and are practically finished but i’m too scared to post them :<

it had been exactly two decades since suguru geto first learned that he was different. he was seven at the time, and his parents had snuck out of their humble rural abode at around four in the morning to tend to the fields while their young son serenely slept in the adjacent room, happily drooling away on his childhood pillow, his little head filled with anything but worry. no one could have ever anticipated the sinister things that would transpire that uneventful morning.

it all happened so quickly. the senior mr. geto had just finished watering the last row of beets when a shrill cry pierced through the silent twilight and mrs. geto, the one that preceded you, sprinted towards the house like her life depended on it in a bid to reach her son and put him out of harm’s way. countless thoughts raced in her head: had a thief broken into their home, or perhaps some wild forest wolf?

none of those, apparently.

it came as a peculiarity to the couple to find their son bawling his eyes out, cowering under the protection of the futon’s blanket at an invisible phantom, a mere shadow on the wall of his bedroom. they dismissed it as a nightmare and consoled the then seven-year-old suguru. “it was just a nightmare, suguru,” his mother smoothed her hand down his back, soothing him. “it can’t hurt you.”

unbeknownst to them at the time, that was no nightmare, but an earthly curse born from ghastly human emotions. that was how suguru had been unwillingly dragged into this godforsaken trade. now, twenty years later, and with a family of his own, suguru no longer feared those phantoms on the wall — he loathed them, despised them with every fiber of his being though he was master to countless curses. but there was still one thing that struck fear into his heart like the foreboding doom that came from the heron-like sound of countless heavenly spears raining from the skies during the archaic battles of old he used to read about in jujutsu tech’s library.

nightmares.

he wakes up with a start and the comforter pools at his hips, his eyes darting around the room as if they were in search of something, his breath coming out in pants. it was just a nightmare, suguru, he thinks to himself, echoing his late mother’s words, as he tries in vain to banish the grotesque haunts of his youth from his head, it can’t hurt you.

he helplessly glances at your side of the bed — empty and cold, of course — you were out on a week long mission with your students and weren’t due to come home for another day or so. he pulls at the strands of his tousled hair, frustrated, and before he knows it, a few tears haphazardly slip from his bottom eyelids as he reminisces about his past failures. in his sadness, he does not hear the door to the bedroom open, creaking quietly as he is wracked by another round of painful sobs.

“papa?” startled, he looks up, instinctively wiping away the damp droplets from his face. his eyes soften at the sight. there she was, the petite jailer that held his heart ransom, standing behind the door, her trusty companion, the stuffed rabbit he helped you sew for her, tucked under her arm. she looks at him with sad eyes, hesitant to come in. “you okay?” she asks worriedly.

suguru lets out a tearful chuckle. this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. he should be the one calming her, banishing her nightmares away not the other way around.

“y-yes,” he tries to collect himself to make his way over to her but his daughter beats him to it. akari meets him halfway as he was about to stand up from the king-sized bed, throwing herself against his waist, her arms coming up to hug him as if by doing so she could rid her papa of all his troubles and worries. “oh, little love,” he sniffles at his little girl’s altruism, gathering her into his arms to sit her on his lap. “what’s wrong?”

she averts her gaze momentarily, her dark eyes warily scanning the room. at the tender age of five, she could already pick up residuals (much to suguru’s dismay). when she does not notice anything of note, she mutters out a single word: “nightmare.”

“you had a nightmare?” suguru asks, his hands finding hers, his fingers interlacing with her little ones.

akari shakes her head adamantly. “n-no,” she reiterates, insistent that her papa has misunderstood her. “papa…did you have a nightmare?” she waits for his reply with bated breath.

suguru contemplates on what to say for a long while, his hands absentmindedly playing with her smaller ones, his head bowed, almost in apology. at this age, in his young daughter’s eyes, he was her hero, one similar to those in her storybooks. he was supposed to be the archetypal knight that slayed dragons and laid waste to monster lairs, the prince that would sooner scale the highest towers, racing to the rescue of the princess who had fallen into a death-like sleep. if she was afraid or sad, it was his duty to make her less so. it was his responsibility as a father to take on an image of unrelenting courage. but he fears his own armor had gathered rust over the years, his claymore had dulled in countless battles that left so much ruin in its wake and his noble steed had long since been retired to the stables. he was no knight, nor was he a prince that his daughter could rely on. he was just plain old suguru.

but for akari, that was enough.

“…please don’t cry,” akari mumbles sadly, her tiny hands gently rest on his cold cheeks. she really is your daughter, suguru muses almost in awe at how much the two of you were alike in the way you both are able to keep him from falling apart completely. suguru leans into her touch, pressing their foreheads together, a special thing that only father and daughter could share together. “i’m here, papa.” even at your loneliest.

“…me too, little love.”

#dad!geto #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto suguru x you #geto headcanons #geto suguru headcanons #suguru geto #geto angst #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #getou suguru x reader #geto x y/n #jujutsu geto

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 21)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut, Torture

Words: 1,889

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

It was early December and a few more weeks had passed since Robert had sent the letter to you, to which he received no response. 

Concerned, Robert met with General Groves who informed him about the progress of your case and difficulties for him to obtain correspondence from you. Unfortunately for Robert, Groves also informed him that reaching a conclusion in respect of your release still required more time than initially expected due to bureaucratic delays.

Feeling helpless and anxious, Robert continued to pour his energy into his work, focusing solely on the task at hand which, again, proved more difficult than he had anticipated. 

The first implosion test failed and a series of subsequent tests resulted in setbacks too. Although these failures might have discouraged lesser men, they served to intensify Robert’s dedication and tenacity. Each failure drove him further into his research, leaving behind nothing short of success when the stakes were highest.

But, it wasn't just the scientific aspect that consumed him – the mere thought of failing you made his predicament worse. 

It didn't matter how many hours he spent poring over equations and calculations, his mind always drifted back to you. Your image haunted him like a phantom, taunting him with visions of your smiling face, tender touch, and warm embraces. And then, late nights turned into sleepless nights as thoughts of you invaded his dreams, making sleep seem like an elusive creature refusing to grant him respite.

These agonizing days wore on, each bringing fresh torments. Nightmares plagued Robert's slumber, filling his waking hours with a profound exhaustion until, one afternoon, just weeks before Christmas, everything seemed to fall into place when Groves came to visit.

"Robert," Groves greeted with a solemn expression as, without knocking, he entered his office and startling him from his thoughts.

"General," Robert acknowledged with equal gravity, rising slowly from his chair, a hint of worry etched across his brow.

"Do sit, Robert," Groves ordered calmly, gesturing towards the seat and, as Robert sat back down, he noticed that General Groves appeared unusually serious and formal.

Swallowing hard, Robert composed himself, preparing to confront whatever dire situation lay ahead, thinking that, clearly, his day could not become any worse after, just that same morning, yet another implosion device failed to detonate. 

"I have an early Christmas present for you," General Groves announced abruptly, casting aside any pleasantries. 

"General, I am Jewish, we do not..." Robert began to say, but the General interrupted him sharply.

"Trust me Robert, you will be delighted nonetheless," Groves chuckled, causing Robert to furrow his eyebrows.

"Unless that surprise is going to helpful when it comes to activating the gadget, I must apologize if my excitement remains contained, General," Robert retorted with a rather exhausted look on his face, making the General realize how little he must have been sleeping.

"Well, for a matter of fact, the surprise I have for you is a scientist and I am hopeful that she might be able to help you become inspired with new ideas that will, indeed, help with the activation of the gadget," Groves responded confidently, knowing full well how important your contribution would be.

"You are bringing a new scientist on to the project without my consultation?" Robert asked incredulously, his initial disbelief transforming into anger. 

"Indeed, I am Robert. Now come. I want you to meet her," Groves commanded briskly, stepping past Robert's desk to lead the way. Robert hesitated briefly, wondering why the urgency, feeling somewhat unwilling to get excited. But, curiosity piqued his interest, driving him to follow suit despite his reservations. Together, they descended the steps leading outside and, soon enough, Robert realized that General Groves was leading him past the security gate and towards his own house.

"General, forgive me for asking, but why precisely are we heading to my home?" Robert enquired curiously, attempting to contain his growing suspicion.

"Like I said Robert, I want you to meet the newest addition to your team," Groves stated firmly, opening the door to his residence, whereupon Robert found himself suddenly standing inside, bewildered by the sudden shift in locale.

"General, please explain to me..." Robert began to plead, his tone displaying a mix of frustration and impatience, just before he got interrupted. 

"Robert, believe me when I say you will appreciate meeting this woman," Groves answered cryptically, guiding Robert into the living room where, suddenly, he saw you sitting there, looking up at him with those intense eyes that had captivated him so completely.

Robert froze in shock and disbelief upon seeing you. The unexpectedness of the encounter left him momentarily speechless, taking in the sight of you before him as though he were viewing something unreal or a mirage. Time stood still as he gazed at you, lost in admiration. His heart raced wildly against his rib cage while his mouth went dry.

Standing up, you rose gracefully, walking towards him with an undeniably feminine sway, your soft footsteps echoing against the wooden floorboards beneath you. As you reached closer, Robert felt his breath hitch, watching your every movement intently, struggling to regain control of his erratic pulse.

"Do I not at least get a kiss?" you teased playfully, tilting your head to the side, flashing a shy smile. Robert felt his heart skip a beat, overcome with both relief and longing, the familiar yearning returning with vengeance. Reaching forward, he took hold of your hands, pressing his lips fervently against yours, feeling a surge of desire coursing through his veins. 

"Where is our son?" Robert demanded passionately, pulling away momentarily while you clung onto him, reciprocating his affection wholeheartedly.

"He is asleep. In your bedroom. He cried all the way here, so he really needed the rest," you explained earnestly, caressing his cheek lovingly. Robert leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, relieved that your son was safe.

"Thank you, my love," Robert exclaimed gratefully, embracing you tightly, unable to let go even after several minutes had passed. This was the second chance he never imagined receiving – a gift straight from heaven. For about a year, you two had been kept apart, separated by deceit, distance, and obstacles, but fate had conspired to bring you together again.

"Perhaps I should give you some privacy, but before I go, please be advised that officials are going to keep a close eye on the both of you. Y/N will not receive security clearance and must remain at Los Alamos until the project concludes. She has been cleared of all wrongdoing, but these are the precautions we will need to take to bring her back on to the project, Robert," Groves began before addressing the fact that Robert now had not only one, but two, children to be looked after.

"As far your children are concerned, they will remain here, with you. This includes Kitty's son who she chose to leave in your care upon her departure from Los Alamos. I have taken it upon myself to employ a child nurse to look after them both. She will arrive tomorrow," Groves informed, pausing briefly as Robert digested the news. It was certainly a lot to process - finding solace in your arms, having been reunited with you, and now learning that he would also bear responsibility for raising not one, but two young lives. "Now, you must understand that, for obvious reasons, I expect you to retain professionalism at work. The only reason I have allowed Y/N back on to the project is because I consider it beneficial to the well-being of the man who runs Los Alamos for me. So now, I expect focus from you, Robert!" Groves instructed sternly, drawing attention back to matters concerning national security before saying his farewell, hoping not to be back until after Christmas. 

After Groves left, silence fell heavy around you both, giving you both time to truly reflect on what transpired. Both hearts racing, filled with gratitude and apprehension, Robert pulled you closer, allowing your bodies to nestle snugly into each other. He couldn't believe this was finally happening, you being right there beside him, holding him close, cherishing moments previously stolen from you.

"I need to see our son," Robert insisted, breaking free from your embrace gently as he heard him squirm, making unsettling noises.

"Of course," you smiled before, overwhelmed, you closed your eyes, savoring the tender memory of his touch.

"Come with me and I will introduce you," you offered, entwining your fingers with his as you led him toward the bedroom, sharing a comforting warmth as you walked shoulder to shoulder.

You then opened the door to the dimly lit room where your tiny son stirred peacefully, swaddled in blankets, angelic features contrasting the gloomy atmosphere. The sight of him stirred mixed feelings of joy and sadness in Robert, reminding him of the responsibilities he faced along with the happiness derived from being reunited with you in this world, at war. 

"Go on, pick him up. He is awake," you encouraged softly, reaching across to guide Robert's hand toward your son's small body.

Gingerly, Robert lifted him from the cradle, feeling like the weight of the world was now balanced precariously in his palms. Carefully, he held the infant close to his chest, feeling his fragile frame trembling slightly underneath the pressure of fatherhood. The sweet innocence radiating off of his son struck Robert hard, filling him with both immense pride and trepidation simultaneously.

"See, that's your daddy, my sweet boy," you whispered softly, your voice resonating with genuine tenderness as Robert rocked him gently.

"He looks just like you, Oppie," you added lightheartedly, referring to his striking features, causing a hint of laughter to surface in Robert's strained expression.

"He's got your smile though," Robert remarked pensively, gazing deeply into the baby's eyes which mirrored his own intensity. Seeing the resemblances brought forth fond memories of the days spent together when everything seemed perfect, a stark contrast to reality.

With tears beginning to pool in his eyes, Robert turned to face you, trying to hide his vulnerability behind a facade of bravado. Unable to maintain composure any longer, he wrapped you both in a protective embrace, holding onto you fiercely until, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Dr Oppenheimer! You must come quickly!" his secretary announced frantically, catching Robert unawares with the urgency in her voice. Startled, Robert glanced hurriedly towards you, hesitation evident in his eyes as he contemplated leaving your presence prematurely.

"Go, Robert! I will be here when you get back," you reassured him, stroking his arm affectionately as he moved closer to you.

Taking a deep breath, bidding you goodbye, Robert set off towards the sound of his secretary's distressed call and, before you knew it, he barged out the door. 

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[hannahmanderr]

WHOO HOO ECTO-IMPLOSION!! I was honored to get to step in to write for the incredible artwork done by @praetoring! They're such a talented artist, and their art was truly inspiring!! I'll be reblogging it myself, but definitely go check it out here and share the love with them!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This would be so much easier if you opened up, Daniel.”

Danny huffs and scrapes the heel of his scruffy shoe on the thin carpet. “It’s Danny. And I told you before. There’s nothing to open up about.”

Dr. Bell leans forward and laces his fingers underneath his chin. Danny’s seen the critical glint in his eye before, in the other psychiatrists who have come before him. He wonders if it’s something they teach in medical school. Maybe they make it a graduation requirement.

“I’m here to help you. We all are,” Dr. Bell says, his honey brown eyes trained on Danny. “You’re here because you have people who care about you. They want to see you get better.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but there’s nothing to get better from.”

Dr. Bell’s eyes crease into a sad sort of smile. “There’s a term for that, you know. When a patient believes their problems aren’t a problem. ‘Ego-syntonic’ is what we call it.”

“Why would I care what it’s called?”

“Thought you might like to know.” The doctor shrugs. “You seem like the inquisitive type.”

A silence befalls the two, broken only by the gentle ticking of the antique cuckoo clock on the wall. Danny scrapes his heel on the ground again.

He doesn’t like the quiet. It leaves room for too much to sneak through. Too many chances for something to slip through the cracks. 

But he doesn’t speak.

It’s a lose-lose situation, really. He can stay quiet and run that risk, or he can talk and have to deal with all this. Again.

He shuffles and crosses his arms.

Dr. Bell sighs. “You do know why you’re here right now, yes?”

Danny doesn’t answer at first. His gaze is focused out the window now, at a point on the horizon. The sun is glaring down, melting the slushy snow and causing the air to shimmer. It’s a mesmerizing sight, he decides.

“Daniel. Danny. Look at me.”

Danny grits his teeth, but obeys. Still, his eyes continue to drift back outside. 

There’s another look in Dr. Bell’s eyes. One that Danny also knows well. The same reproachful, pitying look given to him by the students in the halls at school, the cashiers at the grocery store, the dozens of professionals he’s been forced to talk to. The same look accompanied by low whispers and unrelenting rumors.

Danny knows he should be used to them by now, but he still can’t help but lash out at them. Every time. Even if it’s in his own head. 

Dr. Bell tilts his head thoughtfully. “Why did you throw those meds away, Danny?”

Danny bristles. He can still hear the flushing toilet and his sister’s shouts of disbelief. The angry lecture from his parents. It’s not pretty.

Somehow, he’d never thought about the consequences of getting caught.

“Maybe if you listened to me,” he snaps, “you’d understand that they’re useless.”

“If we need to adjust the dosage, or if we need to try anoth-”

“No, just - I don’t need them!” His heart is beginning to race. He’s getting himself worked up again, and he knows it can only lead to disaster, but he can’t really help it. “I don’t need them, because nothing’s wrong!”

Dr. Bell’s brow furrows. “How long have you been tossing them?”

“Does it matter? I don’t need them, end of story.”

“Danny.” His name is spoken with a sort of sternness really only matched by his English teacher. It’s enough to make him shut his mouth and slowly sit back in his seat. Had he even realized he’d started to lean forward?

His heart doesn’t quiet, though. It pounds away in his chest, faster and faster. Something tingles in the back of his head.

He scrapes his heel again.

The doctor finally looks away and pinches the bridge of his nose. It pushes his glasses askew. “This is serious. You can’t simply decide to stop taking these meds because you think you don’t need them. That’s dangerous… to you.”

Danny doesn’t need to be a genius to hear the unspoken message in Dr. Bell’s words. Dangerous to you and the people around you.

Jazz would scold him for jumping to that conclusion. He can imagine just what she’d say. People with psychotic disorders are more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators of it, she’d say in that presumptuous, know-it-all voice she dons any time she gets to talking about psychology. 

Danny knows better though. Statistics might say one thing. They don’t change what people think, though.

Another shimmer outside the window catches his eye. He hones in on it immediately. 

This one is different. He knows it. He can feel it.

Shit.

Dr. Bell is still speaking. “Please, Danny. You don’t want to end up back in the hospital again. You’ve been managing your symptoms for a while now. You don’t want to throw that all away.”

But Danny isn’t hearing him. Not even the thinly veiled threat of the hospital breaks his concentration. 

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he wonders if psychiatrists are supposed to be this blunt. All of the others before this one always danced around the issue so delicately.)

(He sort of appreciates the bluntness, for once. It’s a refreshing change.)

No, his focus is devoted to that point on the horizon, where the shimmer is waving precariously in the air, taking on a new shape and growing stronger. 

Really, he wishes it had waited until this appointment was over.

Then again, he’s really the one to blame for it, isn’t he?

“We can only do so much. Myself, your parents, your teachers… I know it’s difficult, and I know you’ve been through a lot, but we can’t do all the work for you. You have to be willing to step up and take care of yourself.”

Danny’s heart is throbbing painfully now. He can feel the potent hum of something buzzing just under his skin, making his leg bounce and his fingers dig into his torn jeans. His eyes remain stubbornly trained out the window.

But this time he’s heard Dr. Bell’s words. Specifically that last bit. And he has some words of his own. 

It’s perfect timing, thankfully. 

He stands up abruptly, so forcefully it knocks over his chair. “Thanks, but no thanks, doc. You may think I’m just throwing away my life or whatever, but I know myself better than you do. And for the record, I am taking care of myself. I’m taking care of more than myself, actually. So - and I’ll only say this once - kindly go to hell.”

Before Dr. Bell has the chance to respond, Danny sweeps out of the office.

No one sees him exit the building.

____________________________________________________________

One year, seven months, twenty-one days, and forty-six minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since the first crack.

It shouldn’t have been possible. His parents said so themselves. With the portal destroyed, the veil between worlds was never torn. Reality remained intact, thus preventing any leakage. 

That’s what they thought anyway. 

But Danny knows the truth. He’s the only one that does. 

He was there when it happened, after all.

____________________________________________________________

The next morning has Jazz hovering over his shoulder, watching him like a hawk.

“Go on,” she says, nodding to the pills in his open hand. “Take them.”

Danny doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the pills with disdain. Mom had been sure to make certain that he’d have them for this morning. Pharmacies work much faster with an impassioned Fenton breathing down their necks.

Either that, or maybe they’ve heard the rumors about him too.

Jazz huffs and throws her hands in the air. “Honestly, Danny, I don’t understand what the big deal is. They’re not gonna kill you.”

Danny tilts his head. He could probably make a decent argument as to why yes, taking these pills could end up with him dead, but he holds his tongue.

He can feel his heart begin to pulse a little faster. His focus immediately redirects to his breathing. 

Inhale Io Europa Ganymede.

Exhale Callisto Amalthea Himalia.

Inhale Elara Pasiphae Sinope.

Exhale Lysithea Carme Ananke.

Jupiter has 95 moons. Danny knows all their names by heart. It became especially easy to memorize them when he discovered they make for a wonderful mantra to time his breathing to.

And Jazz wanted to accuse him of not paying attention in therapy.

Except she’s still staring at him with murder in her eyes. “You’re not going anywhere until you take those. And no, I will not vouch for you with Lancer if you make us late.”

His eyes flick up to hers for the briefest of moments. He doesn’t maintain the eye contact - it’s too hard to look at the disappointment in her eyes - but it’s long enough for him to spot something else within them. He can’t quite believe it, though.

Is that… helplessness?

Conflicting feelings war within him. On one hand, he wants to snap at her, tell her to mind her own business and quit worrying about him. She’s been on his back for the better part of the past year and a half. How has she not learned that no amount of nagging is going to “fix” him?

But on the other hand, his heart pangs for his sister. After all, she’s been dealing with the effects of his… condition for that year and a half now, whether she’s wanted to or not. He knows his problems are not self-contained; they inevitably twist their way into the lives of everyone he comes into contact with. No one has been in closer contact with him than Jazz.

In a way, he sort of hates himself for it. Or maybe he hates the universe for putting him into this position. Either way, he hates it.

Yet he still can’t take the pills. He doesn’t know what sort of effect they’ll have on him, but he’s not eager to find out, either. 

Danny sighs and his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. “Whatever.”

He makes a show of tossing them in his mouth and taking a big gulp of water. Even after he swallows, Jazz still eyes him critically.

“Open up,” she demands, though her voice is gentler. Obediently, he opens and lifts his tongue to show her his empty mouth. 

She nods curtly, but Danny can see the tension drain from her face and body. The sight is somewhat strangely satisfying. “Thank you. Now was that so bad?”

Danny shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on, I really don’t want to be late.”

“You go ahead,” he says. “Sam and Tucker wanted to walk with me today.”

Jazz raises an eyebrow. The gears are turning in her head, Danny knows, as she tries to pick the reason apart. Looks for a flaw. 

A year and a half of lying through his teeth has earned him such a lack of trust.

But he shrugs half-heartedly. He’s already taken the pills, hasn’t he?

Jazz seems to reach this conclusion. “Alright,” she says slowly. She bends down to pick up her bag, but her eyes stay glued to him. “But if you try anything funny…”

“What would I even try?”

“Just -” she cuts herself off and draws in a breath. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy, Danny. I just… I worry. You’re my little brother, you know?”

His heart pangs again. “I know.”

The hint of a smile graces the corners of her lips. She plants a kiss into his hair. There’s a weight to it though, one that holds the strain of all the heated arguments, all the angry and despaired tears, all the failed pleading and promising, everything that’s happened in the past year and a half.

Even if her melancholy hadn’t draped itself around his shoulders, he would’ve known.

Still, when she pulls away, he offers her his own small smile. She leaves the house without another word.

It’s only after he hears the door close behind her that he bolts to the bathroom.

____________________________________________________________

He had tried to explain what was happening to him, after the portal exploded on him. He tried to explain the strange feelings in his body, the impossible things he was seeing. 

The doctors (and his sister) immediately wrote off his complaints as residual trauma from the accident. You’re lucky to even be alive, they would tell him. It’s expected that you’d be having problems adjusting.

(Lucky to be alive. That’s what they said. That’s what everyone said.)

(If only he believed that statement was true.)

(And not about the “lucky” part.)

His parents, of course, had been intrigued at first. Perhaps it was because of some delirious hope after the destruction of their magnum opus, but they at least listened to him. There had been some skepticism, especially as it became clearer and clearer that there was no proof to Danny’s claims, but they stayed patient.

Until Jazz found out about the questions they were asking him. She had given them a lecture of her own for “encouraging his delusions” before “accidentally” dropping it to the therapist during a family counseling session.

His parents, disappointed as they had been, agreed to back off.

Leaving him alone to fix a problem no one believed was real.

____________________________________________________________

Danny’s head feels like dead weight as he lifts it from the toilet. He flushes it before he can look down and make himself sick all over again.

God, what has he come to?

The bitter taste of the half-digested pills burns at his tongue. Still, he chooses to fall back against the wall, breathing heavily and letting his eyes flutter closed.

His heart pounds in his chest. It had started even as he had been running to the bathroom. He silently berates himself for allowing it to happen. And although part of him has already resigned himself to the inevitable consequence, part of him still desperately latches onto the list of moons he knows so well.

Leda Thebe Adrastea.

Something potent and volatile pulses in the air. He can feel it seep through his skin and into his muscles and bones. It only makes his heart race faster, especially as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps coat his arms.

He’s had a year and a half to get used to the sensation, but it catches him off guard every time. Like something is tearing itself apart inside him. 

Or maybe like he’s being torn apart.

Metis, Themisto…

Danny curls in on himself. Pressure builds in his chest. Something he has no human words for storms inside him in a relentless whirlwind. He can feel the need for release, though whether that’s him begging for a reprieve or the force inside him demanding to be freed, he can never tell. Perhaps it’s both.

… Callirrhoe…

The sizzling snaps of something electric are audible in the air, concentrated somewhere behind the shower curtain. He holds his head in a death grip and his heart beats fast - impossibly fast.

So fast it might as well be stopped.

Something cold writhes its way into his throat, stirring his stomach into nausea all over again. He can’t swallow it down. He’s forced to open his mouth in a gasp and stare in dismay as pale, blue mist pours from his lips.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The demand from the force within has become intolerable. Like always, he’s left wondering if it’ll be too much for his tiny mortal body to handle.

Unfortunately for him, he knows he’ll be able to handle it.

With a guttural cry, the energy erupts in him.

He’s never sure what exactly happens next. He’s always been too overwhelmed by whatever it is to see or understand. All he knows is the thunderbolt of something electric, something powerful being unleashed into him. Or maybe it’s clawing its way out of him. 

Memories of blinding green light and an explosion that leaves his ears ringing rip through him.

That’s probably always the worst part.

And then, right as he’s sure he’ll disintegrate into nothing more than dust, it stops. In a single deafening clap, it stops.

Slowly, Danny peels his eyes open. The death grip loosens and his legs and arms begin to unfold. The tension, however, does not leave his body. Every human instinct of his whispers at him furiously to stay alert. Be prepared. Flee from the danger.

But a different set of instincts has clamored its way forward too. Instincts that are far from human. Instincts that draw him up from the floor and towards the bathtub.

A toxic green glow pulses behind the shower curtain.

____________________________________________________________ It hadn’t taken long for the rumors to start spreading. Amity Park is, after all, a sleepy little suburb. Its residents will take their drama where they can get it.

Did you hear about the ghost hunters’ son? they’d whisper. Did you hear about the crazy Fenton kid?

Speculations ranged far and wide. Even after the portal’s explosion became common knowledge, people would throw out wild theory after wild theory.

I heard he ate a bunch of ectoplasm and it’s poisoned him.

Well, I heard the radiation from all those experiments finally got to him.

Are you kidding? Those loony Fentons obviously started experimenting on him.

Comments like that last one always stung the worst.

If he’d been a social pariah before, he was even more of one after the accident.

And it definitely didn’t help that the accident left him with a slew of… “side effects.” Ones that really got everyone talking. 

____________________________________________________________

Danny nearly tears the curtain off the rod as he rips it to the side.

Sure enough, right in the middle of the bathtub, a rancid green crack shimmers in the air. 

“Go away,” he growls. There’s something ethereal about his voice now, something that makes it reverberate against the walls and fill the air with static. Something fueled by the anger and frustration in his bones.

Something - or someone - is trying to press their way through the crack. Even if it hadn’t been visibly apparent, Danny can feel it in his chest. It’s causing a distinct pressure that throbs out of sync with his heart. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.

A different kind of static drifts through the portal. That would be the response, Danny gathers. Somehow, despite the lack of any English words - or any words, period - he knows exactly what’s being said. Or a rough idea, at least.

“No,” he snaps. A crack of electricity snaps in time with his voice. “You’re not coming through. Go away.”

He wishes the intruder would just leave him alone. The sooner he’s able to calm down, the sooner the crack will fade. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked. 

This time, when static drifts through the portal, there are the low undertones of something that can maybe be interpreted as language. Danny listens closely.

“This is my world.” He’s attempting to make himself sound as threatening as possible, allowing the anger and the fierce instinct to possess to bubble over into his demeanor. His blood is running cold, and he knows if he were to look in the mirror right now, he’d be met with not his eyes, but an otherworldly glow that mimics the color of the crack down to a tee. “This is my haunt. You’re not welcome.”

He’s still not exactly sure what a haunt is, and he’s not sure why the thought of this being his haunt makes his stomach flutter with both anxiety and excitement, but he’s dealt with this problem long enough to know how to speak their language. 

“Let me through,” a voice hisses from inside the crack, muddied by the accompanying static. “I only wish to help you.”

Danny scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like any of you have ever actually wanted to help me before.” His eyes narrow, and now he can feel a cold crackle gathering behind them. “So you’d better leave now, because you won’t like it if I have to make you.”

“And just how do you intend to ‘make’ me leave, halfling?”

There’s that word again. The one that sends a buzz straight down Danny’s spine and causes something in his chest to leap. The one they’ve all been calling him for the past year and a half.

Halfling.

What exactly that means, he still doesn’t know.

“I’ve gotten rid of plenty of you before,” he says, low and dangerous. “I can just as easily get rid of you.”

The pressure in his chest increases sharply as a shadowy figure presses right up against the crack. Foggy bits of the figure begin to slip through the crack. “Perhaps you are as powerful as they say.” The voice becomes clearer. “Perhaps your words have merit. Somehow, I doubt that.”

Danny growls again, and his hands ball into fists. He swings madly at the little tendrils of fog. They dissipate under his touch, and the intruder hisses.

“You are making a grave mistake, child. It is not wise to reject my aid.”

“Sure. I’m sure your ‘aid’ involves all sorts of terrorizing and wreaking havoc and stuff. Exactly the kind of help I need.” He grunts as the intruder attempts to shove their way through again, and it feels like someone has thrown a cinderblock into his chest. Still, he stands his ground. “This place is mine, and if you think I’m just gonna let you come in and run rampant, then you have another thing coming.”

Despite his best efforts, more and more foggy bits leak through the crack. The static in the air pulses, and he gets the vague notion that he’s being laughed at. “Such strong words from such an insolent boy. This is the great halfling child I was told so much about?”

“You know, you’re not exactly doing much to help your case.”

“Hmm. Then maybe I’ll simply make you my offer.”

“Not. Interested.” His hands are tingling. Is it from coming into contact with the intruder? Or from something else? He can’t tell. “You can take your offer and -”

“I can teach you how to seal the rifts.”

Now that makes Danny falter.

____________________________________________________________

It only took about a month for Danny to realize it was him that was responsible for the cracks.

They didn’t start out as anything big. Barely shimmers or disturbances in the air, when he’d get worked up or nervous or upset. Nothing big enough for anything to fit through, of course.

But enough to get him to notice. 

In retrospect, it did make some sense. His parents’ portal had opened up on top of him. Or maybe even opened up in him. Of course, it was bound to leave some lasting metaphysical effects.

He just hadn’t expected to learn that he was the portal’s replacement.

It was sometime right then, a month or so after the accident, that Sam had campaigned and succeeded to revise the school lunch menu. The resulting argument between her and Tucker had gotten him so anxious that it resulted in his largest crack yet. One that was big enough to allow something through.

One that was big enough to allow one of the ghosts on the other side to slip through.

____________________________________________________________

The thought is tantalizing. It’s been so long, relying on his ability to rein in his anger and anxiety to force the cracks to fade. It’s a task much easier said than done.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have an easier, more reliable way of closing them? Of keeping the ghosts out of his territory? Of stopping things before they could cause too many problems?

The intruder must sense his hesitation, because they give another forceful push. Danny, wrapped up in his own thoughts, is caught off guard by the move, and he gasps in shock as he squeezes his eyes shut and reels backwards.

It’s enough of an opening for the ghost to slide the rest of the way through.

Danny can feel its presence. There’s something… musty about it. Like the way it feels when he goes into the attic and sees all of his and Jazz’s old baby stuff packed away. Or when he’s forced to use one of the particularly “well-loved” copies of textbooks at school. He’s not sure whether to be put off by it or intrigued.

But it does feel foreign. More foreign than the presence of most other ghosts he’s encountered.

He opens his eyes.

Endless red eyes bore into his.

He reels again.

“Who the hell are you?” he hisses. Static crackles under his voice again.

The figure simply floats there, mostly hidden underneath a cloak. Those awful red eyes shine like beacons from the shadows created by the hood. Oddly enough, they make it harder to see the figure’s face. If they actually have one. Danny’s seen more than one faceless ghost before.

“Believe it or not, I do truly wish to help you,” the ghost says. Its voice is smooth and masculine, and when it speaks, Danny is flooded with a wave of that same musty energy. Something about it feels old. Timeless.

It’s not reassuring in the slightest.

The words themselves are not reassuring either. Faces supplant the shadow under the hood - his parents’, Dr. Bell’s, Jazz’s. The phrase is one that Danny is intimately familiar with, and he immediately bristles.

“I don’t need your help,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “And I still don’t believe you actually want to help.”

Danny can’t see the figure’s face, of course, but somehow, he can tell that the ghost is smiling at him. The kind of smile adults give children who don’t know any better. “And why don’t you believe that?” the ghost asks, unperturbed by his petulance.

Danny throws his arms in the air before crossing them even tighter across his chest. “Because that’s all you ghosts do! You invade my home and start trying to stir up trouble, and then I have to chase you down and shove you back through before you hurt something. Or someone.”

“Such hasty conclusions to draw.” The ghost clucks its tongue disapprovingly. “That won’t do at all.”

Danny’s blood boils cold and the glow from his eyes is bright enough to reflect on the ghost in front of him. He raises his fists. “Go. Now.”

The ghost sighs, as if it’s bored of the conversation already. A hand thrusts out from underneath the cloak, aimed toward the crack. Danny’s eyes widen as a blue glow surrounds the ghost’s hand, then the crack. The crack shudders.

And it begins to mend itself.

Something inside Danny shifts as the crack seals itself. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, like his heart isn’t being pushed against as much. 

But the ghost is still there, in his bathroom. And now that the crack is gone, the full force of the ghost’s presence is surrounding Danny.

Danny sees the glint of sharp teeth as the ghost grins. “I don’t think I will go,” it says.

Danny’s not sure whether to be amazed, terrified, or infuriated. Or maybe some combination of the three. On one hand, this ghost just proved its ability to seal the cracks. Maybe even the ability to teach him how to do it himself. If Danny possesses that ability.

On the other hand, though, Danny doesn’t take too kindly to ghosts intruding in his world and asserting themselves.

He’s the boss here.

That instinct, the instinct to own and possess and keep his territory, wins out easily. It’s too overwhelming, and Danny doesn’t really have the energy to try and fight it. 

Besides, he figures, if he can get himself worked up enough, he can create another crack to shove this ghost back through.

So with a roar of anger, Danny lunges at the ghosts and swings his fists with all his might.

The moment he comes into contact with the ghost, something changes.

And green fire explodes to life around his hands.

____________________________________________________________

The cracks weren’t the only side effect of the portal’s explosion.

Danny never understood what was happening to him. In all honesty, he’s still not sure if he completely understands. What he knew and what he knows, though, is that something within him began to shift.

He began to shift.

Why did the cold winter air seem to embrace him? Why did the night sky whisper to him with offers of belonging? Why did he find himself seeing new colors and new lights out of the corners of his eyes?

He tried to explain it to his friends, his family, his doctors. The former took some interest, but lost it quickly with nothing to back it up. The latter only used it as evidence for his diagnosis.

It didn’t help when things got more serious, after Sam changed the lunch menu and he’d had to beat back the ghost he’d accidentally summoned. He found himself drawn to some of the most random places in town - behind the dumpsters at the Nasty Burger, the top of Lookout Hill, the architecture section in the public library. Why those places, he didn’t know. All he knew was that the air in those places felt… different. Thinner, maybe. Like he could poke through it if he found the right place.

He learned to start staying away from those places.

It was worse when he started to be drawn to places that had a much more sinister aura. Like the time when he found himself standing on the side of the road at the site of a bad car wreck, watching as EMTs soberly placed a sheet over a broken body. Or when he ended up standing in the doorway of the hospice center in town as a family with red eyes and tears aplenty quietly shuffled their way out.

It gave even more reason for people to stay away from him. He smells like death, they’d say. He figured they were probably close enough to being right.

And that wasn’t counting the other side effects.

____________________________________________________________

Danny screams.

In an instant, he’s pushed the ghost back from him and scampered away, staring in horror at his burning hands. Many things have happened to him in the past year and a half, but his hands spontaneously catching on fire has not been one of them.

“Interesting,” he can hear the ghost saying, but he doesn’t truly register it. His focus is entirely on the green fire. 

It’s only after a few seconds that he starts to wonder why it doesn’t hurt. 

He’s heard stories, of course. About how with serious burns, they can destroy nerves before you can register the pain. He himself still has a few destroyed nerves from the explosion. He wonders if that’s what’s happening to him now. It would explain why he’s in such shock, unable to do anything to actually put out the fire.

And then he finally processes three very important things.

One: the fire is green. Not normal fire by any means.

Two: he can’t see any damage to his hands, even as the fire burns. And it doesn’t move any farther than his wrists. 

Three: he can feel something. It’s not heat. His hands tingle, but not painfully. Rather, it feels like he’s dunked his hands into a bowl of ice water. Or like snow has wrapped around them.

His eyes snap up to the ghost. “What the hell did you do to me?” he shouts. His voice shakes with panic.

The ghost is as placid as ever. It holds a gloved hand up towards its chin. Danny hates feeling like the subject of some twisted experiment.

“That power has always been within you, young halfling,” it says. It could be Danny’s imagination, but he thinks he hears something akin to wonder in the ghost’s voice. “It would seem that my presence has simply accelerated your discovery of this power.”

Danny opens his mouth, but words escape him. His eyes drift back down to his hands, still lit up. 

He shouldn’t be quite so stunned. This isn’t the first time something distinctly supernatural has happened to his body. Memories of arms and legs glitching out of sight and feet slipping through the ground swarm him in a rush. 

He still doesn’t know why those things happen, or what they mean. 

They scare him.

But he’ll never admit it. Not that he can. These occurrences would be written off as delusions.

The ghost leans down and approaches Danny. Although he’s already pressed flush against the wall, he tries to sink further into it. “Stay away from me!” As he shouts, the fire around his hands flares brighter.

The ghost’s eyes briefly flick to the fire before settling back on Danny. “Relax,” it says. “You are overreacting.” It tilts its head, and Danny sees the glint of teeth again. “Are all humans this… emotionally fragile?”

“I’m about to show you fragile,” Danny growls.

“Hmm. There’s that attitude again.” The ghost sighs. “In all truthfulness, though, you do need to relax. You will never gain control if you are continually losing it, child.”

“That makes zero sense. And how am I supposed to relax when you’re invading my home?”

“Because you are foolish,” the ghost says plainly. Danny wants to throw another punch, but the idea of another freaky thing happening if he touches the ghost keeps his behavior under control. “You are too focused on the external. You must focus on the internal.”

“Well, maybe I could ‘focus on the internal’ if you’d just leave me alone!”

A rush of that musty energy presses Danny into the wall. “You would be wise to listen to me, halfling. I am one of the very few beings that truly does wish to help you. Without my aid, you will leave yourself vulnerable to every single one of the threats behind the veil.” The ghost pauses. “Yourself… and your haunt.”

Danny’s anger falters.

The ghost continues. “What you have seen thus far is but a taste of the threats that wait for you. Everything you have faced up until this point will seem like child’s play compared to what you will face. Your only hope to defend yourself is to listen to me.”

Danny wants to stay angry. He wants to stay feisty and impudent. This is just another intruder after all. One of the many he’s had to beat back to wherever they came from.

But as he stares helplessly into the ghost’s gaze, he can’t help but feel as though he is being pierced down to his very soul. Embedded within those deep red eyes is the afterimage of every star that’s burned itself to death, from the beginning of time to the end. The infinite void of eternity. The promise of planets yet to be created, cosmic dust yet to settle, things that will happen long after the Earth’s Sun has gone supernova and extinguished any trace of life.

Danny cries out. His head snaps backward, breaking the connection to the ghost’s eyes. He pants for breath he didn’t know he’d been lacking.

He gets the impression that perhaps this isn’t just another intruder.

“Who… are you?” he asks again, this time with caution.

The ghost blinks once. “I can be your greatest ally, or I can be your greatest enemy. I am prepared to be both. Whichever one I am rests in your hands.” He nods down to the green flames still licking Danny’s hands. 

Danny’s breath hitches. The way this ghost talks, the way it carries itself, he can tell the ghost knows far more than he does. Far more. He’s not sure if the threats of dangers yet to come are valid or not.

But while he asserts his ability to take care of anything thrown at him, he knows the fear in his gut says otherwise.

His fists clench. He grits his teeth. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes. Why do there have to be more threats? Why can’t these ghosts just leave him alone? Why him? Why did all this happen to him? Why must he face this alone?

The questions swarm him like angry hornets. They make it hard for him to think clearly. 

His heart begins to race.

“N-no, please,” he gasps. “Not again.”

“You must relax,” the ghost reiterates. “Your abilities are tied to your emotions, as are the abilities of all ghosts. In this case, if you wish to calm the ability, you must first calm yourself, halfling.”

Danny’s stomach turns at the ghost’s words. There’s a hidden implication within them, one that Danny can’t quite put his finger on. He’s sure he does not like it, though. 

“I can’t just… calm down,” he says. It’s the truth. Even a year and a half of intense therapy and psychiatric treatment hasn’t taught him how to simply shut off his emotions.

The ghost hums and puts a hand to its chin again. “How is it you humans deal with such strange matters?” He shakes his head before Danny can respond. “No matter. I can assist you by using my power to influence yours, but you must trust me to touch you again.”

Danny’s head whips back and forth wildly. “Because it went so well the last time I touched you?” he says. He hates the note of panic he can hear in his voice.

“That was, as you call it, a fluke. As I said, the power was always within you. My influence has simply brought forth that power early.”

“And how do you know it won’t happen again?”

Teeth flash underneath the hood of the cloak. “I have far more control over my abilities than you, boy. Rest assured I will be able to control something as simple as this.”

Danny’s heart thumps loudly. The ghost extends a hand towards him, and Danny instinctively flinches away from it. He can already feel the ghost’s presence beginning to press up against him again, and it only makes him more anxious.

But…

But.

There’s something different about it now.

Something that reminds him of his mother gently kissing his brow while putting a bandage on his scraped knee. Something that reminds him of his father’s bear hugs that wrap him up in a safe cocoon. Something that reminds him of the weighted blanket Jazz got him last year for Christmas, in an attempt to provide him with something to help with his leftover trauma from the accident.

“Stop it,” he says, but there’s no weight behind his words. “I didn’t… say you could… influence me.” Because as much as he hates to admit it, the ghost’s presence is affecting him. He can feel it in his heartbeat, in his breathing, as they both begin to slow.

He’s lucky he looks up in time to see the ghost’s eyes widen for the briefest of seconds. “You can already feel me?” it asks. Fascination dances behind its words, and Danny feels like he’s a being watched like a zoo animal again. 

“Yes, now can you please… stop it?” Danny chances looking into the ghost’s eyes again. “I-I’ll calm down or whatever, just… please…”

To his surprise, the pressure against his chest lessens, and the vague notions of safety dissipate. The ghost floats backward a foot or two. 

He feels like he can breathe again.

It’s strange, he thinks to himself. How he seems to calm much easier without the ghost’s… influence. Maybe it’s the feeling of regaining some control over the situation. Maybe it’s because he feels less like he has to defend his territory.

He looks up at the ghost. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s surprised to realize he means it.

The flames die out.

____________________________________________________________

Once Danny figured out exactly what was happening within him to trigger the cracks, he tried desperately to keep it from happening at all costs.

Some tactics worked better than others. Timing his breath to the list of Jupiter’s moons was one. His therapist had been thrilled to hear that he’d taken her advice. 

He tried journaling, at the encouragement of another of his therapists and his sister. It worked a bit at first. It gave him a place to vent about the ghosts and everything happening with them without running the risk of being scolded for “giving into his delusions.” It quickly lost whatever effectiveness it had, though.

Eventually, he simply tried to shut his emotions off. He tried to become uncaring, unmoved. Tried not to let everyone’s harsh words get to him as much.

That failed miserably.

Then again, so did every other tactic he tried.

At some point, they all failed. The cracks were inevitable.

They always would be.

____________________________________________________________

The ghost, for what it’s worth, keeps true to its promise to teach him how to close the cracks. 

Ironically, though, it involves traveling through yet another crack.

It’s not Danny who opens it. The ghost waves its hand, and another hole in reality sparks to life inside his bathtub. The ghost’s crack is far neater than Danny’s - smoother, larger, not jagged like the forked branches of lightning. 

Danny watches, and he can’t help but be in awe. The simplicity with which the ghost opened it blows him away.

“Can it really be that easy?” he asks. The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Immediately, he regrets it. His goal isn’t to learn how to create the things. He just needs to know how to stop them. 

At the same time, the idea of being able to open the cracks without devolving into near panic, without feeling like his body is being ripped in two…

It’s enticing.

“With patience and precision, yes.” The ghost tilts its head at Danny. “Two things you severely lack, halfling.”

Anger flares in Danny. Somehow, he manages to wrangle it down to a simmer.

“Let’s go,” the ghost says. If it felt Danny’s silent outburst, it does not indicate so. 

“Go where?” Danny asks. Realization hits him a moment later. “Through it?”

“Going above it or around it would hardly do us any good.”

Danny balks. “I - can’t you just show me here? Why do we have to go through?”

The ghost is silent for a long moment. It stares unblinking at Danny. “If you wish to stay here,” it says, low and dark, “the consequences of doing so will rest on your head.”

Danny doesn’t need his sister’s intelligence to understand what the ghost is getting at now. 

“Alright, fine, I get it, it might get messy,” he concedes. “But… do we really have to go through it still?”

“You’re fearful.” It’s not a question.

Danny reflexively puffs his chest up. “I’m not afraid,” he fires back. 

It’s a lie.

He wonders if the ghost knows it.

The ghost hums. “If it helps, this portal simply leads to another location here in your human world. You do not need to enter my world. Not yet.”

Danny’s head snaps towards the crack at hearing the last of the ghost’s words. “Not yet?”

He doesn’t like those implications.

“I grow weary of your refusal to cooperate, child,” the ghost says with a sigh. “You will enter this portal if you wish to learn how to close the cracks and defend yourself. If you do not, I can assure you of the hardships you will try and fail to face.”

“Okay! Okay. Just… stop being so… doomer. I get the idea already.”

“Then by all means…” The ghost sweeps an arm out towards the crack with a cheeky bow. 

Reluctantly, Danny steps into the bathtub to stand before the crack. It’s the same vibrant green as the one earlier, as all the ones that had come before it. He can’t see what lies on the other side through the swirling green void.

Slowly, he reaches out and puts his hand through.

The sensation is… surprisingly pleasant. His hand meets empty air on the other side, but at the thin point where his forearm is split between two locations, where the crack touches his skin, he’s met with energy.

It’s pure and it’s raw. It’s electric. It’s invigorating and nothing like Danny has ever felt before. Standing here, in the glow of the crack through reality, he feels like he’s finally on solid ground. Like he’s found the thing that sings to him and his heart, rather than brutalizes it. Fear flushes from his body.

It’s all in such stark contrast to everything the cracks have brought him thus far. For a year and a half, it’s been oppressive. Looming over his head. Threatening to seize his heart and his breath. 

But now?

He feels like he can do anything.

And that’s just with his arm partway through.

Without another thought, Danny leaps through the crack.

It’s every bit as exhilarating as he’d hoped.

____________________________________________________________

In the months after the explosion, Danny often found himself spiraling into existential trains of thought. One does not simply go through a near-death experience without having a bit of existentialism on the side.

His therapists took this to mean he had lost his sense of identity as part of his trauma. It’s okay to feel like you’ve lost yourself, they’d tell him. Like you don’t know who you are anymore.

They would sit him down and force him through exercise after exercise, trying to identify his sense of self, the traits he felt like he embodied, everything that made Danny, Danny.

Who am I?

It was the question the therapists challenged him to ponder, time after time. Only you can answer that question for yourself, Danny.

He wanted to scream every time he was made to fill out another chart. Or outline who he thought he was. Or draw up things to symbolize himself. The question of who he was wasn’t the cause of his existential spirals. He already knew who he was.

Mostly, anyway.

No, it was a different question that plagued him time after time. After every crack, every encounter with a ghost, every unexplainable sight or sound he came across.

What am I?

A year and a half later, he still doesn’t know.

____________________________________________________________

Danny trips over his feet as he exits the crack. 

He’s still breathless from the sheer euphoria from the experience. His body shakes from the overwhelming feeling of power coursing through his veins. He wants to laugh, or maybe cry. Maybe both. 

Where has this been for the past year and half? How could he have gone so long without experiencing something like this?

He turns around to face the crack. In an instant, he’s up against it once more, trying to savor any last dredges of the energy that he can. 

He realizes that this is the closest he’s ever been to one of the cracks. He’s stayed away from them like a plague, only getting close enough to shove ghosts back through. Their presence has always weighed heavily on him, but now Danny wonders if that’s really the case.

No, something heavy has always accompanied the cracks. But… are the cracks themselves responsible for the pressure in his chest?

For the first time, he’s starting to think he’s had it wrong.

There’s a tingle in his chest, then a push, then pressure. This is the feeling he’s far more familiar with. Knowing what it heralds, he steps to the side. A moment later, the cloaked ghost makes its way through the crack.

“There,” it says once fully on this side of it. “Was that so bad?”

Danny opens his mouth. His instinct is to gush about it, to tell the ghost that it was the farthest thing from “bad.”

Those haunting red eyes turn on him, and the words die on Danny’s tongue. 

He huffs and kicks at the ground. “It wasn’t terrible,” he mutters quietly.

They’re on a dirt road, somewhere rural. Fields dormant for the winter sprawl out on either side of the road. A lone set of electrical lines runs along the side of the road. He can’t see any buildings around.

“Wait, where are we?” he asks, trepidation in his voice. Belatedly, he wonders if blindly trusting a very powerful ghost was smart.

“Not far,” the ghost responds. It does not elaborate. Instead, it seals the crack they’ve just come through with a lazy wave of its hand.

The second time witnessing it is just as mesmerizing as the first.

“Why do we have to come all the way to the middle of nowhere to do this? Seriously, why couldn’t you just show me back home?”

The ghost hums. It stares at the horizon, unfocused. “There are things you have yet to understand, halfling. You will learn in time.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Listen, you said you wanted to help me. So quit being all creepy-cryptic and help me.”

“I do not take well to people making demands of me,” the ghost says sharply. A cold breeze rustles the dead leaves on the road and in the fields. “We will operate on my schedule. A halfling child will not dictate it to me.”

Though he doesn’t know why or how, Danny’s instincts scream at him to rise to meet the challenge. To tell the ghost that it may want to operate on its own schedule, but this is Danny’s territory. That it can’t simply wander in and out of his world as it pleases and act as though it is in charge.

It takes every ounce of self-control he can muster to tamper those instincts.

He’s none too eager for the ghost to get mad at him again.

“What do I do then?” he grumbles.

The ghost floats to Danny’s side. “To learn how to control the cracks, you must first learn to take notice of the world around you.” It sweeps its arm out. “Tell me what you see here.”

“What? I don’t… there’s nothing to notice. What does this have to do with anything?”

“If you do not notice anything by looking, then notice by seeing.”

“That literally makes zero sense!” 

The ghost ignores Danny’s outburst this time. “You can already see more than other humans,” it says tiredly. As though it’s explained this to him hundreds of times already. “But you ignore it. You ignore the world around you to maintain little more than an illusion.”

Danny’s stomach does a little ballet. The ghost… isn’t wrong. The glimpses of colors he has no human words for, the way his eyes are drawn to seemingly invisible movements, the dancing lights always in the corners of his eyes, they are all things he knows he can see that others can’t.

He hates it.

“Maybe ignoring it is better,” he retorts. There’s some fire in his words, but not much. 

“Better for who? For those around you? For you? The answer is neither. How can you wish to protect your haunt when you turn a blind eye to that which supposedly threatens it?”

“As long as it stays on their side of the crack, it’s fine.” Even as he speaks, Danny realizes he’s losing confidence in his words. It’s terrifying. 

“Naive child,” the ghost mutters. Disgust taints its words. Or is that…

… disappointment?

Danny doesn’t have time to figure it out. The ghost continues speaking.

“Nothing is ever black and white. There is never such a thing as two absolute sides.” It picks up a single dry leaf and twirls it in its hand. “Everything begins, and everything ends. What happens in between is in shades of gray.”

Danny’s head is beginning to spin. “In English please?”

The ghost sighs. “You expect life and death to remain two very distinct sides, never touching one another. This is shortsightedness.” It lets the leaf go. It drifts away on a breeze. “Life and death intermingle closer than you can ever imagine.”

Danny’s breath catches in his throat. “Life and… death?”

“Of course.” The ghost’s eyes turn on him. “What did you expect this to be about?”

“I… I don’t…” Danny’s tongue feels thick in his mouth suddenly. Words choke up in his throat, and he can’t get them out.

Before the portal accident, ghosts were a thing of fantasy. Simply his parents’ crackpot ravings. The accident proved those crackpot ravings to be real. As real as anything else. Despite the dozens of people telling him he’s hallucinating, or that he’s psychotic, he knows this is all real.

He can feel it, deep within him.

But for as real as he knows ghosts and their world are, he’s never had to consider why they exist. Where they truly come from.

Something flutters in his chest, and he can’t decide if it’s his heart or something else.

Human. Ghost.

Life. Death.

And him, somehow wrapped up in it all.

He thinks he might throw up for the second time that day.

The ghost is apparently unbothered by Danny’s newest existential crisis. “What you consider to be my world is in constant contact with what you consider to be yours. And yours is in constant contact with mine. They influence each other. They exist within one another. They are inseparable, woven into each other.”

It floats over to one of the electrical poles. There’s nothing remarkable about it. “You must be able to see this coalescence if you ever wish to understand the intricacies of things as complex as portals. So, halfling…” It pauses to run a hand down the pole. 

“Tell me what you see.”

Danny is at a loss. Maybe his brain is finally starting to catch up with everything that has happened in the last couple of hours. Maybe he’s finally becoming overwhelmed by all this. Ghosts wanting to help him, a strange awakening of powers slumbering inside him, everything traveling through the crack had fed him…

… talks of life and death…

He wants this to be a nightmare. He wants to wake up. He wants to go back to a few hours ago - no, yesterday - no, last month - no, a year and a half ago, and pretend this doesn’t exist.

His heart beats faster.

Io Europa Ganymede

“I don’t see anything,” Danny insists, even as inhuman colors and glowing lights creep into his vision.

“What do you see, halfling?”

“I think I’m done,” he tries. “I - I can’t…”

Can’t what? Can’t try? Can’t see?

Callisto, Almathea, Himalia

Can’t… breathe?

His heart races.

“You must see.”

“I don’t want to,” he gasps. Static is filling the air, and he doesn’t know if he can catch his breath. Why can’t he catch his breath? He should be able to catch his breath.

What am I?

The dirt road groans, and dust stirs. 

Elara… Pasiphae…

“Please…” His knees shake and the air around him sizzles and the glowing lights are looking at him. 

“You must see, halfling.”

He can feel the crack building inside him. It wants out. It pounds against his chest and strangles his heart.

Where is his pulse?

What am I?

The dirt road groans louder.

Sinope…

Even without a mirror, Danny can feel the cold burn in his eyes. Knows they are blazing toxic green. The same green as the lights staring at him. 

The… ghosts staring at him.

One of them prods at the pole the ghost floats beside. Like it’s pointing.

Carvings begin to appear on the pole, in the same inhuman colors he can’t name. They’re shoddy, messily carved, and clearly not English. Symbols of lines and swoops and dots.

Danny can read them.

“We see you,” they say.

“No…” he groans. Hands fly up to grip his head, and the glow from his eyes give the illusion of the fire that had consumed those hands not twenty minutes earlier.

He can’t feel his heart anymore.

What am I?

“You see now,” the ghost says. It is unblinking and stoic in the face of Danny’s crisis. 

In a last fit of desperation, as he claws for anything to pull him out of this, Danny latches on to the fleeting thrill of crossing through the crack. He tries to remember how it felt. How wonderful it was to feel empowered for once. How the energy seemed to embrace him, not work against him.

How he felt like he could do anything.

He latches on, expecting it to offer relief to his crying body. He wants it to bring him back down to Earth, ground him where cracks and seemingly invisible ghosts and strange words and life and death cannot get to him.

Much to his dismay, it seems to have the opposite effect. His body remembers how it felt to hold that energy. 

And now…

What am I?

… it wants more.

The ghost is in front of him once more. When did it get there?

Danny can’t scream as the ghost lifts a hand towards his chest. He’s long since lost the ability to breathe.

“And now, the final touch,” the ghost murmurs. It presses a single finger in the center of Danny’s chest.

And everything explodes in a blinding white light.

____________________________________________________________

At one of his follow-up appointments, shortly after the explosion, Danny finally worked up the courage to ask something that had been plaguing him since he’d woken up in the hospital.

How bad was it? he had asked the doctor. How close was I to…

The doctor had refused to look him in the eye. You’re a very lucky boy, Danny, was all she would say.

He never did find out how close he came to death’s door that day.

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

When the light clears, Danny opens his eyes.

Something has changed. Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

He clutches his chest, trying to feel his heart, but it feels as though a snowball has taken residence where it should be. It pulses, but not at a frequency he is familiar with. It’s almost as though he can hear it pulse rather than feel it.

It’s unnaturally bright. He looks down and chokes back a sob of surprise to see his body wrapped in a gentle glow. 

What am I?

Trembling, he raises his left arm. How he remembers that it’s that one, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know.

He pulls back the sleeve of the black hoodie (why is it black, he’s never owned a black hoodie) and stares in silent horror at the grotesque display of lightning that runs up his arm and disappears back into the hoodie.

It’s when bangs of snow white fall in front of his eyes that he collapses to the ground.

“No,” he whimpers. His voice echoes with static stronger than it ever has. “Please, God, no.”

What am I?

“Astounding.”

Danny’s head snaps up to look at the ghost. He falters when he realizes he can see the ghost’s features now, clear as day even though its face remains partially shrouded in shadow. Those damning red eyes - one marred by a scar - twinkle at him with fascination.

“What did you do to me?” he croaks. “I can’t… I’m not…”

“As I told you, halfling,” the ghost says. Its gentle, knowing smile sends chills down Danny’s spine and sets alarm bells ringing in his head. “Life and death must meet somewhere.”

It bends down to Danny’s level. “As it would seem, you are that somewhere.”

A strangled sob escapes Danny’s throat.

“Congratulations, Danny.” It sweeps its arm out, a staff in hand. Another crack spirals into existence, accompanied by the haunting echoes of ticking clocks. “You have learned all you need to from me.”

Without another word, it disappears into the crack. The crack closes with the toll of a bell.

Tears prickle at Danny’s eyes. He can only turn and look down the dirt road, at the product of his creation.

A green crack splits the road in two, as far as Danny can see.

Danny falls against the ground and cries.

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2023 #danny fenton #hannah writes #danny phantom fanfic #fanfic

[prince-kallisto]

Ramshackle Gravestones

Ramshackle Dorm has a fascinating connection to ghosts and the undead: from the haunted mansion look, three ghosts, and two gravestones…wait, gravestones? I just recently discovered the two gravestones at Ramshackle Dorm- I’m the type of person who misses obvious details like that haha. I heard other people say that maybe it was a Halloween decor choice, or something made by the ghosts to scare people off. After all, there’s a shovel right in front of the Ramshackle gates.

But look at Ramshackle dorm when it turns into the “Dazzingly Dapper dorm.” All renovated and shiny- the gate and stairways are all replaced with more elegant designs. However, the two gravestones still remain, are REPLACED with new stones, are given a more formal and respectful placing. The gravestones even have a separate path leading to them. And as we know, Ramshackle was under renovation for quite some time after Book 6 shenanigans, and Vil was definitely part of the designing process.

So why give such a prominent spot to *fake* gravestones? I personally think that these gravestones are the real deal. But not only because of this evidence, but because Ramshackle attracts the undead. Think of the three ghosts and Eliza from the Phantom Bride event- there must be an underlying reason that the dead are attracted to Ramshackle. But that’s where the bigger question lies: Who did these graves belong to?

Of course, that would be nearly impossible to deduct. There’s likely a whole slew of characters we haven’t been introduced to yet, especially now that we’re beginning to learn about Fae backstories. But I want to debate as many possible options to hopefully spark some ideas ^_^ Spoiler alert: none of these options feel convincing enough, but I think there’s a reason for that (more on that later)

-The Ghost trio: The immediate answer would be these guys, but why have only two gravestones instead of three, especially since the gravestones were replaced? I talked A LOT more about the ghost trio in my previous theory post, but all three died in their old age, none of them died as students.

-Eliza: Nope. Haha a little harsh, but she just didn’t meet any of the criteria for this one

-Portraits: In Ramshackle dorm, there are portraits of a woman, but I’m still not convinced that she has any relevancy other than just being a reference.

-Past NRC students: This seems like a possibility AT FIRST, but now we have to confront the main problem with these gravestones.

Look at the shovel, the haphazard placements of the gravestones, the unkempt the yard. Hell, just consider the fact that Ramshackle is ABANDONED. If it were past students, or meant to be a memorial for ANYBODY, why give them such disrespect? If a student ever died due to an Overblot tragedy or any other incident, there’s no way their graves would have become this disregarded- it’s highly unlikely that student bodies (no pun intended) would be buried on school ground in the first place!

Hm. Back to square one- or so I thought. Looking at both gravestones again, they seem to be unmarked. It would’ve been very easy to draw in a few squiggles or lines. If they’re not meant to be read, so be it, but why leave the graves unmarked?

After all, as we can see from the Halloween events, or even just the statues of the Great Seven, the graves are MARKED, despite being event background props

Graves were (and are left) unmarked throughout history for various reasons: Too many victims of disease, too poor to afford a proper memorial, or suggest that the person burying ISN’T worthy or memorial and respect.

Interesting 👀 We may be making some progress with that last point- and it may be the reason why Ramshackle was abandoned. Again, I talked more about it in my previous theory post, but the ghosts were definitely not the reason why Ramshackle was abandoned. If anything, it was a coverup for something big. After all, at least a hundred student have had to have been displaced, and new rituals would have been required.

Thinking more about the shovel and the crooked gravestones is interesting. It’s almost like the placement of these gravestones were rushed. And with Ramshackle being abandoned, no one would have to think about these gravestones. I feel confident that the graves were placed after the abandonment of Ramshackle dorm, because although the dorm has a very haunted look to it, it must have been completely different in its prime. No dorm would have a shovel lying in front of the gates!

Still, it’s bothering me that these gravestones were made on school grounds in the first place- unless the graves were related to someone from the school. Someone who wasn’t worth remembering- or perhaps their identity is kept secret for another reason entirely.

But there’s even more things that are bothering me. Let’s look at the graves once more: They’re different sizes. The one of the left is larger, the one of the right is smaller. And even with these renovations, the different sizes remain the same.

Is it perhaps implying that the one of the left was older, and the one of the right was younger? Like a child and an adult?

(*heaves in Revan/Crowley theories because what if it represents Mallenoa and Malleus because notice how the long is RIGHT NEXT TO THE GRAVESTONES in the Halloween event*)

Anyway, I still can’t think of the two possible victims, and they likely are people we haven’t met yet in the main game or are involved with the fall of Ramshackle. But I have one last desperate suggestion: What if the gravestones represent two people that haven’t died…yet? If the time loop theory is relevant, what if two key characters ended up dying from the monster in the prologue?

Edit: A comment or mentioned what if the gravestones were for MC and Grim 👀 the different sizing of the gravestones would make so much sense

AS USUAL I have no clue 🤩 At the moment, so much is kept in the dark, and literally all I can do is speculate and obsessively analyze everything. I feel like I’ve learned a lot about Ramshackle with these posts, even if we technically aren’t any closer to discovering the truth 🤣 I’d love to hear any suggestions and ideas, because I’m so lost haha

#twst #twst theory #twst ramshackle #twst ghosts #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland theory #twst book 7 spoilers #ramshackle dorm #KallistoPost

[kit-foley]

Nancy Drew Games are 50% off on Steam right now so here are some shitty descriptions of the games for newbies or partners (not in order, also spoilers)

Secrets can kill: dickface high schooler was pushed down a flight of stairs, find out who did it

The Silent Spy: Nancy has mommy issues and cosplays as a spy in Scotland

Sea of Darkness: all of the characters have trauma around a ship. featuring the only canonically queer character.

Deadly Device: tech bro gets electrocuted, who did it oh noooo. Feat: women in stem

Midnight in Salem: Glitch-wise, this is the fandom-equivalent of the first release of FNAF Security Breach but doesn’t nearly slay as hard and they didn’t patch any of the bugs. Haven’t played it but the fandom is 50/50 on it, maybe 80/20 against

Shattered Medallion: off brand amazing race goes wrong, feat. A recurring character who you’re supposed to know

Alibi in Ashes: Nancy didn’t commit arson (this time) so who the fuck did? See also, “I can commit major theft and prod you about your dead mom, but I draw the line at arson.”

The Captive Curse: monster and intergenerational trauma, beautifully told story. Plus lederhosen.

Shadow at the Waters Edge: ghosts and intergenerational trauma, beautifully told story. Plus kawaii

Ghost of Thornton hall; ghosts and intergenerational trauma, beautifully told story. Plus southern people.

The Final Scene: nancys friend who we’ve never met gets kidnapped. Plus magic tricks/Houdini. Plus old man.

The Haunted Carousel: Dead mom plus the most annoying daughter you’ll ever encounter and her emotional support robot. Also you’re supposed to fix a theme park

Danger by Design: Parisian fashion designer with anger issues and also might deny that nazis happened during wwii

Curse of blackmoor manor: British girl says oh no my stepmom is turning into a werewolf

Warnings at Waverly Academy; the trailer for this one said something like “I hang out with teenage girls in this one, it could be my scariest case yet”, basically be prepared to do other students homework. Also immaculate dark academia/fall vibes tho

Phantom of Venice: white boy of the month shows you his seven hour tesserae slideshow and you single-handedly bring down a crime ring while wearing stupid outfits

Trail of the Twister: someone is sabotaging a storm chasing team but Nancy cares more about asking the local general store owner about his dead wife

Secret of the Old Clock: It’s magically 1930 again, this game feels so far off brand from pretty much all of the other ones imo but the music goes HARD and there’s def some homoerotic tensions between a dead old man and his live-in psychic

Legend of the Crystal Skull: make a curio shop owner sneeze, collect glass eyeballs, watch a Gerard Way look-alike cry, and maybe get buried alive

Haunting of Castle Malloy: banshees and letterpress and a pub that conveniently only serves juice. Terrible Irish accents. Try to find a missing groom for a wedding but also enjoy a walking sim that walked so Stardew Valley could run

Creature of Kapu Cave: get stuck in a tourist trap resort by a guy who calls himself Big Island Mike, then get stuck in a forest with an entomologist who makes you do her work for her, then get stuck in a research facility with an angry white guy who makes you do his work and then falls asleep. Music slaps but no idea what the plot of the game is supposed to be. Also do a “freaky friday” style switch with the Hardy Boys every time you call them on your cell phone.

Last train to Blue Moon canyon: picture Paris Hilton inviting you on a train and then she goes missing. Also on the train with you: the worst police detective, Zak Bagans impersonator, and Colleen Hoover-vibes.

White Wolf of Icicle Creek: “I fired. And I missed. I missed again. I got sad. I had a popsicle.”

#nancy drew #her interactive #nancy drew games #clue crew

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh yall fam I love Danny Phantom crossovers

Like hes so easy to plop in other universes

The idea hes in Miraculous Ladybug and gets akumatized and just talks to hawkmoth. Dudes stuck with this 14-16year old kid cause the bug wont/can’t get out. Kid please im trying to work stfu. Ok yes yes my fault for trying to use you in my evil plot hut it’s 4 am and I have a big meeting in the morning. Kinda shit. That or Ladybug thinks hes an akuma when hes Phantom snd doesn’t trust shit he has to say.

Mcu? Hawkeye getting another kid. Ironman finding out parenting is easy wtf is wrong with people. Captain America finding out parenting is hard someone help him. Bucky just chillin. Thor throwin hands. Loki 🤝 Danny

Fnaf? Dudes a dope security guard and befriends all the animatronics. Or hes just a dead kid haunting the place who befriends the DCA. Who probably don’t like him at first cause hes a dirty rule breaker. But a kids a kid man.

Saiki K? Do yall think Danny could clock Saiki? 20$ says Danny head empty so Saiki thinks hes either like him or like Nenduo and avoids him either way.

RWBY? Ozpin son and defence squad. Too easy next.

Soul Eater? Hell yes fuck yes. Bruh don’t need no one and is topping the charts as worst student ever cause he aint collecting one soul. Helping those fuckers move on. Oh now hes expelled. Well you can’t expels him sir hes walking out. Next new villain cause hes saving those souls you sick fucks. Oh yea these are bad people? Well doesn’t mean they should be used to give you a fucking one up. His own soul has been used to power a country and that shit sucked. No one deserves to have their own being used like that. Wtf (souls arent the same here danny smh you are starving some poor kids probably idk I have t seen the show in ages)

Honestly idk how I would put him in SAO? He would just win?

Psych? Yea hes called in a tip and everyone is sus about him like with how they are about Shawn. So fuck it. Plays it up. Holy shit a ghost! Shawn is going thru it in here cause ghosts arent real right? Gus probably making Shawn take a break from cases cause hes clearly lacking sleep. Though didn’t Gus believe in ghosts??? Lassiter actually ends up liking the kid. Pranking Shawn is just a bonus. Karen knows.

Doctor who? Again too easy next.

DC? Adopt him adopt him adopt him adopt him. No matter which dc character is it they gonna adopt. Unless it’s Joker cause he dies on sight.

MHA? Bruh still getting adopted by someone.

Why is Danny so adoptable???

Put that fucker in warrior cats and bluestar is gonna come fukin running

#danny phantom #I aint spam tagging all those fandoms #but wait should I for organisation? #yall I type dannys name wrong so much #you almost had like 3 fannys and a denny #I love seeing the phandom go thru phases of crossovers too #or is it just me? #idk yall but im livin my best life #this is the only fandom I read crossovers for lmao #I was gonna just post it then I realised I watch too much anime so I had to go back and add more non anime stuff #I pilled about four inches of skin off my foot and it hurts now

[katze-thief]

five days for love confession

pairing: Ren Amamiya/Akira Kurusu x fem!reader

summary: Shujin Academy is holding its annual cultural festival, and it seems that five days of preparation is all it takes to make your crush fall in love with you.

chapter one: prologue

"five days for love confession" series' masterlist

It was a fact that Ren Amamiya did not have the best reputation at Shujin Academy.

Of course, this was due to his criminal record status, but it was more about the implications of it. He couldn’t say anything when a student treated him badly, or delivered lies in form of hot gossips around the student body. Ren heard it all — that, supposedly, he carried a knife around, that he committed audacious crimes frequently and even more. All lies, surely, however, due to the student body being formed of high-profile students, a single complain about his conduct towards other student could mean the end of probation for him. For the worse.

Because of his reputation (and uttermost lack of capacity of deniability), teachers felt that they could basically use Ren as a fix-it man in the organization of Shujin’s events. After all, why bother convincing students to participate and form a minimum quorum, if you can just place the same one? And it wasn’t different with the annual cultural festival of Shujin’s Academy. When he squished himself in between of the crowd of students to see the lists, his name was in almost every single one. Shocking news.

At the end of that evening, Ren, the rest of the Phantom Thieves, and you, were reunited at the attic of LeBlanc, a.k.a. Ren’s bedroom. After you all ate cookies, cake and drank coffee downstairs, now you were trying to figure out in which activities each one was, to assure he wouldn’t go through this utterly traumatizing experience of being at Shujin all day alone (as in the words of Ryuji). The cozy smell of coffee embalmed the place, as well as the woody scent, both so familiar for you.

“I’m in the dancing and musical arts’ front, doing ‘Legally Blonde’” Ann chuckled. She was sitting beside Makoto on the floor, as they made matching bracelets with beads. “It’s the first time Shujin does musicals, right?”

Makoto nodded, reorganizing the beads. “I’m responsible for the festival’s haunted house. Indeed, we only have me, the student council and Ren at this one.” Ren winced at the reminder of work. “You all should subscribe for this one. It’s still open.” She said, stern.

You played chess with Ren on the other side of the bedroom, while they talked and scribbled on paper. Both of you were sitting on his bed, as the checkered board stood on a pillow. Ren didn’t want them to take on more work just for his wellbeing, in fact, he made it clear that was against this whole commotion on LeBlanc. You, however, already expected the school counsellor to put him in every activity, so you secretly sent him a letter asking to be in the same activities as Ren, so he wouldn’t be alone (which may or may not be because of your, also secret, crush for him).

Ren moved the bishop and grinned “Checkmate.”

“How?” you said surprised, not even paying attention to the entire mess of a discussion that your friends were having over the schedule.

The fact was that Ren was terribly bad at chess, at least in comparison to you. He never win, so it was a small joke in between you two ever since you met. It was always the ‘It’ll probably happen when you win me on chess’ for impossible things. However, today’s Earth decided to debunk your saying.

Ren adjusted his glasses, proudly, and redid the sequence of movements of the game, but you could only notice the flicker of his bright eyes, how his wavy hair moved as he explained his thought behind his actions with his throaty voice and—

“Guys!” Ryuji yelled, which made all of you stop and stare at him. He was holding a sheet of paper, one from the pile of lists’ copies, and in his face was the pure look of horror. “I’m gonna cook curry. Cook curry. Wha’ the f-??”

“Let me guess, that’s another one for Ren too?” Yusuke joked, making everyone (except Ren) laugh.

“At least is one thing he actually can cook.” Morgana added, intensifying the laughs.

After that, everyone chatted for a while, before going away. You knew all of them were the Phantom Thieves, so when they stood up to leave, scary looking at the clock, you got it why too. The ‘We need to rest to enter another palace this weekend’ was always there, implicit, even though they didn’t share their plans as thieves with you. It was like those unreachable places in the dreams — you knew the Metaverse existed and knew that your friends frequented it and was behind all those events on the news, but it wasn’t tangible for you. You could never experience it with them, see by yourself. And in those times, you felt less of a part of the group than them.

On the ride home, as you reminisced the memories from the day, you almost gagged when you remembered what you did. “I’m going to work endlessly all week, all day, at Shujin, because of a boy??” you thought to yourself. And oddly, that thought didn’t even scare you.

Because it was Ren Amamiya the boy you were going to spend the longest week of your junior year of high school with.

#persona 5 #persona series #persona #ren amamiya #ren amamiya x reader #akira kurusu x reader #akira kurusu #kurusu x reader #kurusu x you #akira kurusu x you #ren amamiya x you #amamiya x you #ren x you #persona 5 royal #persona 5 tactica #persona 5 strikers #persona 5 the animation #joker x reader #joker x you #persona 5 joker x you #p5 joker x you #p5 joker #p5 protagonist

[inthememetime]

Cursed necklace DPxDC AU

Vlad is a 24yr-old student who dies in college...in the early 1900s. Since then, he has haunted the University of Wisconsin by virtue of his his old necklace.

He likes the school- and the students like him! Since photography became accessible, students, teachers, staff, and visitors alike have been trying to get photos with him, students bribe him to help with homework (after all, he's been auditing classes for a century), mainly with cheep beer, fried cheese-related foods, and (since some kid introduced him to the Green Bay Packers), Packers memorabilia.

The students leave the game on for him, and the brave ones turn the lights off and leave a spot open for him in the hopes of seeing the Wisconsin University ghost up close and personal. (If they combine this with cheese sticks and beer, it's a near guarantee).

In general, he's a beloved figure. But then the Fentons start college there. At first, it's cool! These humans have made machines to let them listen to him (with some translation errors), they're building a portal to the GZ, which means he can have other ghosts to talk to, again, and they're fun!

Oh. Wait. They're being kicked out because they tried something unethical. Oh well! Somebody just turned on a Packers game, and he can smell the cheesesticks already.

Little does he know, the Fentons have created their prototype thermos. Until his necklace (and due to the lack of ambient ectoplasm), essentially his core is in there.

For 15. Long. Years.

Danny- not as Phantom, just Danny- finds the box and, with the curiosity of a 9-year-old opens the box. Soon, he's contaminated, despite his new buddy trying to keep him safe. And dies. Yep 9 year old Phantom.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! See Damian was a TWIN! Bruce is, when he tracks down said twin, Very Displeased by the lack of safety measures, and takes his other biological son (and his son's sister who is only 12 rn) home with him.

Bruce does NOT know about his hitchhiker; a centuries-old vampire ghost. He also doesn't know Danny's dead. More under the cut!

Clark gets mind controlled and tries to start a fight. Tries being the operative word here, because his 9-year-old is fighting a grown Kryptonian. And winning.

Plasmius steals cheese a lot, turns TVs to Packers games, and is generally a nuisance. Constantine is called.

Constantine has a new best friend because holy shit, a real ghost who's willing to talk to him! He can get so much info!

Bruce: Can you get him out of my house? Plasmius: Where Danny goes, I go.

Danny: Hey, can I have this? *eats a blob ghost in front of everyone*. *shares half with Plasmius*

Constantine is both horrified and curious. Clark gets punted across state lines by a vampire ghost who was Not Happy his kiddo got in a fight. Jason gets therapy a la a 12-year-old girl, a 9-year-old half-dead kid, and a centuries-old ghost.

There's enough ambient ectoplasm to thrive on, so Plasmius can roam and Danny can start learning powers. Vlad starts teaching Jason on the sly too.

Danny starts talking to bats, cats, rats, and a snake Damian rescued. Damian takes him to break into zoos to see what else he can talk to. Bruce is tired.

Plasmius uses his doubles for housework purposes in exchange for cheese from Alfred. Alfred abuses this shamelessly to drag Bruce up from the cave and make him eat.

Jasmine is Aggressively Normal. To the point where they're considering therapy, but then she gets kidnapped, talks to Harley, and embraces her alter identity as The Mindflayer.

Ok fine, she admits that is a little villainous. Maybe she can be Wraith or something? "Look, it seems you guys are being a little too upset about-", " Jazmine, you turned the Joker into a vegetable." Jason: YEAH she did! C'mon, we're going to have some fun, kids!

Just- Bruce thought he was getting two kids from an abusive household. He did NOT sign up for 2 half-dead OP kids, a cheese and football-obsessed vampire ghost, and a...NO, Danny, you CANNOT keep the giant green hellhound. Damien, stop encouraging him!

#danny phantom #inthememetime #vlad masters #danny phantom au #dp x dc #danny fenton #redeemed vlad masters #batfam

[yuurei20]

Hello Yuurei! Hope you having a good day/night!

Is there any canon indication that Lucius is Treins familiar?

If there is, then can a dog be considered a familiar? I am confused about the animal/pet/familiar/dire beast thing in twisted.

Like, are the bats of Lilia canonically his familiars? I believe you posted that no, it wasn’t. Or it was someone else that records Twst info, I don’t remember the name tho, srry.

Where is the line between Familiar and Pet? Is it because the animal has a certain level of magic or sentience?

Because. Crows as familiars? Makes sense, they are naturally very smart and are scary in their own right. Cats? Yeah makes sense, they are natures human manipulator with their cuteness.

I am willing to bet jumping spiders can be familiars, for their size, they are pretty darn smart. And are just the Cutest!!! Jamil would be terrified if Yuu actually was a beast tamer with many familiars and send spiders to haunt him.

If you are able to respond, thank you very much. If not, it’s okay, I really don’t want to put more questions about info you so carefully craft and analyze.

Because god damn, you make GODS work along side many other blogs to translate and give your own analysis of characters that I just. (⊙_⊙)(°ロ°) ! Cant express with words.

Hello hello!! Thank you so much for this question! You are very much too kind m(_ _)m And I love your amazing ideas!

We do have canonical confirmation that Lucius is Trein's familiar!

2. Dog familiars might not be mentioned in the game? But they were mentioned by Yana! In a tweet from earlier this year she said,

"In the early stages of (Kalim's) character design he had a small monkey for a familiar. Other students had their own direbeasts or familiars as well, including owls, penguins, puppies, etc."

And the lines between pets / familiars / direbeasts are a very interesting point!

While Trein himself says that Lucius is his familiar, when Rook asks if Lucius is Trein's pet Trein says yes, and then calls himself Lucius' owner.

Whereas Trein seems devoted to Lucius, Lucius has been bought off at least once, intentionally hiding from Trein in a scheme with Ruggie and getting paid in tuna for his cooperation.

When Crowley calls Grim a familiar Grim insists he would never serve a human, so it seems the Twst interpretation of a familiar involves a degree of servitude? Perhaps Lucius participating in Animal Linguistics classes for Trein is a part of their familiar/owner arrangement? (not confirmed in game)

While Riddle never directly calls Grim a familiar he does say that, without his magic, he is "naught but a pet cat" (Grim denies being anyone's pet anything).

What direbeasts are seems equally vague in the game, and most of what we know possibly comes from Idia in Book 6.

He explains that Grim is a direbeast with high blot density that has been magically fused with "some kind of animal." (In a separate scene he explains that he has heard of "ultra rare cases where (phantoms) manage to blend in with direbeasts," which seems like it may be leading to something? But maybe not!)

Overall the pet/familiar/direbeast borders seem a little blurry, and Grim has been labeled as all three at different times by different people. And that's not all!

Grim is also referred to as a monster as early as the Prologue, with the characters using the English word "monster" (as can be heard in the audio), which might be connecting back to a theory related to Ortho.

And in Book 6 Crowley, audibly, calls Grim a monster, but the word "direbeast" has been included as a hidden meaning. So is the game using the words "monster" and "direbeast" interchangeably? Or is this meant to be a reference to how we don't really know what Grim is yet? Or does Crowley actually know he is a direbeast, but is still calling him a monster?

And another interesting point arose in the official English-language translation of the Heartlabyul manga: Grim originally calls himself "a man who will become a great mage" (in both the manga and the game), but I don't think the kanji used (男) is meant to be confirming that Grim considers himself human. The English language is more limited (man = humankind or male human), which is probably why the EN server had Grim call himself a "spellcaster," instead.

But the manga is being localized by a different company (VIZ Media) and they wrote this line as, "I am a monster who will become a great mage," in what might be the only instance of Grim choosing a label for himself (but I still need to check the rest of his in-game dialogue to be absolutely sure).

3. The "bats = Lilia's familiars" theory was not me! :> This is my first time hearing it, and while it seems entirely possible, I have not come across anything in the game to confirm or deny it yet!

While Lilia's bat motifs seem to have been largely inspired by a bat-based goon of Malficent's from the animated Sleeping Beauty movie, I occasionally see conversations about why, out of all the motifs available for Yana to choose from, did she go with that one in particular?

The best explanation I have found (and this is unofficial), was: it might be a pun. In Japanese, the word for bat (コウモリ) is pronounced very similarly to 子守, which is close in meaning to "babysitting."

(Yana is a very big fan of puns and wordplay and it comes up a lot in her work, i.e., the Broom/Bloom Birthday series).

4. You might be right that the difference between the three has something to do with sentience and magical ability! Idia comments on both after declaring that Grim is a direbeast, but if "pets" are at the lower end of the "sentient/magical" scale, for example, I am not sure how they differentiate between direbeasts and familiars in the Twst universe. Those who are willing to enter into servitude vs. those who are not? (This is purely conjecture)

5. I love your idea about jumping spiders! Spiders seem largely absent from the game, but they also do not really come up in too many Disney movies (I think?), so that might be why!

Thank you again for this question! I apologize for only offering more questions in response--this is all so interesting to think about!

#twstask #Lucius

[spookberry]

So I don't really know anything about Monster High, but I do know Danny Phantom, and I know that basically every ghost in the show immediately recognizes Danny as the "ghost child" or "halfa". If there are other ghosts at Monster High, do they know what Danny is?

None of the Haunted High ghosts know about Danny being a halfa. My reasoning for this being that in Monster High: Haunted it kinda gives the impression that the students are very isolated and unaware of whats going on outside of the school due to their controlling and Prison Warden like Principle. (Kiyomi can open windows to the mortal plane but she only uses that to spy on Draculaura and co.)

The only ones who know of Danny's halfa status is River. (Shes heard all about him and finds him fascinating like "dad complains about you all the time its so funny") and also Porter.

Monster High Ghosts such as Scarah, Johnny, Spectra, and Operetta know of him vaguely but theyre isolated Away from other ghosts so they dont really know all that much nor would they necessarily recognize him.

#river is a grim reaper i should mention #half normie au #ask #sirena would know hes a halfa but never mention it or anything cuz shes an airhead #(i say affectionately)

[priceyprice]

I loved reading the Christmas fic! it was so cute but all I could think about after was reader giving him back the promise ring when he pushes reader away

I love your writing and hope you had a good start to the new year <3

Oh my, thank you so much, my dear! Happy New Year to you too! I hope you have a good start! I apologize for the late reply. I'm so happy people liked the Christmas ver. I dont know if you have read the version of how things would've "ended" for them. Here's the other version.

The part you're talking about would've been like this (derived from the other version):

Prof!Price

Prof!Price as he's in his apartment, beside his liquor shelf, taking a glass of his favorite whiskey already losing track of how many glasses he had poured to himself.

His apartment was dark. The only thing that brought light to the place was the fireplace in his living room.

His mind was fogged with thoughts about her. How the light from her eyes disappeared the moment he spoke, feeling his lips burned as if the three obnoxious words had had some kind of acid in them.

"Let's end things here."

He will never tell her the reason he broke up with her was because the superiors found out about a student in a relationship with one of her professors, causing her to get expelled and getting her student record damaged.

He actually doesn't care if he gets fired or gets his professor's license revoked. He's already a grown man with many things accomplished in his life.

Unlike her.

She's still pursuing her career. How can he be so self-centered and damage all the sacrifice and work she has done so far?

He couldn't find the guts to do that. He isn't selfish enough to throw all her hard work to the cliff just because he wants to be with her.

So now he's here, rotting in only memories of her because he decided to terminate things.

He doesn't want to get used to the silence of his apartment. He doesn't want to get used to the absence of her presence. He doesn't want to get used to her perfume fading away from his sheets. To the phantom of her skin flushed against his, creating a perfect puzzle as if their bodies were made for each other. To the memory of her smile haunting his dreams every night. Fuck he doesn't want anything of this.

But again, he was the one who made the decision.

So he needs to get used to all of this.

His thoughts drifted away when he heard soft sounds on the floor of his living room.

Price knows those footsteps very well, and he memorized them like it was his own heartbeat.

His eyes went up, finding the one who hadn't left his mind, not even for a second. Who has his reason for living in the palm of her hand, between her pretty fingers.

"What are you doing here?"

It's not surprising to find her inside of the apartment since she knows the password of his door lock. And he doesn't have plans to change it either since the password is her birthday.

She just stared at him without saying anything. Even just two weeks have passed since they had talked, but it felt like a year. Everything was going slow for both of them. Everything was going downhill.

Price sighed, dropping his shoulders in a tired expression when she just stood there in silence. "Look, I don't have energy to talk about the reason I broke up-..."

"I'm not here to talk about that, John." He almost closed his eyes when his name rolled out of her tongue like honey. He missed it so much.

She started to walk closer to him until they were in front of each other. He could now see her face clearly. Her eyes were dull, red and puffy, with slightly bags under it. Product of the sleepless nights crying under her covers.

She was broken.

And it was his fault.

He will never forgive himself for that.

"I came to give you this." She opened her hand in front of him, revealing the beautiful morganite ring he gave her on Christmas day. If his heart couldn't be more broken, this time is shattered into pieces.

A symbol of his love, a part of his heart and soul is in that ring.

A ring he once gave her with the promise of a marriage and a beautiful life together.

But now, it was all gone.

He remembered he told her that if things went south, she could give him back the ring, ending things. He said that with the hopes of never getting it back, but here it is, in front of him shining like it holds the last bit of hope of their now nonexistent relationship.

He took it slowly from her hand. Fingers caressing lightly her skin, feeling that burning sensation reminding both of them those feelings are still fresh, difficult to get rid of them.

He looked at the ring for a few seconds, remembering the joy he felt when she accepted the ring.

"You can keep the ring-..."

"You told me to give it back if something happens and... It happened." Her eyes itched, ready to let tears stream down, but she tried to stay strong. She's tired of crying every night for the same thing.

"Just accept it, John. Please."

His eyes went up to her and saw the pleading look she was giving to him. Price can understand she wants to pass the page and move on for her own good, but a part of him doesn't want her to give up on him. To give up on the devotion he has for her. She will always be his one and only love for the rest of his days. His every breath, every heartbeat will be for her and only her.

So because he loves her so much, he will respect her decisions and let her move on.

He gave her a little smile, making her skip a beat. "I understand. Thank you for bringing it to me."

She nodded without reciprocating the smile. Taking a few steps back, she looked at that familiar spot on the floor in front of his fireplace. The same spot he gave her the ring before saying their I love you's to each other in between moans and kisses. Her gaze went back to him, memorizing those beautiful blue eyes she would always have in her mind, heart, and soul.

"Goodbye, Professor Price."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

I apologize for any misspelling or mistakes. Any suggestions or requests are appreciated. 🫶

#captain price #john price #john price x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #fanfic #prof price #professor price

[kydrogendragon]

6 with Dreamling for Valentines

We had two for this one, but decides to flip it around so this time it's Dream saying "Should I Write You A Poem Instead?" Thanks for the request, nonny! Hope you enjoy!~

Pairing: Dreamling Words: 569 Warnings: Some sexual tension bits Ao3 Link Here

Midterms, Hob has decided, aren’t nearly as terrible as finals, but that doesn’t stop them from still being awful. It’s never-ending questions and office hours and while he does love his students and his coworkers, he’s just one more question that could have been answered by his email last week or in the syllabus away from snapping. So when Dream knocks on the door to his office, Hob nearly weeps.

He stands, ushering his lover in, makes his apologizes to Diana from the Art History department as she steps out (thankfully) with a smile. Closing the door behind her, he all but collapses into a puddle on the floor beside it. He doesn’t, but the temptation is there. Instead, he just leans against the sturdy wooden door and stares at Dream with a doe-eyed smile.

“Thank you,” he says, taking a deep breath in and out. “Pretty sure if you’d been just ten minutes later, you’d have walked in on a massacre.”

“Oh?” Dream says, raising a brow. “And would it have been you or Diana that performed the act?”

Hob shakes his head. Pushing himself off the door, he falls into his lover’s arms and nuzzles his face into the crook of Dream’s neck. He’s warm, but not overly so. Given the warming spring weather, it’s the perfect temperature, though Dream almost always is. And he smells like home, which is the more important part. Hob can still detect a faint trace of his own body wash on the Dreamlord’s skin from last night’s shower escapades.

“So what do I owe this lovely visit?” Hob says, not bothering to lift his head.

He hears a faint shimmering noise, one he’s come to know means Dream’s used some of that dream magic of his. Hob lifts his head slightly to see a large bouquet of flowers in Dream’s hand. They’re of all sorts of fantastic colors and shapes. Some, he’s pretty sure, he’s seen on their walks through the Dreaming.

“These are for you.”

Hob reaches out and takes the bouquet from his hands, lifting the flowers to his nose. They smell as things do in dreams: like ideas rather than scents. There’s love, most predominantly there, affection and adoration. Devotion, patience, and care. It’s like knowing the language of flowers with a sniff.

“Flowers?” He mumbles, still listing into Dream’s side as he strokes a petal. It’s soft, impossibly so. He expected nothing else.

“Should I have written you a poem instead?” Dream asks, a smirk on is lips. “Waxed lyrical upon your features which haunt my mind and inspire newly created dreams?”

Hob chuckles, tucking his face into the wool of Dream’s overcoat. “Would that have been a better gift, my love? Or perhaps you would rather me show my affections physically instead.” Dream’s voice is dangerously low, a phantom hand trails along Hob’s spine, making him shudder.

“Or, perhaps, knowing how greedy my lover is, you would wish for all three. Gifts, words, and touch, yes?”

“Dream,” he moans as something, some part of Dream that’s not contained to his normal human form, presses against his front, stroking the shape of him into hardness. “Dream, please...”

“Please what, my dear?”

Hob looks up, two twin stars blaze bright as they stare down into his own eyes. Dream look positively ravenous and Hob would very much like to be devoured. “Fuck me, please.”

Dream smirks. “With pleasure.”

#ky writes #the sandman #dream of the endless #dreamling #hob gadling #valentine's day prompts