#I'll post part one soon! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shady-tavern · 11 months

Text

WIP for the long short-story “Holding Curses with Gentle Hands”

Lune had been born a little different, two minutes before her twin brother Luc, into a world teeming with magic. She grew up like any other little girl, playing and roughhousing, splashing through mud with her brother. They learned how to climb trees up and down with all the fearlessness of someone who had not quite yet learned how painful falling could be.

She was bright and inquisitive and always pulled her brother along towards her next idea. Showing him snails and slugs and bugs and bees. He came up with stories of all kinds as they played, creating crafty trolls and sweet little fairies as they swung sticks around and made dolls out of grass and flowers.

They came back home with skinned knees and rips in their clothes and grins so wide and bright they might just rival the sun. They were, indeed, very happy children.

It was only when school started that Lune and Luc learned that they were different. In a world where their neighbor grew a bucket of strawberries in the span of a week, where the grouchy mayor always looked sparkling and perfect and every child learned at least one or two cantrips as they grew up, they were very, very ordinary.

Not a single spark of magic was to be found in their veins.

At first their parents were very concerned, worried that something had happened to their beloved children. That someone might have cursed the babes out of jealousy. Their mother sought out everyone she might have accidentally insulted to apologize, while their father reached out to old friends he lost contact with, worried he might have offended them.

But when an expert came by, he told them the children were fine. They were just ordinary. As bland as old lettuce, he said.

"They're bright children," their neighbor said while bringing them a bowl of strawberries. "It doesn't matter if they have magic or not. At worst their lives will be a little boring."

"We'll adjust their classes," their kind and cheerful teacher promised. "Don't worry, we'll compensate for their lack of magic. They could become great, um, scribes!"

"They don't understand what they're lacking," the mayor said offhandedly during one of his rounds through their little town. "They were born without magic, they didn't lose it. That's a good thing, it will cause them less grief."

Lune and Luc heard their parents cry at night and they looked at each other, deciding that if they had no magic, at least they could be kind. They would make sure their parents wouldn't have to be so sad all the time.

They became some of the hardest working students their school had ever seen and the entire town had nothing but praise for the friendly twins willing to lend a helping hand. Their parents got used to their magic lacking children and while everyone in town knew and never failed to inform travelers and traders about the unfortunate twins, it bothered them less and less over the years.

When the time came that Lune and Luc were old enough to leave the house, their parents were incredibly reluctant to let them go.

"There are a lot of dangers in the world," their mother worried, wringing her hands. "You have no magic to defend yourselves with."

"We'll be careful," Lune promised. "And we'll stick together."

"How will you avoid bandits and rogue mages and magical beasts?" their father fretted, packing daggers into their bags.

"We'll stay on the road," Luc answered. "The queen's road is safe and regularly patrolled. We'll stick with other travelers and traders so we won't be alone."

Their words soothed their parents. While they were sad to see their children go, they gave the twins everything they could possibly need and sent them on their way.

For the first time, Lune and Luc left their hometown and soon they realized how freeing it was to meet people who had no idea who they were. What they were lacking.

They reached a big city after a couple of weeks, getting lost among winding streets and big, bustling crowds. They met mercenaries and adventurers and at one point, Luc started to write down stories inspired by their tales if they agreed to speak to him. He accumulated a big book full of daring tales, of dashing heroes and wicked foes and wondrous places. Of loss and love and what it meant to be brave.

They settled down in the city after a while. Luc learned to play the lute from an old bard and spent his nights in taverns, chatting up travelers and earning his keep by playing music and telling his tales. As well as fleecing drunkards at games of dice.

Lune found herself working at an antique store that doubled as a pawnbroker. Many of the adventurers came to get rid of the odd trinkets and pretty, shiny knickknacks they picked up during their travels and quests.

Sometimes, the items they tried to pawn off were magical and that always made her boss leery. He always refused them, sending them on their way.

"It just means shit's cursed," he would grumble into his majestic beard. "They would not come to us if they could sell magic items to mages instead. Don't touch those things, even the best mages can't always defend themselves against curses."

"Can't curses be broken?" She had heard enough of those tales from the stories Luc read her. He liked to read things he wrote out loud, getting her opinion on his wording and descriptions.

"Aye," the shop owner dusted one of the stained glass decorations he had been trying to sell for a while now. "But you can only remove the curse from the person, not from the item. That's what makes curse casters so much trouble, they fuck up perfectly good merchandise. The best you can do is destroy the item in question and hope that the curse let's go. Doesn't always work, but it's worth a try."

He made Lune promise to never accept magical items from anyone and already the next day she unwittingly broke that promise. She had no magic and therefore no sense for magic either.

She accepted a plain gold necklace from a mercenary while her boss was in the backroom. The woman had handed the necklace over with gloved hands and a relieved look in her eyes.

Lune chalked that up to her having debts to pay off and startled when her boss returned only to start cussing.

"Stupid girl," he hissed, staring at the necklace in her hand while the woman bailed before she could be stopped. "That's magic, cursed magic! Do you have any idea what that will do to you?"

Startled, Lune dropped the necklace onto the counter and they both stared at it as though it was a life, poisonous snake.

#my writing #wip #work in progress #fantasy #this is another long one shot #still working on vampire lullaby's part 3 don't worry #and some other little things I'll post as soon as they're done #in case you can't tell #i have no idea how posting WIPs works #this story will have a warning for implied animal abuse and child abuse #just so you know #as well as implied off-screen murder

83 notes · View notes

givehimthemedicine · 1 year

Text

who wants to sob with me about how El in the lab is basically living in a Harlow monkey experiment?

[info below the cut if you're unfamiliar. tl;dr very sad and unethical contact comfort and maternal deprivation experiments on baby monkeys]

El being torn from her mother and raised in a sterile environment full of cold hard surfaces with probably no loving contact ever -> El clinging to her stuffed animal in the lab because it's literally the only soft object available to her -> El spending her lab recovery phase (s1-2) swaddling herself in big warm clothes and blankets and soft textures ->

El reacting emotionally to Brenner's touch because it's the closest thing she's ever known to the contact comfort and parental love she craves innately even though she hates and fears him ->

El with irreparable social deficits due to isolation -> El not being very good at interacting with her peers and tending to stay apart from the group -> El getting bullied ->

El being in the fetal position in so many lab scenes -> El continuing to curl up in a ball when stressed even outside the lab because she's never had anywhere to turn for safety or comfort ->

El craving touch and clinging to her friends and parental figures for the love and comfort and reassurance she never got as a child -> me sobbing forever

Using methods of isolation and maternal deprivation, Harlow showed the impact of contact comfort on primate development with his ethically controversial experiments in the 1960s.

Infant monkeys were taken from their mothers and raised in a laboratory setting, with some infants placed in separate cages away from peers. In isolation, the monkeys showed disturbed behavior, staring blankly, circling their cages, and engaging in self-mutilation. When the isolated infants were re-introduced to the group, they were unsure of how to interact, and did not stand up for themselves when bullied.

Even without complete isolation, the monkeys raised without mothers developed social deficits, showing reclusive tendencies and clinging to their cloth diapers. Harlow was interested in the infants’ attachment to the cloth, speculating that the soft material may simulate the comfort provided by a mother’s touch.

Harlow took infant monkeys from their biological mothers and gave them two inanimate surrogate mothers: one made of wire, and the other covered in soft terry cloth. Harlow found that the infants spent significantly more time with the terry cloth mother than they did with the wire mother, even if the wire mother provided food and the cloth one did not.

Infants also turned to inanimate surrogate mothers for comfort when they were faced with new and scary situations. If an alarming noise-making toy was placed in the cage, infants with surrogate mothers would retreat and cling to them for comfort before exploring; infants without surrogate mothers were paralyzed with fear, huddled in a ball sucking their thumbs, rocking, or screaming.

#I know it doesn't exactly fit the analogy but duffers if that's why you named her mom Terry i'll be there soon #eleven #gifs #mine #harlow monkey experiment #angst #lab feels #lizlemon[crowdbooing].jpg #the alarming toy / clinging to surrogate mother part -> elmike and dustin's hammer thing #I'm gonna have to do a whole other post about that instead of writing a novel in the tags #anyway: I'm crying #and this has been on my mind since the first time I watched s1 years ago #I didn't realize until making this post how often she's curled up in a ball in the lab #brenner i'm reanimating your corpse so I can kill you again #btw i'm carrying el around in one of those front baby sling things. yes at her current age. it's a workout but it's necessary

91 notes · View notes

briar--rising · 1 month

Text

Many many things have been shifting internally in significant ways lately, and it's very interesting. The shifts all feel good, healthy, but strange as well. I'm nervous to say anything as big as "we have a new cohost" and/or "Allora and I are fusing" but um. Allora and I have been spending a lot of time not just cofronting but blended, she's been really really present in really interesting ways the last few weeks. It's honestly quite lovely, we've been working hard towards being able to integrate further with her for a year. But it's really strange because I've never experienced another part being so blended and so...prominent within that blend for such long periods. Hours and hours out of every day it's the two of us, not just cofronting but like, swirled together. And I think the things that's weird about it is in the past when that's happened with other alters it's been us blended, sure, but I've still been like...the primary presence in some ways? Like if I'm blue and another part is yellow the blended color is a strong bluish green, not a true green? Does that make sense? But with Allora she has a stronger presence/more influence when blended than me, and that's new and bizarre.

She was I think the host before me, though, decades ago, so maybe that makes sense that she has a much more...host-like vibe and role than any of the others have had? And being blended with her in the lead is lovely because she contains a lot of our capacity for joy and whimsy, and when she's around it's much easier to be happy and amazed and love life.

I like the pie metaphor for fusion. If we're all a blueberry pie, I think I'm the flour and she's the blueberries. All of us are important, we all make up parts of the whole, I'm not trying to say anyone doesn't matter. But I think many parts play slightly smaller roles within the whole, so they might be the lemon juice or the salt or whatever. And some have strong medium roles, like the butter and sugar. But I think she's the blueberries, the biggest part of the flavor. And that's fine with me. I think if we do fully fuse (and I think we're headed that way) in the end the person we'll end up being will be a mix of everyone, of course, but in some ways prominently her, and honestly? Not only are the rest of us okay with that, we want it.

Because she's happy, and kind, and feels so true to all of us and who we are at heart and who we want to be. It's amazing to have her around like this, to have her taking the lead. It feels so right. Very strange, but so right.

#text post #my post #anyway that's part of why she's the one with the main blog and i'm the one with the sideblog these days lol #she's so much stronger than she was a year ago. soon i'll make a post talking more about how she/we are in the inner world #bc there have been FASCINATING changes there that i didn't even notice happening until i looked #but yeah. lots of internal shifting but in ways that feel really positive to us #did stuff #about us

13 notes · View notes

sparklingchim · 1 month

Text

i'd be unstoppable as a fanfic writer if i just wasn't so eepy all the time </3

#feel like posting a small angsty one shot 👉🏼👈🏼#maybe i'll get around finishing that one soon #it's a little excerpt from a jk series m working on !!#would share the other parts too but m not writing them in chronological order so it'd be rlly confusing reading them </3 #i dunno i haven't figured it all out yet #maybe in the future <3

8 notes · View notes

wren-of-the-woods · 2 years

Text

The anniversary of Love Run is approaching, and I have an idea for how to celebrate!

You know those lyric videos where the whole song is written in AO3 fic titles (like this, this, and this)? We’re pretty close to being able to do this for several songs from the album. It would be really cool if we could manage to make that happen around the anniversary!

These are the lines from King, Elsa’s Song, and Not Yet / Love Run that have not been used as titles yet. They need stories! Feel free to use as a promptlist, or just claim a line and start writing. No pressure, obviously -- I just thought this could be a fun way to celebrate!

Reblogs/signal boosting would be much appreciated <3

King

When you are gone away

As our boat is untethered from the dock

There’ve been times I know

I’ll stand up up up at the bow

And the waves of our bodies and the smell of our follies

You fumble through the dark

To the light that you keep burning there (all hell)

I know your fingernails are the colour of rust (come back)

And your veins are empty of dust (but our voices)

The wind and its shackles, the old fishers tackles

Elsa’s Song

I can hear the cannons calling

Around this muddied lot

I cannot hear them scream

Cos although you say good day to me

That I barely know the meaning

And all the cannons shot

And in years to come you’ll wander

And then you’ll cry to our painted sky

And you’ll strew some sage and lilies

And roses where I rot

Not Yet/Love Run

By hook or by crooked look give me land

The oh’s of your screams still echo in yer dreams

I’ll point you steer

It seems oh it seems / To me / That you / You can’t sleep

Grab the stroud

It’s time to fight don’t be yellow bellied

Hold the bar at Hurley's hurly burly's

Out of pillows and get drunk again

It seems oh it seems / To me / That you / You can’t dance / For shit

If my old mum could see me now

Oh how she’d howl she’d howl

Don’t turn 'round

O let the earth a-tumble, love

And humble you withal, keep running

Let foul men band and heed your hum

For that ancient hymn you heard me strumming?

Is nought but fumble-falls and guns / And tumbleweeds.

It's nought that rum won't solve

Though some would harm you, none - not one - no none / Will raise to you a hand nor thumb.

#the amazing devil #love run #joey batey #madeleine hyland #loverun2022 #writing prompts #title prompts #i don't have time to take prompts atm but i hope some of y'all enjoy these #elsa's song #king #not yet / love run #also the more fandoms the merrier!!#and feel free to change/drop words in the lines if necessary #or use only part of one #and also you can tag me/send me the fic when you post if you want! i'll probably find anything y'all do anyway but it can't hurt #if anyone joins in on this i can update the list in the reblogs as we go #i may have ideas for a couple of the lines! so hopefully at least a couple of these will be done soon

294 notes · View notes

beans-beneath-moonlight · 2 months

Text

I pretty much never have dreams about fictional characters, which makes it that much weirder that I've had dreams about soukoku no less than 6 times now

#might be 7?? I've lost count #I'm not even hyperfixating on bsd at the moment. I have ace attorney on the brain #the weirdest part is that they're all extremely in-character too??#the first one was about Dazai wanting a divorce bc he got mad at Chuuya for always interrupting his suicide attempts #and decided to try and push him away to make him stop #but Chuuya was just like ''you can push me away all you want but it won't matter cuz I'll still care about you you piece of shit''#the second dream was some high school AU where Chuuya was asking Yuan where Dazai was bc he stole his textbook and wanted to kick his ass #and Yuan told him Dazai was with his new girlfriend and Chuuya was like #''lol who would want to date Dazai?? I hope they break up soon... FOR HER SAKE OF COURSE!!''#and then spent the rest of the day moping (while refusing to admit he was moping)#meanwhile I've had exactly one (1) sskk dream #and it was about them getting in a fistfight in the middle of a Petco bc Akutagwa had internalized homophobia #and decided everything was Atsushi's fault #which I really want to add to one of my fics bc that's funny as hell #soukoku #original post

8 notes · View notes

fishsticxz-art · 5 months

Text

im moving in a few days and gonna have to buy some stuff for the new house and also i have to get a new computer soon because my laptop battery has started failing (its 7 years old) and a new external hard drive because. i have one but its the only place i store my files and if it fails basically all my art is gone SO i'll make a new comm info post soonish after the move, posting this to make myself STOP PROCRASTINATING ON IT ive been meaning to make a proper comm info sheet for like a YEAR at least. also i encourage people to buy the splatoon emotes or other stuff or just drop me a few dollars on my ko-fi if you wanna be super nice to me thank you :teehee: (imagine that pink splatoon emote from my pack here)

#fish blabbing #i need to make that comm post lmao i get them so infrequently #even tho my bio says dm me for comms but i get it i get it people like to see prices first #thats the hardest part tbh making up the prices sucks #and also deciding what examples i wanna put on it cause i do pixel art and regular digital art but also 3d....#gotta figure out a good layout #anyway. i'll do it soon ok #feel free to message me about comms even before that too #always appreciate it!#anyway thats all #and like im not in a horrible money situation dont get me wrong but im unemployed so im not in a great one either #and computers are expensive so i wanna do some comms to repair the dent buying one is gonna make in my savings lmao

6 notes · View notes

magentagalaxies · 5 months

Text

in an unexpected turn of events i'm having to edit down the content in my aubrey monologues so that i can actually fit all four of them in my final performance for my standup class and on the one hand it sucks bc i really love some of the jokes i have to cut but on the other hand someday i'll be able to write more monologues and possibly expand upon this cut material so i can get a whole monologue on a topic that would've just been an aside

#the actual standups in my class who have only ever done a tight five having to stretch their new material to fit the 20 minute final #vs me‚ an extremely extra fag who's used to writing full-length scripts‚ realizing the 3 monologues i've timed already add up to 20 min #and i'm working on a fourth one that works better as an opener than any of the existing pieces so it has to get in #(it'll be short tho i'm making sure of it. it's just like ''here's some material about aubrey's relationship to zir mom!'')#(then immediate segue into the uncle reg bit)#got the catcalling monologue down to 5 minutes and 30 seconds when the first draft was nine minutes #(tbh i'm fine with most of those cuts i think they were mostly filler)#(there's a bit about androgyny that i liked that i cut but tbh it doesn't work as just one paragraph it needs more nuance)#the uncle reg monologue is having the ''dumped at the pride parade'' thing trimmed down which is funny bc that was the original premise #tbh i could probably stretch my toronto pride material ft. uncle reg to a full 20 minutes bc the first stream of consciousness was so long #i wrote it right after i myself got back from toronto pride and tbh i actually wrote it as the outline for a sitcom episode #so the monologue version is very reduced down bc there were so many details that didn't fit in #and i'm realizing the material about the person who dumped aubrey should be its own monologue that i'll do another time #and maybe even add in the rest of the sitcom-style story at some point bc tbh that's some of my favorite aubrey material i've come up with #and the cishetman monologue is getting the intro part about facetime trimmed a bit bc it meanders #and the ''sugar and spice and everything nice'' joke is being cut even tho i like it bc i actually have a ton more material in my notebook #that's just me riffing on how weird those expressions are. and the material isn't polished but i could make it something later #the song isn't being trimmed bc it has a very specific run time and imo is the strongest. so that's my closer #anyway thank you to everyone reading my aubrey updates i'll be sure to post the final 20-minute-special on youtube #and i hope i get to do more monologues soon so i can put the other ideas mentioned here (as well as some i haven't) out into the world

5 notes · View notes

soulhavencel · 2 days

Text

Jaris, still sitting on the sewer floor, turns his focus back to his wound and quickly finishes dressing it. Amaro Carnelian, the Red Wizard of Thay. He only just met this man but he did not like the way his blood changed to flow in Amaro's direction. Still, Jaris knows not to make enemies of Red Wizards. And so he answers Amaro politely.

"I am Jaris Colt." He stands up. "A monk of the Order of the Yellow Rose, hailing from our monastery in the Earthspur Mountains. Some might say that's a long ways away, but you're from even more distant lands."

Thay exists further east than Damara, the country Jaris's monastery is in. Its society is ruled by wizards.

"A monk?" Amaro looks Jaris up and down, and sure enough, he sees the middle-aged man in only cloth robes wielding nothing but his fists. "That is unusual to see. Is taking contracts with The Registry your way of training?"

Jaris had no idea what Amaro was talking about. "What registry? I saw a man walk out of these sewers with a pile of things to sell. I have almost nothing to my name. I thought I should try to do as others do to make my life here."

Amaro looked at the nearby sewer beast corpses. "But you can fight, can't you?"

"I have training."

Amaro reaches into his robes and pulls out a rolled up sheet of paper. "If you're going to waste your time killing the monsters of Cordor's sewers then at the very least get paid for it."

The paper unrolls, and written in large letters at the top Jaris could see "Trackless Sea Adventurer's Registry & Contracting Agency" and a rough sketch of one of the sewer beasts Jaris had killed.

"You have no idea what this is do you? Enough, follow me." Amaro suddenly turns around and begins walking back the way he came, in the direction leading out of the sewer.

Jaris hesitates but decides to follow him.

The rain ceased by now but the sky remained overcast. Out of the slums and to the opposite side of the city's cultural district, they enter a tavern known as "The Nomad".

The tavern is only slightly busy. Still a noisy place but not enough to be disturbing to Jaris's peace. They approach a man standing near a wall by a table of dwarves.

But it's the man who takes the initiative, walking out from his spot and towards Jaris. "I haven't seen you before sir! I am Registry Agent Paxton, Trackless Sea Adventurer's Registry and Contracting. Connecting intrepid adventurers to reliable clients since 1212 DR. You look capable enough, shall I sign you up?"

Registry agent Paxton. Being a middle-aged man with a balding head, he looked a bit similar to Jaris but he had yet to lose all the brown color in his hair. He also possessed a constant smile that could appear wry.

"He will be." said Amaro. Jaris, finding this all awfully pushy, corrected him: "I might be."

Paxton remained firmly focused on Jaris. "It's honest work! You sign up, you receive contracts. Patrol sewers, clear caves, put the undead back to rest, all The Registry cares about is cause and effect. Get the job done and get paid." The man is already taking out a folder. He holds it towards Jaris and opens it, revealing the required contract to sign up.

Amaro turned to Jaris. "It's as he says. I reviewed the contract myself. I came here as a merchant, I know about these things. And if it weren't for my incompetent enclave's ship sinking I might have been signing Cordor into a trade agreement with Thay right this very moment."

Jaris thought it was unusually cruel for someone to care more about the loss of a trading opportunity than for the loss of life.

Jaris read through the contract himself before signing his name on the papers

"Excellent. You just earned me a small bit of coin sir." Paxton had a wry smile as he took the signed documents and handed Jaris the rest of the folder. He then stuffed a few contracts inside it as Jaris held it. "Those are the same contracts Amaro took. Now go get to work, that folder has the answers to any questions you might try to ask me."

And like that, Paxton returned to where he was standing in the walls of The Nomad and began looking for anyone else he's yet to meet.

"There, finally. Maybe you can use the money you earn to buy some goods off of me when I set up my storefront. I am not foolish enough to return to Thay empty-handed."

Hearing Amaro talk about returning home made Jaris wonder if he himself would ever return to his home monastery.

Jaris closed the folder and looked up. "Let's go back to the sewers." This time, Jaris lead the way.

#arelith #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #jaris colt #monk #neverwinter nights #soulhavencel #dnd stories #dnd story #jaris colt stories #forgotten realms #dnd stuff #xianxia #amaro carnelian #as long as i have one fan i'll keep writing #not the most interesting part of the story but i'm doing my best not to be a bore #i'll write another part soon since this one didnt get any action #also i should probably start putting images at the very top of the post so people know these have images

2 notes · View notes

redrobin-detective · 2 years

Text

Spectrum

Craig Matheson did not like ghosts. However, living in Amity Park had made him learn to accept the presence of the dead. He didn’t like ghosts and he liked them even less up close but given the situation he’d once more learned to live with the impossible.

He didn’t really know the exact details of what was going on, he was a 20 year old psych major at the community college but it was bad enough that some of the ghosts decided to ally themselves with humans. Craig didn’t know all that much about ghosts or ectowhatever or whatever gobblygook the Fenton’s were constantly spouting on the TV. But Craig did know people and that’s why the last few days, human and ghost in close quarters had been so interesting.

He knew Jazz fairly well, he TA’d Casper’s Intro to Psych when the girl had been a frizzy haired freshman. He liked her in that nice if slightly awkward older to younger student way. Of course he, like everyone in town, knew her family was nuts. But Jazz was levelheaded and brilliant and determined to break away from their nonsense; she was girl who would go places. When the end of the year came, he’d joked to her that he’d better get his degree before she came through and blew him out of the water.

The younger Fenton kid, Danny, Craig didn’t really know aside from Jazz’s occasional grumblings during cram sessions. He’d sounded like your average, annoying little brother. Craig had never met him in person before the emergency. He wishes it had stayed that way.

The first time Craig stood in a room with Danny, he felt the way one does at a zoo when a caged predator locked eyes with you. You knew logically that you were safe but that didn’t stop the instinctual fear from creeping up your spine. Craig lived in a shitty apartment with 2 roommates on campus and wasn’t in the main part of town very often. No one else seemed to notice that the youngest Fenton kid, who had noodles are arms and couldn’t be more than 16, radiated a sticky, staticy aura of danger. Maybe they’re used to it and didn’t realize but Craig couldn’t help but notice people didn’t stand too close to him and his people, let their eyes slide over and away from him.

The first few times, he thought he was being paranoid, picking up the residual anxiety from the crowd. But every time he shared a room with Danny Fenton, even in passing, he got the chills like someone was walking over his grave. Once he put two and two together, he started paying more attention and what he saw... well it added up to something he didn’t quite get.

Danny was quiet but alert. He always showed up every one of the planning meetings, even the ones Craig knew were adults only. He’d just slink on in and slouch in the corner with sharp eyes. Danny frowned at bad news and mumbled quietly to himself when thinking. As much as he put on the ‘bored teen’ act, to anyone paying attention it was clear that Danny was too. But no one was, Craig almost never saw him being shooed away even when other older, experienced towns figures were. Sometimes Craig wondered if they even noticed his presence in those meetings.

He had this presence about him that set Craig’s teeth on edge and made the hairs on his neck stand up and made him feel cold down to his bones. At first glance, he looked like any other teenager but the longer Craig watched him the more he noticed. The sickly pale and slightly green tinged skin. The dark, sunken quality to his eyes reminding Craig of museum mummies that scared him as a kid. His nails and teeth were just a bit too sharp, he moved a bit too fast and almost seemed to blur a bit on the edges. Craig had to stop studying Fenton directly not just because he knew the kid was onto him but he was getting seriously creeped out.

So the boy was a little haunted, he had a portal to hell directly underneath his bedroom. Craig wouldn’t be too shocked if there was some residual contamination with him. But that didn’t explain the ghosts.

Once Craig had stopped watching Danny, he watched how others reacted to him and that was it’s own mystery. While humans seemed to, consciously or not, avoid him, the ghosts sought him out. Horrifying and inhuman spectral beings had glanced over Mr and Mrs Fenton in favor of their son in the back corner. Time and again they appeared to tune out whatever to the experts were saying in favor of the kid who looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. And Danny would lock eyes back, sometimes rolling them, sometimes mouthing something Craig couldn’t catch. And more than once he’d peek into an empty room to find Danny surrounded by ghosts. Ghosts who gave him deferential space, who referred to him and only him by name, who seemed just as scared of Dan as Craig was.

Part of Craig wanted to pull Jazz aside and ask what was going on. What had happened to the cheeky, clingy little brother she used to fondly talk about? When had he become something barely human? Something unspeakably horrifying because he couldn’t place the source of the horror? But Craig also saw the way Jazz, and Danny’s two pals, looked at them. They were also sharp, alert, watching everything and everyone. His friends and him were practically attached at the hip. They’d lounge together, the girl putting her hand in Danny’s back pocket and the boy with a lazy arm over Danny’s shoulder. Like the mythical Cerberus, a three headed monster that operated as a single, deadly being.

Even Craig’s old pal Jazz who he occasionally exchanged emailed updates and memes with, looked ready to pounce on anyone who came near Danny. One time, when he was watching Danny, Jazz stepped into his view and gave him a gentle but firm shake of her head before pulling her brother away. Whatever was going on, Craig wasn’t invited and that was fine by him. After that, Craig just sort of stopped paying attention. He didn’t think about the Fenton boy. He carried a sweater constantly to avoid the occasional, completely ordinary, chill. He kept his head down and his mouth shut because he had realized something important. Whatever was going on in Ghost Land or Spooksville or whatever the fuck they calling that swirling mass of death in the Fenton basement, Danny Fenton was the key to fixing it.

A part of him, the part that wasn’t on edge and terrified, was upset by the idea of a kid being responsible for such an ugly mess. The other larger part wanted the kid to get things fixed pronto so Craig could speed back to his old, broken down apartment and pretend that Fenton’s eyes didn’t light up the color of green death when he stood too close to portal when he thought no one was thinking. He didn’t want to think on what else Fenton was up to when the humans weren’t around.

XxX

Croix did not like humans. However, working in a library close to the permanent human portal had made them learn to accept the presence of humans. Humans were digustingly linear and prone to horrifying acts of change but circumstances had drawn them together.

Croix knew they themselves had been human once, they didn’t know how long ago and didn’t bother to find out. Even their name was chosen postmortem, inspired by a book in his library. Being in the living world made his incorporeal form shutter with distaste. They did not belong here, especially not in the domain of the Phantom.

Oh they may not have left the Zone for at least a few centuries but everyone knew of the Phantom. Travelers spoke of him, books telling of his exploits began to fill the shelves of the library and Croix had found a unique fascination with the creature. They wondered what it must be like to possess the powers of the dead alongside the glorious and ruinous entrapment of the living. It was a conundrum, a mystery, and Croix was quite fond of those. They volunteered to serve as a referential resource in the War if only to study the abomination up front.

The Phantom was not at all like the stories made him out to be.

Croix had heard tales of his mist like hair, the color of bleached bones. They’d gasped reading about the swirling greens of his eyes which mirrored the human portal that had turned him into such a wretched thing. The white tipped claws, the mewling cavernous jaw filled with hundreds of teeth, the force of his fists amplified by a physical body of meat and sinew and bone. The boy before them was something of a disappointment.

Oh he had the air of the dead about him, the scent of him like a fresh, still warm corpse. But otherwise he looked like any other filthy, nauseating human. It was hard to imagine this pathetic specimen had defeated Pariah Dark, had battled Undergrowth and Nocturne and Vortex and escaped with his core intact. But Skulker gave him his attention, his deference occasionally and that was no small feat. Despite his fearsome reputation as a hunter, Skulker had Croix’s respect as a someone who understood the value or research and study. Skulker often came to the library in search of information about his quarry. Skulker was how Croix had first heard of the Phantom.

Croix did not understand the point of the other humans. Yes, their world was threatened as much as Croix’s but they offered nothing but distraction and wasted time. Why could they not speak to the Phantom directly, as the representative of the human world who understood ghost custom, he did not understand. But he had been informed, before he crossed over the veil for the first time since death, that the other humans did not know of the Phantom’s true nature. So began a ridiculous pantomime.

Great and mighty ghosts listened to meat beings talk about idea they had no notion even of the scope while they discussed real battle plans with the Phantom, hidden from view. The Phantom scurried around the humans, acting small and pitiful while he back was tall, head high amongst the dead. As much as the living dead contradiction intrigued him, the actual being proved to be less interesting. It really was true, you never should meet the unmentionable monstrosity you have a vague fascination for. Oh well, Croix was unbothered. Death was unending, unchanging and interests were merely fixed moments in time which passed without care. Croix would simply find something else to pique their interest. Once the War was done.

Croix was sorting through some of their documents when they notice the Phantom and some other humans have come down to their chambers. Oh how they despised having to covert their collection to physical form. How burdensome to exist in one centralized space for the convenience of a species who haven’t bothered to find a way to circumnavigate death because they understand that living is too aggravating to do forever.

“We need some information,” one of the humans said. “What are the oldest documents you have on the Zone? How it formed, how it came to be?” Croix ignored them in favor of reviewing their documents. They tried to interact with the humans as little as possible, if the Phantom needed something he could address them properly without using meat proxies.

“Hey, ghost guy, we need that information now. We’re kind of on a time crunch here,” another said. Or perhaps the same one. Differentiating corporeal beings was quite exhausting and Croix had run out of patience for that decades ago. They kept reading over their books. There was a distorted crackle in the air and Croix glanced up at the Phantom.

"m̷̧̼̹̙͉̤͓͎̯͔̪̥̔̈́̓̈́̀̿̀̍̀̎ý̸̟̹͎͔̪̊́̄͝ ̴͖̯̻̹̩͉̩͎́̇̈͌̀͛̔̊́͂̃̕͠f̵̢̩͈̈́̒̂̓̎̓̈́̒͒̀̚͠r̸̗̗̭͎̘̻̪̈́̀̔́͆͑̊̈̇͐͂̃̅͜͝ĩ̵̛͈̞̪͇̤̪̰̮̲̐͗̈́̈̅͝͝e̸̡̛̲̮͚̫̭̩̼̗̎̂̿̔͝n̷̛̥͙̟̥͚̻̅̈̍̂͋̔̂͘͝d̶̹͐s̸̠̗̖͆̉͒̈́̀̏̂͛ ̷̹̤͖̘̺͉̈͋̿̉a̵̛̝̫̹̥̝͌͊͐̔̍͗̄̈́̊̿̋͘̚͠ś̴̢̱̲̫͙̪̩̟͖̠̒̈́̃͜͜͠ķ̵̧̡̗͎̭͔̝̰͔͖̹̣͖͚̆̊̍͊́̽̈̾̊̇́é̴͕̗͈̗̻͔̥͓̰͍͇̔̀́̉̓̽d̶̢̨̦̹̪͍̩̤̹̞̪̼̋͊͋ ̶̢̮̼̠̞̩̠̰̳̖͑̅͗̈́͐͘̕ÿ̷͚͎̞̫̱̥͉͈̮͒͊͠ͅỏ̸̡̞͚̘̖͍̞̘͚̦͓̞̗̠͆̅͘͜͝ụ̶̝͛̋͛̌̇̒ ̸̺͕̥̫͖̠̮̺̥̮͚͍͙̅́͋͛́̍a̶̖͓̩͇̋͐̓̂̈́̀̆̀͂̅ ̶̢͕͍̞̀̿͑̓q̶̨͔͔̖̬̗͈̟͙͓̱͉̱͔̘̓̒̎̀̍u̵̦̤̲̬͎͔̹̮͖͆̓̆̑͑͌̇̄̆̀̈́̚͠͝ȩ̶̱̬͉̹̥̘͙͉͚͔̗͍̯̇͒̾̍͠s̶̢̤͚͓̯͕͖͙̥̮̆̇̓͌̈́̽̏̐̚͝t̷͇͔͉̝̮̙͍̙̩̪̝̜̀͝ȋ̵̛͇̆͑͠o̵̳͂̃͌͌͆̊̾̈́̀͊͗͝n̴̢̛̙̤͍̯̬̠̥͔͓̽͗͜" the Phantom said in Ghost. His mortal shell only bore the faintest trace of humanity. But it wasn’t his body that had Croix feeling fear, genuine fear, it was the bright flashing of the Phantom’s core which was so bitterly, achingly cold. It reminded Croix, for a moment, of the chill of death coming for him. Of how his body, now long since dust, had felt in those last moments before it all went black. Centuries dead and yet the fear of death was breathing down his neck. Croix moved his head up but kept his eyes down.

“What information does the Phantom require?” Croix asked shakily, doing their best not to decoporealize into ectoplasm. Now they understood the myths, why the Phantom emerged victorious time and again. He may be a monster, a damnation, a blight upon the living and the dead... but he walked between and was a reminder to all of that bitter, frightful transition period. A core powered by that impossible, infinitesimal balance and yet.

“Danny, are you kids down here?” A voice, human, asked from elsewhere. the Phantom pulled back, the green fading to blue and the shadows returning to flesh.

“Yeah Mom, we’ll be up in a second,” he responded like he was just another normal human. Like he wasn’t the most terrifying, powerful creature in this plane or the next.

“Well what are you doing down here?” The voice sighed.

“Oh you know, looking around,” the Phantom grinned at Croix and his teeth were sharp as knives. Croix shakily handed over the documents the Phantom requested. They were old and very valuable but Croix was hardly going to deny a being with such power anything at this point. “We’ll be up in a second.” the Phantom called back, once more looking mostly human.

But he wasn’t, Croiz wasn’t entirely sure what he was but they wanted nothing to do with it. The Phantom and his humans left and Croix couldn’t help but wonder how he could move so quietly among the humans. Why did he play pretend when he could be a god? Croix had not been alive for a long time, had lost motivation for human desires such as greed and power but still. He wondered what the Phantom was like in his human skin, when the ghosts weren’t around. How did a wolf play the part of a sheep so well that they treated him as lesser? How did the sheep not sense that one who walked among could bite into their necks at any time?

Best not to think about really. This really wasn’t Croix’s area, they belonged in the library where everything was dead and simple. This, the world of the living and the horrifying shades that permeated from it, it wasn’t for him. They would keep their head down and their mouth shut until this war passed and they could flee back to where the laws of reality made sense. Where someone wasn’t both powerful and weak in the very same undead heartbeat.

#inspired by that one post I did I'll link it #wanted two outside POVs of Danny: one human one ghost #both picking up that Danny is Not Right #but according to their own set of rules #Danny very clearly isnt human #but he also isnt a ghost either #and watching incongruous parts of him working and doing things he shouldn't #idk ive been typing a while words escape me #yeah its a thing #betcha thought i wouldnt be writing for DP again so soon huh?

57 notes · View notes