#maker i suck at chess

[bitacrytic]

YOU ARE WATCHING INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE!! OH MY GOD TELL ME YOUR TAKES!

I just finished it last night.

Where do I start from?

1. Louis must serve million-dollar-dick because the men around him are obsessed. Even the angry, bitter writer can't seem to hide his boner long enough to deliver his sass, completely.

2. Lestat? Oh Lestat. I had, maybe two seconds of pitying him when he was trying to grovel but then Claudia exposed him and I was like, "Yup. Sounds right." Words cannot express how much I do not like this man. And the fact that he lulls Louis into a false sense of security and equality??? Over and over and over? He lied. Every single time they gave him a chance, he held something back. And yet, he wanted a "family". At least he was honest with Claudia as to why he wanted to keep her around.

3. Can I just say that I LOVE that the show outrightly stated that Louis and Claudia were his slaves? None of that subtext, maker-in-place-of-slave-master bull shit. Because the show did that, in the beginning. I was worried that they'd leave it at that. That they'd just use the word "maker" as an excuse for how he treats them. But then, BAM, Claudia calls them his slaves and I was in HEAVEN about it.

4. I love that Daniel is so astute. Yeah, he was horny in every interview but Louis' sultry eyes or EVERYTHING ABOUT RASHID, wasn't enough to pull the curtain over Daniel. He was like, "Eh, you're hot, but was it raining or not?"🤣 what the fuck did Louis expect? Didn't he do his research before he hired Daniel? Didn't he know that this man was intrepid and so, so mean? Whenever he called Louis back to review a plot hole or expand on something Louis wanted to gloss over, I loved that.

Also, that scene where Louis was feeding on Rashid and Daniel couldn't concentrate because he kept thinking about what Rashid would taste like????????👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 (there was a threesome in the flashback that Daniel has forgotten. I won't believe otherwise)

5. Claudia! Iconic! Brilliant! Mind-blowing! Best girl! Queen! I heard spoilers about her but I am going to choose to believe that the show will not do what the books did. That girl is life. She was the perfect foil for Lestat. And I love that Louis didn't and couldn't turn her. So they had their little mind corner to hide from Lestat. That chess game where she walked away??? That was the best performance from anyone on the show. I was screaming along with Lestat, but unlike him, I was screaming in joy. A boss! His powerless rage was the best thing. Especially since we know he's not actually powerless. So we know that what's holding him back is his affection for Louis. It was all she had against lestat and she weilded that weapon to perfection.

Her plan to get rid of him? Chef's kiss. I just wish... *sigh* Daniel said her diary, after they left New Orleans, showed resentment towards Louis and rightly so. They had a plan and he flaked out. Just like he did when he told her to go alone. Fucking Louis. Lestat was right. Louis sucks at choosing.

6. Rashid? He is the most beautiful person on the planet. I will not debate this anyone. When he was a fragile twink who was willingly offering his blood, pumping himself full of honey for days just to be sweet for Louis, he was perfect. When he watched the exchange between Daniel and Louis from the sidelines like a helpless lover, eager to defend Louis at every turn, he was perfect. But when he (spoilers) became the old, powerful vampire who was impervious to the sun???????? My coochie fell out. I'm sorry. I had to take a moment. I think I stopped breathing.

I have found a new actor to obsess over. Thank you, AMC.

I've seen spoilers on the Internet that he's going to be worse than Lestat. 😭 Louis was already giving captive-in-a-cage when he introduced Armand. I can't even imagine what season 2 will do to my sexy baby, Louis. 😭😭😭

7. I HATED LOUIS' FAMILY.

His mother was the worst. The fact that they were living in a house paid for by Louis' whore houses, and still had the mind to be sanctimonious was so frustrating. The brother-in-law... oh god. I wanted to slap him. And his sister? She grew irritating everytime I saw her.

The fact that she called him to judge AND BURY HIM, because she wanted to move on was so annoying. She could have done what she wanted and left. But she needed him to hear, one last time, that he was dead to her and that the new him was fake and wicked. Just, why? What was the reason? She lowkey became her mother.

All in all, I loved this show. I'm glad I waited till it was done or I would have been frustrated, waiting for new episodes. I loved every moment of it. I will rewatch it. I will re-rewatch. I will hate every moment of waiting for the next season. Fucking AMC, who wants your fucking 7 episode bullshit???? Why did you make it so fucking short????

#interview with the vampire #these takes are pretry surface level #maybe one day I'll make a.more comprehensive post about each character #considering how short the show was #i feel like i could write a lot about each character that came on screen #and i know the moment I post this #other things will come to mind😒

[dbs-superleggera]

Nintendo Capitalism (Creating a Game Theory Network)

Game theory is a framework for understanding choice in situations among competing players.

Any interaction between multiple people. In which each person's payoff is affected by the decision of others.

Questions to build a Game Theory Network

What action should a player of the game take?

Would all users behave the same in this scenario?

What global behavior patterns should a system designer expect?

For what changes to the numbers would behavior be the same?

What effect would communication have?

Repetitions? (Finite? Infinite?)

Does it matter if I believe that my opponent is rational?

Self Interested Agents

What does it mean to say that an agent is self-interested?

Not that they want to harm others or only care about themselves

Only that the agents has its own description of states of the world that it likes, and act space on this description

Each such agent has a utility function

Quantifies degree of preference across alternatives

Explains the impact of uncertainty

Decision-theoretic rationality: act to maximize expected utility

Why Utility?

It might seem obvious that preferences can be described by utility functions. But:

Why is a single-dimensional function enough?

Why should an agent's response to uncertainty be captured purely by an expected value?

Thus, our claim is substantive.

There's a famous theorem (von Neumann & Morgenstern, 1944) that derives the existence of a utility function from a more basic preference ordering and axioms on suck orderings.

Defining Games - Key ingredients

Player's: who are the decision makers?

People? Governments? Companies? Somebody employed by a Company?

Actions: what can the players do?

Enter a bid in an auction? Decide whether to end a strike? Decide when to sell a stock? Decide how to vote?

Payoffs: what motivates players?

Do they care about some profit? Do they care about other players?

Defining Games - Two Standard Representations

Normal Form (a.k.a. Matrix Form, Strategic Form) List what payoffs gets as a function of their actions

It is as if players moved simultaneously

But strategies encode many things

**Extensive Form include timing of moves

Player's move sequentially, represented as a tree (timing)

Chess: white player moves, then black player can see White's move and react

Keeps track of what each player knows when he or she makes each decision (information)

Poker: bet sequentially – what can a given player see when they bet?

Defining Games - The Normal Form

Finite, n-person normal Form game: {N, A, u}:

Players: N = {1,...n} is a finite set of n, indexed by i.

{Number of players}

Action set for player i Ai

A = (a1,...,An)

A is an action profile

What players are doing

Utility function or Payoff function for player i: Ui: A—> R

A is Action

R is Reward

U = (u1,...,Un), is a profile or utility functions

CHIGGA PROPERTY

[jacklyn-flynn]

Cullen teaches his children to play chess at an early age.

#cullen #dad!cullen #teach 'em young #so they can kick uncle dorian's ass #headcanon du jour #hdj #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #i know it isn't technically canon that it's chess but #c'mon #that's the easiest way to make it work without crazy amounts of explanation #facfic writer's nightmare #it's close enough #even the wiki says 'chess-like' which is good enough for me #not that i can play it #maker i suck at chess

[forlovvers]

[ nct dream as hogwarts students ]

warning(s): guys these only make sense if u’ve read the series or watched the movies 😭

MARK !

gryfinddor!mark lee is literally the harry potter of kpop idc 😟. would always get in trouble because of a certain slytherin. he would 100% leave his moonstone essay until last minute and stay up writing it in the common room. he would accidentally find the room of requirements while trying to find the bathroom. mark is the star player of the quidditch team, but would never be the captain of the team. only takes divination for an easy O.

RENJUN !

ravenclaw!renjun is definitely headboy. probably the smartest of his year. he’s often found alone in the ravenclaw common room or taking a stroll on the grounds, away from bigger crowds. is surprisingly bad at wizard chess, but renjun claims he ‘doesn’t have enough time’ to practice chess. his favorite class is astronomy, sometimes he sneaks there away at night to draw or just watch the stars. literally hates pe class, and is the only class he’s bad at. aiming for prefect & has a cat.

JENO !

gryfinddor!jeno is also headboy but for gryfinddor. everyone likes him because of how chill he is as headboy. for some reason i feel like he’s the first one in the dining hall for no reason. captain of the quidditch team, and is always determined to win house cup. likes renjun’s cat, but is obviously allergic. jeno also copies off of mark sometimes, but because mark sometimes leaves his assignments until last minute, they both end up with bad scores. doesn’t like the potions master, but likes double potions with the hufflepuffs.

HAECHAN !

slytherin!haechan is a trouble maker. you either hate him, or love him. he doesn’t really hang out with other slytherins and he’s found himself an outcast amongst his own house. he finds pleasure in teasing or annoying mark and renjun for fun, but has grown close with them. likes to pass/throw random notes at people in class like, ‘your hair looks funny today’ or ‘what came first, the chicken or egg?’ etc. he loves to make people laugh whilst doing stupid stuff. sucks at arithmancy. haechan answers with wrong answers in class for a laugh or two, but always knows the correct answer. def gets mark in trouble.

JAEMIN !

hufflepuff!jaemin is literally the best person ever. he’s the type of classmate to take notes for you if you’re gone a day. although he’d never say it out loud, he hates care of magical creatures. gasp, i know right. always has his hogsmede permission slip. jaemin’s found hanging out with jeno or fawning over jisung. is the person that’s always watering the plants in the common room. a highkey flirt. practices occlumency for fun. nearly failed charms during his 2nd year because he couldn’t do accio.

CHENLE !

gryfinddor!chenle is definitely your mischief that is not managed. fred & george vibes. partner in crimes with jisung. he buys everything off the trolley. sleeps through all of his classes and yet manages to get full marks. for some reason he knows all the secret passage way. peeves annoying him? no, him annoying peeves. he uses the prefect bathroom, even though we both know he’s not a prefect. he’s an mc for the quidditch matches and is lowkey biased about who’s the best team. once transfigured a cockroach into a deck of uno cards.

JISUNG !

gryfinddor!jisung gets lost with all the 142 staircases that are constantly changing. once made a love potion in class with no intention to use it. he’s probably lost his hogsmede permission slip. tried out for the quidditch team, but they didn’t get back to him. he likes to go up to the owlery and observe the owls, but when they aggressively flap their wings, jisung immediately leaves. avoids the girls bathroom on the second floor, because he heard it was haunted. nearly broke his wand while trying to spit out a ‘bertie botts every flavored bean’. everyone’s favorite.

a/n: i hope this made sense 💀

#kpop #fanfic #imagines #fiction #nct dream #haechan #nct127 #chenle #jaemin #jeno #mark #renjun #wayv #headcanon #harry potter #au #school #jisung #hp #hogwarts #reactions

[phantomphangphucker]

INVISOBANG - Ectoplasmic Educational Employment (Quirky Danny Fenton The Teacher? More Likely Than You Think!)

And the stellar artists that made art for this little fic o’ mine!: 

lanaecomics: ART CHECK IT OUT

AND

Trash Shipper; ART CHECK IT OUT

---

Danny isn’t exactly a fresh graduate with a lot of options after Highschool. College wasn’t happening and where the Hell was going to hire him? Mr. Lancer and CasperHigh apparently. As what? As a teacher. A teacher on the subject of ghosts, because of course everything in Danny’s life will be ghost-related. But maybe ghosts, ghost society at large, and even the goddamn Observants will actually think this is, like, a good? thing. He also, apparently, doesn’t suck at it. He’s still weird, eccentric, partly dead, and goddamn eighteen though

Prologue: Employing The Unemployable

Danny never really expected to graduate, honest to goodness he did not, yet his chronically-tardy-randomly-disappearing-handing-shit-in-late-or-never ass has managed to get that stupid slip of paper that was nearly basic necessity to get any halfway decent job; which was, frankly, a load of horse crap. Half the shit school taught was useless and most of it he wasn’t going to remember in three days none the less a year from now; or however long it took to find a job that actually required said useless knowledge. Though really? that wasn’t something he actually had to worry about, seeing as there was basically a zero percent chance of him having anything close to something even resembling a ‘normal’ job.

He could work for his folks? Financially lucrative and everything regarding the subject of ghosts has been effectively beaten into his brain by this point. Whether it was due to being around it so often or to save his own hide from his folks' inventions. He could also arguably get a shady as shit job, he was definitely skilled at lying, hiding, sneaking around, playing a role, even stealing and fighting. Plus a subordinate who can shoot energy beams and turn invisible would probably be a mob bosses, or whatever’s, wet dream. But, uh, that was probably not the best idea in the world; especially when Amity didn’t even have mobs and drugs and shit really. And why would they? They had freaking ghosts. Also having hallucinogenics would just be fucking overkill at this point. Plus Vlad already filled the quota for ‘dangerous men in dark suits that smoke cigars and drink whiskey while planning peoples demise or manipulating them like chess pieces".

Getting a job at the Nasty Burger would be easy enough but he’d get fired so fast. Ditto for working at the town’s only hotel or the gas stations or the grocery store or literally anywhere else minimum wage. Honestly, how the fuck do any of those fictional movie heroes have non-heroing related jobs? Excluding the super-rich ones with public identities anyways. Unrealistic. Completely unrealistic.

Sighing and flopping down on his bed, at least his friends didn’t have this issue. Manson’s don’t work and Tuck’s dumbass has hacked every single security and tech company in at least their entire state so they were basically all scrambling to hire his hacker ass. Val has the Nasty Burger -not that she’d be staying there once she graduated- and not to mention having Vlad’s very very deep pockets at her disposal. Speaking of Val though... Danny chuckles up at the ceiling, “honestly it’s funny as Hell that Val got held back but I didn’t. I mean really? How the fuck did that happen?”, shaking his head and laughing quietly a little more. The rest of the Defect Quartet got a good laugh out of that. Sam and Tuck were never at risk of not graduating, it was just Val and his ass that was a worry. Eh whatever. At least Dash’s dumbass got held back too; not seeing that jocks blonde mug at graduation was goddamn euphoric. It truly, truly was.

Well for now, all Danny can really do is wait, enjoy not having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to go to school, and hope his folks don’t start go getting on his ass to get work that’s ‘normal’ so he has the experience. To be fair, him knowing what it’s like to work at a normal job would normally be a damn good idea, if he wasn’t a literal superhero who also just so happens to be kinda dead. Dead people shouldn’t have to work in his opinion, but life and deaths not fair so whatever. At least his poor abused bed was soft as shit though, that was something.

Danny nearly jumps out of his skin when his mom knocks on the door, jerking him out of his thoughts, “sweetie! It’s Mr. Lancer! He wants to talk to you!”. Oh Ancients fuck, why? Hopefully, graduation comes with a no tack backsies rule or something because that would be just his luck. Danny swings up his legs and gets up off his bed, mildly shouting, “coming!”. Popping open his door while his mom gives him a seriously judgemental ‘you better not have done something stupid’ raised eyebrow as she hands him the phone; him smiling sheepishly as he takes the phone and re-closes his bedroom door.

Eyeballing the phone with just a mild amount of apprehension before putting it to his ear, “yeah? What’s up, Lance?”.

“Hello Daniel, how’s life as a graduate treating you?”.

Danny chuckles, “that depends on whether or not you’re about to tell me I didn't actually graduate and some kind of wild and unlikely mistake popped up”.

Lancer actually laughs lightly at that, “no nothing like that, you graduated fairly, Daniel. Though considering your poor attendance I’m not surprised you’d be suspicious”. Danny grins to himself a little at that but fuck, not his fault man. Not his fault... Technically. “I was actually wondering how job searching is treating you. Working for your parents seems... less than safe even if that seems like the obvious choice for you”.

Danny nods to himself and chuckles, too true there. Smirking a little, “oh if anyone knows how dangerous FentonWorks is, it’s me”. Sometimes he’s honestly amazed no one’s ever called CPS on him or anything. FentonWorks was a death trap waiting to happen, literally; him being walking proof and all that. Shrugging to himself, “and you know I’m not exactly suited for a nine to five, Lance”, and he’s not even going to mention the fact that Vlad would hire him in a heartbeat because that is so not happening no matter how ‘good-ish’ the man was nowadays. Working for him would be a dangerous game no matter how Danny looked at it; for both of them.

“I don’t think I could even imagine you working an office job or as a cashier. But if not nine to five, then how about noon to three?”.

Danny blinks at that, huh? “um what?”, shaking his head a little and blinking again, “short shift there but you know me, how often did I ever stay in class for the full forty minutes, or whatever?”.

“Fifty-five, Daniel, And I’m sure you could stay for an hour given the right encouragement and approach”.

Danny sighs and tilts his head back, “I don’t need money that badly, man, geez”, shaking his head, “what are you even suggesting though?”. Is Lancer seriously offering him a job? Where even? Short as shit hours though, which technically worked well-ish for him. He never has a consistent time slot where no ghosts show up though.

“Well I’m sure your parents have heard about the ecto-ology class the school board decided to pass”, Lancer grumbling seemingly to himself, “long time coming if you ask me, too long”, speaking up a bit, “your class should have had it, not that you needed it”.

Danny snorts, fair point there, “yeah I could probably have taught it better than the damn teacher”, blinking, wait a fucking minute, “Lancer what the fuck. Are you asking me to teach it???”. What the actual shit. Sure, he could do it, technically, but still. The fuck, shaking his head, “don’t you, you know, need schooling to be a teacher? And come on, I am the exact opposite of teacher material, or whatever”. Seriously, the Hell. The Ancients are probably actively mocking him right now. That or Danny’s totally wrong and making a complete ass of himself.

“You’re irresponsible and... eccentric, yes, but you’re intelligent and excitable about your interests; and really, a teacher is someone who’s hyper interested and passionate about their field of education”, Danny can almost hear a smirk in Lancer’s voice, “don’t even try to tell me you’re not passionate about ecto-ology, I’ve overheard more than enough conversations between you and your friends to know otherwise. Though yes, the number of times I’ve heard you mention ghost jail was more than a little concerning. Especially when it sounded like it was personal on-the-inside experience”.

Danny blinks, “Lance, you frighten me. Now I’m seriously wondering even more why the school never called on my folks, or whatever”. This just in, apparently a vice principal was perfectly willing to just ignore a student going to jail in an alternate dimension. Repeatedly.

“As if that would actually help. Your parents are good, if crazy and negligent, people. And I have a feeling you’re perfectly capable of getting into trouble without their involvement. So what do you say? It’s completely within my power to hire you on the spot”.

Danny pulls the phone away from his cheek and makes wild hand gestures at it, again what the fuck. Though yeah, his folks aren’t half bad, excluding the whole ectophobia thing. Scrunching up his face at his phone before returning it to his cheek, “uh thanks? You know, for not getting my folks in shit”, shaking his head and smirking a little, “so you know a lot of the trouble is just me being me and you’re inviting me to once again spend five days a week at one of the local ghost hotspots? Do you like suffering, Lance?”.

That actually gets a laugh out of the vice-principal, “the ghosts certainly keep things interesting but no, hiring you instead of your parents would reduce the chaos. Your parents are far bigger trouble makers than you ever have been”.

“That feels like a challenge”. Danny absolutely smirks to himself over the sigh that comment gets him before continuing, “though yeah, my dad plus the school five days a week sounds like you’d be actively begging the universe to blow up the entire place while simultaneously covering it in green goo and maybe accidentally teleporting it to an alternate dimension. To be fair, dad’s only managed that twice on the house so far”. And his mom still won’t let the man live down either event, understandable. Sighing, his parents being walking collateral damage machines was useful in school since it kept nearly every teacher from calling them in, but now it was mildly biting him in the ass. Though now that he’s thinking about... who else could the school call in? Val was still in school and the school didn’t officially know about her ‘extracurricular activities’ -though Danny would bet an entire model rocket that most of the teachers knew or at least had a very very good guess- so she was out. Then there was the G.I.W. which... just no. Fuck no. Super bad idea. So that just left his ass, and fine, arguably it would be a decent enough job and Lancer wasn’t exactly wrong about Danny knowing his shit and being a bit excitable about ghosts. He couldn’t help it alright? He was raised on it and actually excelled at it. Plus, he was a ghost; knowing was survival. Plus plus, having someone who isn’t ectophobic teach the ghost class would probably be a good idea. Val was better but... she tried to use the Box Ghost’s face as a battering ram because her closet door got stuck last week, ‘nough said. Sighing again, “okay fine, I think you’re inviting disaster but all your other options would also do that”.

Lancer laughs lightly and sips something, probably tea knowing the man, “agreed. So you’ve got the summer to come up with a curriculum, nothing too serious for the first semester so I’m sure you can handle it”. Danny scowls audibly, though fine how much harder could making a teaching thingy be than overthrowing corrupt ghost government/royals? Fuck him entirely. “Don’t worry, I’ll send over some useful tips and tricks, a little guide; because you are right, typically teachers go to school to learn how to teach”.

Danny gives one very sarcastic and deadpanned, “you don’t say”, in response to that. Great, now he’s got homework over summer, just really weird homework that’ll technically include creating homework for other people. Weeee. Fun. Ugh. But hey, maybe this’ll actually not suck. Shaking his head and chuckling a little, “you know, I’m starting to think you might actually like me, Lance”.

Lancer simply laughs faintly at that. “How about we meet up sometime next week and I’ll see how far you’ve gotten and your ideas”.

Danny leans his head back, “ugh fine”, grumbling to himself, “oh Ancients I’m ‘hanging out’ with my old teacher, fuck me”, and hangs up though more than a little sure that Lancer probably heard that last bit.

Danny rubs his eyes in circles after a bit, sighing again, and picks up his cellphone.

thealiveone: guess who got a job offer first? Suck it tuck

PDAxpda : bullshit, where????

thealiveone: lets just say that lance decided I needed to see things from my poor teachers persepectives

PDAxpda: oh god XD poor casperhigh

Nightshade: So youre becoming part of the ststem? Really Danny?

Nightshade: but with fhosts

PDAxpda: ha! You’re becoming your parents!

thealiveone: HEY! AM NOT!

thealiveone: ...kinda

thealiveone: but hey, ghost teachin bout ghoss. Love the irony

Nightshade: 🙄

thealiveone: ancients be happy for a guy why dontcha geez

thealiveone: even if it’s stupid

thealiveone: and I’ll totally wind up having to ditch and be late and shit

PDAxpda: typical you

thealiveone: 😢

Nightshade: fine but at least be a quirky ‘teacher’ and not some lame rule follower ass

thealiveone: me? Not be quirky? Fuckin riiiiiiiight

PDAxpda: *snort*

thealiveone: anywhay

thealiveone: think I should do a bit on ghost hunger just to make lance regret his chocoes?

Nightshade: 🤦🏻‍♀️

PDAxpda: YES!!!

thealiveone: 😏

Danny had ideas now, and he was about to make them EVERYBODY'S PROBLEM. As he should.

Chapter 2: Cursed From Entry Level

Today was the day, yup it certainly was; Danny side-eyes his ghost-shaped alarm clock. The first Monday of a new school year; which normally shouldn’t mean shit to him since he graduated and all that but fuck his dumbass agreed to turn around and come right back as a goddamn teacher. Why did he do that? That was stupid. Well not really but now that it’s a little past eleven and he has to actually get up, get dressed, and go do the thing that he agreed to do. Fuck. Responsibilities suck. And if anyone’s allowed to say that it’s him, superhero responsibilities kinda outclass all others so suck it. Sighing and flopping an arm over his eyes, had he been smart and bought teacher clothes? No. Or prepared an introduction speech thingy? Also no. Or even bothered to tell literally anyone other than his friends and family that he now worked at CasperHigh? Definitely no, let the fuckers be surprised. He had, however, printed out copies of the syllabus; which fine, was largely because Lancer nagged him about it so much that he did it out of spite. Danny bets being manipulative was totally something taught in teacher school; not that Danny really particularly needed to be taught that… especially when he could just go to Vlad for that kind of ‘tutoring’, not that he actually would. Regardless, he now officially had to get up.

Sighing very loudly into his arm before moving to push himself up and walk over to his closet; did any of his shit qualify as ‘professional’? Haha fuck no. But oh well, screw it. Might as well lean into this ghost teacher thing and the ’Fenton’s are eccentric weirdos’ thing. Time for a ‘I Got A Boo Boo On My Funny Bone Isn’t That Very Humerus?’ sweater and some crust punk pants that are more patches than fabric. He is so not wearing a tie or bow tie though, bandana? Shrugging he nabs up a little alien one that had only a couple small ectoplasm stains, “if anyone asks, lab accident”, and smirks to himself while tying the thing around his neck, shrugging, then heading downstairs for breakfast.

His dad looks up and grins, waving a hand while the other’s still tinkering away on some gun, “morning Danno! Heading off to school?”, tilting his head and chuckling heartily, “or to teach, I should say!”.

Danny rolls his eyes but smiles and chuckles, moving to grab out the cereal, “yup, bet it’s gonna be interesting. My poor fellow teachers”, Danny absolutely smirks at that, because damn they’re gonna hate Lancer for a while once they realise they’re stuck with him for who knows how long. Sure he’ll only be actually there for, like, what an hour or two or so? Eh something like that. He honestly hopes Lancer didn’t tell all the teachers because he absolutely wants to see all of them look at him, do a double-take, and sigh in resigned defeat and pain. Danny can’t help snickering a bit to himself as he eats his food and his dad goes back to tinkering; though with a far bigger grin on his face.

Danny actually manages to get out the door just as his mom’s coming up from the lab, her waving at him erratically, “have a good day at work, sweetie!”, she sounds more than just a little excited to be saying ‘work’ in regards to him. Did make some sense, seeing as he didn’t exactly have any kind of real job opportunities. At least neither of them tried to insist on driving him there, letting him get in a good midday fly instead; one of these days they are seriously going to wonder how the heck he gets places so fast without driving.

-

Landing behind the school in his usual spot Danny takes a few steps back and just kinda stares up at the building for a hot minute, “I don’t know whether this feels nostalgic, daunting, or just surreal”, shaking his head, “well I guess I just better get to it, everyone should be in class right now... right?”, tilting his head as he turns invisible and intangible, stepping through the wall, “how the fuck have I already forgotten the schedule? Ancients”. Thankfully there is, in fact, not a single person and/or spirit in the hallway. He even effectively avoids everyone on his way to the teachers' lounge and successfully uses the key Lancer gave him to get in. Of course, it’s not empty inside though, expected honestly.

Danny pokes his head in and immediately spots Mr. CampBell and grins wickedly, “heeeey”; and the teacher damn near jumps out of his skin before snapping his head around to the door. Mr. CampBell visually recoils, “oh god why are you here?”.

Score! Lancer absolutely did not tell the staff. Danny snickering as he waltzes in, “oh don’t you know? Lancer hired me”. Mr. CampBell turns away and sighs very loudly, Danny absolutely hearing the whispered, “why? I thought William actually liked his coworkers”. Danny only snickers meanly as Lancer walks out from around one of the corners, “we needed an ecto-ology teacher, he’s a perfectly reasonable choice, Joseph”. Huh, so that’s CampBell’s first name. Lancer then turning to Danny and handing him off a coffee cup, gesturing to the corner he just walked out around, “there’s more in the kitchen, since I’m well aware you practically live on the stuff”.

Danny blinks, grins, and moans comically, “oh my Ancients, there’s free coffee in here”.

Lancer quirks an eyebrow faintly at that, “I did tell you”.

Danny shrugs, “eh I thought you were just trying to sweeten the deal for me, Lance”, then taking a sip, “pretty weak shit though”. Lancer quirks his eyebrow further, “it’s free, Daniel”. Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah well, I think I’ll bring in some Deathwish”.

Joseph gives him one very concerned look, “is that an official real coffee or something your crazy parents made?”, he sounds more than a little hesitant for the answer there. Good. Danny smirks, “oh it’s real, and lives up to the name, drinking the cold brew might actually kill you from botulism. The regular coffee is only the world’s strongest stuff though”, then finger-gunning at the man.

Lancer shakes his head as he sits down on the couch, “you concern me some days”, pursing his lips, “most days”, then sips at his coffee. Joseph shakes his head, “I’m just going to head to my classroom”, pointing at Lancer, “you keep that demon child’s classroom consistent, I do not want that ectoplasm stuff getting mixed with Charles’s science nerd stuff”, and throws Danny a scowl before leaving.

Lancer shakes his head before looking to Danny, “your classroom is going to be consistent though, considering I know exactly how often your homework had to be put in biohazard instead of the filing cabinets”. Danny rubs his neck a bit sheepishly at that while Lancer leans forwards, arms on his knees, “do you have everything ready? I could sit in on your first few classes if you’d like”.

Danny snorts, “somehow I think that would just get me mocked, Lance”, smirking, “but that depends on how much you want to leave me unsupervised with a bunch of teens and ectoplasmic substances”.

“You’re... not bringing out ectoplasm on the first day, are you?”.

Danny snickers, “maybe...”. Lancer sighs very loudly but Danny decides to take some amount of pity on the man, “mostly I brought ecto-proofing stuff since I don’t think you want to be replacing stuff a bajillion times. Anyway, can I paint the whiteboard ectophobic green? I mean the ectophobic bit laterally”. Lancer only sighs louder but does nod while putting his face in his hand. Smart man. Danny should probably just go ahead and do that immediately though, the walls and desks and stuff can happen later or fuck he can just make it an assignment because why the fuck not?!? Danny downing the rest of the coffee, clapping his legs, and getting up, “whelp I’mma go do that then”. Lancer speaking up just before he gets to the door, “I will be checking in on you, but feel free to call or ‘text away’ if you need anything”. Danny cringes a little but nods.

Are the hallways empty this time? Nope. Does Danny’s mere presence cause a bunch of whispering as he’s heading to his assigned classroom? Absolutely. Everyone knew who the Fenton’s were, he himself might have techically been a ‘loser weirdo’ but he was also simultaneously popular in the infamous kinda way, especially at school. Most of the comments -that his wonderful ghostly hearing let’s him pick up on easily- are along the lines of ‘guess he didn’t graduate, no surprise there’ or ‘why the fuck’s he here?’, some of the freshmen react with mock horror though so that’s amusing. When Danny gets to his designated room he absolutely spends his before class time painting the board and just throws the rest of his stuff on the provided desk. He is not a tidy person and that is so not gonna change.

He was, however, so not prepared for Val to walk through the door first though. Her and Danny making eye contact, Danny blinking, “‘kay why the fuck would you be here?”. She gives him a dumb look, “hey you yourself, Danny”, then scrunches up her face and sags, “oh my Zone, you are seriously the teacher? You were serious about that? We’re all gonna die”. Danny just smirks while she slumps down in a desk, him scribbling his name on the board quickly; Ancients if anyone calls him ‘Mr. Fenton’ he’ll gag. Speaking of gagging though, putting his class right after lunch was probably not the smartest move on the principal's part. Gives him the perfect excuse to do something weird and just eat ectoplasm or something.

Valerie bangs her head on the desk before looking back up to him, putting her chin in a palm, “though I guess I am kinda curious what the heck you’ll teach with this, you’re always so tightlipped about ghost stuff”.

Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, glancing back to her before turning around to sit down in his provided chair, not nearly enough burn holes yet to actually feel like his though. He’ll have to fix that, “with you. We don’t exactly see eye to eye on things”. She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes, but other fellow teens are coming in so she doesn’t give him any kind of actual response.

Every single teen does at least a slight pause at seeing Danny in the teacher's chair before taking seats. some say nothing, some swear lightly, others groan, and then there’s goddamn Dash??? Why was that jock taking this class? Better yet, why did it have to be Danny’s luck that Dash would even want to.

“Well if it isn’t Fenturd”. At least half the class snickers or coughs to cover laughs.

Danny glares at the jock, “I can give detentions now, don’t be stupid”, smirking, “or I can just designate you as the ‘helping hand’ and you can handle all the ectoplasmic shit I am absolutely going to bring in”. Dash takes his seat real quick after that while Val’s busy snickering at his expense.

Danny leans back in his chair as the bell goes off, “whelp, guess this is happening now”. Valerie puts her head down and laughs a little, a couple other teens laughing a little themselves while Danny continues, “okay, so obviously I’m the teacher, which honestly? more than a few of you should have seen that one coming”, nodding to himself, “now in case you somehow do not know who I am and also somehow missed Dash being an ass and calling me ‘Fenturd’, I’m Danny Fenton the youngest Fenton, and yeah I’m your teacher because literally no one else is remotely qualified or safe enough to do this”.

More than a few people mutter ‘that's fair’ or something similar. His folks being walking talking time bombs wasn’t exactly a secret and the G.I.W. were honestly more dangerous than the ghosts.

Danny chuckles to himself, digs in his backpack and gets up, “and also, in case you didn’t even bother to look at the class you agreed to take or what was written on the class schedule thingy”, Danny cups the little semi-solid ball of ectoplasm and slaps it on the whiteboard, it spattering across neon green and glowing, “welcome to Ecto-ology! And that!-”, pointing at the green splattered board, “-that’s ectoplasm!”, then shaking a jar of SignalShines -little tiny firefly-like blob ghosts- on the little tray attached to the whiteboard typically used for the markers, “and that’s some ghosts! Some very tiny ghosts”.

Valerie snorts and laughs, muttering, “oh no”, into her hand. Since she obviously figured out that Danny wasn’t going to even attempt at being a ‘normal fucking teacher’. Most of the class snickers and starts laughing after a bit, that or eyeballing the ectoplasm splatter/ghost-filled jar. Danny waving the board and everything off limply, “I ecto-proofed the whiteboard already so don’t bother calling the ecto-hazard line”, then making a point to sound ominous and mildly threatening, “they won’t come”. Which absolutely gets him more laughs and a couple shivers, seeing as he could actually legit pull off scary if he felt like it. Perks of being a ghost and ridiculously highly combative and confrontational.

Danny absolutely hands the syllabus paper stack to Dash to hand out, largely as payback for the name-calling. “So since this year this class is only an optional elective, being a trial run and all that, lets do the whole introduce-yourselves-even-though-I-already-know-who-you-all-are thing with why you took this class and, for funsies, who’s your favourite ghost”. Dash does give him a dirty look, which Danny smirks over, but what follows is people saying their names and giving reasons and shit.

Danny decides to smear around the whiteboard ectoplasm to write down ghost names and tally up how many people say that ghost. Is it mostly Phantom? Yes; even Val votes for him but that’s understandable since she actually got along with Phantom, for the most part, these days. Somehow the Box Ghost earns the second most tallies, Ember’s in third not all that surprising, and two people actually threw a vote Johnny’s way. As for why people took the class?

Well Valerie claims she wants to know more about ghosts and leaves it at that, earning some eye-rolls from the class seeing as everyone knew how she felt about the spookies. Dash took it because a Fenton was teaching, which is information Danny doesn’t know what to do with; what the fuck does that mean? And everyone else? To learn about ghosts (sure), for self-defence (good reason actually. Practical), better than the other electives (fair and probably accurate), easy grade (or so they think... maybe), because it absolutely was going to be chaotic (hundred percent yes). Danny’s content and smirking just a little bit.

Danny sits on the corner of his desk -why not?- and waves a hand around limply, “alright, semi-proper introduction of myself. I’m sure pretty much all of you are damn well aware of FentonWorks and it being basically the only ecto-tech company -besides the ever overpriced Dalvco- and that it is responsible for all the shields and ecto-weapons and all that jazz in town. Surprise surprise, I’ve worked on or outright built a lot of that stuff”, sounding incredibly sarcastic, “truly shocking, I know”, earning him a couple snickers/laughs. “Now you might think that since my folks literally invented the stuff and are some of the only published scientists in the field of ecto-ology that they’re more qualified to do this teacher thing, ignoring the fact that they would probably blow the classroom up or accidentally get everyone teleported into the ghost Zone randomly”, pointing at the class, “not an exaggeration”, before continuing properly, “but guess what? They've never actually explored the Zone or sat down and actually talked to a ghost”, putting a hand to his chest, “I, however, have. So yeah, qualified”; and snaps his fingers a bit dramatically.

James mutters, “not sure that actually means qualified”; and he’s not the only one. Expected, seeing as Danny was not actually qualified to be a teacher obviously.

Danny sticks up a finger, “I have no teacher qualifications though, but Lance decided he just does not care”, getting up and walking to the board, moving around the ectoplasm, “and as for my fav ghostie, you’ve never heard of them”, and scrawls out ‘ClockWork’ on the list of favourite ghosts. Turning back to the class, “ClockWork’s existence is mildly forbidden knowledge, so have fun with-”, Haley shrieking interrupts and most of the class going wide-eyed gets him to turn around and see the very well done drawing of ClockWork looking right at Danny with a glare, there is an ‘I’m flattered, Daniel’ written under it though so... Danny can’t help but bend over wheezing a little, “oh I so saw that coming!”, shaking his head and chuckling, “or something similar at least”. Okay he expected to get smacked over the head with an invisible staff out of nowhere, not a passive-aggressive yet still somehow fond drawing. Straightening up and turning back to the class while whipping at his eye, “y’all signed up for this, remember that”.

Danny sits down and starts going over the syllabus, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, but Jesse interrupts him halfway through, “are we just ignoring everything that just happened with the magic drawing?”. Danny looking at him and smirking, “a good rule of thumb in life is when the literal god of time chastises you, you move on immediately. Just good life advice if you want to keep doing the whole living thing”. Expectedly that gets him a lot of staring. Danny rolls his wrist around, “that Vortex ghost is also a god by the by. Same with UnderGrowth. Pandora’s a minor god technically”, tilting his head, “then there’s the whole mess of Pariah who’s pretty much just a way worse version of Hades”, smirking, “Amity’s seen some big names in the ghost world”.

“What the fuck”.

Danny just snickers at that while Valerie puts her head in her hands and shakes it.

Surprisingly the rest of the class is seemingly going normally, Lancer did stick his head in and eyeball the whiteboard which Danny gave him a ‘what did you expect from me? Honestly’ smirk for, and surprisingly no one decided to ask Danny how the actual fuck he knew the time god if they even believed him on that anyway. But maybe five minutes before class is over, Danny’s ghost sense goes off, because of fucking course, but it just feels like Boxy. So Danny, smirking, checks his phone to use as some kind of excuse for how he knows the Box Ghost’s here, gets up and goes to the window, opening it up, sticking his head out, and shouting, “HEY BOXY!”. That, of course, gets the ghost's attention immediately, who does his scary fingers thing, “YOU DARE DRAW THE ATTENTION OF THE MOST FEARSOME GHOST IN EXISTENCE! THE BOX GHOST!”. Danny just rolls his eyes, points towards the whiteboard in the classroom and shouts back, “WE DID A POLL! YOU'RE THE SECOND MOST FAVOURITE GHOST!”. The Box Ghost stares at him for a bit, goes a little wide-eyed, floats towards the ground, and starts crying. Danny pulls his head back in while cackling, looking back to the class, “congrats, we’ve just made the Box Ghost cry”; which absolutely makes everyone start laughing as the bell goes off. Danny smirking more, “I feel very accomplished with myself”.

Surprisingly most of his freaking students actually wave him goodbye, which is weird as heck but also kinda cool, Dash just scowls at him though; get fucked dick-weed. Val stays behind a bit, expected, and sits on the corner of his desk, “so this is really happening, huh?”.

“Yup. Guess so”, leaning back in his chair a little, “you gonna turn this into a debate club or?”, chuckling, “though I doubt you’ll actually learn a whole lot”. She nods at that, “I could probably teach this myself”, grumbling, “if I wasn’t still stuck as a student”, sighing, “I’m not gonna argue in class though, I know you’re ghost friendly, Danny, that’s gonna show obviously”, shrugging and smirking a little, “I just might need a little bit more proof before I take your word on something”.

“Just for that I’m going to bring in Cujo next class”.

“You wouldn’t”.

Danny smirks, “try me. He’ll really liven up the lesson on classifications of ghost types. Truly he is one of the best examples of an animal ghost”. She sounds downright offended, “then bring in a freaking ectopuss! Not the life-ruining dog!”.

“But everyone loves dogs, Val”, Danny smirks, “besides, ectopusses aren’t proper animal ghosts, they’re a type of blob ghost”. She grumbles a bit incoherently before muttering, “dick”, and leaving for her next class; leaving Danny chuckling.

(And Valerie absolutely spent the next day’s class glaring bloody murder at a tiny green puppy, inspiring slight fear and concern in her classmates; Danny just looked progressively more smug which only made his students more concerned).

-

Before Danny actually managed to leave the school, since he didn’t actually have to be there outside of his one class though something tells him that if the ecto-ology trial run works out then he’ll be stuck ‘teaching’ it two or three times a day. Ugh but also so much potential chaos. Anyway, Lancer catches up to him, sounding just slightly out of breath, “your first teaching experience go well, Daniel?”.

Danny smirks, “brought a ghost to tears, only made one mild ecto-hazard, and possibly annoyed a few thousand ghost cops; so good day actually”. Lancer stares at him a little, “should I be concerned”. Reasonable question.

“Maybe”, Danny chuckles, “to be fair, me teaching people about ghosts was absolutely going to piss off the eyeballs, said eyeballs are some ghost cops, it’s complicated”, chuckling a little though sounding/being a bit serious, “technically I really am the best choice for this, I know more than my folks or the G.I.W. do by miles”, smiling softly and a bit pitying a little, “and I know somethings that the living aren’t exactly supposed to”.

Lancer eyes him and shakes his head slightly, “I know, Daniel. I know”. Danny absolutely quirks an eyebrow at that because what the Hell does Lancer mean by that? So he just gives a simple, “oh?”, for a response; weak as shit but it’ll have to do. Lancer nods, “I’m not as oblivious as I let the students think, so yes I know. Though try to keep your, ghost activities let’s say, outside of the classroom? Don’t bring students into your spat with ghost cops”.

Danny actually coughs, again what the fuck. Shaking his head a little bug-eyed, “again, you scare me, Lance”, shaking his head again, “though no, their problem with me is the fact that I exist, so”, and shrugs; Danny is still a little goddamn thrown here. Lancer sighs, “I guess I should have expected that. And I’ll admit to having some questions about that, but-”, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “-I don’t truly need an answer there”. Danny, for a lack of knowing what else to do, finger guns; Lancer looks less than impressed.

Chapter 3: Ghosts In The Know

It takes a total of three days for a ghost to actually show up during Danny’s designated class time -the Box Ghost and ClockWork’s sudden appearances don’t count- and while Danny’s fairly certain Lancer at least has some kind of guess about the whole Phantom thing Danny’s not going to just go ghost in goddamn class; that would have been dumb when he was a student and it would only be dumber to do as a freaking teacher. At least as a student he didn’t have a class worth of people somewhat staring at him. But hey at least he had just been facing the whiteboard when his breath decided to be all icy fog, that was something; him watching it frost up the board for a couple of seconds and attempting to verbally steamroll right over the random sudden pause in his speaking. He also absolutely can hear Val’s scanner do its little proximity warning beep.

“-but we’re not talking about Cores today even if that’s unique to proper ghosts, so not getting into that right now”. Turning around and putting down the marker, seeing as he can’t exactly just let Skulker go running around. “Now I’ll be right back”, he almost says ‘bathroom’ but as a teacher he doesn’t need to do that shit anymore, he doesn’t have to justify himself to fucking nobody. But just before he gets to the door he points at Val, who’s mouth is slightly open and is definitely absolutely about to ask if she can go, so he smirks, “and no. You can’t”. She looks so confused and a bit freaked out that he can’t help laughing. He does catch James mutter, “did he just pull his bathroom thing? Seriously?”; which just makes Danny laugh to himself even more as he ducks off around a corner to transform.

He doesn’t have to go very far seeing as Skulker was practically directly outside of the area where his classroom was, looking supremely confused and quirking a robotic eyebrow with his arms crossed at Danny, “really, whelp?”. Danny flips him off and shoots him one in the face pretty well immediately, which starts off their standard combat. Skulker shooting off a rocket with a snide and definitely meant to be insulting comment of, “never would have pegged you for teaching or for telling humans our secrets”.

Danny near shouting back with a snort, “secrets my ass! Shove a floppy disk in it!”. That very predictably gets him a more well-aimed rocket to the face.

-

Meanwhile, in the classroom, Jesse glances around, “should we even be surprised?”.

“No but since he’s, you know, the teacher, I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t be playing hooky or whatever”.

Valerie snorts, “oh as if Lancer didn’t know what he was getting into here. Besides Danny was never going to be a normal anything”. Dash smirks and laughs meanly, “no shit, damn freak”. Valerie absolutely throws an eraser at him for that.

“I’m more curious how he predicted Valerie pulling her own bathroom thing”.

“Obvious answer there, he does it so he knows it”.

“Damn, got a point”.

Valerie grumbles and crosses her arms, “and here I thought he’d be totally cool with that”. Emilie laughing, “yeah you’d think, especially if he was going to keep doing it”. Todd pushes himself to stand up with a smirk, “Well I vote we go through his desk, this is Danny after all”; more than a few people look curious, some look cautious though.

Valerie blinking, before smirking and laughing to herself, “yes, go right ahead, do that, see what happens”. That earns even more cautious looks. Valerie knew Danny, had been in his house and room, she knew exactly what kind of state those two places were in. His desk drawers were absolutely boobytrapped. Todd, however, doesn’t give a shit, and just shrugs while moving up to said desk.

Valerie isn’t even slightly surprised when a bunch of snakes-in-a-can pop out of the very first drawer Todd opens, they’re all green because of course they are. Todd mutters a slightly startled, “fuck”, and kicks one of the snakes.

“HA! Suck it, Todd”.

James shakes his head, eyeing the green fake snakes, “I have a feeling that everything in this class is going to be ghost-themed”. Valerie rolls her eyes, “obviously, have you somehow missed the ghost-themed clothing? Or the fact that Danny is, and has always been, a damn pun machine?”. Over half the class groans or chuckles. Valerie rolling her hand and leaning back, “pretty sure he was wearing a pair of Sam’s platforms today, the ones with little plastic green ghosts shaking around inside”. Dash mutters almost absently, “huh, so that’s why he seems taller today”.

“Dash... why are you noticing his freaking height”.

“Shut up, Jesse. I can’t physically shove him in lockers anymore but I sure as shit can imagine it”.

Valerie sighs very loudly at that, but at least Dash wasn’t quite stupid enough to try bullying a teacher. Even if that teacher was Danny and the same age as him. Which, talk about wild. She honestly did not believe Danny for a second when he said he would be teaching at CasperHigh and yet here he was. Teaching. It was definitely weird, but at least nothing had blown up yet. Hopefully Phantom went and dealt with Skulker though, she’d think Danny would be one who let people leave whenever, guess not. Her scowling a little over that. Todd opening up another drawer and a black and white ghost popping their head out jerks her right out of her head though. Todd falling on his ass and scrambling back, “holy shit! What the fuck!”.

James blinks and wheezes, standing up like basically everyone else, “Danny had a whole ass ghost in his desk, what?!?”. Said ghost floats up, looks around, and waves; while the entire class just stands there, many with ecto-pistols drawn at this point.

“I’m picking up a lot of hostility here, busters”.

Todd grumbles, “you have got to be shitting me”. The ghost tilts their head, “I don’t think Phantom would like that very much. Totally not tubular”. Valerie facepalms and lowers her small blaster, “you’re that old ghost that haunts one of Danny’s old lockers, aren’t you”. The ghost gives her a thumbs up, “that’s the dealio!”.

“... and why were you just in his desk drawer?”.

The ghost crosses their skinny arms and huffs, “when I picked up on the Ha-Danny being here again I had to make sure that buster wasn’t up to his bully ways again”. Dash actually burst out laughing and drops back into his seat at that, “Fenton?!? A bully?!? Man what are you smoking?!?”; which the ghost gives him a very strange look for.

“Poindexter, by the Ancients, how many times do I have to tell you that I wasn’t being a bully, I was getting back at one. Geez”. The entire class goes still and snaps their heads around to Danny, who’s just casually walking in. Dash muttering, “I knew that twerp was the one screwing with me”.

Poindexter rolls his eyes, “like I believe that, buster. Someone would have to be a real dummy to do that to you”. Danny very obviously glares at the ghost, “I said that Dash is a bully, not that he’s smart”. Dash scowls very audibly, “I’ll make you eat those words, Fentit”. Danny instantly holds up a pink detention slip and smirks, while Dash very obviously holds back shouting expletives at him. The ghost just looks confused. Danny turning to the ghost, having to look up a little as he takes his seat, “like I said, not smart”. Dash just scowls while Danny continues speaking but while looking at the class instead of the ghost, “so where were we?”.

Amber blinks, “are we just ignoring the ghost that popped out of your desk?”; while everyone starts sitting back down slowly.

Danny quirking an eyebrow at the ghost, “why, man?”. While Amber tosses up her hands and sits back down too.

“I was looking for anything suspicious. Never know with you”.

Emilie chuckles to herself, “I like how ghosts apparently find him as suspicious as people do”. Earning her a few nods.

Dash rolls his eyes, “oh like what, ghost-themed pencils? A change of underwear in case his own class scares him?”. Danny starting to hold up another pink slip shuts the jock up real quick. Poindexter looks genuinely surprised and turns to Danny, “hold the phone, you sayin’ that rumour that everyone thinks you’re afraid of ghosts is actually the real deal???”. Danny just sighs, “it was a very good and effective way out of my folks trying to make a hunter of me”. While practically half the class shouts, “THAT WAS FAKE!”, including one stunned Dash who had thought he was being so smart and cruel by taking full advantage of Danny’s ‘fear’.

Danny chuckles and looks around, “yup. Sorry not sorry”. Lancer picks that very moment to stick his head in, looking at the ghost then Danny, “Daniel...”.

Danny sighs and waves him off, “I know, it’s just Poindexter though. He’s here somewhere in the school almost every day and has been for, like, decades. Longer than I’ve been alive at least. He’s just seldom visible. Here’s his haunt”. Lancer sighs, “very well”, and just leaves; clearly not wanting to deal with all of that.

James blinks, “so, uh, is he going to stay or? And how the heck did you, but not the school, know about him?”. Poindexter huffs, crosses his arms, and seemingly vanishes; Danny, however, watches the transparent teen ghost just sort of float to the back of the class while making ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ finger motions at Danny. Danny rolling his eyes while responding, “maybe, maybe not. And you know that locker that’s rumoured to be haunted that I was randomly assigned to for a while? Yeah that’s totally true. We’ll talk about lair cores later. There was also a mild body-swapping incident”.

“Excuse me?”.

Danny points at James, “I have been through some shit, man. Body swapping with a ghost was less weird and more annoying though”. The entire class just stares at him which he takes as a chance to get back to the lesson plan. “So as I was saying...”.

-

Valerie winds up approaching him after the bell, “you know one of these days I’m going to figure out what the Zone that nickname that ghosts have for you is”. Danny quirks an eyebrow, because of course Poindexter probably nearly called him ‘the halfa’ since that’s what Poindexter literally always called him. Smirking at her, “I don’t doubt that, Val. Just like someday you’ll be fully honest about your, ahem, extracurricular activities”, and chuckles while she rolls her eyes. Her muttering, “oh whatever. Anyway, wanna go to a movie after school or are you too busy with teacher duties”.

Danny huffs, “as if. I only do one class you know, so sure why not”. Lancer picks that moment to stick his head in again, “actually you need to finalise that first assignment, also you do realise that as a teacher you are supposed to watch your language?”.

Danny gives an awkward, “uuuuhhhhh”, before scrunching up his face in a pout, leaning back in his chair dramatically, and whining loudly while Val laughs at him, “do I haaaaavvvvveeee toooooo?”. Lancer’s sigh is a pained one.

(Danny absolutely starts out the next class with, “so one of you s̴͜͝h̴i̶t̡̨͡s snitched on me so prepare for some slight language changes, b͘͘itc͜͝he͢͝ş̛”. Which earned a mixture of confused looks, laughs, and a couple glares at Todd, Dash, and Brittney; who were the most likely suspects. And really no one was actually surprised in the slightest that Danny seemingly knew GhostSpeak, it just tracked honestly).

---

Was Danny looking forward to this first assignment thingy? Haha fuck no. He’s just going to assume marking is Hell but he already established that he wasn’t the kind of sick freak that makes the very first assignment the one required oral presentation or some shitty quiz; and fine he already put down ‘research assignment on an unusual ghost theory you have’ in the syllabus but what the actual crap was he supposed to do for the guild lines of this to avoid getting the kind of ridiculous shit that he himself would write. Because as funny as getting twenty-odd papers about Plasmius’s clear attempts at making up for his fragile masculinity or about Phantom’s fashion choices would be, Danny’d rather not. Well he could just be like: y’all can either do all your papers on Phantom or none, vote now. At least then he would either be prepared to read a bunch of wild shit about himself or go in knowing he won’t have to read any about himself.

Rolling over in bed and sighing, “well I guess I could just limited the second option to known frequently seen ghosts?”, blinking, “oh and none can be on Boxy because I see too much of that problem man as it is”. Speaking of problems, he also has to figure out how he’s going to spend an hour getting stared at by most of his students (fuck that was still super weird) sans an entire hand; because sure the rest of his arm will have reformed by noon, but the hand will still an issue. Too bad he didn’t manage to find the chopped-off limb before it dissipated into free-floating ectoplasm. While he does appreciate that no one’s going to just stumble across his severed limb, getting it back would have been way better. Eh fuck it, super long sleeves day it is, Jazz did attempt at dark humour once and gifted him a straightjacket so what the heck time to look like a crazy person the legit way.

Of course it’s currently three am so he is not getting dressed right now, not a chance.

-

Does he get to fall back asleep and actually stay asleep till eleven or so? No, when does he ever? Fuck ghosts and their lack of caring about his shitty sleep schedule. It’s now five am, his ghost sense has got him mostly shivering awake, and his blankets don’t even qualify as actually still on his bed. Him letting himself slump onto the floor while transforming and starting to float up in the air before only slightly lazily flying out his window. If anyone asks about his eye-bags, he bought them off the black market. Does that make sense? Not really no. Does he care? Also no.

Him floating up on Ember smashing up a street sign with her guitar, pinching his nose while otherwise hanging limply in the air, “Ember, why?”. He’s too tired for this shit, Ancients.

“Anarchy”. She hits the sign again.

Danny sighs, “well could you go be ‘anarchy’ when said anarchy doesn’t result in my sleep becoming anarchy too? I really don’t feel like having the R.E.M. sleep government centres of my brain overthrown today”. That actually gets her to pause and look up at him, smirking and snickering after a bit, “you do look like shit”, then very pointedly looking to his half reformed arm; hey at least he had a proper elbow again! Shove a dick in it, goddamn. He absolutely flips her off before shooting her guitar, “go home, Ember. I have class”.

She gives him a pitying look like an absolute ass, “oh did they not let you graduate from that indoctrinating soul-crushing suffering?”, then grinning almost manically, “let’s burn it down!”.

“Jesus Ancients no, I work there”.

“Oh so you’ve become a cog in the machine for the man”.

Danny sighs very loudly, “okay what capitalist crawled up your ass and died, fuck. And if anything my mere presence is causing chaos”, chuckling hollowly, “one of the other teachers drank my coffee accidentally and was absolutely losing their beans half the day. And only one person’s gotten a mild case of ecto-poisoning”, sighing, “Ancients, Todd’s a dumbass. I mean-”, gesturing vaguely with his intact hand, “-I knew that, but next time he wants to ‘prove he can bend steel’ with a bar of ectoplasm I’m just going to let him break his arm and get full-blown contamination”.

Ember shakes her head, “I say let him. And so you are teaching humans ghost stuff”. Danny just shrugs kinda noncommittally at that. She smirks, “teaching death is more punk rock I guess, babypop”, while attempting to give him a boot kick to the face since she apparently couldn’t leave without causing him some level of bodily harm. He, of course, grabs her ankle and just flips her over him. Hand-to-hand combat was not her strong suit. She does successfully get him one with a laser drumstick though. Which hooray for a burnt hip. Fun. At least he knows she’ll just head back to her lair now, no real need for the capture and release thing; most ghosts pretty firmly decided they’d rather just go home after a Phantom ass beat down than getting sucked into the thermos, so they left immediately. Others were fine to just leave to their business. Some were true bad time problems. And then there was the Box Ghost... fucking moron. Ancients he is going the fuck back to bed.

-

Annnnnndddd now he’s late. Fuck. It’s a little past noon. FUCK. He sighs very loudly while practically scrambling out of bed, getting tangled in the sheets, phasing through the sheets when he remembers he can do shit like that, grabbing random ass shit from his closet and phasing that on. Quick mirror check... and yup, he looks like a dumbass and his sweaters backwards. At least he actually grabbed a sweater, he, however, did not grab pants. But fuck it, shorts it is. Shorts that are shorter on one side than the other because they got burnt and said burn marks are super noticeable on the neon green fabric.

He’s hopping out his window when he tries to grab the frame and just face-plants instead because, fuck, right, no goddamn hand dumbass. Quickly scrambling back and phasing off his sweater while also tripping backwards over the first aid kit he left haphazardly on the floor like a complete lazy idiot. Landing on his floor with an oof and sighing very loudly, just laying there half-naked for a couple of seconds, “why me?”. When he does get up he successfully grabs that straightjacket and makes it out the window, flying off to school while pulling it on.

Danny doesn’t even bother with walking into school, just smacks into the side of the building below the window to his classroom -honestly him having his own classroom still feels slightly surreal but he’s kinda used to it at this point. At least a little anyways- and a quick glance around plus transforming back human and visible and he knows he’s good, his singular hand holding onto the windowsill. Is he cheating by still defying gravity a little? Yes. But one Danny Fenton absolutely does not feel like falling to the ground and making an ass of himself yet again today. Huffing he lifts himself up, head-butts open the window -which can only open both ways because it’s an added safety feature in case a student got phased outside and was trying to get back inside through a closed window. His folks really did think of everything. Well almost everything- and scrambles in while his class freaks out a little. A couple fellow teens even scream/shriek and Ashley -who sits near the windows- actually fell out of her desk. Danny doesn’t even need to look up to hear Val’s extremely audible sigh though.

“What the fuck, Fenton?”.

“Danny!?!”.

“What the Hell?!?”.

“FUCK! Oh Zone thank everything, I thought he was a ghost for a second”.

“You’re late”.

“We’re on the second story, how the Hell did you get up here? And wait, did you head butt a window?? WHY ARE YOU WEARING A STRAIGHTJACKET??

“What????”.

“It’s a look though...”.

“Okay Danny being late isn’t all that weird, but you’d think... Like this is exactly why this class is after noon”.

“Is there a reason your top half and bottom half look like they came from two totally different fashion lines?”.

“Why couldn’t you have been five minutes later? We could have left then”.

“Are you okay?”.

“Danny.... what did you do?”.

“Wait, were you the thump on the wall just now?”.

Danny shuffles to stand up straight and brushes himself off with the long floppy arm-sleeves of the straightjacket, waltzing to the front of the classroom. Fuck he forgot his backpack. Damn. Guess he’ll just have to talk about the assignment instead of handing out the sheet things. Oh well. Turning to the class and gesturing them to shut up by waving his hand around which really just makes the sleeve flap around ridiculously.

Pretty much the entire class bursts out laughing at him after a couple seconds of silence.

Danny sighing, “okay okay, yes I’m late, but class or whatever begins now. Also y’all need to vote on whether your research c̷͝r͟a͘p҉͜ will all be on Phantom or none will be on Phantom. It’s all or nothing, you mǫ͡t̨͘h̴̛e͠r̷͞f̸u̴c̕k̨e͠r͢s̴”. That earns both groans and slight laughs, eh Danny’s cool with that.

Val doesn’t even give him a chance to ask for hand voting when she blinks down at his feet, “Danny... how did you even manage that???”. Danny quirking an eyebrow, “huh?”, then looking down... looking down at his laced-up socks. Fucking damnit. He thought he had phased on shoes, even laced them up; guess he just phased random shoelaces tying around threw his goddamn socks and laced up the socks. Danny sighs and slumps a little, “well okay then, guess today’s a no shoes kinda day”, and sighs again before looking up and shrugging at Val, who huffs disbelievingly at him. Fair.

Todd jerks up his hand, “can we go shoeless too then? Otherwise, unfair”. Danny sighs and waves him off, “go nuts, f̵̧͢uc̴̨ķ̴̕ if I care today”. That earns him a round of blinking and snickering; some people do actually take him up on his apathy and take off their shoes. Dash snapping, “not that I care, but what the Hell happened to you?”. Danny smirks at him, “I decide your grade so you kinda have to care”, and sticks his tongue out him like a petulant brat purely because he can. “I got hit in the head by an ectoplasmicly infused guitar at five am and didn’t regain consciousness till-”, glancing at the clock, “-however many minutes ago”.

Jesse blinks, “I can’t tell if that’s a creative lie... or not”. Danny finger guns before turning to the board and scribbling on it, “alright, voting hand time. Left for no Phantom, right for all Phantom...”.

Annnnnnnd, glancing around at the hands, looks like he’s receiving twenty-odd papers on himself. Wonderful. Whelp hopefully this’ll at least be interesting and mildly creative. Danny nodding with his hand and stump wrist on his hips at the board then turning around to face everyone with a huff, “alright then, now if anyone sends their research to the G.I.W. you automatically fail. I don’t want them getting any more funny ideas and having Phantom around is at least marginally a good thing. Honestly”. Earning him some snickers.

“Just marginally? He’s better than your parents”.

Danny glares at Todd, “hush, y͜ou͟҉ ̵s͞a̸l̴ţ͠y͘̕ ̢w̡͞et̷͡ ̡͠n͟͟ơ̢͝o͏d̡҉le”. Putting his intact hand back on his hips, “my folks aside, assignments. It’s on the syllabus and really you already know what to do so yeah. I’ll give you guys the papers for it tomorrow because, like my shoes apparently, I forgot them”. More than one teen gives him a really weird look and James mutters, “honestly? I think I prefer this, uh, ‘teaching’ style? He’s just so done”.

“More like one of us”.

“He is literally my age, he is one of us”.

“Oh yeah”.

Danny glances up at the ceiling, sighs, and talks slightly louder than necessary, “as for actual lesson plans, more ghost history slash lore, yay-”.

“At least he didn’t forget where he left off”.

Danny points at Todd, because come on man, seriously, “I will steal all your number two pencils, Todd”. James blinking, “why does that work as a legit threat?”. Danny points at him, “because then the scantrons will f̵̨̢u̵c̨͜͡k̶̵ up so he can’t take tests and he’ll have to ask the teacher for one embarrassing himself because no fellow teen would give him theirs because h͘e ̸s̨͢u̸̧̡c̷̡ks̕͠”.

“The fact that that is even slightly thought out and remotely realistic is actually worse”.

Dash actually looks legit slightly concerned and weirded out. Maybe he finally realised Danny’s kinda a whole ass nightmare when he feels like it. That’s without adding in the whole half-ghost clusterfuck he’s got going on.

-

Danny gets about halfway through his class when Charles just straight up opens the door. Danny should booby trap that sometime. “Okay I can’t believe I’m asking you this but tell me you have a spare stapler... what am I looking at here?”.

Danny had been gesturing a bit exaggeratedly at the whiteboard that had a doodle of a couple of Ancients on it, him dropping his arms and turning to the science teacher, “what, in any world, would make you think I have a spare of anything other than coffee, guns, thermoses, and maybe food; though the last one may or may not be inedible. Also, today was a crazy person day so yes this is, in fact, a straightjacket”. The fellow teacher smirks, “get that from the asylum you stayed at?”. Danny rolls his eyes, “oh har har, dickweed”, and chuckles; Charles was one of the teachers he got on better with even if the guy had zero sense of boundaries and sticks his nose in just about anything he found interesting, and Danny was basically a walking ball of interesting. Danny snaps his fingers and turns to the class, “oh I have actually been to an asylum before though”.

Ashley coughs, “Danny, you could make a living off of surprising people with random life bits. Get a tv show”.

Danny’s ghost sense goes off at the exact moment that an echoing voice says, “oh I quite agree”, from the direction of the window.

Charles goes wide-eyed and blurts out, “wellsinceyouclearlydon’thaveastaplerI’mgoingtogofindonebye”, and promptly shuts the door with a slam. Danny, meanwhile, snaps his head to the window and watches the Ghost Writer cross his legs while floating a bit above the windowsill. Danny blinks, “what and why”, and sounding stern enough to make a couple students jump/jerk in their seats. Valerie, Emilie, and a few others have weapons drawn already; expected and good really. The Ghost Writer rolls his eyes faintly and tosses his scarf over one shoulder dramatically while Danny slowly scoots over to his desk, not that the Ghost Writer seems to care, pursing his lips at Danny, “curious. Here I thought you had a hatred for literature and education”.

Danny rolls his eyes harshly, “no. Just Christmas”, pooping open one of the drawers. The class just watching tensely in the background.

“Christmas books”.

Danny rolls his eyes again, “Ancients fuck, man”, smirking a little, “here have some-”, jerking up an orange -that he, yes, had in his desk purely to spite this very specific ghost even though the Ghost Writer basically never came to the Mortal Realm- and stabbing it with his nails to make its juices leak down his hand/arm and makes the room smell noticeably citrusy, “-vitamin C for cannonball so you can shoot on outta here”. Valerie side-eyes Danny with a slightly dumbfounded look before dropping her arms, and her gun, down and turning to him, “seriously?”. Danny just shrugs loosely and bites a chunk out of the orange earning a lot of disgusted looks. Fair, he hadn’t exactly peeled off the skin or anything. But hey, the Ghost Writer looks thoroughly and deeply offended; so that’s a point for Danny.

The Ghost Writer audibly sighs, pushes up his glasses, and closes his eyes for a second before speaking up, “as I’m sure you know, The GhostWriters Manor has a fairly high and active patronage”, glaring a little, “regardless of men of a certain sort being unwelcome“.

Brittney leans over to Ashley, who’s shaking and a little stiff, “oooo I wonder what the heck Danny did. Boy’s banned from a library”. Dash scoffs weakly and a little wide-eyed, “o-oh please, getting banned from a library is, ah, is weak sauce”. Todd smirking at the jock, “smooooth”; and gets flipped off for the comment.

Danny shrugs and bites the orange with emphasis, speaking through a mouthful, “‘ell maye searaint ‘en ould ave ettr tases”, and swallows harshly. The Ghost Writer scowls. Danny quirking an eyebrow after a bit, “soooo?”. Making the ghost shake his head and mutter, “I truly can’t believe this”, then looking to Danny, “as a man of the written word there is a level of... respect, even begrudging respect, for those that teach it”, digging into his satchel and pulling out a card, “you may have a card again”; the Ghost Writer sounds almost physically pained to be saying that. Which of course means Danny absolutely has to bug the guy and the windows being phase-proof gives Danny ample time to do so.

Danny smirks, “and here I thought I was never even granted one in the first place”, and dramatically puts a hand to his chest, sounding overly sarcastic, “iMaGiNe HoW bLeSsEd I mUsT fEeL tO bE rEcEiViNg SuCh A tRuLy SpLeNdId GiFt SuCh As ThIs”, sauntering over in the most fruity and dramatic way he possibly can, popping open the window seductively, and snatching away the card, “ThAnKs BaBe”, and winks like an absolute ass.

Emilie collapses to the floor and starts wheeze laughing.

The Ghost Writer jerks away from him, scowls, and adjusts his glasses while trying to compose himself. Huffing a little, “consider the libraries resources yours, do be at least slightly decent and use them educationally”, the vanishing from sight; Danny following the flying off transparent ghost with his eyes before pulling his front half back into his classroom fully. Huh. Will he actually take up the ghosts offer? Might actually be a good idea also, fuck the gov he now has even more access to information they could only ever salivate over in dreamland.

Turning back to the class, “whelp, that happened”, humming and tilting his head, “too bad I definitely can’t get approval for an impromptu field trip to a ghost library”.

Valerie throws up her hands, slumps back into her desk, shoves her gun back into her bag, and glares at Danny. Todd bursts out laughing while Jesse blinks, “did that just happen?”. Dash screws up his face a little, “the Hell you little wimp?”. Danny’s just going to assume the guy never realised that Danny kinda had a pair of brass balls.

Danny smirks at the class, smacking the whiteboard, “I’m tougher than you, deal with it or eat a pink slip. Now class is basically over so I’m not even going to bother continuing with this, but in case any of y’all are wondering The Ghost Writer gains power from the influence, importance, and popularity of any form of writing that was written by a ghostwriter or anonymously. Totally in charge of basically the biggest library in the Zone, which yes I was banned from apparently due to blowing up a book”. Todd scoffs at that and rolls his eyes, clearly trying to seem unimpressed.

Ashley sticks up a hand and speaks anyway, “did you really not know you were banned?”. Danny waves her off with his handless arm, okay he’s got a palm again but stilll, “do you know just how many places have banned me or my entire family”, tilting his head, “or just my dad at least”, which earns him some chucking before the bell goes off and he starts shooing everyone out loosely. Emilie goes right up to his desk though, grinning almost meanly, “tell me you are going to bring ghost books”. Valerie goes wide-eyed a little and glares at the back of Emilie’s head, then at Danny when he smirks and shrugs, “oh I don’t see why not, heck let’s make that the reading requirement. Read a book written by ghosts”. Val makes a series of faces, likely torn between curiosity and being completely done with his general shit. Emile smirks and fist bumps before leaving.

Danny quirking an eyebrow at Valerie getting her to finally speak up, “you are unbelievable, Danny”, shaking her head and walking closer, “so about this assignment thing-”.

Danny groans dramatically, “oh Ancients, way to make me feel like a teacher”. She smacks him over the head for that, “better?”. Danny just smirks and nods curtly, giving a cheery, “yup”. Valerie rolls her eyes, “anyway, I know it’s been decided everyone’s doing Phantom-”, rolling her eyes a little, “-but could I maybe do mine on the other Phantom”, and stares at him.

Oh she is so totally trying to gauge if he knows shit, not that that was remotely subtle. Eyeing her a little, “if you don’t save that kind of subject to your computer then sure, I guess I didn’t specify Danny with a y Phantom. But-”, squinting just a little, “-if, say, the G.I.W. manage to hack things and find out some things that might be dangerous”. Valerie blinks before shaking her head in disbelief, “how the Zone”, sighing, “I’m pretty good with tech these days, but yeah okay”, and gives him a bit of a weird look before rushing off at the warning bell.

---

Does Danny decide to take up the Ghost Writers offer? Yes, yes he does. Barging in and walking around like he owns the place, the Ghost Writer blatantly massaging his temples while Danny walks up to the guys little counter thingy, “so got any twelve odd copies of the same fiction book? That a bunch of teens who may or may not wreck them can have? Also could totally use some lore and historical books, you know, for reasons”.

The Ghost Writer sighs, pours himself some tea, gets up and nods, “yes, do attempt to see them returned though”.

“I make no promises”.

That gets him another sigh but Danny follows the ghost around anyway. The Ghost Writer winds up getting a bit excited and gives him an honestly excessive amount of books at the end of the day. Danny also learns that apparently it was Ember who was a blabbermouth and told the writing ghost when she was checking out, or something, a musician's after-death memoir. Figures a singer couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

-

The Ghost Writer patting the stack almost affectionately, “a happy book is a read book and I have a lot here, so enjoy”, and gives Danny a ‘come back’ look that’s just slightly threatening which Danny’s just going to assume is because the guy had vaguely forgotten who he’s talking to, that or the Ghost Writer hated him a lot less than he thought. The ghost holding up a finger, “ah yes, since you were proactive and showed at least some genuine care for the craft, here”, and plops a little green writing quill down on the stack. Danny is oddly genuinely touched.

Danny blushing and rubbing his neck a bit, “uh, appreciated?”. This honestly said more than it seemed, sure they clearly were bickering and were not exactly fond of each other but it seemed that the Ghost Writer was yet another once-antagonistic ghost that was now at least somewhat on team Phantom’s side.

“Yes, now if you’re done loitering”, the Ghost Writer makes shooing motions at Danny, “be on your way”. Danny rolls his eyes but does, in fact, leave... with an unnecessary amount of books in tow.  

Chapter 4:  An Education In Fashion

So apparently someone went and threw a little complaint about Danny’s straightjacket stunt, him wearing a near-floor-length parka the next day with shorts probably didn’t help though, and now Danny’s at the mall for reasons other than having fun or fighting some ghost. How does Danny know someone complained? Well a little conversation with Lancer that went a little something like this: “Daniel, I know the school’s a little... lax, but we do actually have a dress code. Which again, you are supposed to actually be marginally following unless it’s for safety reasons”. Which he had of course responded to with, “technically a straightjacket is a restraining device sooooo...”, which got him glared at. In short, Danny now had to buy new clothing. New clothing meant for teaching, which was weird as fuck.

Was he doing this alone? Zone no! He had absolutely recruited Sam and Tuck to wander around with him. Which, speaking of...

“Sup, dude!”.

Danny grins to himself before turning to his friends, “hey, Tuck man”, looking to Sam and nodding, “look at you slumming it like a mall goth”. Sam rolls her eyes at him and flips him off aggressively. Tuck smacks his arm, “more like look at you actually buying clothing new instead of digging through used stores for cheap shit. What? Did Casperhigh finally develop standards?”, and smirks.

Sam scowls at the techno-geek, “it’s better that he doesn’t support corporate-run stores and name brand garbage. What with all the slave labour, animal abuse, and terrible worker treatment”. Danny looks down very pointedly at her plaid T.U.K creepers that are 100% not bought from a used store; Sam shoves him, making him stagger a little with a laugh.

Him looking to Tucker, “Lance asked kinda nice-ishly so I’m being nice to the poor man”, smirking, “and maybe this’ll make up for me sorta kinda being responsible for one of the water fountains spewing out black water for a bit there”. Both of them stare at him for a bit before laughing, Tucker patting his back after a bit with a smile, “they hired you, what did they expect”.

Danny sticks his arms out exaggeratedly while the trio start walking, “I keep telling them that!”. Sam shaking her head with a smile, “well trying to appease the man or not, don’t you dare say we’re suit shopping”. Danny screwing his face up at her before gesturing around, “do you see Vladdie around? Because I fucking guarantee you he’d have some kind of sensor or informant for if I so much as stepped into a suit store or tailor, and he’d immediately show up to at least stare at my choices judgingly or offer to pay by flashing around a fancy credit card”. Tucker snorting, “that shouldn’t feel as accurate as it does”; making everyone laugh as they head into one of the ‘teen’ oriented stores. Danny was buying new passable clothing, not high-class ‘adult’ clothing.

The first thing Danny sees is bandanas, MORE FUCKING BANDANAS! Yes, he’s so here for this. Well not this specifically but you know. He grabs a new alien one, one that looks like a white dragons mouth (Tuck muttered something about seeing one just like that at a furry con which really just encouraged Danny to take it but with a shit-eating grin), two ghost ones because of course and if one of them is pink and glittery and has sequins then that’s his business and no one else’s shut up, another that looks like bloody tie-dye, and one that reads ‘SATAN just do it’ with a Nike checkmark; the last one might just get him in trouble but he’s pretty sure just the existence of his class/him already pisses off Christianity so why not go for a home run.

Sam eyes the SATAN bandana as she walks back over from another store, her smirking, “nice. Anyway, shoes”, and shoves a bag at him. Danny quirking an eyebrow while digging inside and chuckling at the white doc martins, snorting, “I thought I was the only one here supposed to be making jokes about my suit while also blatantly hinting at my shit”.

Sam scowls and crosses her arms, “they’re not sneakers and they’re mildly ‘professional’, deal with it”. Danny just chuckles as he pays for his bandanas and the dress-shirt with frowning depressed bananas all over it that Tuck threw at him.

Walking out and looking around before all three share a Look, breaking out in matching grins and speaking in unison, “HotTopic”, and then march off with determination written across their faces; which yes, gets them actively avoided by everyone who knew who they were, which was basically all of Amity these days.

Danny’s got crushed velvet straight cut pants that marginally resemble dress pants -Lancer will so not let him get away with freezer burnt crust pants or grey sweat pants at an assembly or whatever- folded over an arm while he’s shoving around some of the angsty and anime-themed hoodies when Kitty finally decides to approach him. Did he know she was here? Yes, obviously. Be weird and concerning if he didn’t. But she was generally well behaved so he let her be. The biggest risk her and Johnny usually posed was traffic violations. So not his problem.

Anyway, Kitty pokes the pants, quirks an eyebrow and hums a little, “nice choice there, Danny”, humming a little more before grabbing up a hoodie with a plague doctor on it and the words ‘there is no cure only infection, and I’m patient zero’, and shoving it at him, “that’s more your style”.

Danny blinks, “I see you’re trying to cut me with edge now, geez. But technically-”, holding up a finger from his unoccupied hand, “-anything that sheds ectoplasm is ‘contagious’ sooooooo”, and rolls his wrist. She gives him a pouty look, “I don’t know what I expected”.

Sam walks up, eyes the punk ghost before looking to Danny, “you’re getting a dress tailcoat, it says ‘dead boy’ on it”; making Danny wheeze a little and nod with a stupid grin. Kitty smiles a little bit before waving the goth off and starts walking away, “looks like you’ve already got a lady friend clinging around so I’ll be going”. Sam chucks a necklace at her while Danny coughs.

Regardless he gets the sweater because now he kinda has to. The tailcoat too though, because of course.

-

Sam and Tuck already have their supersized order of fries and respective meat and veggie burgers while Danny’s ordering his go-to coffee from his go-to coffee shop, gotta get in that dose of judgemental and mildly fearful staring. But Charles -yes Charles, not Lancer. Why the fuck?- winds up calling and Danny picks up feeling just mildly confused and curious, “uh, why? Also, how?”.

“So Danny, you’re an adult, a perfectly responsible adult-”. That tone is ominous as fuck, damnit. “-a responsible adult who does absolutely know how to safely handle ectoplasm-”. Oh Ancients.

Danny cuts him off, “what did you do to my classroom?”.

“Wh-what? I- nothing. Better question is what and why did you, honestly really, have a bomb-rigged drawer? Also, how does someone... convince a chunk of ectoplasm to get out of your closet and stop eating your ties? I mean, I think it might have eyes but I might also be wrong and it keeps squirming away from the microscope, which why would it do that?”.

Danny gives a pained smile, looks to the barista who’s now holding his venti cup filled with around thirty espresso shots, Danny sighing, “if I give you a fifty, could I convince you to add five more to that?”.

“What?”. Danny absolutely ignores Charles.

The barista looks down at the cup like she’s debating if potential manslaughter due to willful negligence was worth fifty dollars. Apparently yes, yes it is. She adds five more shots and Danny’s down fifty more bucks.

He absolutely catches her squatting down staring vacantly at the fifty muttering, “but was it worth it”, though. He cringes just a little bit; then he gets back to the phone call. Sighing, “blob ghosts typically have eyes, Charles, and the little guy’s eating your ties because you constantly let the things dangle down into your samples and don’t fucking wash them in an ectophobic solution. Gosh”, and rolls his eyes as he sits back down with his friends; who just quirk their eyebrows at him while he keeps talking away, “and of course my desk is bobby-trapped, man. If the G.I.W. activates that they’d be so bothered by the cleanliness breach that they’d just go home”. Tuck chokes and smacks the table comically a couple of times, making loud thumping noises.

Charles actually laughs, “true! So what can you do about the blob, buddy?”.

Danny screws up his face, pulls the phone away from his ear and stares down at it. Glancing to his friends, “a teacher just called me ‘buddy’???”, Danny’s not quite sure how to react to that, them laughing at him doesn’t help. Shaking his head he returns the phone to his ear and gives a cheery, “nope! Enjoy your new pet!”, and hangs up on the guy.

“Wha-”.

Danny starts eating the fries.

Tucker points his second burger at him, “you know...”. Danny pointing right back at him with a fry, “hush you”. He knows he’s a teacher himself alright, geez.

(Charles seemingly took Danny up on that pet comment and actually called FentonWorks for a containment unit and to ask about ‘ghost pet care’, Danny’s mom gave him the phone with a truly dumbfounded expression).

---

Alright, today’s the day. What day? Why the day to get paper assignments for the first goddamn time ever and try not to lose, destroy, contaminate, or otherwise ruin them. He’s fucked. Solidly fucked. But hey, at least it’s also the day to show off his shit fashion choices as well, little ray of sunshine there. Some light in the darkness.

He should probably attempt to win some points with Lancer and wear the dress shirt, honestly. So that’s what he’s gonna do. Depressed banana dress shirt, sequin alien bandana, crushed velvet pants, and what the heck the ‘dead boy’ tailcoat too why not; this boy is getting DRESSED UP today! And fine, yes he looks good based on his mirror's reflection; but his mirror is definitely ecto-contaminated so it might not be entirely trustworthy.

His dad also whistling at him as he heads downstairs for breakfast isn’t trustworthy either, considering the man’s fashion style was less of a ‘style’ and more of a scientific protective mess of orange and the occasional tie. Danny rolls his eyes and waves his dad off, “oh whatever, needed ‘proper attire’”, shrugging loosly, “whatever that means”. Jack beams, “just wear a jumpsuit! That’s always proper!”. Maddie looks away from the microwave she’s nuking some noodles in to glare at him, “not at a reunion, dear”; making Danny chuckle to himself while Jack rubs his neck. She still waves cheerily at Danny as he leaves though so...

-

This is one of those days he actually leaves early enough for a few quick patrol laps around his town, two ectopusses, the Box Ghost (because of course), all followed by him literally tripping into one of Skulker’s traps; hence why he was now peeling a basic ass bear trap -be more creative, tinman- off his leg. At least he had the sense to wipe off the ectoplasm with one of his random shit handkerchiefs before walking to the classroom and loudly dropping said beartrap on his desk in what was probably a slightly terrifying alpha move.

Is he early now? Haha no. At least three people jumped from the sudden loud noise. But fuck, Danny was NOT waiting around for Skulker to show his ass for longer than three minutes. Danny had shit to do, man. And apparently the local poacher can’t bother to be punctual when his traps go off. Fuck.

James blinks, “what the fuck?”. While Valerie just sighs and rolls her eyes, leaning back against her chair, “you stumbled on one of Skulker’s traps, didn’t you?”. Danny waves a hand around limply, “yeah? Yer point?”; making her roll her eyes at him very hard.

Danny doesn’t even get a chance to pick up the whiteboard marker before he’s pausing as his throat ices up, him holding up a finger, and just turning to walk right back out the classroom door. Fucking Skulker, goddamnit. But hey, his tailcoat whipping/fluttering about in the air in a way that was actually kinda badass was probably cool looking. He doesn’t have attendance points but he does have style points today motherfuckers.

Dale blinking, “did he just walk in only to leave again?”, slapping the desk, “well I guess he did drop off a bear trap from a ghost so... samples count as teaching?”. Todd snorting and rolling his eyes, “that doesn’t count for shit”; Valerie just chucks a pencil at him.

“I’m more interested in his whole get up. Who pairs a fucking tailcoat with sequin anything?”.

“Oh shut it, Amber. At least he didn’t come in wit a tie or a freaking suit”.

Dash snorts and actually laughs a little, “oh imagine that little twink in a suit! Ha!”. Which just makes Valerie smirk and turn to the jock, “he looks better in one than you do, Dash”.

“Oh fuck you, reject”. That comment was the only excuse Valerie felt she needed for proceeding to kick him in the chin, which might have started up a minor brawl by the time Danny got back.

Danny’s mildly attempting to fix his hair when he hip-checks his way back into his classroom, pausing with his hand stuck halfway through his hair at Valerie just having Dash in a headlock on the floor. Danny blinking, “mmmmm’ ‘kay”. Which fine, the class starts laughing at him for. Danny talks right over said chuckling, “so once somebody’s done with their little vice grip, or whatever, on another person everyone can relinquish their vice grip on their assignment shit and gimme gimme”. Val flips him off but hey, at least she lets Dash start breathing again. It’s something. And everyone does, in fact, start getting up to give him their work. Valerie trying to quietly and subtly ask him if ‘he’s okay’ when she hands hers over though. Danny sighing and shrugging limply, “eh I’m good, Skulker’s gonna be hearing from my lawyers though”, and smirks; resulting in Val smacking him over the head with a scowl.

-

Lancer showing up just after the bell, looking Danny up and down, and nodding with a, “good”, is weirdly chastising and awkwardly awkward. Ashley giggling to herself, “oh I get it, boy got in trouble for his clothing ‘choices’”. Danny points at her aggressively, “hush you”. Lancer leaves without choosing to comment on that.

---

Does Danny basically use the next couple of school days to make the school/his class his own personal fashion runway? Yes, yes he does. Did he also decide to melt some glue on the end of his tailcoat and file it to be sharp and blade-like? Yup. Was that very thing why Millie was currently done with his shit and arguing with him? Also yes.

“He cut the case lock for the microscope and ruined an entire three hundred dollar machine! We’re allowed to be armed but not wear literal blades as clothing!”.

Lancer is very clearly restraining a sigh.

Charles shrugs from the couch, “hey buddy, it was my machine and you don’t see me complaining”, looking to Danny, “I’m more curious about the how honestly”. Which fucking tracks for the man. Millie gestures at Charles, garish bangle bracelets clinking around in the process, “it’s the schools”, turning to Lancer, “at least fine the child”.

Danny crosses his arms, “hey, I’m eighteen not a ‘child’”, he was still considered a child ghost but that was besides the point.

Lancer pinches his nose and holds up a hand, which Millie actually listens too thank fuck for that. Danny’s pretty sure Lancer is literally the only person that lady respects even slightly. “While I’m certain it was an accident-”, glancing at Danny which Danny rubs his neck sheepishly over before Lancer continues, “-and the school could certainly just add this onto the Fenton tab, I doubt that would pose much of a solution for the fact that you simply don’t like Daniel very much, Millie”.

Millie huffs and crosses her arms, “he’s a menace-”. Danny can’t even argue against that. “-is barely older than most of the students-”. Also true. “-and couldn’t we have literally anyone else, anyone who’s a competent decent respectable person, teach his elective”. Oh this woman just loved mocking and treating non-core classes as lesser.

Danny smirks, “be careful or Remi’s gonna put paint in your pencil drawer again”. She scowls at him for that, pointing at him aggressively, “I know you helped her with that”. Danny will neither confirm nor deny that, “oh but how could I possibly remember when your nasty yellow fake nails are being way too distracting”.

“Why I never-”.

Lancer interjects at this point, Danny’s surprised the man even let him finish his witty comeback/insult. “That’s enough, you two clearly need some bonding time so-”, looking to the math teacher, “-Millie, you’ll be sitting in on Daniel’s class, I know you don’t have any scheduled class during that time and that you’re all caught up on grading, so don’t give me that excuse”; she scowls at him. Lancer looking to Danny, “and Daniel, you’ll sit in on her second block grade twelves”, glaring, “and no bathroom breaks”. Danny sags and whines very dramatically and very petulantly; Charles just starts snickering while attempting -and failing- to cover up said snickering with his hand.

Danny is so not impressed. Neither is Millie but that’s not Danny’s problem now is it. But now that Danny thinks about it, this is the perfect excuse to talk about ghost hunger and force someone who didn’t sign up for this shit to listen to/deal with his shit. Danny might just give Millie a more than slightly malicious smirk as he shoves Charles out of the way enough to sit on the couch; the man just rolling with it while trying not to laugh at his expense any further.

Danny only came early today for the cookies Remi said she’d drop off in the lounge, look how hard that bit him in the ass. Doesn’t even have time to sit and enjoy more than one cup of coffee now. Fuck. Wearing his SATAN bandana was probably asking for it a bit though. Flipping out his phone while nibbling on a cookie and blatantly ignoring Millie storming out in a huff.

thealiveone: so guess who just jacked up the tab AND pissed off mille

PDAxpda: millies the math teach right?

Nightshade: nice

thealiveone: yup! she like always hates me nothing new there

thealiveone: she no happy about recent bought of destruction of property

PDAXpda: someone needs to chill that’s what you do

thealiveone: ouch but yes and now have excuse to force her to hear out ghost hunger

Nightshade: you cruel cruel man I apporv

Nightshade: that bitch gave me so much shit about my ‘satanic’ fashion

thealiveone: ahhh yes I remever that

thealiveone: from back when we were young

thealiveone: our youthful days

PDAXpda: *pfffft*

thealiveone: anyone any one want cookies?

Nightshade: 😆🙃 sure Danny

-

By the time it’s time for Danny to head to his shit he has consumed three cookies and stuffed around eight intangibly inside his body for safekeeping; not like Sam and Tuck gave a shit about eating/using stuff from inside him.

Is Millie waiting judgementally outside of his classroom? Yes. Does he care? No. The class absolutely eyes him and the math teacher as he waltz’s in though. Todd snickering, “ooooo someone needs a babysitter do they?”.  Danny just smirks, “oh no Lance-y’s just punishing his problem children. Anyway today’s subject will be light cannibalism”, and smirks wickedly.

Millie glares while taking a seat off to the side, “I’m not the child here”.

“I’m not the one being petty”.

“You broke a three hundred dollar machine”.

“And? Your point?”.

At this point most of the class is snickering, Valerie shakes her head, “you never change, Danny”. Danny finger-gunning, “and never plan to”. Millie’s scowl deepens.

Danny rummages through his desk muttering, “where’d I put it, where’d I put it”, all the while. Because fine, maybe he was saving this subject for when he thought it would be the most impactful, so sue him. Grinning when he actually finds and starts digging out the little habitat with around five or six blob ghosts in it. Well technically they were blebs, a subspecies of blobs, but whatever. These would have probably been a lot easier to find if he hadn’t modified the bottom drawer to be connected to a slight pocket dimension… but then they wouldn’t have even fit in the drawer in the first place. You win some you lose some.

James blinking as Danny puts the container on his desk somewhat loudly, “huh, guess it’s ‘live’ specimens again. Neat”. Emilie grins, “awww they’re cute”, then glares/smirks at Valerie daring the girl to argue. Valerie just rolls her eyes. Danny also pulling out a blender makes everyone go awkwardly and cautiously silent though. Danny’s just busy cursing while he tries to plug the stupid thing in, “why the f̴̢uc̸̢k is it all bent up?”. No one elects to point out any obvious answers to that one.

Danny walking back over to his desk and popping open the bleb containment unit, “so anyone wanna taste test some basic b̴̡i҉̧t͟͟ch̕͠ ghost food?”, and proceeds to drop the bleb into the blender while simultaneously turning it on; does he get ecto splattered on his face because he forgot the blender lid? Oh absolutely and he’s cool with that. At least half the class jerks back and/or screws up their faces. Millie looks deeply offended; success! Danny licks a bit off of his cheek while staring at the class just to be extra. Dash and Val are the only ones who look completely unphased -though Todd’s trying to look unphased- seeing as both of them had seen him straight-up eat a ghost before.

Ashley squeaks, “um, no?”. Which Danny busts out laughing over and losses his composure, sitting on the edge of his desk, “I’m not serious, Ashley. And don’t worry about the little guy, as we’ve discussed, non-cored ghosts basically respawn”, holding up a finger, “plus! Bleb’s like being eaten”, at that he takes a swig straight from the blender and winks at Millie.

Jasper mutters, “oh Zone he’s doing this to fuck with Ms. Felmer”.

“Mood”.

“Understandable”.

Dale chuckles, “I knew Danny was a menace but damn”. Dash looks a little freaked out, “did I mess his taste buds up by making him eat my underwear?”. Danny absolutely has to address that, pointing at him with the blender slightly, “you are not nearly that influential on my life, Dash”.

“Whatever, Fentaco”.

Millie actually snaps, “Mr. Baxter”, over that jab; making the jock roll his eyes and huff. Her voice sounding a wee bit strained pleases Danny greatly though. Truly.

Danny taps the containment container, “now remember I have a really bloody weird ecto-contamination so do not try that at home. Anyway, ghost hunger involves the eating of ghosts. Surprise surprise, I know. And if none of you leave this class today without losing your lunch I will feel personally offended…”. Again, why did the principal think putting this class directly after lunch was a good idea? Oh well, the janitor's problem now.

-

Did anyone actually wind up throwing up? Yes actually. Not Millie though, much to Danny’s dismay. She did look close multiple times though. And fine, maybe, maybe, Danny went into far more detail than really necessary. Which absolutely explains Brittney sticking up a hand and asking, “how do you even know this this well”, while looking more than a little sick. A few other teens nodding their agreement and mutual curiosity.

Danny snickers, “I have walked in on Technus showering and brushing his teeth, do you really think I haven’t walked in repeatedly on a ghost eating another ghost. Especially when all our local blobs and whisps are totally smitten with Phantom’s stomach?”. That earns him a very loud round of gagging, and Val’s staring at her desk like she’s having a mild crisis. Ah today’s been a good day.

“Forget I asked. What the Hell”.

That just makes Danny smirk as the bell goes off. That makes Danny jolt out of his seat, summon his green quill out of his hair, and start wildly scribbling on the board, “oh! Oh! Before you go, grab your assignment şh͘͜i҉͞t̶͝ and to the person who wrote about the theory that Phantom’s a parasitic species and that’s why he can stay here so long -you know who you are- I hate you. Your little quizzes are in there too, I realise I was lazy about marking şh͘͜i҉͞t̶͝ don’t at me. Also also, this-”, tapping the board, “-is the room I’ll be in for the parent-teacher thingy ma jiggy not this room, for reasons”. Which gets him more than a little snickering and some pointed glances at the -now empty- blender, while everyone takes their graded shit. Danny’s just glad he managed to not lose or destroy anyone’s shit. Though Emilie’s quiz did have a mysterious new ectoplasm stain that he… attempted… to get out. He tried okay?

Millie glares at him as she gets up last to leave, “you, boy, are an affront to humanity”, then promptly leaves. Danny puts a hand to his chest and very loudly says, “why thank you”.

Unfortunately, he is now stuck staying here ‘till her shitty math class. Fuck. Sighing loudly at his ceiling before smirking and chuckling a little, “time to do some sketchy shit, do da, do da”.  He could use some ghost summoning practice.

-

Needless to say half an hour later the schools been evacuated and there’s a pissed off dragon ghost -not from Dora’s kingdom which kinda shocked Danny- flying around. Most of the teachers are glaring at him, Lancer included. At least he’s got a duplicate of himself in Phantom form off throwing fist-a-cuffs; well… more like arguing aggressively about not meaning to summon the one goddamn dragon that wasn’t from the Draconic's kingdom.

Lancer sighs at grounded human form him, “you’re still sitting in on Millie’s math class”.

“Awwwww”. Danny smirks a little, “also, I need a new desk chair”. Lancer puts his head in his hands and shakes his head faintly.

Danny (as Phantom) and the goddamn dragon pause as Red flys up on her hoverboard. Danny waving goofily, “sup Red”, pointing at the dragon, “he’s just upsetti spaghetti, not a real problemo”. He can feel Red’s annoyance and disapproval. The dragon just growls and attempts to breathe fire at her; which she obviously dodges.

Danny gestures at the dragon while she basically unloads on them, “blame your teacher of ghost things!”, and then resumes attempting to capture the dragon. He can easily hear Red mutter, “Zone damn it, Danny”; which fine, he chuckles at.

Eventually, Danny does manage to get the dragon into his thermos. There’s probably one more ghost out there with a bone to pick with him though. Oops. He’s not even slightly surprised to get a chat message from Val a little later.

Robin: whhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy

thealiveone: 😏

thealiveone: are you not entertained

Robin: 😑🖕🏻

thealiveone: *snicker*

(Danny still does, in fact, have to sit through math, which was just as torturous as he remembers. Millie made it even more awful of course. Though unlike him she didn’t change her class plan just to fuck with his day, she did treat him like a student and called on him to answer questions constantly though… that got him so much subtle mocking).

---

The parent-teacher thing comes up way quicker than he would have liked. Lancer giving him a shoulder pat as Danny slumps down into this room's chair, “I’m sure this will go just fine”. Danny rolls his eyes, “I’m a literal teen, Lance. Adult-y folks aren’t known for respecting teens or whatever”.

Lancer deadpans, “somehow, Daniel, I doubt you actually care”. Making Danny snort, “true true. I do still have a point though”.

“Which is exactly why I’ll be staying here and supervising”.

Danny actively groans at that. But fine, understandable.

Of course the first parents, fuck this is weird Ancients, show up while Danny’s partway through spinning around in his chair. It’s Emilie and she is smirking, telling Danny that they absolutely don’t know this random teen is the teacher. Hell yeah time to fuck with them.

Emilie’s mom looks around, “oh is the teacher not here yet?”, looking to Lancer, “I doubt you’re also the ecto-ology teacher”. Lancer actually chuckles a little at that before shaking his head.

Danny snorts and stands up a bit dramatically, “sorry to say but… he died. Totally dead”. Emilie snickers into her hand. Val picks that exact moment to barge in herself with her dad, “Danny, stop telling people you’re dead. You walking problem”.

Mr. Gray quirks an eyebrow at Danny, “ah so my Valerie was telling the truth, somehow I’m both surprised and not”, then walks right up to Danny, claps him on the shoulder, and says, “good for you, lad”. Which Danny rubs his neck a bit sheepishly over. Both Val’s dad and Tuck’s folks worried about his ass, usually more than his own folks did; which, yes, was kinda a bit fucking wild.

Emilie’s mom blinks and looks to her husband then back to Danny, “you’re? the teacher?”. Lancer takes that moment to actually speak up, “indeed Daniel is. Arguably he’s the most qualified for the position, and excluding some… incidences… his performance is more than acceptable”.

Danny snorts, “complimenting and insulting me all in one go, nice”, and finger-guns at the man. Lancer just gives him a fond but exasperated look.

Emilie’s mom purses her lips before shrugging after a bit. Her and her husband both walking over and sitting down, Emilie lounging behind. “Well alright then, though you are certainly a little young to be in such a position of power-”. Danny has to seriously resist throwing his head back, cackling, and saying ‘you have no idea’ at that because fuck saying he had too much power was a goddamn fucking understatement. “-but how is she doing?”, looking over her shoulder to eyeball Emilie slightly, “not being too much of a distraction”.

Danny snorts, “ma’am, being a distraction is basically my job in class. I guess you could say I encourage active discussion and pretty much ignore the ‘put up your hand before speaking’ rule altogether”. Emilie snorts, “considering you blew up the classroom a few days ago…”.

Her dad sighs, “well I guess that’s still better than Jack”. Which fine, Danny snorts at.

Danny pointing at the man, “to be fair, I’ve taken plenty protective measures and do, in fact, know what I’m doing. The accidental wrong dragon summoning was just a miscalculation and wasn’t even during class time”.

Lancer glares at him a little, “yes, and now you’re banned from unapproved experimentation”. Danny just pouts at him before actually doing the class talking stuff he’s supposed to be doing. Val and her dad are just ‘waiting’ off to the side and chuckling at him faintly.

When it is Mr. Gray’s turn the man immediately asks, “she’s not letting outside interests interfere with your class, is she?”. Danny can practically feel the threat of grounding coming off of that question, holy shit. Lancer dutifully pretends to not be listening, Danny is goddamn postivite Lancer knows about Val since she’s way easier to figure out than him.

Danny chuckles, “naw, in fact I can say that my class is the only one she doesn’t ditch”, and gives a very cocky proud grin. Like a preening peacock. Val glares at him a little, “that’s because you boobytrapped the door. No one can leave unless you let them”. Danny just smirks more, “what can I say? I know how to hold a hostage or two”. Val clearly can’t help snorting/laughing at that. Mr. Gray actually looks a little pleased and impressed.

From there pretty much all the meetings are boring and pretty typical. Granted he did tell Todd’s folks that ‘Todd’s a real dick’, which Lancer apologised for on Danny’s behalf. Todd’s dad saying ‘oh we know’ threw Lancer through a bit of a loop though. And apparently Danny calling their son a dick made him more trustable in their eyes, who knew? Dash’s dad made a joke about how ‘hey aren't you that boy my son whipped into shape?!?’ and laughed heartily. Which lead to Lancer going off on a tangent about Mrs. Testlauf’s unhealthy teaching methods, which is how Danny learned that there is a serious beef between the two.

But then came Sophia with her parents, Sophia was one of the freshmen whose family moved here somewhat recently. Girl basically never talked and always seemed cautious. She did perk up a little whenever anything really dark or gory came up -can’t exactly talk about dead people without speaking of brutal horrid violent death- so Danny thinks she’s, like, a closet Goth or Emo or something. Sam would love to introduce her to the ookie spookie side.

Mrs. Holly comes in walking like she’s a judgmental holier-than-thou know it all with some serious entitlement issues, so Danny’s pretty sure this is just going to be so fun. Sophia looks a little more meek and sheepish than usual too. Mrs. Holly huffs, “I truly can’t believe they’d have such a garish class nonetheless let a child from such a proper family take it”, and huffs for a second time. Mr. Holly shaking his head, “truly unbelievable”. Ahhh Danny can see where this is going, even Lancer's frowning a little. Now Danny could either be ‘responsible’ and handle this ‘like an adult’ or he could just choose violence. He’s a combative motherfucker so one option is much more appetising.

Lancer speaks up first, “if you ask me, this class should be, and in the future will be, mandatory. A core subject. It’s a matter of safety after all”. Danny points at him, “and the general knowledge is way more useful than social or math”. Lancer gives him one unimpressed look at that. Danny shrugs and waves him off, “what? Everyone has calculators in their pockets, there isn’t an app for ghosts”.

The parents decide to speak up at that. Mr. Holly scoffing sarcastically, “ah yes, this ‘ghosts’ thing”. Which tells Danny exactly what kind of head-stuck-in-the-sand motherfuckers these guys are. Mrs. Holly nods and scowls at Danny, “yes, we didn’t expect this town to be a satanic cult stronghold”. Which makes Danny cough because that was not quite what he was expecting. Even Lancer coughs and goes a little bug-eyed.

Danny blinks, “excuse me? Do you not believe in ghosts and just think this town is under the delusions of a cult?”. This was actually a new one for Danny. What the fuck.

“We believe in Jesus. Sad to say you clearly don’t, doing the devil's work. ‘Ghosts’ ‘from the afterlife’. As if those are not other words for ‘demon’ and ‘Hell’. And I am not impressed that my little girl is being allowed to be indoctrinated like this. This is why we need more support for proper Christian homeschooling”, she nods to herself with a huff. Mr. Holly nodding readily as well.

This is actually the first time Danny’s ever been called a literal demon actually. He’s been called a demon child or little devil but not literally a demon. Like, a ‘from Hell’ type demon. Should he be flattered? Maybe? Oh whatever. But choosing violence would be the ‘demonic’ thing to do right? So Danny snorts, “I mean if you wanna raise your kid badly and mess them up for adult life, go right ahead. But when your kid doesn’t know what to do during a ghost attack when we get randomly assaulted by a sentient tornado or invaded by another dragon, don’t come complaining to me. Also don’t come complaining to me when your kid moves out at seventeen and refuses to talk to you for twenty-three years”. Lancer looks like he wants to stop him and make him shut up but also really doesn’t want to. Danny’s probably a bad influence on the man. “If you don’t want to believe in ghosts, something very explicitly real unlike your unproven book god, that’s your dealio. But come on and have some decency and let your kid make up their own mind, yeah?”.

Mr. Holly blinks at him, “how old are you?”. Making Danny laugh, “physically? eighteen. Mentally? A lot older than you, clearly”. Both adults look suitably offended by that and Sophia has a tiny smile though also seems more than a little nervous. Her folks are probably the ‘my house, my rules’ and ‘I brought you into this world I can bring you out’ and ‘this is the way this family does things, so you have to as well’ types.

Mrs. Holly scoffs, “this is unbelievable”, turning around to Sophia -who has a good Poker face, which is actually kind of concerning/depressing- and snapping, “to think you’d even select such a class”. Sophia muttering, “I find it interesting”, chewing her lip a little, “and he did bring proof of them day one”. Mrs. Holly rolls her eyes, “oh yeah? What proof?”, and actively looks like she just won this conversation; which Danny is so not having.

So Danny, being Danny and the undead gremlin child that he is, shouts, “this proof!”, and proceeds to grab an ecto-apple from inside his tailcoat, smashing it down on the desk hard enough to make it explode, and grins slightly manically while the green ectoplasm juice and chunks bubble, start moving, develop eyes and mouths, start sticking up like deadman’s finger fungus, and then start shrieking.

Lancer chokes. The parents jerk and jump back, having gotten splattered slightly. Sophia just blinks wide-eyed, taking a slight step back; she was, after all, slightly more used to Danny and his general wackiness.

Danny sticks his finger in the coagulated mass of screaming green horror and starts swirling it/his finger around, grinning manically still, “proof enough fer ya?”. He does pull out a thermos and suck the stuff up when the desk starts steaming though.

The parents say nothing for a bit before Mr. Holly stammers, “we-we will n-not be deceive-deceived by a w-witch”. Which Danny snorts at, “I’ve got a friend who’s a witch, but naw, not really my thing. I prefer to chill it with the dead rather than pagan gods”, tilting his head, “though I guess some pagan gods are also ghosts so eh”, and shrugs.

Mrs. Holly scowls, turns on her heels, and leaves. Snapping, “come on Sophia”. Her husband scampering after her. Danny waves in the most fruity way he can, speaking singsong,“🎵bbbyyyyeeeeee🎵“, looking to Sophia, “see you on Monday, yeah?”. She just nods at him with a slight smile.

Mr. Lancer blinks after a bit, “Daniel… I almost feel like I need to write you up for that entire stunt”, holding up a finger while pinching his nose and leaning back in his chair, “but. You probably did the right thing”. Danny can’t help chuckling at that, “I mean, I would say I did the right thing but my opinion on my own behaviour is absolutely super-duper biased”. Lancer glares at him while he continues, “and really? not believing in ghosts is a good way to wind up dead. Better to bite that bullshit in the ass than let them think throwing holy water at Johnny would be a good idea”.

Lancer blinks, “they would likely have bad luck for the rest of their lives”. Danny nods immediately, “understatement. Kitty would send that man to her alternate kiss dimension in a heartbeat”. Lancer just stares at him a little bit, “has… has that happened to you?”.

“Happened to all of Amity’s men slash boys once”.

Lancer chooses to not respond to that.

---

“Hmmmm. I see. He is rather handling it well. Fulfilling the proper and respective duties”.

“Ah yes indeed. As… begrudging as that is to admit”.

“We’ll have to have a… conversation”.

“But of course”.

“Most unfortunate”.

“Indeed”.

“But he will accept what he’s due”.

“As he should”.

“However, we can never be sure with… that one”.

“Truly unfortunate”.

“Time and her overseer favour that one far too much”.

“And yet they are right, which is also quite unfortunate”.

“Yes. Quite”.

“Well shall we get to it?”.

“Hmmmm no. Let four nine eight and four nine one deal with that one, they are unwise yet”.

“Very well. Watcher”.

Chapter 5: I Am The Guardian Of The Knowledge! The Knowledge Guardian!

Danny is having a morning alright? Sure he had a good-ish sleep, seeing as he apparently did decently well with the parent/teacher thingy excluding the fact that the school had now acquired a religious discrimination complaint (not that the school cared). And also sure, maybe he got out of genuinely fighting Technus by humble bragging since that ghost was ‘a man of science’ and thus was a sucker for any gossip involving someone taking the piss out of religious folks. Also also, he got waffles this morning. Big plus there.

So you’d think with all that he’d be about to have an awesome morning but nope. Instead, he is currently actively running away from his consequences. Well okay, mostly flying but he can’t exactly do that once he got to school.

Danny walks briskly into the classroom and shuts the door very firmly, even going so far as to lock it a bit dramatically before turning around and giving the class an awkward smile. Heading up to the board, “alright f͜ư͘ck҉͘ę͏r͡s̛-”.

He absolutely ignores the, “Open up”, from outside the door. Chuckling very awkwardly while the class glances at the door then back to him. Danny clearing his throat, “so now that the parent-teacher stuff is outta the way and y’all proved you’re not totally stupid with the quiz and mini lab thing. Why don’t we move on to lairs and contamination-”.

“Daniel James Janus Fenton”.

Danny sighs very audibly and stares up at the ceiling for a second, everyone else quirking eyebrows, snickering, or talking at each other.

“Uhhhh, I feel like he’s using us somehow”.

“Does he seriously have two middle names?”.

Valerie grumbles to herself a bit about how she didn’t even know Danny had a second middle name.

“Better yet one of them is ‘Janus’? The Hell?”.

“Ha, serves the freak right”.

Danny clears his throat a little, “anyway, the Eyes Of Ovi Colosseum is a perfect example of a really stupid specified lair for some mouthless d͏͜į͡ck҉̸͞s҉ nitpicking over laws who think they somehow have the right to control other peoples existences”, and throws a mild glare at the door. Bunch of floating cloaked dicks.

Emilie snorts and laughs into her hand, “oooh someone’s trying to throw a little shade”.

A couple of people chuckle at the, “we have responsibilities, Daniel. Now will you allow us an attendance with you”, that speaks up from the other side of the door.

James quirks an eyebrow, “that sounded more like a threat than a ‘please let me in, dickhead’”. Earning some nods and more chuckles.

“I’m more curious who Danny pissed off enough to stand angrily outside of the ghost-proofed door”.

Danny holds up a finger, “technically, they’re cops”. Earning him a round of shocked gasps and scandalised looks of horror. Rolling his wrist, “anyway, their lair is, like, the biggest standing prison. Vortex’s in it”, shrugging, “they might have tried assassinating me once…”, Danny continues without acknowledging or explaining on that one. And yes, he mentioned it purely to piss off the Observants and rub it in just a little bit more that they failed at ending his ass.

Once the class over bell rings though… he looks around awkwardly and with a level of fake pleading, “anyone suddenly feel like staying after class?”.

Val actually humours him (which he one hundred percent expected), ditto with Emilie actually. Todd just wants any excuse to skip class that doesn’t require him doing anything legitimately bad like leaving school property. Everyone else opting to get up and head to the door, though flashing him apologetic shrugs… or smirking meanly. You’d think they’d be nicer to a guy that can affect their grades. Fucking jerks. However it is Danny who gets to smirk meanly when there is -surprise surprise- two Observants floating outside his door that all of them have to skirt around very cautiously. The Observants, for their part, completely ignore all of his fellow teens/students; instead they just stare -if eyelidless giant eyes even can stare- at him intensely. Danny waves cheekily; they feel like they’re glaring. And pretty much all the other teens that see the Observants just kind of hide around corners and observe instead of heading to their next class. Nosy shits, Danny would do the exact same. He probably shouldn’t feel proud over their want for gossip outweighing the requirement to go to class or to practice self-preservation, but he totally does.

One of the Observants lifts up a boney green hand and points at him, “we need to speak with you”. Making Danny snort, cross his arms, and lean against his desk, “yeah I think I got that one after the multi-hour stalking session”. Valerie snorts at that though she is eyeballing the Hell out of the fucking ghosts.

“Alone”.

Danny puts a hand to his chest, “aawwwww, confessing your love for me in private? How scandalous”.

The Observant on the left looks to the one on the right, “I now understand why the elders didn’t want to deal with him”. Which fine, makes Danny feel exceptionally proud of himself. Emilie laughs, “oooo, I so want to know what Danny did to hurt these poor elders' feelings or whatever”. Danny side-eyes and smirks at her, “oh only colluded with a god to break the laws of temporal displacement”.

“I can’t even tell if you’re serious”.

Danny’s smirk grows malicious, “good”, then sighing and sagging, looking back to the two Observants, “fiiiiiiine. But no, I don’t know who jailbroke whatever prisoner out. Or where Plasmius has hidden whatever artifact of rare and overwhelming power. Or-”

The Observant on the right actually has the gall to interrupt him, “you are not to blame for anything”. The left one adding on, “currently”; making Danny snort. Him then gesturing at his three ‘students’, “but can’t you see that I am busy? I mean really. Some of us actually have work to do these days”; all three teens chuckling to themselves over that while also mildly pretending to be taking notes or some shit. But with another heftily sigh Danny moves to pack his shit… very slowly. Because technically legitimately snuffing the Observants was a recipe for disaster and Lancer probably wouldn’t appreciate the school getting beset by an army of eyeball assholes purely because Danny felt like being a bastard. That… and it might actually be something mildly important; which, arguably, he shouldn’t just ignore.

Today’s turned into real shit.

Valerie quirks an eyebrow at him when he throws his backpack over his shoulder, making the tailcoat flare out a little, “are you seriously going along with a pair of ghosts”, then glaring at Danny when he rolls his eyes at her.

“Val, it’s perfectly fine. Annoying, but arguably fine”, him shrugging, “it’s not like they can harm me”, looking to the Observants and smirking meanly, “seeing as they are incapable of doing harm”, snorting, “pfffft, fucking pacifists, am I right?”. A couple of people in the hallway are noticeably stifling snickers. The Observants, for their part, just ‘stare’ silently.

Joshep shouts from the hallway, “what are all you kids doing out here?!? Get to class!”. Danny’s pretty sure that he -and the Observants- is the only one who can hear Joshep muttering, “what the Hell did that Fenton kid do now? Why does my classes have to be so close to his? Just why?”.

Danny picks that moment to walk out of his classroom, look at Joshep, and laugh very loudly and sarcastically. Joshep grimaces deeply at him, eyes the two FUCKING GHOSTS, and grimaces deeper but also with slight fear. Val, Todd, and Emilie all slip out behind Danny; Val whispering at him, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Danny”. Making him smirk, “when do I ever”; earning him some major glaring. He’d bet money on her not actually going to class and instead trying to secretively follow him ‘for his safety’.

The hallway gets real empty real fast as soon as Danny walks off with the Observants following him a bit unnecessarily close; that really only encourages him to walk slower though so HA!

Just before exiting the building Danny quickly throws Lancer a text, you know, in case the man tries to go looking for him or some shit. Joshep will probably tattle on him for ‘having pet eyeball ghosts’. Though making a pet of an Observant would be one Hell of a power move, goddamn.

Danny : 🚓🚔🚓

Let his sorta boss think of that what he will, for now, Danny’s gotta go and deal with his problems. Apparently anyways. Kinda hard to skirt ‘the law’ when said ‘law’ were ‘all-seeing’. Fuck him.

-

By the time Danny and his two personal shadows get to the Colosseum he thinks the two Observants might just be starting to get close to overdosing on puns. Probably helps that Danny’s using the shittiest, corniest, dumbest ones he can possibly think of. And to think he only got halfway through his stockpiled eyeball-themed ones!

Him glancing around the Colosseum full of Observants, and apparently ClockWork? off to the side cleaning their staff lazily. Stupid Clocky, Danny so could have used a heads up; throwing them a quick pout -which they smirk slightly over- before looking up at Watcher, the head Observant. Putting his hands in his pockets, “soooooo? The fucks up, extra-large eyeball”.

Watcher leaves him hanging for a little bit before speaking up and Danny can practically hear the reluctance and regret in their voice, “Daniel James Janus Fenton Phantom, I’m certain it should come as no surprise to you that we are well aware of your recently acquired… position, as well as how your performance has tracked”.

Danny snorts, “so what? You fucks care about mortal realm teaching now? Isn’t that shit, you know, beneath you or whatever? Not that I actually care. Go ahead and get your knickers in knots about whatever the fuck you wanna. But this?-”, gesturing around lazily, “-seems a little excessive as retaliation for educating mortals. Dramatic as fuck, which mild props there I guess, but still-”.

Watcher cutting him off, “this is not a punishment, as you’ve already been made aware-”. Danny flips him off for that jab. “-rather your… position makes you qualified and befitted of another”.

What.

No seriously, what the fuck?

Danny blinks and tilts his head, “are you trying to also give me a job offer?”; the fuck is wrong with people and springing sudden surprise job offers for shit he is almost definitely largely not qualified for. Though fine, Danny as Phantom had a fuck tone of qualifications here in the Zone. Fuck, he even technically had right to claim the High Throne!

Watcher almost sighs and glances up for a split second, “the answer to your question is neither affirmative nor contradicting. You have taken actions no other has and doing so with more than just marginal success. As such you are the only being fulfilling the role of educating mortals and working through those means to ease the strained and threatening relationship between our realms-”.

Danny jumps in at that, throwing his hands out to the side, “you’re only now just noticing that?!? I’ve been pretty well doing that since the beginning!”. ClockWork holds up a finger, “but was that out of choice or necessity? And were any instances of you actually being educational simply accidents while you were doing what you do best?”, nodding to themselves almost smugly, “I think we both know the answer there, Daniel”; Danny rolls his eyes though blushes a little. Damn it, Clocky.

Watcher doesn’t actively acknowledge ClockWork -which he’s sure ClockWork’s gonna use as an excuse to fuck with them later. Fuck, they might be fucking with them right now- instead continuing to speak at Danny, “you are being granted a position of Ambassador and Sovereign Wisdom, Guardian of the passing of wisdom between the two realms”.

Danny blinks, oh my Ancients. Okay yes ClockWork was absolutely involved in this and the Observants are absolutely not happy about this. Guardians were BIG FUCKING DEALS. The High Sovereign was basically the only one above Guardians. Well and technically the Observants, but that was debatable. Danny snorts, “wow you guys must really hate yourselves. Here I thought you didn’t want me having more power?”. He can feel multiple glares.

Watcher themselves seemingly glares, “while that still stands, what is earned is earned and what is due is due. And while a Guardian of this variety is not necessary, it is beneficial to the realm and future. And, begrudgingly, you do it well”. Danny has to roll his eyes at that, the Observants and their ‘for the betterment of the future’, that got old before he even met them. He does actually put on his more serious face/posture when Watcher floats down to be more on level with him. “so will you accept?”.

“What, in any world, would make you think I’d say no? You don’t have to beg me, you bunch of eyeball crybabies?”. Like really? HE WAS ALREADY DOING THE ‘JOB’. The only reason he didn’t take the High Throne was the added boatloads of responsibilities; that, and he’d have to spend so much time here that he might as well just live in the Zone… not happening anytime soon.

“Very well”. Watcher raises a hand and waves it, a sceptre forming next to their hand floating in the air before it starts moving towards him slowly. Danny decides to leave Watcher hanging and mildly admire the black Arbutus wood with glowing blue carvings across it, legit looked pretty hecking cool. Clocky’s stiff pinstriped staff design wouldn’t exactly suit Danny’s quirkiness. The prehnite crystal on top was a definitively spooky pale opac green with green glowing falling feathers inside; at least the green in green didn’t look weird.

Danny shrugging after a bit and reach out to grab it, the three little silver bells secured by blue leather rope surrounding the crystal chiming slightly from the jostling. Danny furrowing his brows a little and sniffing at said bells; ignoring the twitching in his limbs from connecting to the artifact. Huh, well that smells a heck of a lot like sandalwood and frankincense; eh there was probably some inside. Danny is absolutely blaming the dangling red and green feathers on Ghost Writer giving him a fucking quill though.

Shrugging Danny leans the thing lazily on his shoulder and pointedly makes a point to not react even slightly to the weird pulsing come from in towards his core. Little uncomfortable but not nearly as uncomfortable as being impaled by a giant fishhook. Or mauled by a tiger. Or watching his dad disco dance in public. Little more uncomfortable than Lancer’s attempts to be ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ and ‘relatable’.

Danny thinks he’s being glared at again. ClockWork is absolutely smirking in the stands. Danny also not reacting to a cloak magically poofing into existence attached to his neck is probably annoying the Observants even more. Ha, suck on that. He is the unphaseable one! Phased by nothing! Who is also apparently king of knowledge! Lord of knowing! Yet stupid enough to show up with his clothes backwards more than once (how the fuck did he accidentally wear a jacket backwards and not notice it? Seriously self. Gosh). He does glance at the cloak though, lifting up one side judgingly. Chuckling, “black with blue stitching? What? No green to accent my eyes?”.

“We do not choose the appearance”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah no fucking shit. Blue’s an educational, or whatever the fuck, colour”, tilting his head, “and Lancer’s why I even know that. Huh”. Poetry symbolism was useful for something he guesses. Oh and the clasp is a quill, goddamn that Ghost Writer. Fuck. He’s definitely ignoring whatever symbolism might be behind the slightly bondage harness-looking triple straps going across his chest, he doesn’t want to know honestly. The hood tip zig-zagging like a lightning bolt is supremely obvious though. Like, painfully obvious. patting it a little and looking back to the Observant, “so this all the shit? Don’t feel like fucking with my half-life any further?”.

Watcher almost audibly sighs, turns to borderline glare at ClockWork, “dress your child, ClockWork”. ClockWork grins and pretends not to hear them for a second before floating down.

Danny is perfectly content to let his ClockPops ruffle up his hair, both of them side-eyeing Watcher with mean smirks while ClockWork boops Danny on the cheek with their staff; Danny letting their energy mess with his appearance more than willingly. Suddenly his tailcoat is on him in ghost form, which yeah feels a little weird. An (ecto-ha) green frilled poet blouse underneath with little cufflinks that have ghost pipes (ha!) on them. Crushed black velvet trousers, straight cut and wide/baggy. Silver armoured boots and gloves, which fine, he’s a combative motherfucker. He can also feel some shit going on with his hair, a quick pat-down proving that apparently ClockWork decided he needed some flowers in his hair. Goddamn better be ghost pipes. Danny chuckling, “nice, Clocky”; they smirk lightly and fondly at him.

“But of course, Daniel”.

Watcher does their little hand-wavey glittery thingy taking an in-time ‘photo’ of him to send out through the realm, because bitch there be a new Guardian. Danny just chuckles, “can I go now?”.

“We’d prefer you did”.

Danny snorts, throws a peace sign and finger guns before just fucking off entirely. Him turning away to stalk off making the cloak swish in the air which reveals that the end is, like, curled up into something resembling a scroll. Fucking symbolism, Ancients.

-

Turning human when he gets back reveals the cloak changes to light blue with black stitching, well that’s convenient. Seeing as technically he’s supposed to wear the thing whenever he’s doing his ‘job’ so it changing with his forms is probably for the best. Phantom’s the Ambassador, Fenton’s the Sovereign Wisdom. Plus wearing a cloak to school is totally a weird quirky thing to do, which is perfectly up his alley. Sick as shit too. He’s gonna wear the hood down while human, up and tucked right behind his ears while Phantom; just for that little added difference. Danny had some sense of self-preservation. His clothing is still exactly what his ClockPops gave him… well okay the shoes look slightly more dress shoey than like straight-up knight's boots; eh that’s probably for the best too. Less noisy. And a head pat-down shows that the flowers have gone, good seeing as Sam would mock him relentlessly otherwise.

Whelp, he’s going home now. Because fuck doing anything else. Seriously. A quick check of his phone, however, reveals that Lancer actually got back to him.

Lance: for future reference, Daniel, please reframe from ‘getting ghost arrested’ during school hours.

Lance: I would appreciate a call, after hours of course.

Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, eh might as well do that on his walk home. “Sup, Lance. I do not have another arrest on my record and I also did not destroy another jail”.

“I do hope that is not sarcastic, but I’m glad you’re alright from the sounds of it”.

Danny snorts, kicking a rock down the road, “nope. No sarcasm here. Perfectly fine. Just had to stand and talk in front of an entire colosseum of ghost cops slash judges and get my sentence”, snickering to himself, “now see that was sarcastic. Well, mostly. Really it was just me getting acknowledgement, or whatever, for basically teaching ‘the mortals’”.

That actually gets Lancer laughing a little, “well my job offer was never meant to get you in trouble or cause you hassle, though I doubt you mind much”.

Danny huffs and rolls his eyes, glaring at the stoplight to hurry the fuck up, “considering this let me annoy the absolute fuck out of the Observants? Zone no I don’t mind. Also I have a cloak now, that I am required to wear. So have fun with that school uniform upgrade”.

“Oh? I can’t wait to see, Daniel. I’m sure you’ll make the appearance work, so long as you don’t show up in a hazmat jumpsuit”.

Okay that one Danny has to laugh at, loudly, “yeah, no, that’ll never happen!”. He might love his suit but wearing anything remotely similar while human was just begging for trouble. Actively and explicitly.

“Good, good. Now I’m sure after all that excitement you’ve got work to do, so since I know you’re fine I’ll let you go”.

Danny smirks, “oh Ancients no, I’m going to bed and napping like the dead”.

“Bye, Daniel”.

Danny chuckles as the man hangs up, got ‘em with the death jokes.

---

Sam snickers and pokes Danny on the cheek, him flipping around in the air to avoid her prodding fingers, pouting at her, “meanie”. Now some may wonder why is she pestering him? well because an early morning flight revealed that the flower hair was still a thing and was likely to be a permanent thing at that. Fun. And he can’t even really be mad, because it’s basically a gift from Clocky. Ever rare and always cherished… by him at least.

Tucker goes and flicks one, “at least they’re ghostly”. Earning an eyeroll from Danny, “har har har, though fully agreed”, looking to Sam, “I am so looking forward to a confused and panicked call from Vlad. Because this-”, gesturing to his entire body, which while is back to his jumpsuit, he is still rocking the cloak and the staff’s stuck in a little solid prehnite ring, “-is not ‘standard halfa physical changes’ and we know how Vlad pays waaaaaaay too much attention to my physical appearance”.

Sam barks a laugh, “he pays more attention than you do”.

“In my defence, Vladdie’s got all the time in the world to be a weird nosey bastard. I, however, am a busy busy man”.

Tucker puts a hand to his chest, “if only you could work from home like me”; earning him a smack over the head from Sam. Danny just chuckles, transforming back human and planting his one good foot on the ground, “that’s only because they decided you’d be too much of a security and safety threat otherwise”.

“That changes nothing”.

Danny throwing his arms around their shoulders as they walk into the school. The administration just ignores them and doesn’t even try to force his two friends to get visitors badges, knew a lost cause when they saw one. Danny glances from one to another, “so you two just sitting in for funsies?”.

Sam rolls her eyes while Tucker chuckles, “Hell yeah why not”. Which Danny just laughs at while using their shoulders as support to lift himself off the ground, swing his legs up, and double kicks open his classroom door.

Ashley jumps, startled, and joins the rest of the class in staring at him before muttering, “Uh, how is it that we’re almost always here slightly before you”.

Danny scoffs, “because I’m chill like that”, while his friends carry him to and drop him into his seat before wandering to the back of the classroom. Danny holds up a finger, “also-”, throwing his one leg up onto the desk, gesturing at his armoured ‘dress shoes’ because yes, he’s still wearing Clocky’s gifts, “-I broke my leg in three separate places this morning. Fun, I know, no need to be jealous. Also got in a little light stabbing because I may have put a little too much effort into sassing someone”.

Valerie sighs very audibly and painfully, “Danny, why? Just why?”, she has long since learned to not care all that much about his injuries. His contamination whisked them away like magic anyway.

Emilie snorts, “I’m more interested in the fucking cloak”. Which Amber absolutely chimes in on, “talk about a fashion don't”. Danny points at her, “hey f̵̶uc̡k̶͝͞ you”; earning more than a couple laughs. Danny shrugging, “anyway, cloaky grants me special knowledge powers so I am officially ‘wise’”. That gets him an eraser to the head, which Danny ignores as he keeps talking, “the ghosties decided that teaching you ghost thingies is officially my job”.

Valerie stares at him, “… but that’s already your job”. Danny shrugs, “eh ghosts like to feel superior”.

Dash throws his hands out, completely derailing the conversation, “what? Are you not going to pink slip Jesse for the eraser?”. Danny smirks at his former bully, “nope. I do have one with your name on it if you’d like though”. Dash scowls at him and Tucker’s laughter is absolutely a bit loud. Which gets James’s attention, him turning to the two, “and what about you two? Why are you here?”. Sam smirks, “living crutches”. Which really should have been the obvious answer to everyone.

Danny beams, “yup! Waaaaay better than some s͟h̴̛it҉t̛y̵̧͜ wood. And yes I got hired by ghosts to do the thing that I already got hired by humans to do, am I changing the lesson plans because of that? Haha f͞u̴͜͟c͏͝k no. Now as for class, we’re gonna talk forbidden knowledge because I am feeling petty”. Which yes, people laugh at.

-

Barely halfway through Charles just kind of barges in, fuck Danny needs to redo his booby traps. Charles looking him up and down, smirking, “oh I so had to see this. Tell me you are starting a cult without telling me you’re starting a cult”. Danny blinks hard at that before bursting out laughing, pointing at him and deadpanning, “yes”.

Emilie beams and sits up straight, “oh we should absolutely all wear cloaks now, Hell yeah”. Amber glares at her, “I’d rather drop out”. Valerie just rolls her eyes at the preppy girl.

Danny looks to the girls, “a couple Christians have already made it their mission to report me daily for satanic indoctrination so that would have some interesting end results”. Charles chuckles, “oh this so is a cult, and if you were a spawn of satan I wouldn’t even be surprised”, then quickly closes the door.

Dale chuckles awkwardly, “I think one thing this class has taught me is that Mr. Trent is way weirder than I thought”. Danny snorts, “oh you have no idea, the things that man has asked me”. He also had a feeling the man tried to break into his house/bedroom once because he got over-excited about some curiosity of his. Shrugging, “back to illegal dealings with guardians and how our mayors a d̶̢i̶͠c̶̨͝k҉͏w͢e̷͟a͏şl̛͘e͘…”.

He doesn’t even get to speak for ten minutes before fucking Vlad bursts in. Danny really needs to re-booby trap that fucking door. Damn. Too bad Vladdie wasn’t in ghost form, then the anti-ghost coating on the door would have at least done something to keep out the rich nutter.

“Daniel, what the Gouda have you gotten yourself involved in now?”.

Danny looks to him slowly, gestures to his class dramatically, “excuse you, frootloop? I mean, timing. But Ancients, chill your tits. Could this not wait twenty f͜͟u̶̕c̸̢͝kin̸g̢̨ minutes? f͞u̴͜͟c͏͝k”. Vlad just glares at him.

Dash leans over to Dale, “the Zone is the mayor doing here?”. Dale just shrugs. Todd snickers meanly, “maybe Danny pissed him off too, because the mayor sure as shit isn’t here to see your shitty ass, Dash”.

“Fuck you”.

“Screw off, Todd”.

Todd just smirks smugly to himself instead of responding to either jock.

Emilie snickers, “maybe he felt Danny talking about him and was summoned”.

Sam smirks to herself, inspects her nails, and deadpans, “it’s cult powers”. Which lots of people actually make ‘ahhh’ and ‘hmmm’ and other understanding agreeing sounds at.

Vlad scowls at the goth, “oh nothing so drab or petty”, actually walking up to Danny and lifting up the cloak, “I am talking of this”. Looking to Danny, “butter biscuits, Daniel”.

Danny snorts, “no I will not butter your biscuits”. Vlad absolutely subtly shoots him with an ecto-beam in his good legs knee. Fucker. Danny rolling his eyes, “the Observants are occasionally tolerable… tolerable-ish. And are occasionally capable of being mildly decent… decent-ish”. Vlad stares at him for a bit before shaking his head, “your desire to be tortured out of existence truly amazes me”, smirking, “if you wanted to suffer you could just fill out a request and I’d be happy to appease you”.

Valerie coughs and actively spits out some water. Dale quirks an eyebrow, “did… did the mayor just threaten to torture Danny?”.

Emilie starts cackling, “yes, yes he did!”.

Danny waves everyone off, “oh please, this is tame and lame”, looking back to Vlad, “I would but only if I could get payment in the form of feeding your internal organs to your cat”. Vlad actually chuckles faintly at that and shakes his head almost fondly. Pulling on his suit jacket to straighten it, “well I guess you’re perfectly well, albeit stupid, but well. I’ll leave you to your… duties”.

“It’s only a duty if I make someone crap their pants”.

Vlad actually stops with his hand on the doorknob at that, looking back, “a poop joke, Daniel? Really?”. Danny just smirks and finger guns while Vlad leaves.

Danny glancing at the clock, “whelp, continuing this class is pointless”, shrugging and looking around at everyone, “I’m honestly amazed this hasn’t already come up yet but me and Vladdie have a very interesting family dynamic”.

Which results in multiple shouted, “FAMILY!?!?!?!?”, comments from everyone.

Valerie rolls her eyes and glances around, “he’s Danny’s godfather”. Danny beams and nods, “yup! And that I’m his chosen heir”.

Dash stares and mutters, “what the fuck”, at that; which, fair. Danny just chuckles meanly at him while the bell rings.

Amber walks up to him through, twirling her hair a little, “so are you, like, rich?”. Danny can absolutely tell people are taking their time to leave class just to hear his response. So Danny smirks, “whole fam is. FentonWorks makes a lot of money. Plus! the government pays us”.

Dale looks almost horrified and Dash is just muttering, “what the fuck”, to himself repeatedly. Amber shaking her head, “well you coulda said something”. Which Danny tolls his eyes at.

Sam doesn’t let him respond though, her snapping, “and what? Have all you people liking and ‘befriending’ him purely because of something so goddamn shallow? As if. Danny -Ancients we are better than that”. Amber, Dash, and Dale all make offended noises; Emilie and Todd can be heard laughing out in the hall. Fuck, Danny’s pretty sure he even hears Hanna loudly cackling out there and she’s not even in his class or even still in school still. Here to hang out with Emilie perhaps? Danny just keeps on smirking as everyone finally leaves and his door clicks shut.

Is he surprised when Vlad suddenly regains visibility next to his desk with crossed arms? Ancients no, fully fucking expected. Even Tuck and Sam are unphased, though they do chuckle to themselves a little while glaring mistrustfully at the man. Danny sighs and looks to the man, “Vlad, I’m fine”, gesturing around at the empty classroom, “all of this just apparently made me qualified to become a Guardian, a Guardian of knowledge”.

Vlad scowls at that.

“And also apparently I’m the ambassador of ghosts now?”.

Now that makes Vlad blink, “and you weren’t already?”.

“That’s what I said!”, waving a hand dismissively at Vlad, “it’s not like you were going to do that”.

Vlad shakes his head, “indeed”, frowning, “but ‘Guardian’? Really, Daniel”. Tucker coughs into his hand, “oooh someone's jealous”. Vlad barely dignifies that with a quick glare.

Danny shrugs, “eh it is what it is”, finger gunning, “but don’t you worry, Vladdie, I’ve still got that claim to the High Throne”.

“Unfortunate”.

Danny laughs, “to you maybe”, summoning out his staff from the ring and holding it lazily behind his neck to rest his head on it, “but for now I do the shitty duty of teaching”. Vlad glares at him for that repeat joke/joke reference. It was pretty crappy, ha ha.

Vlad purses his lips after a second, “well I could lend my expertise in that regard-”.

Danny snorts and cuts him off, “trying to ‘get in the good graces of a Guardian’ will not get you out of the very bad graces of the Observants”.

Vlad rolls his eyes though seems slightly disappointed, “as if my reasons would be so people-pleasing. You know I’m not the type”.

Sam audibly scowls, “oh we know”.

Danny, however, grins meanly, “now you can certainly be a guest speaker just to piss them off”, holding up a finger, “let’s make it about ghost portals and the effect they’ve had between realms”.

Vlad smirks at him, “you are playing with fire, dear boy”. Danny knows the man’s going to make his folks look bad, but honestly? hurting his parents' reputation was impossible and no one would be even slightly surprised. Also yes, he’s aware that basically having the two halfas discuss the very thing that made them halfas was actively asking for it. Sam and Tuck shake their heads in the background while halfa and halfa shake hands.

(Informing Lancer of this resulted in him genuinely questioning if Danny and Vlad were getting along these days, so guess Lancer also noticed his hostility towards the mayor, not that that was hard. Lancer was a bit confused by the fact that the town mayor was into the ecto-sciences though).

---

Apparently Charles, and maybe Danny’s entire class, took the ‘cult’ thing a little too seriously or maybe just had a little too much fun with the idea over the next week because now he’s been called into Lancer’s office to talk about starting a cult. Fuck.

Danny poking his head in and waving awkwardly, “heeeeeeey Lance-y”. Lancer just glares at him and sighs deeply, so Danny goes and takes a seat, “soooooo, I swear I didn’t actually start a cult this time”.

Lancer quirks an eyebrow, “‘this time’?”.

“Eh, it’s happened”. At Lancer’s pained expression Danny adds on, “hey, you knew full well what you were getting into. I keep reminding you of this”.

“And yet you keep one-upping yourself”. Danny finger guns and winks at that. Lancer shakes his head, “regardless, yes I’ve been getting a lot of concerned calls regarding cult behaviour. Though some are clearly just taking any excuse to complain about you specifically”.

“Yeah a lot of adult adults really hate my guts for some reason”.

“I couldn’t imagine why that would be, Daniel”. Lancer shakes his head again before digging in his desk and pulling out some papers, “so now you and I are going to be making up letters addressing this and sending them out to all the parents”.

Danny’s sags back in his chair and groans, “ah come on, man! This is Charles’s fault! Not mine!”.

“I’m sure you encouraged it”.

Danny gives a very petulant and pouty, “…maybe”, perking up a little, “but so did literally everyone else”.

“Students can get away with it, you, as a teacher, can not”.

Danny pouts at him again, “boo. Boo to you”. Which gets him glared at before Lancer hands him letters to work on. This is gonna suck ass. Fuck him.

-

Did writing up letters suck? YES. MAJORLY. But Danny was honestly cackling now seeing as Lancer let him read all the complaint letters. Some claiming he was certainly coding classes with hidden satanic messages of murder to increase the ghost population. Others claiming he was teaching them to torture people; which wasn’t entirely wrong, how to harm a ghost could be also used to torture them or a human technically. And a couple claiming he WAS a ghost, which was just straight-up true. There was two insisting that a priest needs to be present for his classes, which fuck no; he’s already had one too many run-ins with holy-water-rosary-clutching types.

Danny leaning back and chuckling, “people are crazy”.

“Coming from you?”.

Danny points at Lancer, “hey, crazy knows crazy”. Lancer puts his hands up in surrender.

---

Did Danny feel like having a guy who arguably could have actually become a cult leader if he wanted to guest speak the day after the letters went out was actively being spiteful? Yes. Though the fact that this happened on the day that Walker curb stomped his throat also felt spiteful. (Was Danny wearing crust punk pants again today? Absolutely, purely because of the multiple anti-cop patches on it). Danny clearing his throat painfully and using his quill to write on the board, ‘cheese head will be doing the talkie walkie today. Don’t play with portals kids’, and draws an arrow pointing at Vlad before sticking the thing back into his hair.

At least half the class quirks their eyebrows at him so he croaks out, “got throat curb-stomped by the po-po”. Vlad chuckles, “your timing is impeccable”. Danny flips him off while putting a little triangle of paper on the side of his desk reading ‘return books here ditto with the essay thingies on them’. Surprisingly almost all of them were undamaged. Val’s was a little singed and stained, Dash’s had a coffee ring on the cover, and Dale’s looked like it had been burned on a stove element; but Todd’s literally had the pages all torn out of the hardcover, it was obviously intentional.

Vlad eyes the stack for a second before actually addressing everyone, while the class tries not to be weird -or actively tries to murder him with her mind in Valerie’s case- over the mayor freaking Vlad Master, near richest man on the planet, teaching their freaking class. “For those of you that don’t know, which I imagine is all of you, I worked with Daniel’s parents in the ecto-field back in college”. That earns the man a round of coughs and disbelieving staring. Danny just nods to confirm the man’s statement.

Vlad speaks sounding truly pained, “Jack couldn’t make anything that didn’t go horribly wrong if his life depended on it, and that’s how he got me sent to the hospital for seven years with ecto-acne and didn’t even bother to visit”.  Danny has to try really hard not to laugh at him. “I will find and force-fed you nails if you say anything, Daniel”. Which honestly just makes it harder not to mock the man relentlessly.

Todd speaks up for him though, “wow sounds like someone’s pissy, bet it was your fault actually”. Vlad glares at him, “coming from a child who’s going to get abducted by a man who wears glasses and a ratty scarf tonight”. Everyone gives Vlad some very confused looks and Danny has to put his head down and wheeze slightly painfully into his desk. This was a good idea. Also a horrible one, but whatever.

Vlad shakes his head, “Jack was the one who decided to power up a prototype ghost portal in my face, I will have you know”. Danny sticks up a finger and mutters, “diet pop in filtrator”. Earning a glance from Vlad, “that fudging imbecile”.

Emilie snickers, “I think the mayor hates Danny’s dad just a little bit”. More than a couple fellow teens nod.

Vlad then goes and erases Danny’s whiteboard writing and draws out an over detailed diagram of a man made protal and a natural one. Danny rolls his eyes at the overkill, but Vlad was nothing if not highly excessive. Who shows up to ‘teach’ in a fucking Armenian suit? Danny’s pretty sure the buttons are solid rubies, like, for Ancients sake.

“Natural or artificial some basic rules, that even the simple-minded can follow, are the same. Don’t create a portal in front of someone’s face. Don’t walk inside of one and then activate it-”. Danny doesn’t so much as move when Vlad smacks the side of his head, ever since Vlad found out that that was how Danny half-died the crazy nutter has given him shit for it at every opportunity. So he saw the head smack coming a mile away.

Dale chuckles, “looks like Danny’s a dumbass”. Dash snickering meanly, “what’s new”. Danny absolutely holds up a pink slip over that. “Oh come on!”, Dash sags in his desk grumpily; you’d think the guy would learn. Vlad’s just smirking faintly before continuing, “don’t walk through randomly. And don’t tie a string to it and another person in an attempt to make the portal follow them”, Vlad smacks Danny over the head again. Danny has a feeling Vlad’s annoyed with him today for some reason. It couldn't possibly be that Danny replaced the water in his water bed with wet cement just before he went to bed two days ago, could it? Never mind, Danny knows that is exactly why. Fuck that was funny.

“Hey, it worked”.

“It really should not have, Daniel”.

“Cloning also shouldn’t work yet here we are”.

Vlad glares at him but continues talking at everyone, “another basic rule is that if the portal is any colour other than green, leave it alone; the town and I will not cover whatever happens if you don’t…”.

Vlad actually manages to get to go on for a while without being actively petty towards Danny or starting a mild bickering match with him. Danny’s honestly a little impressed. Vlad also gets almost overexcited repeatedly, very much proving he’s a scientist at heart while also clearly forgetting he’s talking to teenagers; more than a few things clearly go over everyone’s head. Val still looks like she’s plotting murder though; Danny can admire the tenacity.

But when Danny straightens out a bit from his ghost sense going off Vlad sighs, picks him up by his cloak collar and just walks him to stick out the window, unceremoniously dropping him. Danny screaming, “WHAT THE FU̢C̶͞҉K͟! FU̢C̶͞҉K͟ YOU!”, as he falls and hits the bushes below with a thud. Vlad leaning his head out to reply, “you were going to leave anyways, thought I would simply hurry the whole process up. I do know how lazy and tardy you can be”.

“I WILL PISS IN YOUR FRIDGES FANCY ICE-MAKING COMPARTMENT!”.

Vlad doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning back to the class with a smirk, “so on how to topple the ghost government…”. The class stares at him in shock and amusement at the sudden subject change. Valerie just stares with even more hatred now knowing full well he set her up during the Pariah incident when he gave her that ring. She does throw an ‘are you okay’ text to Danny though, which he responded with ‘I smell like bush’ to.

What’s really sad is that Danny got dropped in a bush from the second story of a building because the Box Ghost was having a lovers quarrel with The Lunch Lady in the park. By the time Danny got there it had descended into a full-blown food fight involving boxed-only foods. More than a few townsfolk had even joined in, and honestly? Danny said fuck it -not out loud ‘cause fuck his throat still hurt- and just joined in the chaos.

Vlad could handle a class of teenagers and if the man tried anything then Val wouldn’t hesitate to outright commit attempted murder.

Did Boxy win the food fight? No, obviously not. The Lunch Lady wasn’t super powerful but she still outclassed The Box Ghost’s ass. Danny finger gunning at the box-themed man who’s currently covered in crackers, “I’d buy her something nice before she decides to fill all your boxes with enough meat to make them rounded”. The Box Ghost looks completely scandalised and insulted, “you don’t think she would”.

“Oh she would, Boxy. She absolutely would”. Considering that women caused a meat tsunami purely because Sam wouldn’t eat meat…

The Box Ghost flies off in a hurry and Danny gets to back to his class with literal armfuls of boxed goods. He also got to discover that Vlad could not handle a class of teens who were now discussing how to overthrow Vlad from the mayoral office to the mains dismay and insult. Vlad looking at him, “your students are demons. Suiting”. Danny just chucked a box of frootloops at him.

(Apparently and according to the Ghost Writer, the Observants went and gave Walker shit for interfering with his Guardian duties. Danny was absolutely tickled green by this news. The Ghost Writer, however, was not happy about Todd’s apparent intentional destruction of a book; Danny doesn’t envy Todd who did, in fact, get abducted that night).

Chapter 6: Feather Quills And ‘Tests’ To Fill

“Danny, you’re overthinking this”.

Danny sighs and leans back in his chair, groaning very loudly at his bedroom ceiling before looking to his sister, who was, as per usual, attempting to be helpful… helpful-ish. “But this is the final, it’s kinda a big fucking deal. And considering how fucking splendidly I usually did on those things, how the FUCK am I writing one up? Plus, like, how do I condense this shit? Do you know how many subjects I wound up covering? Too fucking many!”.

Jazz hums encouragingly at him so he just keeps on ranting, which was probably exactly what she wanted.

Danny gesturing a hand around wildly, “ecto-biology, ecto-linguistics, ecto-medicare, ecto-history slash ecto-culture, ecto-psychology slash ecto-behaviouralism, ecto-literature, ecto-mechanics… Too fucking many”, sighing and sagging, “also pretty sure I just made up, like, all those names”.

Jazz giggles a little, “ecto-Medicare is accurate, though I have a feeling you explained far more than just treating ecto-burns or regular ecto-contamination”. Danny snaps his fingers at her, “well obviously, might as well teach the fuckers how to treat a ghost and not just humans affected by ecto stuff”.

“A roundabout way to achieve self-preservation. Should any of them stumble across an injured Phantom”.

Danny pointing aggressively at her, “hey, none of that”. Jazz just could not chill it with the psychoanalysing. She just grins at him like she’s done nothing wrong. Him sighing again and just staring up at his ceiling, randomly mentally drawing out the constellations his glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars made.

Jazz getting up and ruffling his head jerks him out of his ceiling watching though, “hey!”, him flailing his hands around to shoo her off which, as per usual, just makes her giggle at him fondly; which he absolutely pouts at her over. Her speaking up after a bit, “you know, if you find a proper written test so annoying you could just simply do something more unconventional”, her beaming a bit smugly, “my advanced abnormal psychology prof didn’t even make a final at all”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah but that’s university, they can do that. And as awesome as it is that you got to start break early, they should have kept you”, and smirks while she shoves him one.

“Now that was just mean, Danny”. Shaking her head and going back to sitting on his bed, “but I am serious. Do a final project, or just an essay”.

Danny glares slightly, “essays as finals are the goddamn worst, I would never”; she rolls her eyes at that.

“I prefer them actually”, nodding to herself, “far more room for exploring ideas and showing your prof your personality”.

Danny grumbling, “more like how to really rub it in when someone doesn’t know everything perfectly”. Sighing after a bit, because she did have a point. Tests were fucking bullshit and did a shitty ass job of doing literally anything other than telling how good someone’s short-term memory was. Becoming more opinionated about how schools do schooling is one side-effect of this teacher thing that he so did not see coming. Eh whatever, not like he isn’t right. But what the fuck else can he even do? What could even qualify as ‘finals’ worthy? He sure as shit isn’t doing oral presentations, those things were like a mild form of torture… unless you were a drama kid, which Danny was not. Sure he didn’t have to worry about whatever the fuck being an absolute clusterfuck because a regular-ass test would be a clusterfuck anyway since he basically covered the ghostly version of EVERYTHING, EVERY SUBJECT AVAILABLE IN SCHOOL… except math. Fuck math. What kind of nightmare test jumps from laws of an alternate death dimension to ghostly art? Ghost hunger followed right up by portal safety? Plus, does he even remember everything he taught? Ha ha FUCK NO! What, in any world, would make anyone think otherwise. A ‘project’ would totally help deal with that issue. Grumbling, “how would I even have a project that covers everything?”.

Jazz humming to herself and tapping her chin, “well you could have them go fishing for blob ghosts through a portal?”.

Danny blinks a bit harshly, what the fuck? Looking to her, “Jazz… what the Zone kind of Uni friends have you been making?”. Though he guesses that anything involving blob ghosts would cover a tone of shit. And it’s not like he hasn’t talked a literal fuck ton about blob ghosts. They were like a go-to example/comparison tool.

Jazz shrugs, “my dorm-mate likes to fish dangerous fish”. Danny just blinks, well that sorta? explained it. Sorta.

“What kinda fish”.

“She kept a displayed piranha”.

Danny whistles at that, damn, “guess Amity’s not the only land of crazies”. She laughs a little at that and nods with slightly crinkled eyes.

Danny uses his foot to push himself around in his chair, grumbling incoherently to himself. He did kinda like the idea of dragging blob ghosts into his problems, but taking people portal fishing -snort- was just ridiculous even by his standards. Not that Charles hadn’t ‘gone fishing’ in his desk to get his hands on one; yes Danny’s still a little miffed about that, but hey, at least the man kept his grubby hands out of his desk ever since.

Blinking, wait a fucking minute…

Grinning, Danny stops spinning and loudly slams his hands down on his desk repeatedly, “HA! Pet ghosts!”. Jazz shakes her head good-naturedly, “not sure the school will go for an adopt-a-ghost program as a final”.

Danny points at her and snaps his fingers repeatedly and a bit excitedly, “no no no no no no. Blob ghosts. Catch your own blob ghost. Keeping It ‘alive’ would cover almost everything, catching It would cover most else, and naming It, like, a ghost name in ghost speak could be the whipped cream on top!”.

“Danny, how are you going to get all the parents to even agree to that?”. Glaring at him when he smirks, “without abusing overshadowing”. Danny actively pouts at that. He does have an actual answer though, “oddly most of them take me seriously or respect me some. Weird, I know”, sighing slightly and tilting his head, “Sophia’s still hate my guts though”.

Jazz laughs at him, “so what you’re saying is that they are not going to approve”.

“When does everyone ever approve of the shit I do? Get the majority vote and everyone else can just suck it up”.

“See that is likely part of why they apparently hate you”.

Danny flips her off for that one.

Jazz shaking her head and getting up, “regardless, feel like treating your very proud big sister to dinner?”. Danny rolls his eyes fondly and sighs like this is just so much effort and such a massive hassle while getting up, “fine. But we’re going to the Soup And Ham Can because their coffee’s good”. That earns him an eye roll right back as they head out of his room.

---

Now see Danny wasn't stupid or mean, he damn well looked around town to make sure that a bunch of teens could feasibly capture some blob ghosts… without ghostly superpowers. And yeah he also did the responsible thing of actually doing the proper paperwork which made him feel super old and simultaneously like he was too young to do this kind of shit. He’s eighteen and ‘doing paperwork’? Fuck. It so didn’t help that he accidentally complained about paperwork around Vlad, which turned into the elder halfa complaining about his own paperwork; which both of them got just mildly weirded out by. Vlad still thought of him as a child after all, and Vlad was absolutely an old man in Danny’s eyes. It was fucking weird. Vlad did get a little smug about Danny ‘being like him because there’s no way that fool Jack did any paperwork’, which did cause the entire encounter to turn into a minor fistfight. Regardless of the man being right or not.

At least Danny was stronger than the man these days, and both of them were well aware of that. Which honestly? might be part of why Vlad chilled the fuck out.

Anyway, said paperwork that’s making him feel old is absolutely why he’s getting an early morning Lancer call. Has to be. Unless Danny absentmindedly destroyed something without knowing it… which was always a fair possibility.

“Daniel, I’ll admit this is probably the most interesting request I’ve ever received as a finals alternative and I can’t say I’m particularly surprised that you’d rather forgo a formal written final”.

Danny snickering and leaning against the park's water fountain, “hey you know me, I like to keep things lively in the deadly kinda way”.

“And so long as blob ghosts aren’t capable of being deadly then I don’t see a reason to deny this. But this can not interfere with other classes, as in, they can not bring ‘awesome pet ghosties’ to their other classes”.

Danny snorts at that, yeah no fucking shit, “well duh, Lance. That would be asking for trouble especially with Charles”.

Lancer audibly sighs, nearly groans actually, on the other end, “now I don’t doubt that. And because I don't want any possibly ecto-contaminated paper from FentonWorks making its way into the students' homes, I already sent out the permission slips”.

Danny blinks, well damn, appreciated he guesses? Blinking again, “huh, well ah, thanks, Lance, I guess. I’m taking it that you just mailed them out though and that I still have to actually tell my own class of fellow teens that they have mandatory pets now?”. That gets a chuckle out of the man.

“You requested this, Daniel, now you have to deal with it. Though somehow I think you’ll be getting ‘thank you’s rather than annoyed groaning and complaining”.

Danny chuckles, “hey if you want everyone to like you more you shouldn’t assign so much work”.

“I’d be doing you teens a disservice”.

Danny rolls his eyes at that one, the man was dedicated he’ll give him that much. “Not ‘fully grasping literary genius’ isn’t really gonna affect anyone negatively, Lance. I’d definitely rather sleep than brush up on your beloved Shakespeare”.

“It’s good for the mind”.

“So’s sleep”, snorting, “and I missed enough of that as it is”.

“Now that I can agree and attest to, considering your class habits. I’ll let you go”.

Danny blinks at his phone, well that was abrupt. Fucking rude. Eh, it’s not like Danny didn’t fuck off randomly all the time. Oh well. Sighing and pushing off of the fountain, “whelp, guess I know what I’m stuck doing tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow? Fuck, what day even is it?”.

Hint: it was Friday. And Danny, like a dumbass, forgot to even attempt to show up for class.

“Ah well. Fuck”.

It probably says a lot that Lancer didn’t even bother cussing him out for that. Should he feel ashamed? embarrassed? at least a little guilty? Probably. Does he? Honestly, no. He stopped feeling guilty about that kind of shit a long ass time ago. Being a little half-dead hero that has to tap out constantly and lie all the time kinda does that to you after a hot minute or two. Which probably wasn’t exactly healthy. But also, it’s not like ‘healthy’ was really a thing he was familiar with these days. Eh, whatever.

Anyway, time for a night fly/patrol.

---

So now it was Monday and Danny officially has to ‘face the music’ or whatever the fuck.

To bad Technus got fancy with the house's microwave and basically destroyed half of Danny’s bedroom. Meaning he couldn’t even look good… good-ish. He absolutely gets some smug pride from the fact that him going to his ‘professional job’ in tattered clothes would piss Vlad off something fierce though. Actually deciding to stick with wearing a pair of pants with one leg torn off so badly that his boxers were able to be seen probably wasn’t the world's smartest idea. At least his shitty Antichrist button-up t-shirt was intact! … More or less anyways. (It was missing a pocket and maybe the bottom wasn’t quite the same shape it once was but he’s not too sure about that bit). The cloaks perfectly fine of course, being ghostly clothing and all.

Pushing the classroom door open with his foot, “alright little ectoplasm knowledge nuggets, we actually have some housekeeping s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧ to see to so…”.

Val doesn’t even let him actually get to the whiteboard, “so what was up with Friday?”.

Emilie leans back in her seat, “yeah, the only class that’s actually neat is also the one class with a tardy teach”.

Danny points at her, “hey, I resent that statement of truth”, finishing his walk to the board and smacking it, “honestly? I forgot”. Val just stares at him so he winks at her, earning him a scowl and a thrown pencil; which he lets just bounce off his head. Pulling out his quill and striking it all the way down the board, the words ‘FINAL ASSIGNMENT’ magically forming.

Jesse shakes his head, “I still don’t understand that stupid quill”.

Brittney scoffing, “whatever, it’s not like he’ll give us one”. Danny snorts over his shoulder at that, “yeah, no s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧”. Turning around dramatically enough to make the cloak fan out, “what’s also no s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧ is that finals are a thing and that I also -like any sane teen- hate written exam s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧, so we’re not doing that”.

To no ones surprise that announcement results in some smiles, some cheers, one or two fist pumps/high fives, and multiple relieved sighs.

Val chuckles and leans her chin on a palm, “yeah I was wondering how you were going to write some test that covered everything”. Danny absolutely chuckles and nods at that.

Plopping down onto the side of his desk, “so hear me out, since I’m obviously not writing some written thingamajig out and I’m not nearly enough of a sadist to make oral presentations a thing that’s happening”, clapping his hands together cheerily, “so instead y’all are gonna be ghost hunters for a bit”, shrugging, “or for however long it takes you to catch a blob ghost in our town”, tilting his head and tapping his chin, “which honestly shouldn’t take that long all things considered”.

The class just blinks at him for a bit before most burst out laughing.

Emilie wheezes a little, “you are one quirky fucker”. Valerie shaking her head, “here I thought you were about to ask us to catch a proper ghost”, smirking, “which I’m down for”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “as fun as it would be to torment Boxy by making fifteen odd teens repeatedly catch him, I doubt that would accomplish much”.

Todd puts his hands behind his head, “we can totally still do that”. Dale laughing, “HA! Yeah! That could be fun!”, and elbows Dash a couple of times which turns into a mild dude-bro shoving match. Todd snickers meanly at that before looking back at Danny, “and what’s up with the lame-ass underwear? Becoming a bad stripper or something”.

Danny rolls his eyes at the jab, “Technus got a little friendly with a microwave”.

“They’re green”. Apparently, Todd doesn’t give a flaming fuck about the ‘why’, just the colour. Figures.

Valerie rolls her eyes at the fake ass ‘bad boy’, “Danny’s a joke, of course they’re ecto-green”. Danny nodding and rolling his hand about in the air, “and besides, sleeping in phase-proof underwear is a pretty solid idea, all things considered”. That earns some understanding cringing from the class. Danny sticking up a finger, “just like having you lot bring me some captured but not destroyed-”, giving Val a meaningful look, “-spookies makes perfect sense for an ecto-ology final!”.

A couple of people shrug, Ashley muttering, “oh what the Hell”, toying with her fingers a little, “but does it have to be a big one?”.

Danny waves her off, “naw, so long as it’s in the blob family I don’t care”.

James sighs, leaning on a palm, “but why can’t we just do something normal? An essay?”.

Danny puts a hand to his chest in mock offence, “why I never! I just said I’m not a sadist”, waving a hand around, “and because, I am the true multimedia teacher of spooky academia, just handing out knowledge like a new kind of haemophilia. So I am creating g̵͡o͝d̶͡d͠҉am̛n͘҉ new educational finals criteria. Just don’t go getting into necrophilia on me”, and winks as everyone else groans.

Dustan muttering, “so much for not being a sadist”. Sophia sticks up a hand.

“Yes?”.

She plays with her fingers a little, “well, um, what about our parents?”.

James jumps in, “hey yeah, are we just supposed to keep a ghost in our rooms till finals week?”.

Dash scoffs, “aww is some scared of a little blob ghost”. James just rolls his eyes at that.

Danny shrugs, “eh Lance already sent out permission stuff so parent stuff’s already covered. And naw, catch one by…”, humming to himself, “… oh let’s say next Monday. Bring me proof”, holding up a finger, “but also don’t let the little bugger go. Because if you think all I’m asking is ghost capture then ho boy you’re wrong”. Let them make of that what they want. More than a few look slightly disturbed and he absolutely hears Ashley mutter something about dissection. Danny’s pretty sure Lancer wouldn’t let him get away with that. The blender stunt had been pushing it already, apparently there was a such thing as detention for teachers. Shudder.

Jesse glares at Danny then Valerie, “you better not be marking this on time because some of us have unfair advantages”.

Dash jumps in, “yeah! Little miss anti-ghost psycho probably fantasises about this!”.

Todd rolling his eyes, “as if you need to worry about that, you’d piss yourself before catching one anyway”.

“FUCK YOU!”.

Danny chuckles, his class was probably the only one where anyone could shout ‘FUCK YOU’ and not get in shit. Though Dash being ‘star football star McGee’ probably wouldn’t get in trouble for it in any class. Tch. “Now now, just g̵͡o͝d̶͡d͠҉am̛n͘҉ catch one”, shrugging, “don’t care how or when or colour or whatever the f̵̛u̕͞c̴̶̡k̶̨͠. Ancients, go climb a crane and fish one out of the bucket for all I care. But if you die, don’t haunt me”.

Val sighs, giving him an exasperated look, “great, now someone’s going to do exactly that”. Emilie laughing, “I call dibs!”. Making Val thump her head on her desk. Danny does at least give her an apologetic shrug, hey not his fault that people like to take him up on his bullshit to fuck around and find out.

(Did someone actually take him up on the crane idea? According to the news, yes, yes someone did. Danny’s personal bets are not on Emilie even if she did ‘dibs it’, it was probably one of the quiet kids honestly. At least they were smart enough to wear a disguise. So long as Lancer doesn’t find out…).

---

Danny groans face down in his bed, Lancer was in his bedroom. WHY?!?!?!? Well okay, he knew exactly why. Lancer specifically asked for Danny’s makeshift final to not interfere with other classes and what happened? Well apparently a blob ghost ate the cord to the old school projector that Joshep loved so much. BECAUSE OF COURSE THAT HAPPENED! Danny had some truly shit luck. Groaning again, “I didn’t ask them to randomly bring them to school!”, mumbling, “at least not until next week”. What dumbass caused his problem? Probably Todd honestly. Dash might want to shit kick him but the jock was not nearly petty/sneaky enough to ‘get Fenturd’ in this kind of roundabout way. Todd, however, was the definition of petty. Though Danny was a lot more petty; but he’s a ghost! He’s allowed to be!

Lancer sighs faintly, “you’re still the reason ultimately. Even if Joshep has little room to talk, considering how his class law experiment went”.

“You’re talking about the one that was a recreation of that prison psychology excitement thing? Because yeah, that was bad even by my standards and my experience with jailers involved a lot more tasers”.

“… Daniel, I explicitly remember you tasing people at that time even though you weren’t even in his class”. Danny can practically hear his technical boss shaking his head, “that doesn’t change that you owe Joshep a new projector, and I am not putting it on the FentonWorks tab”. Danny groans very loudly over that. Fuck.

Danny rolling over in his bed and just staring at the ceiling, “forcing me to spend the paycheck you give me on stuff for the school, smarmy shit”.

“That word doesn’t mean what I think you believe it does”.

Danny shrugs, “eh. And besides, Lance”, turning his head to actually look at the man, who quirks an eyebrow before Danny continues, “lords of knowledge, or whatever, should be allowed to ban finals because reasons”, putting a hand very egotistically to his own chest and trying to bleed ego, “a lord like me specifically”.

Lancer chuckles and shakes his head slowly, “I’m sure you would ban them if Id let you”.

“Oh yeah, no shit. In a frickin’ heartbeat-”.

Both of them pause and glance at the floor when a very loud explosion sounds and actually makes the floor shake a little. Not for the first time Danny’s glad he’s nailed/screwed down a large majority of the shit in his room. He even got those weird suction drinking cups that even he, with his ghostly strength, couldn’t slap over.

Barely seconds later his mom pushes open his door, smiling quickly at Lancer, “sweetie, Mr. Lancer, you may what to head outside”, rolling her eyes a bit fondly, “Jack, the dear, might have blown up the photon carbon ecto-endaton”.

Danny blinks, “you mean that new bomb thing? You guys actually blew up something that was supposed to blow up?”. His mom actually has the fucking balls to nod sheepishly. Lancer, however, is sweating unpleasantly.

They absolutely head outside.

Danny patting Lancer on the shoulder while they stand from the sidewalk watching smoke pour out the door/windows, “I’m guessing this’ll be the last time you make an unexpected house visit?”.

“… your home life worries still… this has not helped”.

“‘Life’! HA! Good one!… so will you not dying today count as payment enough?”.

“No, Daniel. Just no”.

“Damn. Was getting my hopes up for a second”.

Lancer glares at Danny a little before heading home; Danny cackles to himself a little. He may be paying for Joshep’s stupid projector love out of his own pocket, but at least he got to make someone -Lancer- regret their life choices in the process. His ghost sense going off tells him that he’s also going to get someone to regret their death choices. Nice. Two for one coupon.

---

Thankfully there were no other blob ghost-related incidences, that Danny heard about, before Monday.

“So did everyone catch a blob ghost?”. That question gets Danny a pretty solid round of ‘yes’s and people holding up blobs in jars or just waving around their phones to show pictures of their particular blob. Danny nodding to himself, “good good”, sounding ominous, “now your final can begin”.

Earning lots of concerned staring and worried glances at the present blob ghosts. Which makes sense, ominous-ness deserves at least some worry. Especially considering the things that usually followed Danny specifically being ominous.

Danny, content with his mild terrorising, actually explains himself while staring down his class like he’s some kind of government agency boss, “your assignment is thus, you will keep that blob ghost ‘alive’ until the twentieth. One full month. And you bet your knickers I’m gonna be tagging your suckers so I will know if you f̵̛u̕͞c̴̶̡k̶̨͠ it up and try to replace them”, glaring at the class comically, “you can keep it trucking however you see fit, use that knowledge! Bring It to hang around Cored ghost! Give It ecto food! Ecto-water! Use your imagination”, chuckling, “just don’t try creating a ghost portal to throw It in the Zone. That’s a real good way to die”.

Jasper grumbles, “yeah the freaking mayor was pretty clear about that”.

Amber purses her bubblegum pink lips, “and how do you plan to ‘tag them’? Half of us didn’t even bring ours!”, and huffs to herself. Danny smirks almost meanly and flops backwards in his chair to spin around more lazily in it, “I’m a teacher not a cop, meaning I don’t have any jobly standards against breaking and entering”.

Emilie snorts and starts snickering while Dash half shouts, “there’s no way a twerp like you has the guts!”. Dale shrugging, “well his freak folks do bust down walls all the time”.

“Still! Fenton’s a wimp!”, Dash grumbling to himself a little, “even if he’s manned up a little”, grumbling even quieter to himself, “… and some of the wimpiness was faked”.

Danny rolls his eyes, toying with yet another pink slip, “pinky pinky someone should keep their lips zippy zippy”. Earning death glares from Dash. Danny chuckling, “anyway, considering my lack of giving a s̛hi̸t̡ about school rules and whatnot you'd think me also lacking in the s̛hi̸t̡ giving department towards general laws would be some kind of a given”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’ll tag your suckers and I’ll tag ‘em just right”, and smirks, turning back to face the whiteboard.

Valerie rolls her eyes and coughs a little, “well that wasn’t creepy at all, Danny”. Which really only makes Danny smirk more as he shoves himself out of his chair before going about writing up what in all this ‘final assignment’ even involved with his funky little quill. And while everyone goes about reading that shit he’ll walk around and ‘mark’ all the little blob ghosts, which sit all pretty and proper for him; being that he’s the strong ghosty here and being that they all ‘live’ in his wonderful little lair.

Brittney scowls at her blob, “why does It listen to you? Every time I touch It, It tries to bite me”, her attempting to pet It and getting almost bit in response feels like emphasis, and more than a few people nod at that. Danny just chuckles meanly, “because they fear me”, and moves on without explaining that at all.

Dash scowls and grumbles down at his desk, “as if anything fears him”. Which really just makes Danny smirk. Oh how wrong that was, in more ways than one. Which he wasn’t exactly always happy about. Danny did like certain fear, he was a ghost after all, and he definitely liked it if it was The Observants or Boxy’s fear. Just not genuine fear from the general population of humanity, Amity, the Zone, etcetera.

Danny popping back over to the board, “ookily dookily, now that that’s done and over with”, glancing at the class meanly, “I will get the rest of you later”, then back to the board, “now for actual class class s̛hi̸t̡. Which yeah sure fine, this has nothing to do with the final so technically you could just ignore my a̡̡s͢͞s̸ or f̢̡u͞c҉k͡ off entirely if you think you can sneak out for a half hour-ish without getting caught. But hey! My s̛hi̸t̡ might be useful s̛hi̸t̡”, shrugging, “or at least interesting. Unlike most stupid classes”. That gets him some snickers and laughs. Success. He’s also not surprised no one takes him up on the ‘fucking off and leaving’ option; most people took this class because they actually wanted to hear some nut job yammer on about ghosts… or at this point they just wanted to bear witness to whatever shit might happen to or be done by Danny. Perfectly understandable.

---

“You did what?”.

Danny shoves another mouthful of the noodle dish in his mouth before looking up to his mom, “uhhhh, it seemed like a better idea than some useless info dump regurgitation required test”. Okay so maybe it was stupid of him to think that his folks, oblivious as they often are, would just… not notice? people running around after blob ghosts.

She gives him a worried look, “but Danny, they’re still ghosts. Still dangerous”. Danny makes a point not to roll his eyes. Sure her genuine worry was ludicrously misplaced and steeped in ectophobia but it was still genuine… and while Danny is indeed a little shit, he’s not an utter dick.

He does still wave her off though, “i’s’ine”, swallowing his food, “it’s not like they haven’t spent an entire semester learning about this shit. Ghost shit”. She frowns at him, “still”.

His dad waves her off goofily, “oh I'm sure the kids have some idea what they’re doing, Mads!”, laughing loudly, “especially with Danno over here!”, and smacks Danny one on the back hard enough to make him cough. Danny appreciates the confidence but does he really have to get mildly assaulted at the same time? Not that he really minded but still.

Danny sticking up a finger, “and besides, Lance did approve it soooooooo…”, and waves his hand around limply. He’s honestly a little amazed by that fact still. Either Lancer trusted him a wee bit too much or didn’t want to see what else he might request if denied. It worked out mighty fine if you ask Danny. So far everyone seemed to be doing fine, sure Val had called and asked if she’d lose marks if she ‘used It as a pin cushion’; Danny said ‘yes’, of course… she was definitely disappointed. And both Dash and Dale were trying to teach theirs to fetch footballs. He might have to go give Todd a talking to about trying to turn his into some kind of feudal warlord over the other ‘wild’ blobs though.

She sighs and picks at her food a little, “it’s not that I don’t trust Danny”, actually looking at Danny, “but couldn’t you have just had them catch and release or even track Phantom down and hand them off to him?”. Danny sighs a little, “but that would have hardly covered anything. How’s that supposed to test their understanding of low-level behaviouralism or stuff like ghost hunger”. She actually blinks at him, sounding slightly confused, “ghost… hunger…”.

Ah

Shit

Right

Sometimes he forgets he actually knows -and teaches- shit his folks don’t actually know. Which is weird all alone. But hey, ectophobes don’t deserve to know. So Danny just shrugs and elects not to even attempt to explain himself. They’re -or at least his mom, based on his dad going back to chowing down food- are probably just slightly worried about what he’s teaching his fellow teens.

His mom, of course, presses the issue, “…Danny…”. Which Danny takes as the perfect time to get up and head towards the door, “whelp, guess I should go and stop someone from establishing tyrannical blobby rule”, waving his folks off as he actually heads out said door, “Todd’s kinda a dick… and moron”. He doesn’t miss his mom frowning or her muttering, “maybe this job wasn’t the best idea… and is he implying someone’s trying to teach leadership to a blob?”. His dad laughing a little, “yeah so weird! Those things can’t even be trained not to bite! HA!”.

Danny rolling his eyes as he looks up at the sky, “oh they’re easily trainable”, and chuckling to himself a little.

-

It’s a simple ten-minute flight before he’s got himself perched on his ankles on Todd’s bedroom windowsill. Apparently the guy keeps his bed right next to the window… which is street-facing. Fuck that’s stupid and reckless. How has he never gotten rudely awakened by Phantom him or some other ghost getting throw into/threw this wall. Fucking Ancients, mild death wish much. But hey, it gives Danny the opportunity to be a creepy little bastard gremlin. Aka, Danny absolutely leans ominously down over Todd before speaking, “looks like sleeping beauty’s been naughty”. Todd, like Danny wanted, gets jolted awake, yelps, shuffles backwards, smacks his head on his headboard, and just stares at Danny in shock. Danny snickers meanly, “trying to establish tyrannical rule, tsk tsk tsk, can’t have that now can we”.

Todd gulps and musters up some -clearly fake- bravado, “what the Hell man”.

“Not from Hell but I’m sure Satan would be touched that you think I’m his handy work. Real compliment right there”.

Danny hops off the windowsill, over Todd/his bed, and lands in the guy's room; cloak fluttering in the air faintly all the while, he was technically doing his job right now after all. “So as I was saying, trying to make a merciless authoritative ruler out of your blobby is not part of the final and is honestly quite objectionable”.

“You broke into my room”.

“And you sleep right next to a street-facing window, so clearly I’m not the one making stupid life decisions here, buddy”, turning around and smirking at his fellow teen, “you’re practically begging for a break and enter, be glad it’s just your quirky teacher taking you up on that offer”. Granted he was also basically the most powerful ghost around town, but hey right now he was just teacher. Shrugging, “granted breaking in here isn’t apparently all that entertaining, considering all you’ve done so far is wake up and stare at me from your bed like a brain-dead monkey”.

Todd jerks and glares at him, “aww am I boring you. Get out of my room”.

Danny shrugs again, “ah naw, I’m good right where I am”. Snapping his fingers and sending out a bit of his energy to call over the little blob ghost that Todd’s SUPPOSED TO JUST BE TAKING CARE OF BUT IS INSTEAD GROOMING INTO A WAR MONGER. The blob ghost of course listens and immediately zips over and rolls around under Danny’s raised palm. Danny turns his attention to the little guy, speaking like one does to a small child or kitten who’s being misled by a miscreant, “now you listen here little one, don’t let this jackass fill your head with silly little thoughts of blob world domination”, staring at It meaningfully, “Phantom’s the more peace-seeking type”. The blob actually shudders slightly over the prospect of being rejected by Phantom.

Todd screws up his face and mutters disbelievingly when the blob turns to him and hisses. Danny smirking at the teen, “have fun taking care of them now”, and throws a very cheeky peace sign before strutting smugly over to the window and dropping out it down to the sidewalk.

Danny’s not even slightly surprised to get a bunch of empty energy cans thrown out the window at him along with a very loud, “FUCK YOU”… and a slightly shrieked, “YOU BIT ME!”. Hahahahaha have fun with that Todd, serves him right.

---

Todd had glared at him angrily and was more of a nuisance than usual for multiple days, not that Danny gave a shit. He also ‘reported’ Danny as a ‘peeping Tom’ to Lancer which did result in a ‘conversation’ with the man but Danny’s counter of outing Todd as attempting to turn the general blob community in harbingers of war -which fine was a major exaggeration but whatever- resulted in Lancer sighing exhaustedly and basically throwing out the report. One of these days Danny’s going to run out of ways to make Lancer slightly regret ever offering him a job but that day has yet to come.

Danny smacks a hand on the whiteboard a couple of times, “alrighty alrighty alrighty, test results time!”, turning around and smirking at the class, “you get that s̛h͜i̕͟t͠ now since no one has to waste time grading a bunch of stupid paper scanner thingies and then rechecking them for fu̕͝c͟k̛͜ ̧u͝p̸̨s”, and smacks the board again. Though pausing at the cracking sound and snapping his head around to the board. There’s a decent-sized crack/dent in it, making Danny grin like an idiot, throw his hands up, and cheer, “YES! FINALLY!”. He has cracked the board! It has happened! Turning back to the class, actually tearing up a little and wiping his eyes, “I’m truly overjoyed. Blessed really”.

James blinking and muttering, “is he crying?”. Dash snorting, “ha loser”. Val actually turning around to the jock while Danny holds up a pink slip, “do you never learn?”.

“I’m collecting them at this point”.

Val blinks at that, “now you sound like Danny”. Dash looks genuinely offended and like he’s seconds away from starting a brawl right then and there, “you take that back!”.

“Make me!”.

Danny just laughs and waves a hand dismissively, “now now children, no fighting”. Earning him eye-rolls and scowls, Val laughs though so it’s a win in his books. Summoning out his staff and pointing it rather aggressively at the class, only Ashley jumps so clearly they’ve gotten too used to his shit by now, “now present to me your blob pets for grading!”.

Everyone dutifully pulls out their jarred blob ghosts and places them on their desks. Maple sticking up a hand, “do we have to release them or?”.

Danny chuckles, “you can keep ‘em if you wanna, wouldn’t exactly recommend it but hey Charles’s -that he so rudely stole from me- is doing cool so”, shrugging, making his staffs bell jingle. Danny pushing his energy into his staff making the feathers multiply and extend out to ‘assess’ the blobs. It was fucking weird that his staff could basically do anything so long as it had to do with his ‘role’ as Wisdom Guardian.

Jesse shakes his head at his blob attempting to nibble the feathers, “I’m just going to pretend this makes sense. This class is almost weirder than the ghosts are”. Danny simply smirks at that.

Danny nodding to himself after a bit, feathers retracting, gesturing the staff over the board making the results magically appear. Danny nodding smugly at his handy work/his students' results, fists on his hips, “Ancients the G.I.W. would hate me so much”.

“You say that as if you don’t already”.

Danny ignores that, turning around grinning and gesturing grandly at the board, “behold! Crack or no, your results!”. Walking to his desk and flopping down into his chair, “of course no one failed”, leaning back and feigning being utterly desolate, “oh how disgraceful that would be. To think my pupils would even consider bringing such shame upon me, after everything I have bestowed upon them”.

Val gets up and slams a cup of coffee on his desk, “will you stop being overdramatic now?”. Danny snagging it up eagerly, “oh why thank you”, gesturing dramatically, “my beloved emergency caffeine maid, how I thank yo-”, Val promptly cuts him off by punching his head into his desk.

“Call me ‘Maid’ again and I’ll make you a ghost”.

Danny just grumbles incoherently into his desk while the class goes about looking at the results.

“Oh Hell yeah! Guess who’s average is going up!”.

“Honestly I thought I did worse. Wow”.

“The bastard seriously docked me marks. Jerk”.

“You deserved it, Todd”.

“I’m honestly actually kinda proud of this. Doesn’t feel as meaningless as tests usually do”.

“High five bro!”.

“Heck yeah bro!”.

“That’s enough ‘bro’ing. Fuck”.

“Shove it, pipsqueak”.

“Is it sad that I care more about this result than my math results?”.

“Now if only uni gave a shit about this class…”.

Danny lifts his head up off his desk and rests his chin in a palm, “good for all of you”, sipping his coffee, “granted I’d got all happy go lucky if I ever got decent grades”. Val actually gives him a slightly sympathetic look at that, even if she says, “well maybe if you didn’t skip constantly”. Danny just takes another sip of his drink before standing up, “so who wants to do a blob release party in the field? Like releasing balloons into the sky”.

Maple practically skips back to her desk and actually hugs the jar her blobs in, “not mine”. Danny waves her off, “that’s perfectly fine”, standing up, swinging the staff behind his head to rest on his neck/shoulder. Wandering over to the window and just falling out of it, “see you out there!”.

James blinks, “we’re… not following him, are we”.

Valerie shrugs, “yup”, and basically jumps out of it.

“There’s a lot wrong with the two of them”.

“That’s nothing new”.

“I’m taking the stairs, this is ridiculous”.

“Well it is Danny for you”.

“I love this class”.

-

Danny just grins at everyone with their jars, nodding at them all before pointing his staff up at the sky for no real reason other than dramatics, more than a few classrooms have teens staring out at them while everyone -well almost everyone anyway, a small handful opting out- opening their jars and letting out the random blobs.

Some of the blobs just start zipping around or floating off, a couple nuzzle their particular caretakers, one or two just straight up stay and take naps on the grass. It was all kinda cute actually.

Amber crouching down on her ankles petting one of the grass sleeping blobs, “yeah I guess we kind of put you guys through the wringer, huh”. Danny chuckling, “oh yeah, for the most part, blobs do perfectly well living on their own in the wild-”.

Half the class basically speaks in unison and in time with him, “so long as there’s enough ectoplasm around”, followed by, “we know”.

Danny pouts at everyone, “well at least y’all remembered”. He has been successful at this teaching thing. Hurray. Good for him. Guess for now he’ll just enjoy the view of the healthy blob ghosts running around. Todd’s is apparently still somewhat ticked at him, taking the time to naw on his pants before fucking off. Hopefully, that one doesn’t cause problems in the future.

---

“So how was it? I saw that everyone passed”.

“Surprisingly enjoyable”.

“Really now”.

Sigh. “Fine I’ll admit it, you were right about this being a good option for me”.

“Good. So you’re up for doing this again next semester I take it”.

“At this point? No shit. Though I think my folks are going to interrogate me about my ‘usual’ and ‘forbidden’ and ‘impossible’ and ‘can’t possibly be true’ knowledge at this point, all things considered”.

Slight chuckle. “Good, it might do them some good. Their bigotry only seems to grow more concerning”.

“Heh, nice to hear it called bigotry honestly”.

“You’d be the one to say that”.

“Yeah, I guess so”.

“You know you’ve got one more thing to do now though”.

“Oh yeah? What?”.

“Get Christmas gifts from your students”.

“FUCK”.

“We also have a staff holiday party”.

“…oh I hate you so much”.

Chapter 7: Probably Utterly Unnecessary Overly Wordy Self-Imposed And Unintentional Obligatory Closing Chapter (But Christmas-Themed) Because I Knee-Jerk Hate Christmas And Will Take Any Given Opportunity To Take A Piss On The Season So In The Words Of Danny Fenton ‘Dude, I Am *Sick* Of Christmas!’… ‘I Know! (Puts Down Walker’s Arm And Grabs The Orange) How ‘Bout *This*!’

🎵All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth🎵

🎵My two front teeth🎵

🎵See my two front teeth🎵

🎵Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth🎵

🎵Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"🎵

…

….

…..

🎵What a bright time, it’s the right time🎵

🎵To rock the night away🎵

🎵Jingle bell time is a swell time🎵

🎵To go gliding in a one-horse sleigh 🎵

Danny’s grumbling almost aggressively and marching to class looking like he actively wanted to murder someone… slowly and violently. Repeatedly. Scowling up at the ceiling, nearly snarling at the speakers, “swell time my ass”, before basically kicking in his classroom door. Was he wearing an anti-Christmas sweater? Yes. Only because apparently teachers were ‘highly encouraged’ to show ‘holiday spirit’ with their clothing. Fuck Christmas. Fuck Christmas cheer. Goddamnit. His shirt said ‘sleigher’ -because Danny will pun regardless of how shitty or not his mood may be. And currently, it was quite shitty indeed- with a murdered reindeer. A graphically murdered reindeer. He’s pretty sure no teacher has tried to dress code him because of the fear of throat punching based off his facial expression.

Anyway…. door kicking. Ancients he wishes the stupid thing wasn’t built fucking solid o that his goddamn foot would have just smashed a nice little hole in the bottom. But hey, at least the door bangs against the wall hard enough to shake and bounce back enough that he has to kick it again to get it out of his way. And fine maybe he has to do that repeatedly. And sure maybe he just gets more violent about it. And okay he absolutely broke one of the hinges. Whatever. Fuck that door.

Valerie just sighs and shakes her head, well aware of Danny’s hatred for Christmas and well used to him turning into an angry chihuahua this time of year. Dash also rolls his eyes, even if he’s slightly intimidated. The rest of the class just looks on concerned as Danny walks over to the whiteboard, him smacking it hard enough to make the cracking spread, “alright so the next fucker who asks if I’m going to decorate this room will get stabbed and I will use your blood as the decoration to make this place look like Satan’s personal spa retreat, including something demonic-looking getting summoned into the corner to stare at you all menacingly”, glaring at a couple of people in particular, “and the next person to give me a bag of feathers as a present is spending the holidays with Boxy in a warehouse. Got it. Good. Anyways, since we don’t need no stinking stupid-ass review periods because we’re already done with that shit, what the fuck do ya wanna talk about and preferably loud enough to block out the crappy Christmas music”.

Todd blinks, “what crawled up your ass and died”. Danny snapping at him immediately, “my will to live in this god-forsaken time of year”.

🎵Who doesn’t love to sing We Wish You A Merry Christmas?🎵

Danny’s rye twitches, him half shouting towards the ajar door, “I fucking don’t!”.

🎵Good tidings we bring🎵

🎵To you and your kin🎵

🎵Good tidings for Christmas🎵

“Take those ‘tidings’ and shove them up your ass!”.

🎵And a happy New Year!🎵

Scowling and looking at the class, “y’all better start talking or I’m going to get in trouble for vandalism and destruction of school property”. Now that gets the class chuckling at him a little, making him roll his eyes somewhat fondly.

James shakes his head, “so I take it you don’t exactly like Christmas”. Valerie turning to him, “understatement. Danny hates Christmas more than the Box Ghost hates circles”.

“Well damn, that’s actually impressive”.

Danny sighs and glares at the ceiling, “and I actually hate it less than I used to”. That gets him some disbelieving staring. Whatever. Yes his hatred might be excessive but he’s a ghost goddamnit, excess is the name of the game; fuck off.

Amber purses her lips, “soooo… you don’t want presents then. Or any more anyway”. Danny sighs, “it’s fine. But make them Christmas-themed at your own peril”. The class absolutely laughs at him, not that he gives a shit. So long as no one gives him Christmas socks they can laugh all they want.

(Does basically everyone eventually give him something? Yes. Was it mostly ghost-themed/related? Also yes. Did at least one person be a complete jackass and give him something Christmas-themed? Definitely; but no one else did after he dumped ectoplasm-infused eggnog on that particular teen's head)

“Ignoring Danny’s hate boner, I vote we talk about Phantom”.

Dash grinning, “well duh!”.

Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, “I swear this town has a mass obsession or something”, shrugging, “eh what the heck why not”. Val rolls her eyes which makes him smirk, even if his mood’s still shit. He pretty much just lets everyone chat amongst themselves; him flopping down in his chair and pretty much zoning out.

By the time class is coming to an end Danny’s got his feet up on the whiteboard ledge, Danny glancing at the clock, “whelp this has been fun”, lifting his feet off and spinning his chair around to face everyone, “guess this whole teaching thing was, like, an actually good idea. Dealing with you people wasn't terribly horrible”. He’s amazed the whole Phantom thing never got caught.

“Yeah fuck you too, teach”.

Danny grins and finger guns. Emilie getting up and tilting the door to get it open graces his ears with more fucking Christmas music though.

🎵Let’s sing Merry Christmas and a happy holiday🎵

🎵This season may we never forget the love we have for  *bell sounds*🎵

Danny snags his quill and flicks it at the speakers, shorting it out and making it smoke worryingly. Then blinking, “wait did they censor ‘jesus’? Haha nice”, smirking a little, that was probably Sam’s handiwork. Whelp anything that defaces a Christmas song is a plus in his book. Val shakes her head at him, “you going to wreck the other door hinge?”. Danny just gives her a thumbs up, gets up, and kicks the bottom hinge hard enough to bust it apart; the door falling with a thump to the ground. Danny nods, satisfied, to himself with crossed arms. Val rolls her eyes at him and gives him a friendly shove on the shoulder. Normally that would boost his mood entirely but his ghostly ears means he’s still able to hear the stupid fucking music from the other intact speakers.

Fuck this time of year.

(Though fine some of the presents he wound up getting were actually pretty neat. The ectoplasm lava lamp even impressed his folks, even if they were none too pleased about the ‘team ghost’ flag).

---

By the time the staff holiday party rolled around Danny had warned Lancer that if there was Christmas music playing the whole time or -Ancients help him- carollers, then he was going to invite Technus. Needless to say, said party did not have Christmas music.

Lancer shaking his head at Danny, “you can be quite intimidating when you want”. Danny just scowls at him, “you have never seen me legit piss off, Lance”. Even Danny knew angry Danny was a scary -and dangerous- Danny. The man simply chuckles, handing off a cup of punch to Danny. Who mutters down at it, “I could totally spike this with ectoplasm”.

“Don’t even think about it, Daniel. As it is we already had to put a cage over the noodles you brought for the pot luck”.

Danny snickers and side-eyes the writhing noddles with teeth gnawing on the bars. Unsurprisingly he was the only one willing to eat them. Frankly… they were delicious. “I like my food thank you very much”, and nods smugly. He can practically feel Millie glaring at him from across the room; she’s not exactly alone in said glaring. Not that Danny actually gives a shit.

Remi grins at him mischievously, practically slapping a reindeer headband on his head, “at least you made things more interesting, Mr. Grinch”. Danny scowls and subtly sets the antlers on fire. A couple teachers jerk away from him, but Charles laughs loudly, “you’re on fire!”. Danny smirks, “and? I happen to think it’s very friendly fire”. Remi giggles at him while Xander dumps some of the punch on Danny’s head. Rude. Understandable, but still rude.

“Whelp. Now my hair’s wet”.

“And that’s not better than being on fire?”.

Danny grins and nods smugly, “nope”.

Things go on for a while and there’s even a few shitty party games and a little dance thing which honestly just makes Danny think he’s going to die from mortification. What is it with full-blown adults and bad/embarrassing dancing? And pin the nose on the snowman? What the fuck, man. A certain purple cloaked figure distracts him from wincing over Mainers attempt at what appears to be some kind of shuffle? Eh whatever.

Danny grins at the blonde-haired man, honestly it still surprises him sometimes that his Guardian had a human form… well illusion would be more accurate. Not that that should really be surprising, considering their strength. “ClockWork”.

“Daniel”.

Lancer -who has apparently wandered back over for more punch- chokes a little, eyeballing the currently human-looking ghost. Right, he’s pretty sure he explained his Guardian to Lancer; possibly more than once actually. Lancer eyeballing Danny, “… Daniel”, with more than a little worry and warning in his voice.

Danny waves the man off, “it’s fine. ClockWork’s the last one you’d have to worry about”.

The ‘blonde’ nods, cloak moving slightly in a nonexistent wind, “indeed. Not that any would claim me harmless”.

“Nope, just legless”. ClockWork cuffs Danny one over the head for that. Danny pouting and rubbing his head, feigning injury. “Meanie”. ClockWork gives him an almost invisible fond smile.

Lancer blinks a bit harshly, “well… this is still for teachers”. Danny smirks, “and they ‘teach’ me. So there”.

ClockWork shakes their head, “I’m not here to partake, rather to remind someone that he has places to be”. Danny pouts at that, speaking incredibly sarcastically, “but I’m just hAvInG sO mUcH fUn. CaN’t YoU sEe?”, putting a hand to his chest dramatically, “BuT oH hOw NiCe Of My ClOaK bUdDy To CoMe FeTcH mE. oH hOw GrAtEfUl I aM”. ClockWork actually glares at him for that.

“Someone will come to fetch you”.

“Oh I know. But this party is just begging to be crashed”.

Lancer sighs, “for the love of Shakespeare, Daniel”. Putting on some obviously fake bravado and glaring at the ghost, “and where are you trying to take him”.

Danny sighs and sags a little, “Ancients fuck, Lance. Ghosts just so happen to have truce parties and maybe some of them get a little aggressive about me going to one”. More than a few of the other teachers are eyeballing Danny at this point.

Joshep glaring, “of course the ghosts actually like him”.

“Honestly isn’t he a little biased to be teaching about ghosts then?”.

Danny rolls his eyes, muttering, “having someone who dislikes ghosts would be what’s biased. Geez, been over this much”. Lancer claps Danny on the shoulder, avoiding ClockWork though, “for what it’s worth I agree with you, and my opinion just so happens to matter more”. Danny does smile over that, but eh, it’s probably a good idea that he skedaddles at this point.

Danny shrugs at Lancer before turning to ClockWork, “alright, cloak buddy, I’m sure Johnny’s already challenged someone to an unfair race and I’d rather a place get trashed after I’m there than before. But first…”, Danny turns around to grab up one of the Christmas oranges and lobs it through the ajar doorway. Resulting in the now more familiar than he’d like sound of Ghost Writers voice in the form of a shriek.

Lancer grimaces a little as Danny heads to the door, a few people watching awkwardly/cautiously, “I still don’t approve of you tormenting a poet with fruit”. That just makes Danny grin meanly at Lancer, then at the Ghost Writer who’s around the door and glaring at him.

Millie shouts after him, “you could at least dispose of the abomination that you call ‘food’!”. Danny shouting back, “naw! Why would I deny everyone the joy of such yummy friendly food!”, then snickering meanly to himself. Both ClockWork and Ghost Writer shake their heads at him, though ClockWork looks a lot more fond… and amused.

-

So what’s the first thing that greets Danny when he actually gets to Dora’s kingdom -which is apparently the place hosting, for his particular group anyway, this year- why it’s Skulker with a slice of pie in hand of course. Always was, probably always would be. Danny shaking his head fondly at the robotic ghost, “so what’s the flavour this year, my determined little poacher”.

“Berry and fish”.

Danny stares at him a little, “… okay yeah fuck you”, but takes the pie anyway. Like always it’s freaking delicious, but come on? Seriously? Berry and fish? Ghosts are weird, man. Not that he isn’t totally here for said weird.

It takes not even five minutes for Dora to practically skip up to him, putting a dainty hand on his shoulder lightly, “you look well, nest-mate mine”.

“You as well, Aurora”. Danny liked his nicknames, including for ghosties he actually liked. Danny smirking, putting a hand to his chest as she takes a step back, “in fact, I’m wonderfully well off. Got a group of teens to entertain most days,  then there’s the Guardian thing I’ve got going for me, oh and all these fuckers-”, jabbing a thumb towards the random crowd of ghosts, “-actually somewhat respect my human job”.

Ember scowls and snarks, “messing with a Guardian’s duties is just asking for trouble”.

“And you don’t actively want trouble? Huh, guess I misread you”. Ember flips Danny off for that. Dora, however, giggles lightly, hand over her mouth, “trouble-seeking as she maybe, there is a difference”.

Danny rolls his eyes, waving her off, “yeah yeah yeah, I know. Still fun to poke fun at everyone though”, and sticks his tongue out in Ember’s general direction; she throws a guitar pick at him, though she does look a little amused at least.

That was the nice thing about ghosts, they liked picking fights and poking fun at each other… and they liked others doing that back to them. Unlike humans, who usually got pissed off if you snapped back at them regardless of if they snapped at you first *cough cough* Dash *cough cough*.

Dora hums and nods to herself, “well you enjoy the party and may the truce for you be bless-ed, nest-mate”.

“May it be bless-ed for you as well, nest-mate”.

Dora was a nice sorta sister to have, and considering the Queen/mother fucking DRAGON thing he didn’t really have to worry about anyone picking fights with his little -even though she’s legit older than him- sister.

YoungBlood zips over and whisper laughs into Danny’s ear, “you should totally go bug that nasty Aragon about your boring adult stuff”, snicker, “he so doesn’t know”.

Danny grins wickedly, “oh Hell yeah”.

The kid -that Danny’s pretty sure he can only still see because he was absolutely still immature and because of the right to the High Throne thing- laughs and gets overexcited, “can I come! Can I come! Can I come! I’ll bring grapes”.

“Does everyone just know that I throw grapes at that bastard”.

“Yup!”.

“Fuck you, yes you can come”, smirking at the child ghost, “but make sure they’re extra squishy”. YoungBlood giving him a goofy thumbs-up before getting distracted by the sweets table.

Kitty giggles from the side at him, “here I thought teachers weren’t supposed to swear around children”.

“I resent that”, putting a hand to his chest, “why I in fact taught them to”, sticking up a finger, “in ghost speak specifically”. They had totally been taking advantage of that to get away with swearing in their other classes. Which Danny one hundred percent supports wholeheartedly. Kitty laughs at that and Danny’s going to take a guess that Johnny’s off hitting on some other girls here. Kitty speaking up again, “you know…. The flowers are kind of cute”, and giggles, leaning over to fiddle with one of the ghost pipes. Well that feels like proof to him.

Unsurprisingly Johnny comes out of nowhere, scowling at him then smirking attractively at Kitty, “come on babe, whatcha doing with him”.

She just huffs at him; Danny taking the opportunity to subtly slink away from the pair while they go about having one of their typical lovers quarrels. Danny damn near crashes into Desiree in the process through.

She scowls at him a little before shaking her head, “and that is why I absolutely do not ‘want a man’”. Danny chuckling awkwardly, “ah come on now, some of us are at least fun to mess with”. That gets a smirk out of the genie ghost, “true. Still not worth the trouble”. Danny just chooses to shrug before wandering off to the little appetiser table, Desiree’s tolerance for him was minimal at best… especially because he was a guy.

-

Danny barely gets to spend ten minutes demolishing the appetiser table before Walker is there being a pick and shoving a present at his chest unnecessarily hard. Danny letting out a little oof followed by a not so eloquent, “jerk”, in the prison wardens general direction.

The skull-faced ghost scowls at him, “I hope you are teaching those delinquents the law”. Danny rolling his eyes so hard it almost hurt, “of course, Whitey. I might be lazy and have a complete disregard for law but when I have responsibilities I actually tend to do them”, shrugging, “with the occasional shortcut”, smirking meanly at the ghost, “besides, the best ways to break the law require knowing it”, and winks. If it wasn’t the truce Danny is a-hundred-percent positive Walker would assault him right now.

Walker sneering, “you’re lucky it’s the truce, punk”, and stalking off feels like proof in Danny’s books.

Walker taking the initiative with the present giving basically results in everyone else following suit. Which of course means Danny gets pelted by boxes, which the exception of the occasional one that’s actually handed to him. They were all combative motherfuckers alright? Danny laughing probably doesn’t discourage it though.

Like always most would prove to be useless or even slightly insulting. Not that the gifts he chucks back won’t be equally offensive/pointless. He’s pretty sure his gift for Boxy is literally just a shit ton of marbles with square shapes inside them to really bug the guy. ClockWorks was a little touching though, being a gear cog accessory for his staff, and fine maybe Danny also gave ClockWork staff accessories. Like minds think in kind. Too bad FrostBite and Pandora have their own kingdoms truce celebrations to see to. Eh, he’ll visit them at some point. Besides, they all took turns hosting his group's truce celebrations. Technically he could go to those parties too but Danny’s not putting himself through three to six ‘Christmas’/‘Yule’/truce parties every year. He’s not a fucking masochist, regardless of what anyone might say.

Eventually, everyone gets all well and done with their present-based assault of each other. Dora nodding to herself and raising her chalice, “to a blessed and successful-”, everyone glancing judgingly at the Ghost Writer, “-truce!”. Danny, and more than a few others, chuckling at the Ghost Writers expense before sipping their prospective drinks. Was Danny’s the most disgusting horrid-looking concoction he could come up with based on what ingredients he had at his disposal? Abso-fucking-lutely. He even stuck in an orange wedge for the fuck of it. The smell was truly atrocious and the mild glaring that causes only makes Danny feel all the more smug. Drinking what’s effectively consumable battery acid with a devilish smirk as the party begins to draw to an end.

-

And boom bada boom, another year's festivities over. Guess the class shit’s over for another year too, so a nice little two-for-one ending there. Nice. Now to do it all over again in, like, a month. Well okay, a year for the truce crap. Oh whatever. Class starts again in January…

Eh at least Lancer had the decency to put Danny’s ecto-ology class in the afternoon again. Hopefully, that will never change. Though the fact that Danny still managed to show up late would probably cement that afternoon time slot. Ancients Danny might not show up at all out of spite if the man scheduled it any sooner. Lancer probably knew that too, the man had proven he understood waaaaaaay more than Danny ever thought/knew.

At least no one was treating him different due to the Guardian/teacher thing. Much anyways. Goes to show that Danny could probably change into infinitely stranger things and people would probably still go ‘eh that’s just Danny for you’. No one, ghost nor human, should have expected he’d become a freaking teacher (except ClockWork anyway… and the stupid fucking Observants) and yet everything went more or less fine.

But still, fuck Christmas.

And fuck the Observants for good measure.

What the heck, fuck the educational system too.

Throw in a ‘fuck his half-life’ for bonus points and to complete the nonexistent list of things to flip off before he goes to bed.

End.

#Danny Phantom #phandom #invisobang #danny #sam #tucker #dash #valerie #mr. lancer #technus #skulker #kitty #johnny #box ghost #clockwork #observants #teacher! danny #danny's a little shit #danny fenton the teacher #danny gets a job #your teachers dead shenanigins #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker #slight religous mocking #invisobang 2021

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 49

a/n : "the incantation comes from latin 'protego', 'i protect', and 'diabolica', a declension of 'diabolicus', meaning 'diabolic, relating to the devil'. it is unclear if the translation is meant to suggest 'protection from the devil' or 'the devil protects.'..."

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_______________________________

“Jungkook, will you stop eating all the cookies please--”

“How come Jin gets to eat everything in sight, but I can’t--”

“Because Jin is an insatiable mountain troll with no human manners and six stomachs--”

“Aw, Yoongi, you’re so loving with your words!”

“Shut up, Jin.”

“Kim Seokjin, stop eating the fucking food!” Jimin watches with thinly veiled exasperation as chaos unfolds in Yoongi and Hoseok’s countryside cottage. They’d arrived a few days prior, spending the week together before dispersing for Christmas Day, just in time for the full moon. It had been a chaotic week at best -- verbal altercations were had over stupid things like gift-wrapping techniques, and several small fires had already occurred in the kitchen, mostly due to Taehyung’s ice cream maker.

But somehow, they’d made it to Christmas Eve. And, so far, this Christmas Eve had been spent watching Jin eat all the food as it’s being made and consequently be kicked out of the kitchen entirely by Hoseok. Jimin’s seated in the living room with a perfect view of the chaos happening at the dining table. Y/n’s next to him, reading quietly with her head on Jimin’s shoulder. She’s especially tired today, the full moon just over 24 hours away, so Jimin’s staying close to her.

Namjoon and Taehyung are seated in front of the fireplace, engaged in an intense game of wizard’s chess. Namjoon is beating Taehyung by a landslide, but Taehyung just will not give up, something that makes Jimin smile fondly.

There’s a bang from the kitchen, catching everyone’s attention. Hoseok turns slowly from where he stands at the oven, smiling sheepishly at them.

“I may have put the pie in for too long.” The room is a collection of groans and exasperated laughter, Jin’s complaints overpowering the rest.

“How the fuck do you make a pie explode?! It’s a pie!” Hoseok looks to Yoongi for help, but the boy only shrugs.

“The man’s right, babe -- pie’s not that hard.” Hoseok lets out an affronted scoff, moving to open the window over the sink to let some of the smoke from the oven out. Jimin feels Y/n snicker softly beside him, and when he looks down at her, she’s peering over the top of her book at the scene in the kitchen. She looks so peaceful and happy, even with eyes full of exhaustion. He adores her entirely, and he knows it’s obvious to everyone but her.

Her eyes flick up to meet his then, and, over the cries of outrage from the kitchen about not having dessert, he hears her whisper to him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin purses his lips, smothering the smile that’s rising to the surface. He only shakes his head, his expression judgmental.

“Not everything’s about you, Y/n, geez.” He laughs when she gives him a hard nudge with her elbow, and he moves to wrap his arms around her and trap her in his hold. She lets it happen, only grumbling noncommittally about being unable to read like this. He presses his lips to her temple stubbornly in response. “You have a lifetime to read -- let me hug you.”

“Alright, it looks like we’re having deconstructed pie for dessert, so everyone come eat!” Apparently, the argument about the oven disaster has ended, as Hoseok’s setting a pie on the table, a giant hole in the middle where it had imploded. Taehyung jumps up from his tragedy of a chess game and runs for the kitchen, socked feet sliding to a stop in front of the refrigerator. Plucking a big bowl of homemade ice cream -- its flavor to be determined -- from inside, he makes his way to the table and spoons a giant scoop into the pie’s battle wound. He gestures dramatically at it when he’s done.

“Problem solved!” Hoseok mimics him, gesturing just as dramatically at his disappointed boyfriend.

“The man’s right, babe -- problem solved!” The group laughs, everyone slowly making their way to the table to eat. Y/n sets her book on the couch, moving to stand, but Jimin stops her. From within his pocket he pulls a vial and shakes it, eyeing her knowingly when she groans.

“Ten seconds of pain, and then you can drown the taste out with some ambiguously flavored ice cream. If it makes tomorrow night more bearable for you, then ten seconds is nothing.” She smiles, taking the vial and uncorking it.

“Did you just admit to being someone who eats dessert before dinner?” She downs the potion in one go, eyes squeezed shut. She doesn’t see Jimin gazing at her lovingly, only to lower his eyes when she’s done. She hands him the vial and takes his hand, pulling him to his feet and toward the table.

“You promised me only ten seconds of pain before ice cream, so move faster, Park Jimin.” They take their seats in the chairs nearest them, Jungkook setting his plate down on Y/n’s other side and moving to join them. Tae, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit across from them, Jin and Namjoon taking the end seats. Namjoon leaves his seat after a moment, moving to pass out silverware and swap the ladle in Jin’s hand for a normal spoon. Jin refuses to give up his spoon of choice, glaring at the boy standing over him.

“Dude, I will fight you on Christmas Eve -- I have no qualms about fucking up the holiday spirit or whatever--”

“Stop.” It comes from Jungkook, spoken with a quiet urgency that halts all activity in the room. He’s standing just behind the seat he’d been about to take, his hand resting on the back of the chair. He ignores their questioning glances, his eyes locked on nothing in particular as he focuses his hearing on the open window. When he finds what he’s looking for, he meets Yoongi’s eyes, alarmed.

“I thought you said you put a barrier around your house.” Yoongi and Hoseok glance at one another, shaking their heads simultaneously as Yoongi looks back to the Gryffindor.

“We never got around to it…” But Jungkook’s stopped listening. And, for all the years of jokes, remarks, and complaints Jung Hoseok had ever made about the boy’s heightened senses, he can say with complete confidence later that Jeon Jungkook is the only reason he’s still alive. Because the only person in the room that’s ready for the unforgivable curse that’s shot though the open window, aimed squarely at Hoseok’s chest, is the boy who’d heard the call for death fall from its caster’s lips.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s across the room, launching his body at Hoseok’s over the dinner table and twisting in mid-air to throw his hand out toward the window. He’d never in his life attempted nonverbal magic -- not necessarily the most advanced of students -- but it’s said that wizards can create even miracles if they’re desperate enough. And this is nothing like the World Cup, when Hoseok had protected him from a nasty stunning curse -- the beam of light headed Jungkook’s way right now, in this moment of literal life and death, has been shot to kill. So desperation is exactly what produces the shield charm that emits from his entire body, exploding outwards and shattering all the windows in the house as it goes. The force of it blows them all back, throwing them to the floor and against walls with cries of shock.

And, while a shield is normally null against a curse so powerful, it seems Jungkook’s done more than just perform nonverbal magic for the first time. He’s produced a physical barrier -- an invisible pane of pure energy separating his enemies from his family. It takes out half of the kitchen as it goes, destroying the far wall completely and opening the house out to the cold night around them.

In the confusion of chaos and rubble, Y/n lifts her head from the kitchen floor, catching a glimpse of the group of people outside the house, all equally disarmed from the display of sheer strength they’d just witnessed. She counts 6 bodies, all donned in dark robes, and she knows immediately that this is a Death Eater attack.

Groaning, she drags herself to her feet, grabbing anyone she can get her hands on and pulling them with her, staying low to the ground. Jimin’s the first to follow, holding onto Y/n for dear life, but he can’t help the way he hesitates when he looks past the overturned dining table, the wood splintered and cracked amidst all the wasted food.

Because there in front of him, right where the initial wave of power had surged out from and disoriented them all, is something that is very much not human. When it rises to its feet, it stands to full height, and Jimin knows that it’s easily as tall as he is. Black fur as far as the eye can see, the end of its ears and tail painted grey -- its body practically ripples with strength as it moves, and it’s from behind a set of sharpened teeth and a massive jaw, so powerful it could probably break Jimin clean in half, that a low growl starts to rumble.

It becomes a terrifying snarl in a matter of seconds, those piercing teeth shining in the moonlight with deadly intent. Jimin can feel that he’s still moving -- that all of this is happening in slow motion as he runs for safety and that no time at all has actually passed -- but he feels his whole world stop, drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, when the beast shifts. Preparing to attack, it turns its head at the last moment to meet his eyes, and Jimin sees then that he knows these eyes. He knows the way they look him over with guarded concern and the way they turn away from him as soon as they know he’s unharmed, silently telling him to find his own way out -- after all, Jeon Jungkook’s always made it clear he has better things to do than look after Park Jimin.

Jungkook presses all his weight into his back legs, crouching low for a moment so suspended in time that Jimin doesn’t even see him leave. But then he’s gone, wind rushing past Jimin’s face and blowing debris everywhere as the wolf takes off. After another hard tug from Y/n that pulls Jimin’s focus back to the matter at hand, he only hears when Jungkook finds his first target, the ripping of cloth and the hellish cry of pain ringing in Jimin’s ears like a nightmare.

Tripping over pieces of the ceiling and walls -- the back half of the house essentially crumbling in on itself -- Jimin finds the faces of each of his friends. They’re all there with the exception of Jungkook, who seems almost feral, if the shrieks of death behind them are anything to go by. The group stumbles from the side of the house through a door that’s comically useless at this point, and when they circle around to the back, it becomes clear that there are far more than 6 Death Eaters.

The group that had led the attack has all but been taken out now, Jungkook nowhere to be seen -- but he’s certainly left evidence of his presence there. Jimin can’t tell if these people are dead or still dying, but he doesn’t have time to sort through the discarded bodies to check. Behind the cottage is a field of tall wheat that's surrounded by forest-- a massive expanse of land -- and when they look into this field to the top of a hill not too far away, there’s another wave of Death Eaters lined up, these faces rather familiar to just two of his friends. Jimin hears swearing behind him, and then Hoseok’s pushing past him roughly, only stopped by Namjoon’s hand clamping down around his wrist.

“Don’t, Hoseok! We can’t do this -- there’s too many of them. We have to run--”

“They just tried to kill me, Namjoon! In my own home!” Hoseok whirls around and gets in his face, eyes wild. Jin tenses next to Y/n, one of his hands hovering over his pocket where his wand is. When she follows his eyes, she sees that the line of Death Eaters has started to approach.

They move slowly, as if they have all the time in the world. As if they have nothing to fear, organized and protected against this mismatched group of ambushed friends. She watches as they approach like predators waiting for the kill, and she knows that this is no simple Death Eater attack -- it’s a massacre.

And then, just as silently as he’d disappeared, Jungkook’s returned. Their attackers are given no warning, only registering that the wheat around them is rustling when one of them is violently pulled down into it. He’s gone in an instant, his screams echoing in the night as he’s dragged through the dirt toward the house.

The moment Jungkook emerges at the edge of the field, the Death Eater is flying through the air and crashing into the remains of the house, slung from Jungkook’s jaws like nothing more than a ragdoll. He lands not a few feet away from them, and Yoongi’s jaw clenches when he recognizes the bloodied face of a fellow Slytherin. Turning to lock his gaze onto the line of his old classmates, he pushes past the group and summons his wand from within the rubble of his home with nothing more than the flick of his wrist. It flies from deep within the ruins into its master’s hand with ease, and Yoongi spins it between his fingers casually once he has it.

“I really hope you guys all know how to cast shields as powerful as Jungkook’s -- otherwise, we’re fucked.” The wolf in question falls into line with Yoongi, his whole body shaking from the warning growl forming deep within his chest. The rest of the group follows, facing their enemies head-on.

From Jungkook’s other side, he feels a warm hand press into the top of his head, and he knows it instinctively. He can also feel the cold length of a wand, hidden easily in the darkness of his fur and beneath her flattened hand. Y/n keeps him there for only a moment -- knowing they only have a moment -- and presses her fingertips against his skull as if to hold him back. As if to stall him just long enough to tell him to be careful. And then the moment is gone and she’s wrapping her fingers neatly around her wand, releasing him with a whisper.

“Go.”

--

None of them can say how long they’ve been there -- every second that passes is another that they could lose their lives, so it feels like they’re there a lifetime. They’ve huddled into a small circle, surrounded completely. Jungkook is mobile, weaving in and out of their enemies at too fast a speed to ever be hit by a curse. He’s taking them out slowly, dragging them back into the darkness one by one while the rest work just to stay alive. Unlike at the World Cup, where every enemy shot fired was red, these beams of lights are all hauntingly green, glowing in the night sky -- a sign that things are different now, death standing only a few feet away in the form of old friends.

Every killing curse fired is met with an equally powerful shield, a wall that shatters the moment it meets its mark. They’re cancelling each other out, evenly matched in a battle that won’t end until someone gets tired -- until someone makes a mistake. The only sounds come from incantations, spoken by those of their group that cannot cast silently.

Hoseok and Yoongi fight much like their opponents, masks of guarded silence -- a reminder that while they’re on opposite sides of the war, they were once very much the same. The difference, of course, is that their old housemates are now murderers without remorse. But that’s not their only problem.

Y/n suddenly stumbles next to Jimin, and he can’t even tear his eyes away from the Death Eater before him to check on her. He can only reach for her with his free hand, gripping her wrist in panic, which she rips from his hold with a groan. She only barely manages to raise her wand in time to block the killing curse headed right for her head. The force of her shield colliding with the curse so close to her knocks her back, and she falls into the circle with gritted teeth.

Jimin steps in front of her, closing the gap in their circle and allowing her a moment to recover inside their circle. But she never returns to her spot, only curling in on herself and gripping at her head with a cry of pain -- she knows this feeling. The feeling of her skull splitting, her body rejecting itself as it turns into something unnatural -- something unhuman.

But this can’t be happening. The full moon is not tonight, something she confirms simply by rolling over in the dirt and looking up at the sky, in excruciating pain. She can see clearly that this cannot be her reality, yet the popping of her spine as it dislocates itself is very much real. Reaching out blindly, she latches on to the first person she can find, her hand clamping down around Hoseok’s ankle and squeezing with all her might. He hisses above her and manages to glance down long enough to see an expression of pain he’d long become accustomed to.

“What the fuck?!” It’s the first time he’s spoken in ages, his attention back on his opponent as he works out in his mind how this is possible. There’s no time to reason through what he knows, however, because Y/n’s teeth are clenching so hard she’s afraid they might crack, her grip on his ankle tightening painfully. Hoseok makes a snap decision then, calling out into the night.

“Jimin, listen to me.” The boy’s on his left, so focused on the shield he’s casting that he responds only once he’s successfully blocked the deadly beam of green light.

“What is it, Hoseok--”

“You have to take her into the forest. Now.” His instructions are muffled by the sounds of a curse crashing into Namjoon’s shield, unheard by their enemies, but Jimin hears him clearly. He also hears the urgency in Hoseok’s voice, telling him there’s no time for questions. “It has to be you, Jimin.”

He knows then what Hoseok’s saying, what he hasn’t had the chance to confirm himself. Y/n’s transforming on a night other than the full moon, and they’re out of time. He calls for Y/n then, reaching back for her.

“Y/n -- baby, listen to me. We gotta go.” There’s a moment of nothingness, only her groans of pain, but then he feels her hand slamming down into his and gripping hard. And then his body is working faster than his brain.

Stepping forward out of the circle and straight for the man that’s been trying to end his life all night, Jimin swings his arm out, bringing a new shield up with him as he goes. It hits the Death Eater from the side, catapulting him through the air. Just as he’s in the downward arc of his fall, he’s caught suddenly, torso trapped in Jungkook’s jaws as the wolf leaps into the air to capture his next target. They crash to the ground not far away, hidden away in the wheat.

Jimin pulls Y/n to her feet, pointing his wand out into the field as he runs for the treeline.

“Fumos!” The effect is immediate, smoke pouring out of his wand and swirling around him in a dense fog. It keeps them hidden as they make a beeline for the trees, allowing them safe passage. Jimin chances a look over his shoulder and sees that the smoke hasn’t passed over his circle of friends, ensuring that they’ll still be able to see clearly and protect themselves.

Y/n stumbles again as they run, but Jimin’s hold on her keeps her going, and she registers that he’ll be there for her transformation. Panic seeps in through the pain, and she calls out desperately for him to stop, her vision leaving her. Jimin can feel her struggling against him, but he tightens his grip and forces her to follow. They’re close to the treeline by now, but it won’t be enough until they’re completely hidden. And, although he can’t see where the wolf has gone with his old enemy, Jimin steps in something wet and everything suddenly reeks of blood, so he knows Jungkook is near. Apparently, Y/n can smell it, too, because she’s struggling harder now.

“Jungkoo-- Jungkook, stop him!” Jimin grits his teeth and stops, turning to face his girlfriend and pulling her forward. She crashes right into him, the force of his sudden movement propelling her straight into his arms. Her eyes are wide open but her vision’s completely blacked out, which Jimin can see in the fact that she won’t look at him. But he doesn’t need her to.

Ducking low, he wraps an arm around her waist and throws her over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of outrage as he races for the forest just ahead. She pounds her fists against his back, practically roaring with fury as she fights him. He only pushes on, telling himself he’ll let her be as mad as she wants later, if they’re still alive.

Once they make it into the forest, Jimin runs only far enough that he feels unseen before setting her on her feet. She’s immediately falling to the ground, crawling blindly away from him and clawing at the dirt in pain.

“Go away! Just go away!” Disappearing behind a tree, she swears at him loudly, looking for any outlet for her pain. Jimin only turns to the treeline, letting her curse him as he surveys the land around him for Death Eaters. All he sees is Jungkook in the distance, turning in circles in the field as if lost.

Jimin watches as the wolf races for their friends, sliding to an urgent stop and turning back again in confusion when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He sees when Jungkook’s ears perk up at someone’s call, and his head is turning in Hoseok’s direction. Hoseok’s lips move, giving instructions Jimin can’t hear, but he knows exactly what’s been said when Jungkook’s whipping around to look at the trees.

Interestingly, the wolf hesitates, moving forward before stopping to looking over his shoulder. It’s only a moment, but it’s enough for Hoseok to point out at the forest urgently as he blocks another curse. Jimin can read Hoseok’s lips clearly then as the older boy calls out to Jungkook.

Jimin will die if you don’t go.

The chill that runs down Jimin’s spine at that moment, an omen playing a cruel joke on him, only worsens when he realizes that he’s stopped being able to hear Y/n’s pained gasps. A low whine rings out behind him, and it’s with bated breath that Jimin’s turning slowly on his heels.

Towering over him with an icy gaze locked on him is Y/n -- rather, it’s the part of Y/n that has no idea who he is in that moment. The eyes that see him only see through him, completely empty of anything that isn’t primal. Where Jungkook’s eyes are still his own even in a wolf’s body, these eyes don’t recognize him, and Jimin knows that fact alone will haunt him forever.

Yet, he isn’t afraid of her. He’s only afraid for her -- for the way she’s still curled in on herself, still in pain. He’s afraid for the way she blinks, thoughts muddled and lost, struggling to find herself in the darkness of her mind. He’s especially afraid for the way she finally gives in, losing her will to fight for herself. Her pupils shrink and grow until she’s focusing in on him, and Jimin knows by the way she tilts her head curiously at him that he’s got her attention -- and that’s never good.

When she takes a step toward him, he mirrors it with a step back, and that alone seems to set her off. She moves suddenly, closing the distance between them easily. She leans down until her snout is pushed close to his nose, snarling at him as he stays frozen where he stands. When she raises one clawed hand, he barely has time for a final thought before she’s swinging down at him.

Well, shit.

Suddenly, Jimin’s flying through the air and crashing to the ground a few feet away, rolling to a stop at the base of a tree with a groan -- but he’s in one piece. Lifting his head, he finds that he hadn’t been sliced to pieces by his own girlfriend. He’d been shoved out of the way by a wolf twice his size, the wolf in question now standing where he had just been.

Jungkook’s got his teeth latched around Y/n’s wrist, growling loudly to keep her attention on him. They stand there a few moments, eyes locked in a tense stare-down of dominance. Y/n eventually raises her other hand, claws gleaming in the moonlight, but Jungkook only growls again, a warning. It stops her, as if recognizing this moment, and, although she seems enraged by the display, she lowers her hand anyway.

Ripping her other, trapped, wrist from Jungkook’s jaws, she lets out her own snarl and steps toward him, and Jimin thinks these two might really tear each other apart. But Jungkook’s been here countless times, and he’s still of clear mind, so he knows exactly what to do.

Crouching quickly, he snaps his teeth at her ankles, sending her backwards. She roars angrily, but he persists, snapping at her feet again and again until she’s finally scurrying off into the forest with a cry of outrage. Jungkook watches her go before rushing to Jimin, startling the boy out of his shock.

The wolf sniffs at the air around Jimin, knocking him around with his massive head as he pushes his snout into Jimin’s torso, checking for injuries. Jimin’s lost for a moment, wondering exactly why Jungkook’s expressing so much concern when Y/n should be his priority, but then he remembers exactly what it would mean if he had been caught by one of Y/n’s claws.

Once Jungkook’s done checking that Jimin won’t be turning into a werewolf anytime soon, he’s gone, disappearing after his sister. Jimin only sits there, bruised and battered but alive all the same. Then he hears someone yelling Taehyung’s name in the distance, and he’s on his feet.

Rushing out to the field, he stops at the top of the hill, his breath catching in his throat when he sees the scene down below. His friends are still surrounded, and, although the number of Death Eaters has been severely reduced thanks to the merciless animagus running around, there’s still too many of them. But before he can rush to help, something happens, all too fast to process -- and Jimin has the displeasure of witnessing everything from that hill.

Down in the circle, the rest of the group is fighting for their lives. Many of the boys have sustained injuries simply from their own shields exploding too close to them -- pieces of the ground and debris from the house are thrown around, catching on their bodies in surface wounds they won’t even notice until the next morning.

There’s a special kind of desperation spilling off of Namjoon and Taehyung -- the only muggleborns in that circle -- and it’s making one of them reckless. Namjoon’s keeping his cool, as he’s been in the Order for months now and has had the battle training, but Jin’s having to compensate for small mistakes Taehyung is making out of fear. The Gryffindor’s only a boy, a boy targeted simply for being born. This is the first time he’s ever been faced with his own reality, and he’s terrified.

So when he slips on a piece of rubble at his feet, the only thing that keeps him alive is the fact that he’d moved his head a quarter of an inch to the left just in time. The killing curse flies past him and through the circle, passing Yoongi on the right and hitting a mark just past him -- that mark is the Death Eater that Yoongi had been battling all night.

The boy crumples instantly, the light in his eyes gone. Yoongi watches as he goes, his mind blank as the body crashes to the ground. And then he’s turning on his heel, everything slowed and muffled around him. The Death Eaters have all stopped, equally shocked from what’s just occurred -- after all, they’re just boys, too.

Yoongi hears Jin yelling Taehyung’s name, and he sees Hoseok rushing for him. He watches as Namjoon starts to run to Tae and then stop, raising his wand and choosing to keep guard instead, realizing that their fight isn’t over. Yoongi watches all of it with wide eyes, thinking then that this scene would be very different had the curse hit Taehyung as intended. He spins, staring down at the dead body below him, thinking that this is what Taehyung would have been. This lifeless, empty corpse. And that’s just too much for someone like Yoongi to deal with.

In that moment, the strength of the silent marksman is broken, shattered from within as he fights no longer to protect his own life but those of his friends. In that moment, he proves to be much more worthy than he’d ever thought himself before, breaking through that perpetual tendency to hide himself away — but it comes at a price. Because it’s in that moment that Min Yoongi, for all that he’d tried to free himself of that cursed name, finally gives in to the bloodline he’d spent his whole life denying.

“Protego diabolica!” The spell is cast like the roar of a dragon awakened, enraged -- the first time he’s spoken an incantation in years. It’s ripped from his lungs against his will, uttered with nothing but the urge to destroy, the need to bring pain down on his enemies so that they may never hurt his family again. That dark magic — so forbidden, so evil — follows the command of his left arm, quite literally brought to life by the malice in his eyes and the sweeping of his hand in an arc around himself. And for the first time in the 7 years Jimin had known the shy, self-loathing Slytherin — so guarded from the vulnerabilities of life — he watches from that hill as Yoongi loses control.

The fire that flows out of his hand like water -- icy and unforgiving -- spreads out around Yoongi like a wall of pitch black rage. It passes right over his friends -- they flinch at the foreign magic and its caster, who seems equally foreign to them now. They watch with awe as Yoongi commands the fire, forming a protective circle around them with ease. It almost seems to feed off of his rage, growing with every breath he takes and shrinking with the fall of his chest. He is a snake no more -- a dragon birthed of fire and blood stands in his place.

Jimin watches in pained silence as one of his closest friends loses himself to the war -- but even now, he can still see that Yoongi’s still there. And it’s Yoongi that will have to deal with consequences later, but right now he’s doing whatever it takes to save them. And that includes exploding with anger the moment he spots Jimin still up on that hill.

“Get your ass in here!” The ring of fire seems to swell with his outrage, and Jimin is in no place to refuse. The Death Eaters are still shocked and disoriented by the wall of fire they’re now faced with, and Jimin uses that to his advantage. Racing down the hill, he leaps into the circle, the cold flames licking at his ankles as they let him pass, recognizing him as a friend to their master.

Having seen Jimin’s success at passing through the ring, two of the Death Eaters rush at the wall, unaware of the nature of this dark magic. The moment they make contact with it, the fire senses their intentions, reacting accordingly. Jimin watches as they dissolve into nothing, shrieks of pain ringing out into the air as the fire consumes them. When he turns, he sees that Yoongi is shaken by this, his eyes conflicted as he watches two of his classmates cease to exist, remembering exactly what kind of magic he’s just brought into the world.

But when one of the last Death Eaters attempts to cast another killing curse into the circle, hoping to get through, the fire seems to act not on Yoongi’s command but on his instinct -- and his instinct is to block it. The flames explode outward, concentrating into a wall of protection and destroying the curse. And then they reach further, snaking out to overpower the boy who’d cast the spell, consuming him and his plea for mercy.

There’s only one Death Eater left, standing just outside the circle. Yoongi locks eyes with him, sees the trembling boy staring back at him with fear. They see each other, remembering simultaneously all the times they’d eaten together at mealtimes and suffered together during exam season. They’d grown up together. Just how they’d ended up here, neither of them can recall in that moment, and it destroys whatever innocence they’d had left.

Yoongi finally looks out to the field, his eyes flicking quickly before returning to the Death Eater. The boy hesitates, eventually stepping back. After another moment, he turns, running for his life and never looking back.

When he’s gone, the ring of fire fades, the wall tumbling down until all that’s left is a ring of earth around them that’s been burned to a crisp. Yoongi crumbles then, falling to his knees and staring at nothing. Jimin and Hoseok rush to him, eyes scanning him in concern. They all remain silent, words unable to express what any of them are feeling. Finally, Yoongi lifts his head, still unable to lock eyes with anyone.

“Is everyone okay?” They don’t answer his question, Jin only scoffing in shell-shocked disbelief.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi looks at his best friend, and he knows Jin can see right through him. They all can. He doesn’t respond, and they fall to silence again. Surrounded by bodies and destruction, unable to comprehend what’s happened. Unable to fathom how inexplicably broken they’ve become.

Just when they’re ready to face each other -- when they’re ready to face the aftermath of this night together -- a howl rings out from the forest, pained and haunting. They all lift their heads to stare in exhaustion at the treeline, outlined perfectly by the light of a moon that isn’t full. Yoongi chuckles darkly, shaking his head as he rises slowly to his feet and dusts off his pants before turning to look at what's left of his home with a long sigh.

“This family’s a fucking mess.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #park jimin #jimin x reader #AHupdate

[sirius]

Heatwave (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, rough sex, light choking, dom/sub (Mandalorian dom, Reader sub)

Word count: 🤷🏽‍♀️

Summary: You’re a thief with sexy fire powers. He’s a sexy bounty hunter who you’ve been playing cat and mouse with. When he catches you, Baby Yoda decides to play match-maker. It works. For once.

A/N: I found this baby after scrolling through my notes and had to post it. I wrote this when I was drunk so forgive the spelling errors. Baby Yoda is literally that one criminal dude from tangled (I think?) who bangs the two tiny wooden horses together. lol. 

Also, am I wrong in saying that I think everyone wants to fuck the Mandalorian in his sexy Mandalorian armour?

(Not my gif)

***

You can’t deny that there’s something sexy about being handcuffed and taken prisoner by the Mandalorian.

While inconvenient to say the least, there’s still an undercurrent of sexual tension that demands to be felt, charging the air between the two of you as he straps you into the seat beside him. It’s why he always chases you, why you always allow yourself to get caught, and why he lets you escape into the night. It’s the longest, most amusing, most sexy game of chess you’ve ever played.

“Every time you handcuff me, I always imagine it in an entirely different context,” you purr, smirking up at him as he tightens your handcuffs.

As usual, he doesn’t say anything at first. Its becoming all too predictable.

The fancy, expensive, definitely-not-a-sex-toy handcuffs dig into the skin of your wrists, though not enough to make it arousing. He’s done it deliberately; he’s surmised you like it rough from your previous encounters with him. It’s a type of torture he’s managed to master exceedingly well. Which is arousing in itself. What a paradox the two of you are.

“Jokes on you, y’know,” you tease, tilting your head up at him, “I’m very much into the idea of you torturing me.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he warns, his voice tinny and deliciously husky.

“So he speaks.”

The Mandalorian remains silent, though you can somehow tell he’s glaring at you from behind his helmet.

“You’re not the first Mandalorian to come after me,” you say as he kneels to bind your ankles, “And you won’t be the last. I’ve killed your predecessors and I won’t hesitate to kill whoever they decide to send after you. You’re lucky I’m into you otherwise I’d have my legs around your neck right now — and not in a good way.”

The Mandalorian is silent at first. Then, when you think he isn’t going to grace you with a response—

“So you’re just going to keep running? What kind of life is that?”

You chew your bottom lip, considering his question thoughtfully, “It’s a life and it’s far better than the alternative.”

The Mandalorian rises, straightens the broad line of his shoulders, “Is it really a life? If you can’t settle down to enjoy it?”

You gracefully arch an eyebrow at him, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mandalorian.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

****

The strange, tiny child gazes up at you with large, innocent inky-black eyes and blinks owlishly.

He’s managed to scramble into your lap, blocking your means of escape while the Mandalorian hastily fixes the engine of his ship. You can’t help but smile at his innocence, contrasting the weight of your criminal ways.

Regardless, you focus on funnelling the spluttering ball of energy in your core to your ankle cuffs. The heated metal bites into your skin as it begins to glow bright orange, but you can take it. You’re one of the last Phoenixs — or Nixes, for short —  in the universe; cosmic fire and heat is what you are, what you’re made of.

The child, however, doesn’t seem afraid of the heat rising from your skin, turning your hair a bright, fiery red.

“Look, little guy — or girl — I need you to get off my lap so I can bust out of here!” You hiss, imploringly, “My distraction will only last so lo—“

The Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps echo into the cockpit of his ship. You immediately stop melting the metal, allowing your natural hair colour to bleed over the reds and oranges, disguising your true heritage.

He stops, spotting the child now stroking your hair.

“He’s cute,” you remark, beaming down at the child, “Didn’t realise you had a kid.”

The Mandalorian marches forward and snatches the child from your lap. He cradles him protectively, eying you with what you suspect is suspicion as he safely places the child on the far side of the room.

“Don’t touch him.”

“He was touching me first.”

“I don’t care, don’t touch him.”

“My god, you’d think I’m infected with some hideous, flesh-eating disease.”

“No, you’re a criminal—“

“—Thief—“

“—you’re a criminal and I don’t trust you.”

Something about that stings. Your expression shutters, schooling into apathy.

“So why keep me around?” You ask, coolly, “Why don’t you just carbon freeze me?”

You have a feeling you know the answer. He doesn’t carbon freeze you for the same reason why he doesn’t bother stopping you as you escape the slippery clutches of the ego-bruised men you’ve stolen from. It’s the same reason you haven’t burned him to a crisp as soon as you’ve seen him, the same reason you allow him to drag you back to his ship, cash you in for his bounty, and disappear.

There’s tension, but it’s more than tension. It’s something you can’t articulate because you’ve never quite felt it before. You doubt he has either.

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. He seems to be staring down at the ankle cuffs, the metal twisted and deformed from where you’ve been heating it. He steps forward—

Suddenly, an invisible force loop around your waist and hoists you up, pulling you toward The Mandalorian. His arms are forced around your waist in jerky movements almost like an invisible puppeteer is pushing and plucking the strings. His helmet is yanked up over his neck, past his chin, stopping just above his nose, revealing plush lips and stubble and—

Your lips are forced together in the most awkward kiss you’ve ever had.

Both of you have your lips pressed tight, and the Mandalorian is rigid and tense, unsure of what to do. Still, energy blinks to life inside of you and you open your mouth just a little, embracing the kiss.

It lingers. It’s still awkward.

But then, he begins to kiss you back, his lips moving slightly, carefully, enough to taste hints of fine whiskey and your head begins to spin, embers sparking your lower belly, travelling up your spine, across your chest, down your arms—

It ends all too soon.

“Stop it, let us go,” The Mandalorian orders over his shoulder. You allow your eyes to follow his line of sight, snagging on the kid.

His tiny, pudgy hand is raised, his round eyes closed and you realise with a shock that he’s controlling you, bending the air around you both and forcing you into this kiss.

At the sound of his voice, the child stops, releasing his hold on you. He staggers a little, exhaustion seemingly crashing over him, dragging him under into unconsciousness. He collapses and the Mandalorian rushes forward to catch him, holding the child to his chest.

The Mandalorian disappears for a moment, giving you time to recover from your bewilderment. You’ve never seen anything quite like that before, and you’ve seen a lot of things. You have a feeling that in your past life, you may have witnessed a similar phenomenon, but you’re not giving enough time to dwell on it, however, because the Mandalorian comes storming back.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was all about?”

The Mandalorian ignores you, hunting around the cockpit for something.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

The Mandalorian stops, slants a look over his shoulder, “Maybe I will.”

You roll your eyes, “Please, Mando. Please tell me what the fuck just happened.”

The Mandalorian grasps a black bandage and whips it, stalking toward you, “Not what I meant.”

“What—?”

“—I’m sick of chasing you,” he growls, manoeuvring you around so he can fasten the bandage around your head; a makeshift blindfold, “It’s time you got what you deserve.”

Your stomach curdles, blood roaring in your ears. Carbon freezing. Your worst fear. You try to swallow, but it gets knotted somewhere in your throat.

“Kinky,” you rasp, trying your best to recover your slipping facade, “I hope my punishment involves whips and chains.”

The Mandalorians voice is in the shell of your ear, Mississippi hot and molasses thick, “Oh, you have no idea.”

Suddenly, he spins you around, and you barely have time to recover from the whiplash before his lips are on yours.

He’s ferocious, unforgiving. Just the way you like it.

He kisses you with a fiery passion, tongue darting into your mouth, tasting, teasing, his teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You moan, arching against him, wishing he’d free you so you could tug him closer but the Mandalorian keeps you bound and at his mercy.

You pull away, panting, as the Mandalorian trails kisses down your neck, sucking and biting and bruising the tender flesh. He’s obviously taken his helmet off while you were blindfolded. Curiosity strikes you but is dissolved when he finds the spot on your neck that makes you gasp.

“If—if I had known this would happen, I would’ve allowed myself to get caught a lot sooner,” you tease, a little breathlessly.

The Mandalorians fingers grasp your waist, pulling you closer, gripping you with bruising strength that dampens your panties. He chuckles against your skin, breath hot, tongue wet as he licks along your jugular.

“God I hate that mouth of yours,” he breathes, scraping his teeth across your skin, “It gets you into so much trouble.”

“It’s good for other things, too.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he grasps your waist with strong hands and spins you around, breath fanning across the back of your neck.

Your spine shudders and melts. He makes quick work of your clothes, starting with your sleeveless turtleneck top. He pulls it over your head and tosses it aside and unclasping your bra. With one hand pawing at your breast, he uses the other to tug on the zip of your skirt, pulling it down until the fabric pools at your feet. He helps you out of your thigh-high boots and undoes the holsters strapped to your thigh. Next, he uncuffs your wrists and ankles until you’re wearing nothing but skin. His breath audibly tangles in his throat.

You snicker, biting your bottom lip, “My, my. Have I rendered the great Mandalorian speechless?”

A sharp stab of pain ripples across your ass cheek, followed by the rough ministrations of a strong, calloused hand. You gasp, relishing in the sting of pain and burst of arousal.

You moan. Your darkest fantasies have spilt from your daydreams and splashed themselves against the backdrop of reality. Finally, after three years of chasing and catching, the sexual tension sizzling between the two of you is resolved.

He steals the breath from your lungs as he kisses you deeply, your moans melting on his tongue. His fingers grip your breasts and you gasp, head lulling back as he rolls them in the palm of his hands.

“God,” you sigh, “You’re good at this.”

Suddenly, his lips are biting into your nipple and you arch into his mouth, fingers combing through his hair as he slurps and sucks on your nipple. Your thighs quiver as you tug on the roots of his hair and he groans. You can feel him poking into your thigh and your excitement builds quickly, your fingers pulling at his cape.

He steps away from your grasp with a low, drawling chuckle, rich with husk and desire and pure sex appeal.

“I’m in control,” he snarls, “You obey me. You hear?”

“Yes, master,” you whimper, skin crawling.

“Good.”

You hear the rasping of fabric and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. His footsteps, heavy with purpose, move around you; there's a clang of metal and then he’s behind you again, loosening your blindfold until it falls away.

The Mandalorian whirls you around, pushing you up against the control board. He’s still fully clothed and his helmet is now fixed onto his neck and while you had been curious about the face that hides behind that helmet, you can’t deny that the thought of him fucking you in his bounty armour is unbelievably sexy.

The only thing that’s missing is — of course — the codpiece. Your shiver completely rattles your entire frame, anticipation bubbling deliciously in your veins.

The Mandalorian steps forward and reaches into his pants, pulling out his cock.

You salivate.

He’s...huge. Probably the biggest and thickest cock you’ve seen (and you’ve seen a lot in your lifetime — part of the job). It makes you wonder how he jams that beast into his pants without damaging something. You slide your tongue over your lips as you watch him stroke himself, smearing precum over the bulging, purple helmet.

“Touch yourself.”

You obey, spreading your legs far apart so he can watch your fingers dance. Behind his mask, you can feel his eyes smouldering as you tease your clit, rubbing the pearl of nerves with your index and middle finger. You moan, tossing your head back, building up quite the rhythm while the Mandalorian watches.

You startled slightly when the Mandalorian runs his hands over your smooth thighs, mapping you out with his fingers. He’s gentle, appreciating the warmth of your skin, how you glow with desire and emit a natural, golden aura common among Nixes.

“It’s been a while since...” he trails off, shaking his head.

With a sudden burst of strength, he grips your legs and hoists them around his waist. And, impatiently, unceremoniously, he slides inside of you.

“Fuck,” you curse, gripping his broad shoulders.

Moans spill into the air as the Mandalorian begins to move, rolling his hips against you. The cool metal of his armour shocks your hot skin but the contrast of steaming heat and icy cold makes your eyes roll back and your heart hammer impossibly fast.

“Yes, yes, oh Jesus yes!”

The Mandalorian’s pace begins to build as he slams into you. He’s rough and unapologetic and reaching depths inside of you that you didn’t know existed. He pounded with frenzied, sharp movements, his hand snaking up your side to your neck where his fingers hugged and tightened. His other hand stays secured on your hip, bruised already starting to form from where his grip burns into you.

Your fingers skim across your damp skin, trailing down to your clit where your fingers circle and pinch. The Mandalorian — silent until now — groans as he watches you, his pace speeding up ruthlessly.

“I’m close,” he grunts, giving your neck a squeeze.

“So am I,” you hiss, locking your legs around him.

The friction of his armour against your hot skin, the pressure of his strong hand gripping your begging neck, his cock ploughing into you with incredible strength; it’s an overwhelming indulgence to the senses and you feel your hot core begin to glow, crackling with cosmic energy.

The air, thick with sex and insatiable heat, shimmers and ignites with tiny tongues of fire like hovering fireflies. The Mandalorian hasn’t noticed yet, but it doesn’t take him long until he does.

“(Y/N)––“

He’s cut off by the cry that issues from your swollen lips. Your pussy clenches and quivers around his cock as you tumble over the edge, crashing into a release that completely drowns your body in mind-numbing pleasure. The Mandalorian is right behind you, grinding out pieces of your name as he meets his own release.

Panting, you sit up and he rests his head on your shoulder. Around you, the small flames have exploded into tiny fireworks, lighting up the air with vibrant light.

You slide off the control board, climb back into your clothes and pull on your boot. You reach for the other boot but the Mandalorian grabs it first, kneeling to slide the boot onto your foot. You watch, mesmerised, as he pulls the inner zip up your leg and along your thigh.

Moments later, the electronic doors to the cockpit slide open and the child waddles forward, gazing innocently up at you. You step forward and give the Mandalorian a questioning look. He nods.

You bend down and scoop the child into your arms and he snuggles against your chest.

“I really love this kid,” you murmur, beaming down at him.

“Yeah, he’s alright,” The Mandalorian shrugs, approaching you so he can tug at the child’s cloak. He pulls it over the child’s face, keeping his neck warm.

“We have to name him,” you decide, “I can’t keep referring to him as the kid.”

You say it like you’re staying with them, trapesing across the universe together.

The Mandalorian, however, doesn’t disagree.

The handcuffs and ankle cuffs stay in their place on the floor.

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #baby yoda #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian imagines #smut #star wars imagine #mandalorian #dad!mandalorian #dom/sub #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars smut #star wars fluff #georgie writes

[prokaryotics]

the sacredness of shared meals

chapter 5 | masterlist 

pairing: Boba Fett x Fem!Reader

words: 5.4k+

warnings: No (Y/N) - post-sarlacc pit slow-burn, the mandalorian season 2 spoilers, some canon typical (mild) violence and arguing. angst + some fluff 

a/n: ! 

You go, as if by habit, to your usual spot at the table. 

Tinian and Kyp have since disappeared. Tucking tail with a busted face and wounded pride. For a terrifying moment, you had thought they would return with more forces given how desperate your cousin’s financial position seemed to be, and so feared you’d have to leave before anything could be gathered or recovered, but it looks like that at least for now they’ve given up on their siege of your farm and in any other circumstances, you’d be overjoyed. 

Listless and slumped in your chair, all you are is tired. 

“I can retrieve him, if you wish.” 

Boba goes to stand near you and you can sense that he’s trying to respect your space while not coming off as unsympathetic, his desire to comfort you and remain gracious placing him in this strange limbo in which the boundaries between taking it too far and appearing the right amount of sympathetic aren’t easily defined. It’s different at a campfire talking about a loss that’s been allowed to scab over. Approaching a bleeding wound is far more daunting, especially when the person wounded might not want to be touched. 

Staring down at their unfinished game of holochess, you don’t look at him as you shake your head, answering in a weak voice. “No. I can get him.” 

Outside, the piece of vaporator part that had been knocked from its top lay in the dirt like the severed wing of a downed bird, haloed by displaced sand and cracked earth agitated upon impact. That high up and you’d have never guessed it was so big and could mean that much destruction. The rest of the spire crackles, incognizant that it is now headless and by extension absolutely unfunctional, still attempting to suck water out of the atmosphere, and it's what you’re focused on now instead of what lies half-buried beneath its detached part, crushed.

You gesture to the chess board. “It’s your move.” 

He says your name quietly. 

“I know, I’m just not-” You twist your tunic between your fingers, a familiar burn in your nose and throat. “I’m just not ready yet.” 

“Maker, he never listens. If I had just explained it to him instead of trying to make sure he wasn’t scared, maybe he wouldn’t have-” You wipe frustratedly at your tears; angry at yourself for mourning something that could have been preventable, angry at yourself for believing this could have ever gone well, but most of all angry at yourself for getting attached when all your life has been defined by is suffering. 

“Maybe I could have prevented it. Or at least I could have tried. All I told him was to stay put like I thought he would listen. When has he ever listened to me? As if the droid that refuses to go to bed most nights would hear the words ‘stay inside’ and not immediately want to do the opposite. Your first night here he refused to leave my side even as his battery was dying.” 

It was equal measures amusing and touching as it was irritating trying to convince him in a hushed voice between needle threads that he needed to plug himself into his charging port before he shut down. He had been so dead set on ‘protecting’ you from this stranger that it wasn’t until he lacked enough juice to move that he allowed you to carry him over and put him to sleep.

“Patch. Poor, brave, stupid Patch.” 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” A weak sentiment he says in hopes that you’ll realize blaming yourself does neither of you any good, but it only makes you furious. “You should not torment yourself with this.” 

“How would you know? We were doing fine before you showed up. It was peaceful. Just me and him and the farm and if Patch hadn’t noticed you in the sand, you’d still be there. He’s the one that found you. So how can you say that? How can you say we wouldn’t have been able to save him when he’s the entire reason you’re alive?” 

He says your name for a second time. You don’t mean any of what you’ve said aside from what’s the objective truth - Patch is the reason Boba was found and is alive and able to speak to you now, but you cannot rightfully or even logically blame the sequence of events that followed his arrival on him as if he had been some bad omen or harbinger of ill fortune. What had happened, happened because of the greed and foolish decisions of two men looking for the easiest way out of the hole they found themselves in. Boba certainly isn’t responsible for what happened to your droid. Neither are you. You had made an error interpreting his promise to protect you to mean nothing awful would happen. That hadn’t been what he said, and if you had just thought about it a little more you would have seen that the property itself was never a concern - rather the life you have been living on it. A life you had made your own, comfortable despite however spiritless. But grief is blinding. 

You groan, looking away from him with an expression twisted in heartache. “Quit saying my name like it fixes things! Please, I can’t handle the way you say it.” 

“How do I say it?” You wish he’d sound angry or at least something close enough to it because then his reaction would validate your own furied emotions, but all he is is tolerant. Gentle and forgiving. 

It makes you hesitant, afraid to say, and it’s only your impulsive need to prove what you think you know about him right that drives you to answer. “Like you care about me.” 

The older you get, the more alone you feel, and the harder it becomes to believe that not everyone has an ulterior motive. Mos Eisley certainly hadn’t helped you harbor any reason to consider that selfless acts can be entirely driven by only the desire to see another person happy. Your uncle, a deserter sunk to his lowest depths hiding like a womprat in the basement of a tavern, made it so that you never forgot that he had stuck his neck out for you. That he had been the sole reason you did not die with the rest of your planet - with your mother and father, your grandparents, your friends. He had painted it as an act of love. His atonement for joining the Imperials. And you had been so sorry, so upset that he did not think you were grateful that you’d, in the beginning, spend as much time as you could convincing him that the risk he took had been worth it. Until even your amity meant nothing. He’d go on reminding. You’d stay silent, privately recognizing that his incessant need to keep you deferential morphed what could have been his ultimate redemption into something conceited. 

If that hadn’t been incorruptible - if saving someone’s life, giving them lodging, keeping them fed and cared for isn’t the most selfless act of all, what could you possibly trust that wouldn’t eventually bite the hand feeding it. Certainly not the feelings of a man. 

“I do. And I shouldn’t, but not for anything you’ve done.” 

You can’t begin to understand what that means. “Then why? If it’s not something I did then how can you possibly say that you shouldn’t?” 

Perhaps you’re being unfair. Perhaps you’re demanding too much of him in this moment. Tensions are high. You should be planning your next move. Instead you’re sitting here snot nosed and with teeth full of static, wondering at what point you decided that it’s best you should be left alone. 

“You would not understand.” Is his only answer. 

“What I understand is that everyone around me either leaves or dies or ends up not being who I thought they’d be, so yeah I’m a little confused, but I deserve to know at least whether or not I should be bracing myself for some additional blow.” 

A pang of guilt similar to the stone that had fallen into his stomach three days ago. You have no idea who he is. Not even an idea. But rather than tell you, his desire to calm you down outweighs his need to lay his cards on the table, for now at any rate.

“And of those three options, who am I?” 

You look pointedly away, face burning. “I...I don’t know yet. I know nothing about you.” 

“You need to take a deep breath.” 

“Maker, with the kriffing instructions. I don’t want to take a deep breath-“ Look at him. Get inside. You want him to stop. 

“Take a deep breath. Breathe. I’m not your enemy.” 

He’s right. He isn’t and has given you no reason to think he would ever be - you’re just exhausted. You want to find somewhere soft and make your home there. You want to close your eyes and forget. But you’ve got things to do. Arrangements to make. It’ll have to wait. 

Breathing deeply your next exhale is shuddering and pathetic, an exercise to bring your lungs back into their proper rhythm. It helps, though, and soon you take a few more, a strange calm settling over your shoulders. Wiping one last time at your cheeks, you sit up straighter and make an attempt to actually move forward. 

“It’s only going to get darker. After I get Patch we should decide what we’re doing. If we should leave tonight, I mean. I don’t think Cobb would mind, but Jawas aren’t so easily spooked when they can use the dark to hide.” 

Boba makes a noise of agreement. He knows exactly how Jawas can be. “Do we have proper transportation?” 

Sniffing, you stand from the booth. “I own a speedster. It’s  only designed for one rider and I haven’t had any reason to use it in months so who knows what kind of condition it’s in, but the seat is long enough to fit us both if you drive. It’s covered in a tarp at the back of the house.” 

“We’ll use that, then.” He concludes. “Grab your companion and anything else you may need. I will get the bike started.” 

“Alright, that works.” 

Neither of you waste any time. Boba exits with you, silent. He never says more than necessary, and you understand his reticence now to be a side effect of his focus and thinking, but as you trek onto the homestead his silence is - or seems to be - at odds with his typical demeanor. It might have been a half step, two at most, in which he walks closer to you, your arms grazing briefly as your strides acquiesced. That isn’t particularly abnormal given his staunch desire to keep you safe. What has you confused is that all the other times he’s touched you it has been an action you saw coming, direct and purposeful. The brush of your clothes is hardly something to obsess over and could very well mean nothing at all; an accidental occurrence or a miscalculation of the distance between your bodies and like everything else, something you’re thinking about too much. But you don’t know, and neither of you have yet to talk about it. 

Splitting off, you choose not to think about it at all. 

Lifting the debris proves problematic. You’re not a weak woman by any means but neither do your skills lie in brute strength. You had dragged Boba for what had been close to fifteen minutes back to the homestead and they had been some of the most challenging fifteen minutes of your life. Similar to that struggle, the sand isn’t making it easier for you now. Your efforts to forgo trying to pick it up and to dig around it as a second resort only allow your frustrations to grow. Each pocket you make gets inundated with sand the moment you stop digging. It’s only when you sit down and begin to push it with your legs that the vaporator part moves. And, as suspected, reveals Patch. 

“Hey, buddy…” You greet, foolishly anticipating a beep back. All you hear is the hiss of rippling silt. “Alright, let's get you out of there.” 

Upon picking him up, one of his wheels falls into your hand. The bottom portion of his hull is cracked and filled with dirt and where most of the damage is, having taken the brunt of the blow. There’s no telling what exactly suffered what until you take a better look at him and the semi-darkness doesn’t allow for any close inspections. He’s intact still, which is what you had been hoping for. If you can figure out what’s wrong or get him into the right pair of hands, there’s a chance of bringing him back. 

Boba brings the speeder around to the front. On his shoulder is a dark brown satchel from the closet. He had taken the liberty of gathering your things for you as well as retrieving the forgotten blaster, which he has tucked into the belt around his waist, giving you the time to properly get your droid. He nods at you when you approach. 

“As you said, we should leave soon. I can feel a dust storm coming. Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, just let me grab something to put Patch in and we can go.” 

There’s a bag under your bed filled with your belongings from Alderaan, useless trinkets and memorabilia that then, in the mind of a twelve year old, had been some of the most important things you could carry. You dump all of it save for a framed holopix of your family taken when you were eight and a stuffed grey thranta that has been with you since infancy, resisting the desire to stare at both and wonder where that little girl was now, and how she ended up here, sidetracking it by carefully replacing everything else with the robot. 

Going back outside, you take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

-

You reach Mos Pelgo sometime before dawn. 

A familiar figure stands on the sandstone landing leading up into the cantina, missing his typical battered outwear - you must have woken him up, the noise of the bike that is, so it doesn’t surprise you that he had gone immediately outside to investigate, his illuminated silhouette a muscle-twitch away from retrieving the blaster at his hip. Boba parks a few feet away from the platform, parallel to the bar. Getting off first, you’re eager to intercept the tense conversation you’re aware must be coming, signaling to Cobb that it’s only you. 

“I know it’s been awhile, but I didn’t think you’d be mad enough to shoot me…” You’re nervous idea of a joke to hopefully forgive your extended absence. With Cobb quite literally one of your only friends, it wouldn’t be surprising if he was annoyed with you for disappearing the way you did, but in your defense: you’ve had a challenging couple of nights.

Boba comes to stand behind you and his presence is like a hot breath at the back of your neck. There’s an awkward moment during which you feel yourself and this random person you’ve brought with you to be subjected to the Marshall’s incredulous scrutiny: his head dipping as he takes in your salt-streaked face and disheveled robes. Then, to your relief, he speaks. 

Cobb says your name and visibly relaxes, stepping down to greet you. “Worried would be a better word. Who’s your friend?” 

“This is Boba. And before you ask, I don’t have the energy to explain it all to you, but I promise I will. Something happened and we need a place to stay tonight. You’re the only person I know that would help.” 

He glances uneasily at the other man from over your shoulder. “You alright?” 

“No-I-” Maker, you cannot cry again. “We’re fine. I’m fine. Patch is uh...if you could please just help us now and ask questions later, I’d appreciate it.”  

He nods slowly, then looks at Boba with more purpose. “Cobb Vanth, Sheriff of Mos Pelgo.” 

They shake hands. You know both men well enough now to see the gesture for what it is - a curbing of suspicion for your sake. 

“We don’t have much, but there’s an old mining barracks that’s been converted into somethin’ like a motel. I’ll speak to the woman working the front desk, see what I can do for you.” 

“You have my thanks.” 

“Sure. Last thing I want ta’ do is give my town a reputation for bein’ inhospitable.” 

Another joke. Neither of you laugh. You grin politely, but that’s alright. It wasn’t what he was looking for. 

The woman working the front desk is someone you recognize from your previous visits as also working in Pelgo’s only general store as a clerk. You’ve spoken with her once, twice at best. Her little girls are cute. Four and five respectively too young for school and you remember an instance of them dancing around her legs while she carried a coarseweave sack bulging with dehydrated fruits and vegetables to a shelf opposite the room when suddenly it had burst - wrinkled slices of jorgan and starfruit hitting the floor like pelts of rain on a roof. Such a sudden eruption had everyone, including you, hushed into silence. Instead of getting angry they had distracted her, she simply grinned. It’s a shame this is how she has to spend her nights. 

She and Cobb speak to each other briefly before she looks down at her ledger, then points. You hear him thank her before returning to where you and Boba stand near the entrance. 

“There’re two rooms available just at the end of the hall. You can’t miss ‘em. No keycodes or anythin’ like that either, so don’t worry about getting locked out.” 

“Thank you, Cobb.” 

“Course.” He answers, low and sincere and with just enough bittersweet-ness to make you feel sorry. “We’ll take a look at the little guy tomorrow. I know someone around here that might be able to fix him if the damage ain’t too severe. You have anymore problems, you come directly to me.” 

“Yeah, okay.” You agree, smiling weakly. “Goodnight.” 

“Night…” The Marshall echoes, watches your retreating back.

An undefinable emotion swells in your chest to the point of bursting as you travel down the narrow hallway leading to the last of the six rooms that make up the motel. It only makes sense that you’d be in separate spaces - Boba would rightfully want a private area to decompress. You want that too, but you had thought that the moments you shared, as tiny and maybe as meaningless as they were, would have at least amounted up to something that would make continuing to share a space seem a bit more natural than how abnormal it feels to have more than two or three steps of distance between you. It doesn’t feel right. Boba says nothing as he goes inside. 

You’re about to follow suit when Cobb calls out your name, asking you to wait, jogging up the hallway now that you’re alone. 

“What?” You know exactly what. 

“Look, I’m not trying to stick my nose into your business...but I’m a believer in honesty. You don’t have to give me all the details or explain to me who this man is to you, I just need to know that you’re safe.” 

“So much has happened, Cobb…” 

In the corner there’s a damp spot where the replastered wall hasn’t dried properly, blotchy and cracked left over from the last krayt dragon attack. You look at it now to give yourself time to think about whether or not you want to continue, if it's worth retelling, and in your periphery you can see his hand rising as if he’s about to touch you, his fingers ghosting over the hair at your temples. You turn your head to look at him. His arm falls to his side. 

“But I’m safe. And if it weren’t for Boba, I wouldn’t be. I appreciate the concern. I’m okay. You know I’d tell you if I wasn’t. This shouldn’t-” Gods, how do you break up with a person you’re not even with? Surely it should be easier than this. 

“What happened between us…I’m sorry.” 

His chuckle turns your cheek hot. “I get it. I’m made of tougher parts than you think, contrary to popular belief. You’re alright, kid. I knew what this was from the start. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Nothin’ can change that.” 

There’s a dull thud of something being forcefully struck the next door over, as if the end of a cane were being used slammed into the permacrete. The ceiling rains dust as a muffled elderly sounding voice complains to whoever is in the kriffing hallway to keep their mouths shut, some people are trying to sleep- 

You both turn away, sharing a look and hiding sneaky smiles. His drops almost the same moment yours does. 

“I think I’m gonna shower now and go to bed…” 

“Sure. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Okay. See you…” 

You turn away as Cobb retreats back towards the front desk and you’re left staring at your own door’s entry panel before you have the presence of mind to go inside, rubbing the heels of your hands into your eyes in an ardent attempt to keep the sting in them at bay. 

-

After your shower, you sink into your chair by the viewport and find that you cannot get back up again. After hours of straddling a vehicle hurtling through open desert, it is strange to have a support behind your back and to be able to swing your legs freely without worrying the toe of your boot would catch a rock in the sand. You can still feel the measured swaying motion of the speeder in your limbs, and the roar of wind blowing through the cool air is in your ears. Your face, for as well as you scrubbed it, still feels covered in granules and a day’s worth of sweat. 

The feeling of being somewhere pleasant enough to relax brings back the terror you had felt yesterday evening. The sensations are still present, unprocessed, in your mind - not yet absorbed as memory. You see once again the blinding red beam of blaster fire, so sure of its aim in contempt of its accidental firing that it was as if it had been so certain of hitting it that the spire had already been falling. You see the vaporator wrench, creak, then plummet. You remember your panic in reaching for Patch and it makes you aware of the numbing horror that would have accompanied hearing him squeak and beep in confusion. The imbrication of these images creates a dismaying mosaic so vivid that your hands begin to shake and now, with Boba in the room across the hall, the experience seems even more upsetting than it had been at the time. 

Forcing yourself to sit up, you look out the window. Only one moon is visible tonight, partially hidden behind a sheer curtain of clouds - not much meaning in the way of rain, but if you were still on your farm you’d be glad to see them. The next day’s harvest would be a good one. You can’t see much except the outlines of buildings lining the street opposite to your lodgings. A town hall. A few dome shaped homes. And beyond that a dappled emptiness, grains of sand pushed softly over one another by an invisible force. 

There’s a rapping at your door, followed by Boba’s voice. For some reason, you had been expecting Cobb again. 

You press a button and it opens to reveal Boba standing there looking the same as he had earlier but cleaner. You’re suddenly self conscious about your wet hair. “Hi.” 

“May I come in?” 

You say nothing as you step aside, then head further into the room. The accommodations are nothing fancy. You haven’t paid much attention to it’s amenities focused on other things, glad that although as bare as it is in its appearance, it has the standard items needed for a comfortable night's sleep. The floor has been scrubbed as well. 

He stands in the middle of the room, his hands folded in front of him. You go to fluff the single pillow at the top of the bed. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better. I felt gross, so it was good to take a shower. And it’ll be good not having to sleep at a table tonight.” You laugh only because it’s tragically funny. Boba doesn’t seem to share your mirth. 

You stop and set the cushion down, wishing you had more to do with your fidgeting hands. “Really, I’m fine. I should be asking how you’re feeling. I know today must’ve been hard on your body.” 

“We should talk.” 

Scary and a bit ominous, you nod. “Oh. Okay. About what?” 

“I want to discuss your friend, The Sheriff.” 

You furrow your brows together unable to connect the dots. “What about him?” 

“What is your relationship to him?” 

“Stars, Boba. Is that what you’re trying to keep me up for?” 

“I am not unfamiliar with the way a man can look at a woman. I ask only because I need to know what his intentions with you are if we are to continue looking for my armor and ship together.” 

Your pulse quickens. “Why? What does it matter?” 

“My thoughts have changed. I would not put you so needlessly at risk if you are capable of staying here.” 

A logical thought, if not the best course for you both. You’d be little more than a hindrance to him and for as much as you dislike having him fret over you now, the feeling would only grow exponentially given how useless you proved yourself to be with a blaster and in a fight. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened because you were foolish and he needed to protect you. He’d be much better off on this journey alone. 

“I would have to talk to him about it...they’re stretched pretty thin as it is, but I know Cobb won’t turn down someone in need of his help, even if it is another mouth to feed. Is that what you want?” 

“It is what’s best.” 

“We’re taking Patch somewhere to get repaired tomorrow. I’ll bring it up then.” 

“Good. I will make an attempt to track down nearby Jawa villages in the meantime.” 

You nod, unsure what else there is to say, rolling your lips between your teeth to keep from saying what you know is hidden behind your stunned resignation if you just allowed yourself to prod at it. 

“You should uh...change your bandages, if you haven’t already. Here, I still have some-” You go to your bag and fish out the container of your mother’s balm. “It should help with the itching. I know they must be irritating as they heal.” 

Your fingers touch as he takes it from you and you suppress the way you want to jump at the contact. “Thank you. Sleep well.” 

“Sure. You too, Boba.” 

“I’ll take my leave.” 

-

“Why do you call me that?” 

Early the next morning, you await Cobb at the cantina. Boba, as he said, has acquired a map and is currently studying it standing at your left. It is just the right amount of busy to have you brave enough to ask. After your conversation last night, you spent a shameful amount of time staring at the ceiling, mulling over how to react- more specifically, if it was worth being upset about it at all given the brevity of your relationship with the bounty hunter. But emotions are tricky. And soon they’ll probably become a thing you didn’t have the chance to tell him and turn into something you’re stuck harboring with no resolution for the foreseeable future. 

So you’ve chosen to not linger on them at all. 

The conversation of others and the spike of occasional laughter provides ample enough cover for you to feasibly retrieve your words if you regret saying them, excusing your show of daringness as something he had just misheard. It doesn’t help that the bartender has been steadily passing you shots of spotchtka, each sip adding a bit more to your courage. 

Boba hums to signal that he’s listening, and does not look up from the map he has unfolded and flattened in front of him. From the looks of it, he’s somewhere in the Dune Sea. “Call you what?” 

“Little one.” You clarify voice lilting at the end, finding that your weight is shifting on the bar stool towards him as if launched by a flirtatious impulse you had no idea was in you, your body inclining in what would in your typical state of manner have flustered you beyond comparison. Aware that you’re giving off compromising airs, you quickly neutralize it before he notices, suddenly very interested in your empty glass. 

The first time he used it you assumed you had heard him wrong, or if not, it had been a slip of his tongue never to be repeated again. Little one isn’t the most common nickname, but perhaps in the endless vast of things you do not know about him, he had called someone that once, and had thus used it with you on accident. Then he said it a second time, and you know what they say about patterns… 

He pauses as if contemplating. “I had not thought about it. Do you wish for me to stop?” 

He appears so serious about it that you nearly flail in your panic. Recovering, you shake your head, drumming your fingers against the bar top. 

“No! No, I wasn’t-I don’t mind it at all. I’m just curious.” 

There’s a tense pause. It isn’t a long one but it’s enough to have you holding your breath. 

“It’s a term of endearment in Mando’a. I say it in basic so you understand that when I use it, I am not insulting you.” A smile is in his voice. He isn’t lying. The idea that he’d be secretly calling you names is a comical idea though. 

It’s a good enough explanation, if not one that leaves you more curious than before. You’re no stranger to using affectionate pet names - more than once you’ve caught yourself in the beginnings of accidentally addressing him with one, so familiar with speaking to Patch that once you had grown comfortable enough to do the same around Boba, the names nearly seemed to slip out. That’s the thing, though. You have no idea if he’s simply comfortable or if there is a deeper meaning to his use of language - a bit of context that you’re missing that’s key to understanding how he feels about you. 

“Can you teach me how to say it?” 

“Ad’ika.” 

“Ad-Dee-Kah.” You repeat, probably with more emphasis than needed, but it makes him chuckle so you aren’t embarrassed by the foreignness of the syllables in your mouth. 

“Very good. Better than I had been when I was first learning.” 

You don’t believe that for a second, smiling anyway. “It’s pretty.” 

Boba nods. “Like many things.” 

Oh? You physically have to keep from inhaling sharply. No bad feelings, you have to remind yourself. Don’t dawdle on it.

“Is it strange not speaking it often?” 

He starts to fold the map. “No. As a child, Huttese served my father and I well enough, as did the Galactic Standard. The language of business, we had called it. It wasn’t until I was older that he taught me his tongue. We spoke it rarely, and never to anyone else aside from another.” 

Intimate, but how lonely. 

“His language?” 

“I am not from Mandalore, nor do I claim to be. I answer to a higher law. I could explain it better with my armor, but seeing as it had been picked off my body by scavengers and is now missing, an explanation will have to wait.” 

The more peeks you get of his life, the less it becomes defined to you. It seems that every tidbit or off-hand comment is something that holds the possibility of opening up into a thousand other things like the inside of a flower waiting to bloom. 

“Huh. Armor like that? You know, if you asked nicely Cobb would let you borrow his or at least he’d rent it to you. Maybe even give you a discounted price-“ 

Cobb, standing in the entryway, studying the room. 

“That’s my armor.” 

“Woah, wait-“

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #the mandalorian #boba fett/reader #boba fett/you #cobb vanth #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic

[wanderingstormjen]

Sharing

So...having never posted on tumblr before ever but being a longtime lurker of others, I thought...just do it.  This has been bungling around my brain for a few days.  Please excuse any mistakes as I literally have no idea what I’m doing.  Also, I suck at titles.

Sharing

It had taken awhile for Solana to convince him to share her quarters.  They’d shared his often enough since that first time, but he’d been hesitant to join her in her room.  He still slept in his own quarters, sometimes, when she was gone on missions or one or the other worked late and he didn’t want to disturb her.  Sometimes, too, when he was having a particularly bad night and the nightmares came, he stayed away, still not ready for her to see him like that. 

Cullen rubbed at tired eyes as he climbed the stairs.  Maker, I should have left those reports for morning.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, a soft huff that was a mix of amusement and annoyance leaving him before he could stop it. 

Solana was already asleep.  She lay on her side, one hand tucked under her pillow and the other still clutching a book.  The red hair she usually kept braided was loose and curled around her face.  He liked how the color of her vallaslin seemed to complement her hair and her features. He reminded himself yet again that he should ask her more about the markings and her people.  About all he knew of her vallaslin was that they were for Mythal and even that he only knew because Luna Surana had had the same.

Cullen shook himself as he realized he was still standing at the top of the stairs staring at her like an idiot.  It wouldn’t do for her to wake and see him hovering there.  It would do even less for him to be caught by the man currently asleep on the bed with Solana, his head nestled into the crook of the Inquisitor’s hip.

This was not the first time Cullen had found Dorian Pavus here.  The Tevinter mage was as often in Solana’s room as Cullen was.  Cullen still wasn’t quite sure why the pair had become so attached to one another.  With the exception of being mages, Cullen had at first though they had little in common.  This was not to say Cullen didn’t like Dorian.  He was nice enough, good for a game of chess, and seemed genuinely loyal to the Inquisition.  Cullen wondered, however, if Dorian was really more loyal to her.

Solana was friendly to everyone and seemed capable of making friends with anyone, if her rag-tag group of followers was any indication. She was perhaps the kindest and gentlest person Cullen had ever met, which was saying something as she was also capable of raining pure Hell down on anyone who threatened the people she loved.

That was it, of course.  She loved Dorian.  Cullen knew it.  Not the same way he hoped she loved him, naturally.  They flirted with each other relentlessly.  They spent hours together in the library or here reading, researching or just talking about Maker knew what.  If she left Skyhold without him, an increasingly rare occurrence, Dorian had for awhile been the first person she ran to see upon her return.  Cullen had actually noticed when that person had switched to him instead.  

There were people here who did not trust Dorian and probably never would.  But Solana trusted him completely.  And despite the way Dorian feigned careless ease and indifference , it was obvious to Cullen the altus trusted very few people.  Except Solana. 

Varric had had the gall a few days ago at the tavern to ask Cullen if he minded sharing her with “the Vint”.  He’d made the mistake of asking within hearing of Sera, who’d chimed in with a suggestion of a different sort of “sharing”.  Cullen had left without acknowledging either of them.

Cullen went to the bed and shook Dorian gently.  The altus woke with a soft, annoyed grunt.  He started to glare at whomever had woken him, but stopped as he saw Cullen.

“Ah.  Commander.”  Dorian sat up, not at all embarrassed.  He stretched luxuriously, smoothed his moustache into place, then turned and eased the book out from Solana’s hand.  

“Mmm?” Her emerald eyes slit open but she didn’t move.

Dorian whispered a good night to her, nodded to Cullen, and was gone without another word.

“Ma Vhenan,” she breathed, not wholly awake, as Cullen settled beside her a few minutes later.  She snuggled herself into him, her head tucking under his chin, her unmarked hand curling into his shirt.

Not that he would ever tell Varric or anyone else, but no, Cullen didn’t mind sharing Solana with Dorian at all.  

#firststory #dai #dorian pavus #cullen x lavellan #dragon age #cullen x inquisitor #dragon age dorian

[numbaoneflaya]

You can count on me to pull up with a thousand of questions sbdhdh. A3, A22, C5, D3, F3 for Jilly ; A18, A23, B9, C1, H2 for Nirn ; A5,B9, C8, D1, I5, for Thurwen ; A9, A13, C1, E8, and G6 for Valkya? 😏

A3, A22, C5, D3, F3 for Jilly ;

A3.Do they have any emotional or psychological conditions? Are they aware of it? Do they try to treat it?

Shawty got that stockholm syndrome in a way. She is…. Sometimes aware of it, though she wouldn't call it that any more. Maybe at first in the basement she was more aware, but now that she can come and go she thinks its a thing of the past. tries not to dwell on it. Kind of in a “well its literally not that bad its kind of fun its kind of romantic were just quirky <3” way, will get mad if someone insists she has stockholm or that the relationship is fucked. Will get enraged and upset on Vincent's behalf, probably cry and yell at you.

A22. Is your OC intended to be found generally attractive? Unattractive? Average? Is there a reason why?

I intended her to be fairly average, maybe kind of cute. It's generally the way she dresses/acts in public that draws attention, not her looks. I tend to make most of my ocs on the average scale besides a select few.

C5. Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

Good question…. Jillys morals are pretty simple- always be kind and nice, murder and hurting other people is bad, and you shouldnt lie. She sticks to those pretty strictly herself despite the situations she gets put in, often to her own detriment. But she doesn't always put a stop to those behaviors from the people she surrounds herself with, so she's sort of accomplice to bad acts of violence just by not snitching. So somewhat situational? She tries not to think about it.

D3. How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

Not comfortable! She hadn't seen a lot of it before her early twenties and was always sort of sheltered. dead fish are flushed down the toilet bcs they go to the ocean to live again, right? Thought cows and such all died of old age peacefully before they were made into burgers until she was like… twelve. 💀Won't kill mice and other critters despite her prey drive bcs she would feel too bad. And this is just for animal death, she's much more uncomfortable with human death. Also a thing she tries to ignore.

F3. Could they ever live in a “tiny home”?

God no. She hates small spaces unless she's hiding in them and tiny homes have no room for all the shit she stashes! No room for zoomies, or climbing on the furniture, or wrestling around on the floor. It would be filled with junk within a week.

A18, A23, B9, C1, H2 for Nirn ;

A18. Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?

He's never had much to be jealous of, as he's never really been over involved in romantic relationships. They were usually mutually beneficial and somewhat clinical in nature. Hes also pretty sure of himself and his value as an asset and lover. If he finds someone who peaks his interest and they become an item though, he might get jealous if he catches them flirting with other people. Hell be peeved at first but know flirtation in business has its value, so to make himself feel better might flirt with someone else while they are nearby. Make a game of it, see who wins.

A23. Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it?

Appearances are crucial to him and spends a lot of time and money making sure he looks his best. He needs to appear above the rabble and impenetrable, dressing well and having immaculate posture and an air of both grace and otherworldliness.

B9. What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

Definitely not one to find fart jokes funny. Very rarely laughs genuinely or full heartedly, he keeps all his expressions of emotion close to his chest. Sharp sardonic wit is appealing to him in the right circumstances, even a jab directed at himself can make him chuckle if it's well formed enough. Irony almost always gets him, even if its dark irony or gallows humor. Bit of a hard nut to crack. Would laugh enough that hed have to cover his mouth with his hand if he were to see Felix fall face first into mud, though. More often than not you can tell he finds something amusing by a gleam in his eyes and a slight squint.

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Well he used to have a real moral code :/. Now I mean…. The ends justify the means. By any means necessary. He considers his family's needs first, then the good of the world, then any individual in the world. Has ordered executions of entire families, had babies stolen and sent away, sent armies to certain death knowing full well they would all die, commanded individuals be tortured for information, sacrificed many in what he considers to be a game of chess where he is the player and others are the pawns. He finds senseless violence and savagery to be unforgivable, but if violence has a sense and purpose to employ it, then he will do so.

H2. Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever aspect of that you want to cover?

Nirn tends to be a very thoughtful and attentive person in general, just for the wrong reasons lmaoooo. But with a lover? He's going to be utilizing that to show them how much he cares and using his powers for good. Mention you like a certain fabric while shopping one time and then complain your favorite tunic has a wine stain in it several months later, he's going to be taking your measurements for a new one in your preferred material without a moment's notice. Very keen on picking up moods, expressions and tone. Also has a very good memory. He doesn't really think about it but gifts are how he shows his love. Also a great attentive listener.

A5,B9, C8, D1, I5, for Thurwen ;

A5. Are they good at handling change in their life?

I would say so, yeah. Shes been used to things constantly changing since she was little and has had little to no control on outside influences. Shes also not one to over think about the past and lament, shes more of a one foot in front of the other, the only time is the present kind of gal. Of course large changes like becoming a warden were a bit more severe, but shes mostly able to think in the present as long as she has immediate problems to deal with.

B9.What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

Slapstick is always gonna make her laugh as long as nobody gets seriously hurt, even if its her own ass tripping into a tree. Not a fan of scare pranks, 0/10 recommend trying to scare Thurwen. You will end up with a broken nose at best and an angry elf. Likes puns, but she's the one to groan at them and try and hide the grin spreading across her face. Gallows humor but only if its her in the gallows, otherwise doesn't find it funny at all. If a little kid calls someone a fartcicle she will be tears in the eyes giggling, which is hard when your warden commander and everyone looks toward you to be serious and mature gyshsdhdfsghsd.

C8. Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

She definitely holds herself to moral ideals and is very hard on herself, but has realistic moral expectations for others. She can understand self serving and people only wanting to survive and she will only give people a little bit of shit for it, no one's perfect. But then she expects herself to be perfect and berates herself constantly for not living up to the hero of ferelden warden commander ideals.

D1. How religious is your OC? What do they practice, if anything? If they don’t associate with any religion, what do they think of religion in general?

Atheist ever since her mom died when she was a kid, but now Shes in a weird mixed state ever since the urn of sacred ashes where shes like. fuck the maker, but Andraste is cool I guess. So respects/believes in the power of Andraste while thinking the maker is a piece of shit and the chantry sucks ass. Even she doesnt know what she really believes, but she did see the ghosts of Andrastes disciples and Shartan, used her ashes as healing salve, killed an old god, etc. So shes been in a weird place recently, crisis of faith/non faith pretty continual.

I5. Are they a good cook?

I mean…. She can cook basics. Shes been feeding herself and the alienage kids since she was old enough to walk so she knows how to get protein and make things edible. Does it taste good? Probably not. She didnt see her first spice till she was 17 years old, but she can skin a rabbit in seven seconds.

LA9, A13, C1, E8, and G6 for Valkya? 😏

A9. Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?

She tries to excuse bad behavior of herself or others a lot, yeah fgdgdsfhdhs. Mostly she doesnt have to make excuses for herself because she can wholeheartedly be like “yeah i fucked up but whatever im sexy and large and awesome and everyone loves me 🙄whatever baby” and when other people fuck up shes pretty sympathetic even though they are not as large nor as sexy. Shes very used to forgiving and excusing herself its totally alien to her when she really fucks up and is suddenly like wait… valkya…. Did bad?? What is this feeling. Shame?? Guilt?? IMPOSSIBLE.

A13. Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

She hates those giant bugs in morrowind and valenwood a whole fucking lot but I wouldnt exactly place it as a phobia. Those huge mosquitoes and haorvers got no respect but she really hates the morrowind bugs ever since they knocked her over and jumped her while she was pants down peeing drunk as hell in the sand :/ never forgave. Never forgot.

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

She was raised in a healthy household that tought the basics, prety much “harming others needlessly, stealing, torture, rape, dessecrating the dead, being selfish and not doing right by others, etc etc all basic bad things” are her morals. Her morality is basically treat others how you want to be treated. And if they treat you badly, then have fun beating the shit out of them to show everyone else not to fuck with you. Its a pretty nordic morality in that way. Her morality is also since she was ‘blessed’ with being so large and strong, that she has to also look out for the little guy who cant protect themselves. So If someone treats them how valkya wouldn't want to be treated, then beat the shit out of the person harming them to show them the little guys got backup. Her parents raised her to be a hero and thats p much how she sees herself, which has its benefits and its fuckin problems.

E8. What’s one of your OC’s biggest regrets?

Fucking up Dem and Dariens relationship for sure dude :/ valkya always gonna be sulking over that one. She doesnt regret becoming a vestige, even though it would have made her so much happier not to be because it ended up saving so many people and the world. She regrets not spending more time with Naryu, regrets always having other life saving business she had to run off to, regrets not cherishing the time they had together. Regrets not telling Lyris how she feels, either. Regrets not being able to save as many people as she should have, regrets she wasnt stronger in coldharbor and didnt break out herself. But she tries not to think about it <3

G6. Do they have any favorite childhood memories?

When she was seven she once spent two months training to hold her breath underwater, because her cousin always held it longer and won the gold bet. She trained for hours almost drowning in the river until she could comfortably hold it for up to three minutes. During the next holiday when they all got together again the competitions were on and they both went under- her cousin won, holding their breath for four more minutes before they decided to come up. This was the first lesson she learned that shocked her world view- you always need to know your opponents capabilities. (after she lost 26 gold in the bets, her mother later had to inform her that her cousin was an argonian.)

#thank u beloved this was good to go thru while in class when i should have been paying attention gfhsdhds #valkya #jilly #nirn #thurwen #the ladies and the gilf #presented without evidence; valkya be stupit kinda :/ #HOW DO U DO URS SO FAST... SUPER POWERS

[crewhonk]

thigh riding with poe as he flys the millenium falcon

Warnings: Smut (thigh riding) under the cut. Cursing, etc.

This ended up being softer than I meant it to be, but Spotify shuffle is the creative tone God.

You and Chewbacca were staring at the chess board in front of you, you analyzing the board for any of possible moves your uncle could make, and then making your moves (amid pawn sacrifice). However, you uncle Chewbacca was 250 years old, and knew moves you couldn’t even think of despite you being the resistance’s best strategist. 

“Chewie! That’s not! That’s not how that works!” You groaned, swiping your hand over the check mated pieces and turning the board off much to his delight— the quality you had of being the sore loser was definitely one that amused him above all others. “Don’t laugh at me!”

Instead of complying, he only laughed more and you groaned, rolling your eyes and playfully glaring at him. 

‘Sore loser,’ he joked and you stuck your tongue out at him, seeing Finn enter the main room of the Millennium Falcon and walk over to the both of you. 

“Here. Maybe you’ll play him and beat him and then we can all laugh at him.” You teased, standing up from the booth and letting Finn sidle in. Chewbacca turned on the board again and Finn sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

“Doubt that, but a little practice couldn’t hurt, eh?” He tried, and you patted their shoulders nicely. 

“Poe in the cockpit?” You asked, trying to play down your excitement at the thought of seeing him. You both hadn’t labelled anything as of yet, but despite the constant threat of doom, you’d found some sort of solace in the man. He made you laugh and made your heart flip and made you hopeful for a future beyond war and the First Order. 

“Yeah, I think he’s alone too.” Finn smirked, making a move on the board. You nodded and turned, wandering as seemingly aimlessly as possible towards the front of the ship. 

‘Be safe, Lovebird.’ Chewbacca growled, and you were happy you were just turning the corner so neither guy would see the flush on your cheeks. 

The walk wasn’t long enough, and you found yourself at the entrance tot he cockpit with your cheeks still red and heart still racing nervously. Poe made you incredibly nervous, and both of you knew it. You rocked back and forth on your feet before swallowing your fear and waking into the room. The swirling view of hyperspace calmed you a little as you came to stand beside the pilots seat. 

Poe had been reading an old book he’d found, but upon hearing you nervously waiting at the entrance door, he had stopped and tried his best to calm his heartbeat in time for you to join him. Your presence was something that he looked forward too, and frankly, it was something he found himself thinking about more and more. You’d not made any label for your relationship, but he rather liked the idea that it was you and only you who had this sort of effect on him— the nervous, stuttering, shaking effect he had cursed until you had said it was cute one day. 

“Hey there, Commander.” You hummed, resting against the back of his chair. He spun in his seat and faced you, making you slip a little. You recovered, but you weren’t prepared to be pulled into his lap. The chair for the pilots seat was massive— something your father had probably modified so he could get more comfortable on long trips like this one. It was big enough for you to settle your knees on either side of Poe’s hips, and you relished in the fact that you were so close to him. 

“Hey, Princess.” He smirked— he’d called you ‘Princess’ ever since he had found out that you were Leia’s daughter, and as much as you told him you hated it, you really couldn’t find the will to. 

“How’s my favourite hot shot?” You replied, feeling remarkably satisfied that he himself turned pink. He cleared his throat and placed his hands n your waist, thumbing light circles into the soft fabric of your casual dress clothes. 

“Better now that you’re here.” He hummed and you rolled your eyes, muttering something about him being a cheeseball before leaning in and kissing him lightly on the lips. You pulled away quickly, making him chase after you for a succession of deeper, longer kisses. 

Your tongues melded together lazily— no rush to get anywhere. Your body pressed itself closer to him, and he hummed when you wiggled closer, slotting your leg between his and straddling his left thigh. It was almost instinct for your hips to roll against it, and you moaned slightly at the feeling of his tough pant rubbing against the thin fabric made for the hot weather of the moon the rebellion was stationed at. 

He pulled away at your first moan and you flushed red, making to get off of him. You hadn’t done anything sexual with him quite yet, and hadn’t meant to grind on him— it had just been a natural instinct. 

Instead of disgust, however, Poe was wearing an expression that you didn’t quite recognize. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“Do it again.” He commanded, the familiar tone of ‘Commander’ ringing through the room. You choked on your breath and flushed red, but rolled your hips against his thigh regardless, feeling your eyelids flutter with pleasure at the pressure between your legs. 

He watched your eyes shut closed, and let his hand pull your hips towards him again, watching as the blush on your cheeks drifted down to your neck and beneath the hem of your shirt. He guided your hips against him, enthralled with the idea of you using him for pleasure. 

“So pretty like this.” He whispered, leaning forward to kiss you and settling back when you followed him. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair and the fabric of his shirt, rocking yourself harder on him and muffling the sounds you wanted to make in his neck. 

“Poe.” You breathed, breath floating across his neck and making goosebumps erupt across his body. Gods, the way you said his name when you were feeling this good had him wanting to fall on his knees for you. He moved your hips faster, pulling you harder down on him and making you shiver and bite your lip. 

“You want to use me?” He smirked, coaxing your o open your eyes and look down at him. Your eyes were blown out with pleasure, and the sight went straight to his dick, making his pants impossibly tight. “Come all over my thigh? Say my name again.” He begged. 

“Poe, I want to— oh, heavens.” You cursed, listening to him obediently and not letting yourself close your eyes or fall into his shoulder. Instead, you looked into his deep brown eyes as your mouth popped open, and your brow furrowed the closer you got to your release. 

“Come for me, Princess. Be my good girl and come.” He crooned, working your hips harder against him. He looked down and moaned a the sight of a slight wet spot on his dark pants— you’d soaked through your own pants, and bat he way your fingers dug into his shoulders, you were close. 

“Come on, Sweetheart.” He nodded, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You let out a small squeak of a moan as you came on his thigh, and he made his work on your neck, licking and kissing and nipping the sensitive skin. 

Once your high had ended, and your body stopped jolting, you looked down at him with sheepish eyes. 

“I’m sorr—“

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a while, okay? Fuck, Princess. You on my thigh using me for your own pleasure? Best thing that could have happened to me today, honestly.” He praised you and you snorted, kissing him and pulling the small lever not he side of the chair, reclining a bit so you could half-lay on his chest. 

“We should change.” He said after a few moments, and you only nuzzled your nose tighter into his neck. Maker, you hadn’t felt this satisfied or relaxed in…. You couldn’t even remember how long. 

“Shhh.” You hushed and he chuckled, hand drifting under your shirt and tracing patterns not he skin of your lower back. Yeah, this is just what Poe needed to feel— pleasure, and hope and a promise of good things to come in the future— all with you.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron smut #poe dameron oneshot #commander dameron #Poe Dameron blurb #tros #tros spoilers

[laurelsofhighever]

“Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain” for Maighread and Cullen? 💙

Thank you for sending this prompt, and for finally giving me a reason to write Maighread and Cullen’s first kiss! It’s rambling and heavy on the angst because maighread overthinks everything, but it has a happy ending, I promise.

--

Maighread Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste and storied leader of the Second Inquisition, stands at the tower door, hand raised to knock as it has been for long enough that the blood is starting to drain out of her arm. It’s pouring rain, night black around her, storm lanterns guttering on the walls, and she’s drenched. At least the bad weather means no one can see her, though the thought is of little comfort. The light spilling under the door means that Cullen is still inside, awake – probably working.

What is she even doing out here? A sensible person would have waited until morning, or at least until the rain stopped. But she’s not sensible. Her feelings for the Inquisition’s Commander have been burning in her, consuming her from the inside out like a fire in the heart of a lightning-struck tree. She thinks about him all the time. When he talks to her – smiles at her – the blood in her veins sings; when shadows bruise his eyes and his voice emerges in terse, indistinct mumbles it’s like the cut of the wind off the mountain peaks. Varric and Bull have needled her, and Cassandra has been kind, but she could not make any of them understand. She had tried to weather the emotions Cullen stirred in her, determined to outlast the impossibility of having feelings for a man put so far out of her reach by past and present circumstance.

But her mind won’t let her rest. It turned over, and paced, and snapped at her heels until it went one sting too far and drove her out of her rest and into the rain, to his door, now bedraggled and shivering with the bravery drowned out of her at the last step. All she has to do is knock.

And what will she say? She already knows all the reasons why it’s a terrible idea, she’s recited the full list to herself often enough. Besides which, she must indeed be presumptuous to think their rally of book recommendations and a few games of chess in the garden mean that his feelings run along the same lines as hers. She imagines his rejection, imagines him laughing at her – or worse, pitying her – and her hand drops to her side. Her arms wrap around her own body. No, she thinks, better she fights this demon on her own rather than succumb. She’s survived worse.

Then again…

Her steps halt a few paces back towards the castle. He seeks her out, asks about her wellbeing. He searched for her through the snow after Haven and lets her hide away in his office when Josie crams Skyhold with too many noble visitors for comfort. And isn’t it always better to take the lid off a boiling pot, instead of letting the contents bubble over without control? So what if her feelings aren’t returned? She cannot control his actions, but she has always felt pride in her ability to control her own, and she has suffered enough shame to last a lifetime for things she cannot help. After a moment summoning courage, she turns, glares at the door, marches up to it to raise her hand again as the sheet of falling raindrops hiss onto the stone at her feet.

No. She can’t do it. The cost is too high. She’s a mage, and she’s nervous and standoffish and lacking in all social grace; the only thing special about her is the mark in her left hand. Water drips off her lashes and suddenly she’s glad for the storm, because her eyes sting and her throat is starting to burn and she is a fool but at least she is one out of sight of all the people who will snicker at her behind their hands. None of them really know how much of a coward she is, and if she leaves now, retreats back to the fancy tower room, they’ve given her, she can hide away until –

The door opens.

“Inquisitor!” Cullen halts in the doorway with an oilskin envelope in his hands and surprise hanging off his open mouth.

She must look like a used handkerchief. Her voice doesn’t work. She drops her gaze, drawing her arm back into her chest.

That startles movement out of him. He throws the packet in a vague direction behind him so that papers burst and scatter over the floor, and steps out across the threshold to gather her up against the rain before she an protest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, closing the door. “Has something happened?”

Panicking, she can only shake her head.

“You’re soaked to the bone. here –”

She numbly allows him to guide her over to his desk chair, which he pulls out for her before bustling around the small room to tidy up. Dread fogs her mind, the rain still a roar in her ears. He’s seen her now, which means she can’t pretend she was never stood arguing with herself in a downpour, which means he’ll ask her why she’s here, which means –

“Will you be alright here for a moment?” he interrupts, in a voice timorous with concern.

Her head turns towards him, but she can’t unstick her gaze from the wall. For a moment longer, he hesitates, until he seems to decide that staying would be worse than going, and retreats up the ladder into his loft, which at least now has a barrier charm over it to keep out the weather. Her fingers tighten on soft wool and she realises he’s tucked his mantle around her shoulders before he left. It smells like him. His warmth is still on the collar, and her traitorous hands wrap it more tightly around herself as if she might hide in the depths of the red-streaked fur.

She could leave, sneak out. But then she would have to explain herself to him later, and she knows she won’t. She’ll avoid him, dodge around his gaze or simply escape to some Maker-forsaken part of Thedas until he gives up, and that will hurt him. He’d think he did something wrong.

The clatter as he drops from the ladder startles her, as does the waft of scent, oakmoss and elderflower, that enfolds her as he brings her blankets that must have come straight from his linen chest.

“You don’t have to –” she tries, but he’s already piling the soft wool around her. It seals in the wet with her, but she won’t deny it’s nicer than having the draughts of the room stealing what little body heat she has left.

And now he kneels before her, tugging his gloves off with his teeth and laying them aside on the desk so he can get at her hands to chafe them warm. The callouses on his skin rasp against her knuckles, the broad fingers disappear hers between them, but the touch is delicate, gentle, and she can’t take her eyes off the sight. A ribbon of water seeps through her drenched hair and trickles cold down the back of her neck.

“What’s happened?” he asks again, quiet.

Her heart trips against her ribs. “Nothing. I’m –” But finishing that sentence would admit too much.

Her halted answer brings a sigh from his lips, as if he’s steeling himself – or losing patience.

“Maighread…” He sucks in his bottom lip. “If something is troubling you, I would help if I can. If you would let me. And not only because you are the Inquisitor.”

The rain still lashes down, but inside this solid stone it’s less impressive, a futile bit of noise. Their hands are joined in her lap, just together, and he doesn’t seem to mind that hers are leaching warmth away from his. In the silence, his thumb makes a slow sweep along hers.

“Do you care for me?”

Her gaze stays rooted on their hands, but on the edge of her vision his head snaps up. Another bead of water escapes her hairline. This time it traces the contours down the side of her face, before it loses momentum in the corner of her mouth and gets stuck there. This sudden spark of bravery doesn’t even feel like bravery, with her hands cradled so as if she’s precious, but nevertheless it fizzles out just as quickly under the weight of his stare.

“I tried not to think about it – to wonder,” she excuses, shrinking. “I know we’re at war, and I’m the inquisitor, and there are so many bad things that might happen. Not to mention –”

He prompt is as tender as his hands. “What is it?”

I am such a fool.

“I’m a mage. You were a templar. I –”

It’s too much. Her throat closes up, her body holds itself so she can’t breathe and she has to squeeze her eyelids shut because he hasn’t moved and she wishes all at once that she had more courage, that she were anywhere else, that she could barricade herself off from the raw strength of emotions tugging her along like a pebble caught up in the tide.

Fingers curl under her chin.

“I didn’t think it was possible.”

The wonder in his voice forces her eyes open, and her heart rolls through her chest like thunder at the whiskey softness looking back at her.

“I… I’ve wondered a thousand times what I might say in this kind of situation,” he admits. “But I never thought I would ever get the chance.” A smile curls at the corner of his mouth as he sweeps a glance over her bedragglement. “Especially not on such a nice day.”

She huddles deeper into his blankets. “I didn’t know it was raining. I mean – I did, but I didn’t notice at first, and then –”

“I do care for you,” he interrupts, and her ramble stutters to a halt. “It seemed like too much to ask for, that you would return those feelings… but I want to.”

He’s leaning in, fingertips sliding along her jaw, waiting for her to pull away, but she doesn’t – can’t – because having him so close is overwhelming and her mind has fled to wonder if her shivering is because of the cold or because Cullen is about to kiss her. Their lips meet without fire – she is still half-frozen and he has chosen caution – but still her insides twist, her limbs tense as if with lightning. It doesn’t feel like last time she was kissed; Cullen’s focus is rapt on her, responding to her movements but not demanding more, and at the end she breaks away because if she doesn’t the tension thrumming in her chest will suffocate her completely.

But he doesn’t pull away. Their breath still mingles, his thumb strokes her cheek as she fights for steadier breath, his forehead pressed to hers.

“I care for you,” he repeats. Laughs. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. I’ve wanted to tell you… I didn’t think you’d welcome it.”

“Cullen…”

“Mm?”

“What happens now?”

His smile fades. “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t expecting to get this far,” she stumbles, in her haste to reassure him. “I thought –”

She thought of rejection. Humiliation. And now that she’s been wrongfooted, all expectations scattered, a new kind of panic takes hold. Her hand has taken a vice-like grip on his. She has no idea what to do, how to act – what if she does something wrong, something unforgivable, what if something happens? Words have been spoken now and made the whole thing real where before she could have denied it and kept it hers alone, secret, impossible to be used against her.

“I care for you.” This is the third time he’s said it. “What do you want to happen now?”

Has anyone ever asked her what she wanted?

“I don’t know.” And it’s absurd. A bubble of laughter forces itself out of her chest, because she’s in his office, completely sodden, confessing her feelings as far as she can because actually saying it leaves her too vulnerable, and she feels so pathetic she could cry, and yet – and yet. “I – I’m cold.” It’s the only thing she can settle on.

“Then let’s warm you up before you catch a chill.”

He rises, practicality back in place now that he has a problem to solve, but as relieved as she is that some attention has been deflected from her, her traitorous heart skips in her chest because he’s still holding her hand.

--

kiss prompts

#professionalfruitgremlin #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age: inquisition #da:i #cullen rutherford #maighread trevelyan #f!trevelyan #mage trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x trevelyan #my writing

[laudedliar]

For the OTP Extra-Dramatic Post - as @noire-pandora has requested

#1: Who would make a deal with the devil

Dorian had been told Cullen was seen in the city of Val Chevin. That Scout Harding had almost taken the man’s life out of pity.

”Please, no. Let me speak with him.” Dorian had begged over the sending crystal with the Inquisitor. “I’m in Orlais, I can be to him within the week. Please, I don’t ask you for anything. Please give me a chance. Let me try to save him.”

The Inquisitor, as hard of a man as he was, thankfully took Dorian’s pleas for mercy to heart.

”I won’t have him sullying the Inquisition’s reputation. You have a week to get him off the street.” Inquisitor Cadash said. The line was drawn.

And now Dorian found himself scouring the streets and back alleys, looking for the blonde Templar. Heart pounding, he knew that Harding was following behind him wraithlike, watching, ready to report back to Cadash if he were to fail in finding Cullen.

“You can help me you know.” Dorian called out after yet another alleyway proved unsuccessful.

There was a soft rustling sound and Harding stepped out from behind a stack of crates. She watched him carefully, blue-green eyes hard as they gazed upon him. “I’m not supposed to assist. Inquisitor’s orders.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Dorian shrugged his shoulders. He hadn’t assumed Cadash was the jealous type. But a spurned lover, it appeared, was not an easily won ally.

“He knows a lot more than you think.” Harding warned, but she stepped towards Dorian all the same.

“He’s still sore about my leaving, then?” The Tevinter asked, even as he followed in the scout’s footsteps to the end of the alleyway and back onto the street. She didn’t answer, only glanced over her shoulder at Dorian.

“And other... things.” The dwarven woman was as astute in her observations as ever.

“Ah. Yes, well. He was the one who only wanted a part time... Thing.” Dorian’s hand waved about as if he could fish the word he was looking for from the air.

They walked down another dirty, stinking alleyway, Harding easily jumping over a puddle of what was most likely piss. Possibly vomit. A dirty, haggard man reached out his hand towards Dorian, begging for coins as they passed. He did his best not to let his disgust show on his face.

Harding paused just before another slumped figure. Dorian paused as well, head tilted to the side as he watched the dwarf carefully. She stared right back at him. An uncomfortable moment passed between the two.

“You wanted help? Here. He’s right here.” Harding waved her hand towards the reeking person beside them.

Dorian’s throat constricted as he glanced over at the emaciated corpse-like being. Once sun-blonde hair now matted and filthy. Golden-brown eyes that had been so bright were now dull and empty. Ragged clothing hung to the man’s thin body. No longer the strong Lion of Fereldan. Dorian now looked upon the diseased, withered shell of Cullen’s darkest fears. He knelt down beside him, one hand lifting a silk handkerchief to his nose to block the rancid smell that surrounded the man.

“Cullen?” He asked, voice hushed.

Those dull brown eyes slowly slid to look in the general direction of Dorian’s face.

“Do you have any spare coin?” A raspy voice asked. Nothing like the calming tenor Dorian remembered.

“I’m here to help you. Do you remember who I am?” Dorian shifted slightly where he knelt, glancing around the filthy alley. Some other beggars were watching with a slight interest and suddenly the mage felt acutely aware of his fine clothing and jewelry.

“We shouldn’t linger.” Harding announced unexpectedly. Grey eyes blinked at the dwarf, surprised to still see her there. “I suggest we pick him up and leave. If that’s what you were thinking? Unless you just wanted to see him like this....” There was a hint of scorn in the woman’s tone.

“Of course. You’re right. You don’t mind helping me?” Dorian asked, even as he stood from where he kneeled.

“Just don’t tell Cadash.” She warned, stepping towards Cullen.

The man blinked at them as they closed in on him. “I don’t have anything right now. I told you last time, I’ll pay you when I get the money.”

“We’re here to help you.” Dorian soothed, even as he tried to grab the man’s arm to pull him from where he sat against the wall.

“No! I promise, I’ll pay! I know I’m behind, I’m just waiting on some money to be sent in the mail. He said he would send me more, it’ll be here soon-”

Dorian felt bile rise in his throat. If Cullen was talking about what he thought he was, it was in reference to a letter the man had sent to Dorian years prior. Asking him for a small loan. Dorian had promised to send him money. Had, in actuality, sent him money. But the courier had returned a few weeks later, coin pouch with him. He had been unable to locate the Templar, saying that there hadn’t been a man named Cullen Rutherford at the inn in Denerim.

“Cullen, please. It’s me, Dorian! I’m here, I’m here to help you!” A large, dirty hand slapped against his chest futilely. “Please.” He couldn’t help the whine in his tone.

“Just get him up, we’re drawing attention.” Harding hissed, already tucked under Cullen’s other arm.

Dorian glanced over his shoulder towards a few of the other haggard beggars in the street. Some were getting to their feet, the cold glint of steel in their hands as they watched the two attempt to get Cullen up.

“Would be nice if your magic was actually useful.” Harding grunted.

For someone as emaciated as the Templar was he was surprisingly still heavy. Dorian and Harding panted heavily as they dragged him through the streets and back to the mage’s hotel. The front clerk watched them, an undisguised look of disgust at the smell that followed.

“I need a bath prepared, lots of water and soap. Scissors as well. And food!” Dorian said as they began hauling the man up the stairs to his room. “Now!” He hollered when the clerk just stood staring at them.

The bath was brought up expediently, along with extra jugs of hot water and bars of good soap. Getting Cullen into the bath, however, was a completely different story. The man struggled against Dorian, pushing him away as he tried to get the ragged shirt off the other’s body. Harding had already left, muttering about Dorian ‘being on his own’.

“Let go of me! I will not be subjected to your blood rituals, mage!” Cullen shouted as a plume of white fire burst from him.

It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked away instantly. As if he had been slammed down face first into the ground from a two story fall, wind knocked from his lungs. The entire world coalesced into a pinpoint that centered around the dirty, ragged Templar and Dorian suddenly knew fear. Breathless, heart stopping fear that skittered over his skin and rippled under his scalp.

He had been subjected to the red Templar’s anti-magic spells but he had been ready for them, aware of what was about to happen. He would never have ever expected Cullen to Silence him. And not with such force.

It took a moment for his head to clear, his lungs achingly attempting to pull air in. Dorian stumbled back, hand grasping the edge of the bed as he tried to pull himself back from the abyss he’d been thrown into.

And as he did, grey eyes locked with honey-brown. Brown eyes that seemed, for that instant, clear and aware of what had just happened.

“Dorian?” Cullen asked, looking frail and frightened. His hands clutched at his dirty shirt and he was looking around the room in confusion. “Where am I? Why are you here?”

Dorian stumbled to stand up straight, still gasping for breath. “Cullen! Oh, Maker! You’re here with me, you’re okay now. I’m here.”

“Why?” The blonde was stepping back from him, shame and guilt pinching his face. “Why are you here?” There was the sound of a sob edging the other’s tone.

“Now, now. Don’t fret over it. You’re safe now. I’m going to help you.” He felt like he was trying to calm a spooked animal, soothing the larger man as he stepped forward step by tiny, sliding step.

“I-” Cullen paused as he took in the room around them. “I’m not quite sure I understand.” He looked down at his hands, the nails torn and crusted in filth, his fingers scarred and tattered. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten quite a lot.”

“Let’s get you a bath first, hm?” Dorian motioned for the bath tub. The water had cooled considerably.

Cullen was surprisingly easy to deal with in this state. Though he kept repeating himself, saying again and again he didn’t know where he was and he didn’t understand why Dorian was there. But whenever Dorian moved away to get more soap, or the scissors to trim the man’s now clean hair, Cullen was quick to reach for him and grab his hand. Like a child afraid to be without their parent nearby.

The bath water was so dark with filth by the time they finished Dorian couldn’t see the white porcelain bottom.

“I’m going to get some food, and have the servants come to take away the bath.” He said soothingly to Cullen, the man sitting on the edge of the bed wrapped in a bath robe. “It’ll be alright, I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Tears were gathering in the other’s eyes and he nodded slowly as Dorian opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The door was slowly shutting when a soft whimper came from the blonde.

“Please don’t leave me! It’s so dark all the time, I can’t remember wh-who I- why am I here?”

”You’re rather foolish for a mage. Always following me around. Do you know what I’ve done to mages who bothered me in the past? What is it about me that excites you so much you feel the need to be a rock in my shoe?” Cullen asked, eyes lifting from the paperwork strewn across his desk as Dorian sauntered into his tower.

“I came to see if you would care for a game of chess. There’s no one else here that can even come close to my prowess in battle.”

“Your prowess.” Cullen snorted and returned to his work. “I have utterly defeated you every game. I find it difficult to believe anyone else would be unable to also pummel your pride.”

Dorian clutched his chest above his heart. “You wound me sir! Such venomous words from so sweet a face! When all I ask for is but a moment of your time.” He dramatically slumped against the ladder and pouted at the ex-Templar.

A small smile slowly stretched it’s way over Cullen’s lips and he looked up at Dorian through long lashes. “Alright, alright. Let me finish here and we can play a game or two.”

“Please.” Cullen begged again and it brought Dorian pause, his head leaning against the wood of the doorway.

“I’ll be right back, Cullen. I promise. I promise.” He answered, tears of his own gathering along his lower lashes and spilling warm and salty down his cheeks. The door clicked close and soft wheezing sobs escaped the mage. After a moment he was able to gather himself together, hands roughly wiping at the tear tracks down his cheeks as he headed along the hallway to get the servants.

The next morning Dorian awoke, his arms wrapped around Cullen’s waist, the other’s back pressing warm against Dorian’s chest. He could smell the lyrium on the man. Like a sharp electric scent that tinged the air. It mixed with the smell of clean skin and the underlying scent that was Cullen.

”You smell... different.” Dorian said as they sat at the long dining tables in SkyHold’s main hall eating dinner.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cullen said, his sharp tone telling everyone around he didn’t want to talk about the subject the mage was broaching. But Dorian was ever one to press an issue.

“It smells familiar somehow. Like a lightning storm.” Dorian whiffed the air again, ignoring the warning glance that Cassandra shot his way.

“Leave me be, mage.” Cullen snarled as he stabbed his fork forcefully into a piece of potato.

“It reminds me of...” A mana potion. It reminded him of the smell of a freshly opened mana potion. “You’re taking lyrium again?” He asked, his voice lowering to a horrified hush.

“I said leave me be.” Cullen growled as he pushed away from his barely touched meal and stormed out of the hall. The companions that had sat nearby watched him go in horrified silence.

Everything had gone downhill from then. Cullen had withdrawn from the others, pouring himself into his work instead. He’d ignored Dorian’s overtures for chess games. Had not even blinked when the mage had joined Sera in ‘pranking’ the Commander.

Dorian’s arms tightened around the sleeping man. He had spent so much time and money trying to locate the Templar. He had almost lost hope as the days had turned to months, which turned to years. But when Cadash had contacted him, telling him that the Commander had been found...

He pressed a soft kiss to the back of the man’s head, lacing his fingers between thick, calloused ones. The gentle steady rhythm of the other’s breathing filled the quiet room.

”C’mon. You haven’t left this room in four days!” Dorian complained. “Are you really that upset about the Inquisitor disbanding the Inquisiton?”

“What am I going to do, Dorian?” The man asked, sitting hunched on the edge of his bed.

“I don’t know. You could come with me? I can show you such wonderful things. Have you ever been to a concerto grosso?” Dorian asked, reaching a hand out to touch Cullen’s shoulder. He sat down beside the other, his hand sliding around the man’s back to pull him in for a sidelong hug. “Oh! Or the Gardens on the River in Verchiel?”

“I’ve been to the Gardens.” Cullen said despondently.

“Think of this as... A vacation! Hm?” He gently shook the man’s shoulders trying to cheer him up.

“I have nothing left, Dorian.” The utter hopelessness in the man’s voice crushed his heart.

“No, no. Don’t say that. You have me. I will always, always be there for you. No matter what.” Dorian promised.

“Why?” Cullen asked, eyes glassy.

“Because I care about you.” A single shoulder shrug.

“But why?”

He paused, mulling over the man’s question. “Because... You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Because you care so deeply. Because you are so adamant about everything you stand for. You never waver in your convictions.”

“I wavered in one.” The other man said softly, staring down at his hands.

Dorian could never forgive Cadash for forcing the blonde to take lyrium again. “You didn’t. It wasn’t you.”

“I can’t stop myself. It’s like I’m stuck in a whirlpool and I can’t swim out. It’s frightening. It wasn’t like this before, Dorian.”

“I’m here. I can help you. Just... reach for my hand, won’t you?” Dorian pleaded.

Golden brown eyes looked up into his own, so much pain and fear held within it crushed him beneath it’s weight.

He was unable to stop himself as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the blonde’s thin, scarred ones. It surprised him when the man didn’t pull away but instead returned the kiss tentatively. The kiss grew in intensity rapidly. Like a stoked fire, hands began to rove over cloth and grasped at warm skin beneath. Kisses turned from soft tentative exploration to open mouthed, teeth clashing, and needy.

Dorian was swept away by problematic emotions as they came together in a carnal rush. Like his own rising concerto, his body sung with his release as Cullen kissed him again and again. It last an eternity. And ended too soon. Bodies lay entangled in the sticky aftermath of their encounter. The Templar’s heavy, solid weight upon Dorian was welcome, and the mage wrapped his limbs around the other as they shared more soft kisses in their post coital glow.

“You’ll come with me in the morning?” Dorian asked in a hushed whisper against tousled blonde locks.

“I’ll think about it.” Cullen murmured sleepily. Together they slipped into sated sleep, arms encircling and holding close.

The next morning Dorian awoke to a cold, empty bed. A letter of apology on the pillow next to him.

I’m afraid I can’t go with you You are my only friend and I would not burden you unduly

Thank you for everything

Yours Always, C. Rutherford.

Dorian was caught off guard as an elbow slammed back against his ribs, knocking the wind from him. Cullen crawled from the bed, his hands clutching the robe wrapped around him.

“Who are you.” The man growled, eyes once more glossy and far away. “Why am I...” He paused, looking down at the thin robe that barely concealed anything at all. “I...” Dorian rubbed at his chest and groaned as he sat up slowly. “Was I... Was it enough?” The blonde asked, clearly concerned about whatever it was he thought the two had gotten up to the night before.

“It’s me, Cullen. Dorian. And was what enough?” The mage asked, still rubbing at his sore solar plexus as he slid to the edge of the bed, his silken pajamas rustling softly with each movement.

“Was it enough to cover my debt? And maybe... Maybe more?” There was a strange light that came to the man’s eyes and suddenly Dorian knew exactly what it was that Cullen was asking.

“No. No. This wasn’t anything like that. Cullen, surely you remember me. Dorian Pavus.” He swallowed down the sickness that was threatening to rise from his gut. “It’s me, amatus.” He whispered, slowly approaching the confused man.

Cullen was shaking his head as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “N-no. Look, I just need a little to last me the week. One vial, I’ll do whatever it is you want. Just one vial.”

A sick tightness gripped his throat and Dorian swallowed thickly once. Twice. “You don’t need any of that. You’ve quit it before. You can do it again. I’m here now, and I’ll help you. We can do this. Together.”

Anger flashed over the haggard man’s features. Brown eyes glanced around the room and the robe was dropped as he picked up his freshly cleaned, but still ragged, clothes from a nearby chair. Dorian watched as the man pulled them on and the blonde stumbled towards the door.

Quickly the mage stepped forward, grabbing Cullen’s forearm and pulling him away roughly from the door. “No. No, you’re staying here with me.” Fear flashed cold down his spine when those brown eyes focused on him, the threat of another burst of the Templar’s wrath imminent.

“I paid you what was owed! You have no right to keep me here!” The blonde cried, trying to wrench his arm from Dorian’s grip. But the mage was better fed, and thusly stronger than the once sturdy warrior.

“It’s for your own good!” Dorian cried. He may have been stronger but it was still a struggle to keep the writhing man from breaking free.

A fist lashed out, slamming against his jaw and lights flashed before Dorian’s eyes as his head jerked to the side with the blow. He grunted in pain, briefly releasing his hold on the other. Just long enough the man was able to escape out the door and rush down the hallway, bare feet pounding muffled against the lush carpeted floor of the inn.

“Forgive me.” Dorian hissed as he cast Terror upon the fleeing man.

Cullen’s body seized up and he froze in his step near the top of the stairs. The mage rushed forward and quickly grabbed the terror frozen man, dragging him back to the room. The deadbolt in the door was locked firmly and Dorian waited patiently while the effects of the spell wore off. He was ready for the rage surely about to be released upon him.

But it never came. Instead, when finally released from the horror of the spell, Cullen crawled to the corner of the room and huddle with his knees against his chest, arms wrapped around them as he rocked back and forth.

It was like that for days. Cullen would beg and plead Dorian for lyrium, promising him he’d pay him. Do whatever he wanted. One time, Cullen had even fallen to knees in front of Dorian, hands quickly trying to pry open the front of his pants. But the Tevinter had pushed him away, horrified at the implications the act made of the blonde’s recent past.

And when the mage refused to give him anything, the Templar would escape the room. Or attempt to.

That was only during the day. The nights quickly devolved into nightmare. When Cullen would actually sleep he would toss and turn, moaning in pain as he burned with fever and left the sheets soaked in sweat. And when he didn’t sleep, he would hunch in the corner of the room, muttering to himself and scratch at his skin as if insects crawled over him.

Dorian found himself crying more than not as the days passed and the symptoms of withdraw grew worse. He hadn’t planned on staying so long in Val Chevin. He had been expected back in Qarinus a day ago. During one of Cullen’s fretful episode’s of sleep he left the room and sent a letter back home to Maevaris, apologizing for his absence and promising a swift return. But he knew it was a lie. Return would be delayed. For an unforeseeable amount of time.

The days turned into weeks. Harding had stopped by once to check on him, letting him know that if he needed help (any kind of help) she was nearby. Dorian knew what the offer entailed.

“I’m not giving up on him.” Dorian had told her, arms over his chest.

“Would he have done the same for you?” She asked. “Lyrium withdraw can get pretty bad. Violent even. Just... don’t make Cadash regret giving you the chance, okay?”

The dwarven woman was loyal to a fault. Dorian appreciated her for it. Not many would have remained just in case.

As time rolled by Dorian felt his own sanity leaving him. He wasn’t sure just how long they’d been locked inside the room. Every day blurred into the next. If it wasn’t for the passing of the sun, Dorian wasn’t even sure he would know day from night.

He watched from his chair as Cullen sat staring at a wall, muttering unintelligibly as he scratched with ragged nails at the wood paneling of the room. Dorian’s own fingernails were chewed down to the quick as he watched the man hunched in the corner destroy the interior of the rented room.

He bit too far down, the coppery tang of blood on his tongue as he tore a chunk of nail off painfully. Grey eyes stared as a small bead of blood gathered on the end of his finger. Possibilities bloomed within the sanguine drop.

He could save Cullen. He just needed help.

The bleeding finger was shoved further into Dorian’s mouth and he bit down hard, teeth tearing at the nail bed, drawing forth more blood as he searched the ether for that desired help.

His call was answered faster than he imagined. His conscious mind pulled from his physical form to the Fade. He knew the Fade, knew the feel, the smell, the taste. He knew he needed to remain calm, even as he found himself walking the familiar, yet hazy, lower courtyard grounds of SkyHold. Most things were in their remembered place. But not all. A blink and he was walking along the battlements towards Cullen’s tower. His feet never faltered, knowing the Demon was toying with him. Trying to unsettle him, make him easier prey.

The heavy wooden door of the tower swung open and Dorian stepped into the familiar office. Mostly familiar. There was an extra bookcase on the far wall, filled with copies of ‘Hard in Hightown’. Some volumes yet to even be published. If ever they were.

She stood there, the Desire demon. Staring at the stacks of paper that littered the top of the desk.

“It’s been a long time, Dorian.” She crooned, low sultry voice echoing through the Fade.

“Not long enough, I’m afraid.” He answered, jaw set in determination.

“What is it you come to me for? You weren’t interested in what I had to offer last time. Or... Maybe I do know.” As she turned her true form shimmered and altered until before him stood a young Cullen Rutherford. Far younger than even Dorian knew him. Fresh faced, eyes bright with an eagerness the blonde man probably hadn’t shown since his early twenties. He wore the Templar armor, shined to perfection, red sash perfectly tied at his hip and holding his once ever-present sword at the ready. “Is this what you’re after?” The Demon asked, now in Cullen’s own familiar tenor.

“A little young for my taste.” Dorian quipped back.

“Hm. Then perhaps...” The youthful figure before him shimmered, the Templar breast plate turning a darker color, the great red plume of fur replacing the large ornate pauldrons, and a more aged face appearing. A wiser face. Familiar scars and creases lining the Demon-blonde’s visage.

“Better. But I didn’t come to play dress up. I came to ask a favor.” Dorian said, turning away from the figure before him to look at the bookcase against the wall.

The Seventh Blight, a History sat beside Horrors of the Third Inqusition. Dorian wondered at the truth of the titles. The Fade sat in between time, living all ages simultaneously. What was, is, and could possibly be.

“What you wish of me is not an easy task.” Demon-Cullen stated, drawing Dorian’s attention back to him. “Templars take lyrium to not only protect from magic, but also demons.”

“Your kind were able to infect the Seekers easily enough, and they had taken lyrium. I just want you to... Help him.”

“You want me to bring this one back. Which is impossible. Why not just stay here and be with me? It’s much easier. And so much more pleasurable. For all involved.” The Demon-Cullen stepped close to Dorian, one of his hands reaching up to stroke along Dorian’s cheek in a loving manner. He moved closer, closing the distance between them and pressed a warm, stubble rough kiss to Dorian’s mouth.

“No. If you won’t do what I want, I’ll find another.” Dorian was quick to the door, his heart pounding in dread at what he was doing. The game he was playing. The way the Demon’s offer was so tantilizing.

Demon-Cullen sighed heavily. “Fine! What are your terms?” He asked.

Dorian paused at the door, hand on the handle ready to flee at any sign of trouble. “I want him cured of the lyrium madness. I want him sane. I want him healthy.”

“I assume he need to remember you?” The Demon asked, looking at his nails as if bored with the transaction already.

“Yes.”

“And love you?” Golden eyes glinted with malice as they looked at him.

“I want him as he was. As he is. Nothing more, nothing less.” Dorian slowly turned, arms crossing over his chest as he faced the Demon once more.

“It will be difficult. You’ll need to cast a ritual so I can enter his space... Even now, with you so close, I can smell the lyrium in him.” The Demon-Cullen glanced at the door of the tower as if he could see past it and into the room where Dorian’s body remained. Where Cullen remained huddled in the corner, lost in his insanity.

“And in return?” Dorian asked. His throat flexed rigid, breath catching as brown eyes met grey.

“I want you. Tit for tat. A life for a life.” The Demon said, Cullen’s lips stretching into a wide, feral grin.

Dorian’s jaw shuddered, teeth clattering behind his tightly sealed lips. “You ask too much.” His voice quavered just slightly.

The Demon paused, mulling over it’s options. It knew Dorian could find a better deal elsewhere. Could find a simpler demon to assist in what he asked, and the stupid demon would probably do it for a lollipop and a hand job.

“Five years hence, then.” The Demon-Cullen bartered, knowing such a deal would not present itself again with such a wonderfully exquisite specimen for a very long time indeed.

“And then what?”

“You become my vessel. Don’t worry, as long as it’s agreed upon you’ll retain your good looks. I never liked the monstrous form some take. And the fun one can get up to with such a fine exterior...” The Demon-Cullen ran his hand down the front of Dorian’s chest in an appreciative manner.

Dorian stepped back from the Demon and brushed at his shirt front as if to push away the lingering feel of the other’s fingers. “Ten years.” He countered.

“Six.”

“Eight.”

The Demon contemplated him carefully. “Ah. The things you humans do for love. Deal.”

The tower flashed bright and disappeared, Dorian gasped for breath as he awoke once more within the room of the inn. He knew the ritual that needed to be done. The knowledge was just there, inside him. Slowly standing from his chair, Dorian crossed the room towards the still muttering, mad Templar.

His hand found it’s way to soft wavy blonde locks and fingers threaded through the fine hairs. Heart thumped against his ribs and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to the man’s temple. As he pulled away, he recited the incantation, once more ripping at the still sore skin of his finger and drawing forth more of his blood. A hot, white light illuminated around the blonde and a rising sound like that of whistling wind over hot desert sand drowned out all else within the room.

He was thrown back into the chair he’d risen from, the wooden furniture smashing into pieces as his body slammed against it. The splintered wood pierced his skin and he cried out as whatever spell he’d cast drew from his life essence to fuel the Demon’s work. Blood swirled in ribbons around the now white hot glowing Templar. He could see Cullen writhing as if he were in pain, back arched, limbs flailing. But it was difficult to look directly at the other man like he were the midday sun and Dorian a cave dweller.

The whistling wind grew, tossing about other pieces of furniture. They slammed hard against the walls, barely missing Dorian where he lay curled up on the floor. The bed shook and rattled across the floor boards, sheets torn from it and whipping about the room as well.

It seemed to never end.

But end it did.

The furniture that had been zipping about fell to clatter on the floor. Sheets lazily drifted down to cover Dorian where he lay. The wind stopped and the only sound within the room was the rasping wheeze of his breath. Eventually he peeked out from under the silken sheets that covered him to glance at the corner where Cullen remained.

Honey-brown eyes, no longer glossy or lost, looked at him from across the room.

“Dorian?” Cullen called, his voice thready and weak.

“Cullen.” He sat up fully, rushing across the room to the other man still huddled where he’d been all day. “Cullen, Maker be praised!” He cried as his arms wrapped their way around the shivering man. Warm kisses fluttered over the blonde’s face.

“I thought... I thought you were in Tevinter. I tried to send you letters but...” Cullen said, his voice shaking. But the larger man didn’t push Dorian away even as the mage continued to press excited kisses to his sunken cheek.

“I’m here now, amatus. I will never leave you again. I promise.” Dorian whispered against stubble rough skin. And he meant it.

Tick Tock. A sultry voice whispered.

#cullrian #dorian pavus #cullen rutherford #demon #lyrium #withdrawal

[un-bearablysweet]

Teetlez in Highschool part 2

Human Donatello with Box braids is my real weakness in this world. Thxs so much for all the reviews and support I’m glad u guys liked the first post and I hope u enjot this just as much.

Never has there been a nerd so confident and smooth as Donnie, the chaotic bi energy is off the charts🤣 My boi is feral and has just been released on the weak student body. After 15yrs of talking to just his family, April included Donnie has ZERO CHILL.

Cheerleader: Listen, nerd, could you not stare? We both know I’m too good could for you.

“Oh, don’t worry, Hunny I wasn’t looking at you as was looking at your man.”

“Maybe if you lose the bottle-blond you keep in your knockoff Fendi Purse we could talk.”

Wigs were snatched in the first week of school. Those Lou Jitsu genes are hard at work because, for someone so nerdy, you can't deny that he looks good, and he knows it. Smooth dark chocolate-like skin, dressed in a soft lavender sweater with longed sleeves, paired with black ripped jeans and white fila sneakers. Long onyx box braids pull into a ponytail showing off his titanium earrings.  

To go to an actual school has been Donnie’s dream, so you know he’s gonna make the most of it. Donnie is a drama queen, and everyone has to know it. When you come for the queen, you best not miss.🤷🏿‍♀️🤭

You know that one coworker or friend stay in other people’s business, but don't like to tell people their business? That’s Donnie.

Being able to hack people's phones without them knowing has its benefits. He actually keeps a school gossip blog, reading people for the filth and exposing assholes. 

Things Donnie has said to other students.

“I’m mean you say you got that Gucci bag at the store in Soho, but I could have sworn I saw it at the thrift store at 13th street, make it make sense.”

Oop!😮

"You say your natural redhead, but your roots say otherwise."

"Look, don’t be mad because I got more edges than your girl."

"You need to stop worrying about me and worry more about your girlfriend, wasn't she caught giving head to your buddy in the janitor's closet?”

"She’s just mad because my eyebrows are shaped better than hers and her mama’s."

"Oh really, Jason loves you. That's weird. He said the same thing last night in my DMs."

"Your right Angela, I wasn't doing the dance routine right, but I'm sure your hairline could teach me how to Milly rock any block."

Donnie was naturally a teacher's pet but still manage to get on their nerves too when he corrects them in class. This boy doesn’t even bother to study 90% of the time, he already knows it all. A teacher got so mad and started to believe that Donnie was cheating. When asked to answer the problem on the board. Donnie proceeds to due so in, of course, song form. 

The problem wasn't even in the textbooks, the teacher had pulled it from MIT's current ongoing projects. 

Donnie is also known as the buffest nerd around. During the school year, his lab partner spilled some acid on his shirt. In a panic, he quickly ripped off his shirt and tossed it far away in a corner. The whole room goes silent and stared...

How heavy were those textbooks? Because this boy was jacked! These nerds were certainly evolving because he had a full six-pack (papa would be so proud), and his arms were ridiculous. 

Building giant tanks from scratch tones the arms don't cha know? 

Staring closely, his lab partner couldn't happen to notice the purple rectangles on his shoulders. Were those tattoos? They were so vibrant and eye-catching they reminded her of pixels almost, the way the clustered together. 

By the time class is over, pictures of Donnie's abs have spread across the whole school. Pulling a spare shirt from his bag, he answered his phone as he shuffled out of the classroom.  

"What?... Shut up, Leo, I'm not turning into a stripper, It was an accident in the lab!"

When sent to the principles office to discuss skipping a couple of grades and become a senior like April, he’s refused. When asked why he answers.

"It is the theater, she calls to me like a siren in the night pulling me out to sea. I plan to make this school the best theater club New York has ever seen!"

"Mr. Hamato, please get off my desk."

Theater Kid levels are over 9000, Donnie would do the whole play by himself if you let him. Builds top of the line equipment because he refuses to stand on a stage with any less than the best if he can help it. While he might not find people who are his intellectual equals to make friends with (the Purple Dragons don't count), He can at least make friends with people who are as passionate about the theater as he is. 

"I know how to lift with my legs Katie, I've been carrying this whole play, haven't I?" 

Metal/woodshop classes are his bitches. The occasional statue of himself, along with accurate models of monuments and Jupiter Jim sceneries. 

If Donnie has to join a sport, it's gotta be track or Volleyball. Donnie can be fast when he wants to be and is quite flexible. Donnie has the new school record of joining the most clubs. 

He's in the Chest club, the debate team, National Honor Society, Program, track team, theater, robotics team, Jazz band, orchestra, dance, math team, and the science/computer club.  

"Donnie, you need to sleep." Raph rubbed at his tired eyes as he watched Donnie flutter about the lair. It was 4 in the morning, Raph was going to have to start hiding the coffee maker again.

"Sleep is for the weak, if I don't finish the smoke machine for next week's play, Daemen will get one from a Pawnshop, and I refuse to have technical failures during my crowning moment." 

It's still early in the semester, so they're still trying to convince him to bring him down to at least 4 clubs max.

Someone once stole his notes from his locker, sucks to suck because all of his class notes are in Japanese. He started doing this after some asshat stole his records from Raph.  

When he noticed that people were cheating off his test, he starts a new routine of writing the worst answers in pencil, and in the last five minutes, rewrites the right solutions in pen. 

*multiple shocked Pikachu face*

Donatello ‘Akihiro’ Hamato 

15yrs old, Sophmore 

President of the Chess club, Treasurer of the Theater Club, Anchor for the Track team, Vice President of the Metal Shop Club. 

Akihiro meaning “Bright Scholar”

Voted most likely to murder someone and get away with it. 

Gossip Blog called the Purple Shade with Don Tron. 

My baby is done which means the Pretty boy of the group is next Neon Leon.

#rise of the tmnt #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise!donnie #Donatello #my art #heacanon #tmnt2018 #tmnt #Donnie

[darlingrutherford]

Back in October, I received an ask about Lana and Alistair sharing Cullen, which prompted me to think about what circumstances would have to happen in order for that to work in my DA canon. I started thinking about it deeply, which has turned into a lot of posts and, in November, I started working on the story version of how that would play out (or, rather, what would spark that first spicy encounter between Lana and Cullen, which could make way for more spicy encounters). I hit a rather big writer’s block on it (like most of my writing, thanks CFS) and was stuck writing a line here or there every week or so, but all this talk recently with @jellysharkbat​ about Cullanistair sparked something in my brain and I finally FINISHED IT. 

This ended up being way longer than I had originally planned lmao. So, I’m uploading to Ao3 as well if you’d rather read on there since they format a bit better than Tumblr. Enjoy!!

Healing | Cross-posted on Ao3 | Alistair Theirin/Lana Surana/Cullen Rutherford | DA:I | Explicit - trauma, PTSD, referenced non-con, sex | 18+ only, please!

     “You look exhausted.” 

The words flowed from her tongue easily enough. The past few months that she and Alistair had been at Skyhold putting together the pieces for the cure had found her and Cullen becoming even more comfortable around one another than back when she was a mage at Kinloch. As such, Lana hadn’t been expecting the almost put off glance from Cullen as his eyebrow quirked at her accusation, and her eyes widened as she quickly followed up her comment, silently wishing she could suck the words back in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - It’s just, you seemed like you were almost falling asleep there for a moment.”

Cullen sighed as his expression relaxed in understanding. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes returning to the chess board in front of them before his hand quickly dragged against his face in an attempt to wake up.

“My apologies,” he said. He leaned forward, moving one of his templars on the board to take her pawn. “I have not been sleeping well these past few nights.” 

“Is it the withdrawals still?” Lana asked. She kept her voice down when she asked the question, knowing full well that Cullen still had yet to make it known to many that his withdrawals were apt to keep him up at night. The corner of Cullen’s mouth quirked in a short lived smile as Lana pondered her move. 

“Those have not been as frequent as they once were, thankfully.” He paused as he contemplated his next words, the silence between them filled by the sound of crows as they flew above to Leliana’s tower. When he finally spoke, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I wake up more often, because of the memories.”

Lana nodded in silent understanding. She knew well what Cullen was referring to: of Kinloch, of the torture he had endured for days before she, Alistair, and their friends had rescued him and the few left alive by Uldred and the other blood mages who had taken over the Circle Tower. He had uncomfortably explained it to her weeks after she and Alistair had arrived at Skyhold together months ago, something he couldn’t have avoided when the initial sight of Lana had brought all those memories screaming back to him in his waking hours. Cullen had forced himself to make time for her, to help his mind realize the difference between her and the memory of the demon who used her image to torture him so many long years ago, but also for her. Lana’s guilt when he had eagerly left the room the first time had been clear as day, and Cullen knew she had no need to harbor it. Lana had saved his life, had protected the others he had so quickly wanted to condemn in his hysteria. She was not the same as the nightmares he so frequently experienced in his sleep. So they had spent time together ever since, talking through the past and making way towards the supportive friendship that had quickly grown between the two of them. 

“I still have nightmares from my childhood. Vivid ones, of the night my mother died.” Lana leaned forward, moving one of her rooks before sitting back. Her hand came up to tug at the end of her long braid, fingers pulling at the loose copper strands. “I used to have them every night, back when I was first taken to the templars. I went days without sleeping once, hoping that if I went long enough they’d never return.”

“I remember you being caught once after curfew, sitting in the hall,” Cullen said. A faint smile grew on his face as he looked at Lana when a laugh escaped her at the memory. “Knight-Commander Gregoir threatened to cut off your library access because of it, since you spent so many hours there, but First Enchanter Irving talked him out of it.”

“The only time I ever got caught,” she laughed. “The apprentices who slept near me would chastise me until I’d leave to calm down after one of them. I was too loud, apparently. They weren’t nightly by then, but they did occur every week at the least. They were still awful when I first left Kinloch for the Wardens. I’m grateful they’re not as frequent now. A couple times a month, perhaps.”

“What helped?” He wasn’t looking at the board at this point. His eyes were focused on Lana, watching her as she stared off at a nearby shrub as if it held all the answers in the world. 

“Time,” she finally said after a brief pause. “Time, and a lot of help. I blamed myself for my mother’s death. If I hadn’t come into my magic, she may still be… Well, but I know now that it wasn’t my fault. It took a long time for me to realize that, and I couldn’t have done it alone. That, and…”

Cullen waited for a response that didn’t come. Lana had closed her mouth, her cheeks turning pink. Cullen tilted his head, curiosity on his face.

“And… What?” He casually asked. 

“Well… I…. Had a trigger, for the memories when awake… Kind of like how they came back for you suddenly when you first saw me arrive. The nightmares were mostly in my sleep, but also, whenever I used magic… It was like I could hear her again in my head, screaming. The nightmares got worse the more darkspawn we came across, the more I had to fight. I hated my magic and what it represented.”

“I assume you no longer loathe it, if your dreams have calmed so much?” Cullen asked. Lana nodded her head quietly. She chewed on her lower lip as she returned her gaze to the board in front of them. Taking his cue, Cullen moved his templar once more. Truth be told, he was more focused on their conversation at that point than the game between them. “How did you accomplish that?”

“We… Alistair figured, if I used my magic and something good came out of it, that my reaction may change. I always used magic out of self defense, to kill darkspawn and such. He suggested that using magic for another person who would have a good reaction to it, that I would think of that instead of my mother by association. He’s a smart man. It definitely worked, the more we tried it.”

“That is fortunate that you had a way to disassociate from those memories,” Cullen said. “Healing magic can be very helpful, especially for those who fight darkspawn so often, I would assume.”

“It, well… Wasn’t all that we did.”

“I can’t imagine there are many other kinds of magic that wouldn’t be harmful to the recipient?” Cullen raised his gaze to look at Lana, noticing the pink that had spread to her ears as she cleared her throat.

“Alistair is… very receptive to it, if, um… You know, it’s controlled….”

“I see.” Cullen’s face had gone red the moment he realized what she meant. The two of them averted their gazes from the other, both intensely staring at the chess board as if their game had suddenly become just that more serious. They went through a few exchanged moves in silence, waiting for the awkwardness to tide over - as if it ever could - before Lana spoke again.

“Do you think this has helped you at all? Us, spending time like this together.”

“I haven’t had any feelings of those memories when I am around you in quite a while, so I would say, yes, it has helped considerably,” Cullen said. Lana seemed to visibly relax at his words as a warm smile grew on her face. 

“Is there anything else I could do to help redirect those memories?”

Cullen watched her as she moved her templar, taking his. The redness was returning to his face rapidly, well aware that she had no idea of the gritty details of the torture that involved her likeness. As Lana looked up and saw the almost shocked expression mixed with color on his face, her eyes widened again.

“Maker, I’m sorry, Cullen, I didn’t mean to make you think about it,” she said quickly in a mumble. “Do you want me to leave?”

“What? N - No, I… It’s, um…”

“I just, I know you said that a demon took the form of me. I don’t know what was said, what was done… Sometimes playing out a memory and changing the outcome, we’ve found it really helps me - Andraste silence me, I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?” 

Cullen swallowed, forcing his eyes back to the board as he tried to formulate what to say. Maker, what could he say in a situation like this? Cullen’s boyish crush on the young, red-headed circle mage was a memory long since passed. Of course she was still beautiful - more so now, if it was even possible - but he had moved on... Hadn’t he? Besides, she was with Warden Alistair, and quite happily by the looks of it. But still, for her to be suggesting without knowing what she was suggesting…

“It’s… It’s not that simple, unfortunately,” he stammered out.

“Are you afraid of what might happen? That I’ll hurt you?”

“What? No, I’m - I’m not afraid of you, it’s… Maker’s breath, I was tempted, tortured by your likeness, Lana. Touches, and - and, visions of so… so much more… You have no idea what you… what you’re offering, or how I will… how I would... ”

Their chess game was all but forgotten at this point. Cullen’s breathing had become heavy, his grip on the armrests of his chair tight. He had turned his gaze sharply to the side, staring at the stone wall beside them as he tried to hold back the emotions that threatened to break through his usually strong resolve. Lana sat there quietly across from him, sadness filling her as she watched Cullen all but break in front of her, like a teacup slowly hitting the hard ground. Minutes went by and, once Cullen had allowed a few heavy breaths to sigh from him and the color had calmed in his cheeks, Lana finally spoke.

“What if we tried?” She asked. Cullen looked at her incredulously, and she smiled softly. “Nothing has to happen. A completely safe environment. We wouldn’t do anything more than you felt comfortable doing. You would be in control this time. No demons.”

“What about Alistair?” Cullen asked quietly, the question surprising himself. Maker, but was he actually considering this? Lana’s laughter surprised him even further.

“Alistair won’t mind. He’ll probably encourage it, once I explain. He should be there, too. So you have someone else reassuring you who doesn’t embody the face of your memories.”

“I… I’m not sure if… You actually think it would help?” Maker help him, he was considering it.

“It helped me a lot.” Lana nodded. “It wouldn't hurt to try, right?”

“I don’t… think you realize just how… How far some of it went.” Cullen’s throat had gone dry, his voice a bit raspy.

“Alistair enjoys sharing me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Lana said. She placed her closed hand gently against her lips, laughing lightly at the look that spread on Cullen’s face. “Believe me, he enjoys it. He often joins in. Although, obviously, he doesn’t have to. This would be about you, Cullen. About helping you. If reliving all that without the bad helps you sleep better at night, I’d be happy to do it. Just think about it. No pressure.”

      No pressure. The words had left her so simply, so unironically, as if this wouldn’t be one of the more difficult things for Cullen to consider. It would sound perfect on paper, he was sure: taking a moment of trauma and reliving it with the ability to strike out what had gone wrong. Of course, he couldn’t strike it all out. There would always be the memories he couldn’t rewrite: of his friends, murdered in front of him after hours of torture; of the mages who trapped him and cut him before sending a demon to play with his mind. But she was there, in Skyhold - the mage he had secretly pined for all those years ago. The very person whose visage had been used to torment him again, and again, as they played her in his mind the way he had always wanted her back then: touching him, kissing him, just as he had imagined it might be, only for her to transform into the demon once more before they tortured him some more. If he had a chance to rewrite even just one part of it… After this long of trying to run from it all, he owed it to himself to try. After all the guilt she had felt since the moment she had rescued him only for him to look at her as if she had been the one to do it, he owed it to her.

“I’d say you won’t even know I’m here, but… I think we all know that would be a lie,” Alistair chuckled. 

The three of them sat in a small room, the one Alistair and Lana had been staying in since they had arrived three months ago. Lana had suggested Cullen pick the location once he had agreed to their meeting, wanting him to feel safe wherever they were - one more way for him to be in control of the setting. Of course Cullen had his own room, but the hole in the roof and the possibility of interruptions was much too high. At least Lana would be comfortable in her own room, he had told himself. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Lana sighed with a smile. She wasn’t wearing her usual blue armor that day. She sat at the edge of the bed, a tunic much too large for her hanging to her knees and breeches covering her legs. Alistair had gone without much of his armor as well, lounging in a comfy chair near the window and looking quite relaxed about the whole situation. Cullen felt a mess inside and, after the way he had blunderingly discarded his armor as he realized he was much too overdressed between the other two, he was quite sure his anxiousness was apparent as he sat in a chair near the small desk at the wall. 

“I’m teasing, of course,” Alistair said with a smile. “But, not really, at the same time. I’m here for moral support. I know things like this aren’t always easy. It wasn’t difficult for me to redirect Lana when her memories became triggered early on, but, then, I wasn’t the focus of that memory. It’ll seem awkward in the beginning, I’m sure, seeing me in the corner, watching you canoodle with my wife -”

“Alistair…”

“What? You can’t expect me not to.” Alistair grinned at Lana as she rolled her eyes at him. “What I was trying to say is: I’m not going to deck you off of her at any point, unless you’re hurting her, of course. We’re all adults. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself. Anyway, it’ll get less awkward, and we have all the time in the world. So, chop chop, get at it, have fun you two.”

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen groaned as he buried his face in his hands. 

“Ignore him,” Lana said lightly. Cullen looked up as he felt her hands on his, pulling gently as she uncovered his face. She wasn’t much taller than him in that moment, even with him sitting and slouching the way he was. It had been one of the first things he had ever noticed about her, how easy she would have been to hold in his arms. “Focus on me. Now, tell me… How did the demon tempt you with me?”

“I….” Cullen trailed off. He tried his best to keep his eyes on her, but he steadily found it more and more difficult as the memories threatened to return to him.

“I know it’s hard to talk about,” Lana said after a moment of silence. “Maybe start with the first thing?”

“You… I mean, it… When the deception began, the vision… I thought I had awoken in the tower by myself. I had almost thought they left, and then… I saw you. I mean… Not you, but…”

“Take your time, Cullen, it's all right.”

“I don’t want you to… To feel like you have to do this.”

“I wouldn’t have offered this to just anyone, Cullen. You and I have a connection that is unfortunate in one large aspect, and that’s Uldred. Let’s remove him from the equation.”

Cullen took a deep breath and nodded before continuing. 

“You crouched next to me on the floor. I tried to warn you of what had happened, but you told me all was well. That we were alone. It had all been some awful dream. You touched my face…”

Cullen froze as Lana touched his cheek. First her fingertips, gentle and slightly cool to the touch. Then they slid to hold him, the calluses on her hand from years of wielding her staff rubbing softly as they went. Lana rested her hand there, giving Cullen a small and encouraging smile.

“How are you doing?” She asked softly. Cullen's eyes flicked towards Alistair, almost expecting him to become uncomfortable with the situation at any moment, only to find the man lounging sideways in his chair with his long legs hanging over the side. 

“F - Fine. I'm, ah, fine.” Cullen waited until Lana gave him a small nod, his cue to continue. He cleared his throat, giving himself courage to continue as he focused his gaze on her. “I tried to tell you again that we should go, but you… You were persistent. You told me that you - you knew, about my thoughts… My… My desires…”

“Did you desire me?” Lana asked sweetly. Color rushed to Cullen's face as she brought her legs to either side of his lap, settling softly onto him. Her other hand met the opposite side of his face to mirror the one that already cupped his cheek, and slowly her hands slid back to curl gently in his hair. 

“I - I did, at the time.” The words were raspy as they left his throat. His eyes widened slightly as he felt his cock twitch once against his breeches, against her. A lilting laugh left her throat as she smiled.

“At the time?” She teased. 

“He'd have had to be mad not to be,” Alistair commented casually from the corner. Cullen nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Maker, he had already forgotten that Alistair was there. Lana's hand dropped to Cullen's chin, gently redirecting his gaze towards her.

“What happened next, Cullen?”

“You… It...”

“Did it kiss you?”

“I… Yes,” he choked. Cullen's heart pounded in his chest as time slowed down for him. Slowly, steadily, Lana began leaning towards him, her eyes gradually closing as her lips neared his. And then, they met, and he froze. 

“Cullen? Cullen?”

Cullen blinked, finding Lana still on his lap but staring at him at an arm's length. There was a hint of concern in her eyes, and as his gaze slowly moved towards Alistair he saw the same caring, concerned look on the man's face. As Cullen began moving again Lana visibly relaxed as her warm smile returned to her face.

“What happened just now? Where did you go?” 

“It was… Almost just as I recalled,” he breathed. Maker, but this was more difficult than he had thought it would be. His hands were shaking, and he gripped the arms of the chair to steady them. He couldn't even recall her ending the kiss, seemingly having lost that time in his mind. 

“What was different, though?” Alistair piped in.

“What?” Cullen turned his head to look at Alistair. The man was still sitting with his legs over the side of the chair, however now he was propped up more proper. 

“Before, when it happened. Did it feel like her kiss did? Could you feel the callus on her lower lip from her chewing it too much? Were the kisses before rough and forcing, or soft and sweet?”

“Ah, m - more rough, I… Looking back on it, perhaps it was trying too hard to convince me.”

“So focus on her, then. Kiss her again, but this time count all the differences. Starting with that lovely callus of hers.”

Cullen mentally prepared himself as Lana gently ran her fingers through his hair. Her touch was kind, soothing, not at all what he had felt back in Kinloch. She trailed her fingers over his cheek, tracing his features like a lover memorizing their partner's face. He watched her eyes, her gentle smile as she followed her fingers, and his body relaxed under her touch. Her fingers trailed over the scar above his lip, following it to his lips themselves. That was when her eyes met his, and for a split second a memory of those same blue eyes flashed in his mind, only younger than the ones in front of him now, smiling up at him as they stood talking about the Harrowing she had just completed with ease, and his heart skipped a beat.

“This is real this time, this isn’t a dream,” she whispered. “You're a templar no longer, and we are not in Kinloch. Kiss me.”

Cullen's lips were pulled to hers as if by some invisible force. His hands rested at the small of her back, gripping lightly as they kissed. He followed Alistair's instruction, focusing on every little difference. He found the callus Alistair had mentioned, right at the middle of her lower lip, born from years of nervous habits, something completely missing from his memory. Her kisses were soft, gentle, as kind as her fingers that snaked through his hair once more to caress him - a stark contrast to the gripping, needing pulls from his nightmares. She smelled of lavender and vetiver, of ink and the pages of very old books. She let him take the lead, kissing back only when he kissed her, leaving him in full control. At one point a whimper left her throat, high pitched and shaking, and Cullen suddenly realized that his hands had moved to grip her bottom.

“A - Andraste preserve me, I am so - so sorry,” he sputtered while removing his hands from her. He sighed as Lana kissed him once more, and this time he found his lips trailing after hers when she pulled back.

“I meant what I said before,” she said with a small smirk. “Whatever helps you heal this memory…”

“It… It never got quite that far,” Cullen said as he cleared his throat. “Or, at least…”

“What happened?” Lana asked. Her hands were busying themselves in his hair, brushing back strands just above his ear to help relax him.

“It… It got close. It was as if it was on a loop… Always… Getting to that point, with you - it - on - on top, and then, just before, everything became real again. And they'd… Start over.”

“That's terrible,” Lana said with a frown. “The way I see it, we have two options.”

“Which are...?”

“We can play this out exactly as you remember, only follow through. We break the loop. Or, if this is too much, we can stop.”

“And… What are… your feelings on that?” Cullen asked as he eyed Alistair. The man cracked a grin from afar.

“Judging by the look on her face, and the conversation we had last night about it, she's very excited about comparing templars, if you catch my drift.”

“You really don't mind watching another man… With your wife?”

“He likes it,” Lana said with a smirk. A groan left Cullen's throat of its own accord as she shifted herself against his straining erection that begged to be freed from his breeches. “He enjoys watching me being pleased. And I enjoy him enjoying it.”

“Well, if… If no one objects, we could always try to… See how far we can get.”

“That's the spirit,” Alistair said encouragingly. “I only have one rule - well, two rules: One - what's your watchword, my dear?”

“Wicker.” Cullen watched Lana's cheeks flush ever so slightly as the world left her tongue, then his eyes flickered back to focus on Alistair as he continued. 

“That's right: Wicker. You hear that word, Commander, and you stop. You can use the same if you'd like. Rule number two: no coming in my wife. Yes, I realize we're wardens and wardens don't get pregnant often, but just humor me. Agree to those simple things and I'll let you in on a little secret - If you rub her ears too firmly a few times she'll come, so, avoid that. Unless you want her to come. In which case, it is a nice little trick.”

“Oh, Maker,” Lana sighed with a smile. Cullen chuckled nervously at Alistair’s suggestion. Maker, was he really going to go through with this? Would he even make it to that moment with her? Did she really want this?

As Lana leaned forward and took Cullen’s lips with hers he realized, yes, she did want this. Lana may have been rather obviously allowing Cullen to pick their pace, but she gave herself away in the way her hips gingerly rocked every now and then to rub against his straining erection, as if she couldn’t help herself. Cullen’s hands slowly snuck back to her waist. A strangled hum vibrated in his throat as he felt her breath shake against his lips, as if such a simple touch from him had evoked such a strong response. Memories flashed behind Cullen's closed eyes, little glimpses of watching her from afar so many years ago, always from afar. There were no rules now to stand between them, no blatant imbalances of power to keep his conscience from allowing him this. 

Maker, he didn't think he could stop kissing her even if he wanted to. Each kiss from her melded into his subconscious, each further and further from the frightful memories he had associated her lips with before. He felt as if he were truly breathing for the first time in her presence, a clear headed feeling he hadn't felt since his last draught of lyrium, and he needed more. 

“May I?”

Cullen's lips slowed to a halt as she spoke against them. He pulled back just far enough to glance down at her fingers that played with the lacing of his shirt. With a nod, Cullen watched as Lana slowly unlaced his shirt until it was nice and loose. Then she took his hand, directing his fingers towards the lace on the large shirt she wore. Cullen flushed crimson, realizing that doing so would reveal quite a bit more on her than it did on him. He swallowed as she molded his fingers to grip the lace, then he slowly pulled.

As her skin was revealed, inch by inch, Cullen felt himself seizing up. His eyes were glued to her, staring at her skin just below her clavicle as the fabric pulled away as slowly as his fingers allowed it to. He felt his mind going dark, everything around him swirling, Lana's posture slackened as she caught on to the change in Cullen's appearance when, suddenly, he saw the tip of an old scar. It poked out from under the lacing as it loosened, just on the right at the edge of the top of her breast. 

Cullen's breath released heavily, and he let go of the lace. The rest of it fell, the fabric sliding from her shoulders with it. Cullen's eyes stared at the scar, unable to take his eyes off of it as she sat on his lap with the shirt pooled at her hips. He swallowed hard, raising his hand to draw his fingers over the scar. Its edges were rough, not the work of steel - no, a claw, perhaps? From the corner of his eye, Cullen caught a glimpse of another: one just above her hip, mostly obscured by the fabric of the shirt. He clasped his hands to her waist, causing her to squeak in surprise as he lifted her off his lap and set her to stand in front of him. 

“Everything okay…?” Alistair's question went unanswered as Cullen gently slipped the shirt from Lana's hips until it pooled at her feet. Cullen remained seated in front of her, his face barely an arm's length from her as he hunched over to look at the scar. This one ran from her hip to mere inches diagonal to her navel. It was sharp, piercing, the work of something sharp and rounded - definitely steel, unlike the other. It was covered by a burn, almost hand-shaped in appearance, as if someone had placed their burning palm to her flesh to cauterize the first wound. 

Lana's skin was reddening under his gaze and touch, standing before him in her breast band and breeches. Her head tilted as she watched him stare at her scars, trying to figure out what the significance was as he gently took her hand and traced the scar on her arm - the one that gave her the most nightmares of them all. She bit her lip as he focused on that one, setting aside whatever feelings she had of it for the moment. Then his eyes shot up to her shoulder and he spun her with his hands. Her eyes widened as she stumbled to keep her balance from the sudden movement, making contact with Alistair's gaze as his brows lifted. Cullen was running his fingers over the burn on her right shoulder, and Lana and Alistair's heads tilted almost in unison as they heard what sounded like Cullen laughing. 

“Cullen?” His name was drawn out on Lana's tongue. Alistair sat up in his chair, craning his neck in order to see the Commander's face. His eyes were slightly watering, a look of almost disbelief on his face as he quietly laughed. If it hadn't been for the smile on his face, Alistair would have been more concerned. The two of them waited, giving Cullen a moment, before he finally spoke.

“You have scars.” The words left Cullen, and Lana felt the relief they carried with them. She relaxed instantly, smiling as she laughed as well. 

“It didn't have scars, did it?” She asked, and Alistair instantly slumped back in understanding.

“None at all.”

Lana's body was peppered with them: big scars, little ones, each telling their own story, and Cullen had never known. The demon had drawn on his knowledge of her, filling in the blanks as he would have imagined: it had been unmarked; flawless light olive skin that had matched her face, save for the nail sized nick just near her left eye. Each scar was proof that she was different, that she was her, the one who saved him from that terror all those years ago, not the cause. Each scar was proof, and of them she had many.

Cullen stood as Lana turned and took his hand, pulling him from the chair. She walked him towards the bed, her legs barely hitting the edge before he pulled her towards him and bent low to meet her lips. 

“Walk me through it.” Lana's words bounced off Cullen's lips between kisses. 

“Through…?”

“What happened next?”

Cullen slowly parted from her kiss, the reality of everything coming back to him. His cheeks flushed as he straightened, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he glanced at the bed. He silently kicked himself in his mind as he felt his nervousness setting in once more. 

“Well, I was… We were on the ground… You - I mean - It, r - removed my clothes, and its… Clothes...” 

“Do you want to change that?”

“H - How so?”

“It removed everything… How about you do it this time? Let it be your choice.”

Cullen slowly nodded his head as he considered it. His eyes wandered down to her breasts, barely covered by the cotton that bound it back. He averted his gaze as he felt his face burn, quickly deciding to remove his shirt first. He grabbed the hem, pulling it over his head and taking his time setting it to the side. Cullen could feel the burning traveling down his shoulders and across his chest as his hands found the laces of his trousers. Chancing a glance at Lana, he felt his stomach do a bit of a leap as he watched her teeth bite lightly on her lower lip - right on that callus - all the while her eyes were glued to his hands as they pulled at the strings. Maker, she wasn't trying to hide how much she wanted him, and it made him more careless as he let the trousers drop to the floor at his feet. 

As he tried to step out of the legs of his trousers, Cullen felt himself turn beet red as he realized one fatal mistake - his boots. He dropped down to crouch, sputtering apologies in his smalls as he tore at the laces of his boots and tried to kick them off as if doing so would curse their very existence. 

“Alistair didn't even get his boots off our first time, if that makes you feel any better,” Lana said with a light and understanding laugh. 

“Traitor, you're not supposed to tell people that,” Alistair scoffed, though the grin on his face gave his levity away. 

“Not just me, then?” Cullen mumbled. He tried to take a breath to shake the embarrassment. The feeling faded away soon enough as he saw Lana's feet stepping closer to him. 

“My turn, I believe?” She asked sweetly. Cullen slowly trailed his eyes over her form from where he was crouched, starting at her feet and moving up her cloth covered legs to the skin of her belly, all the way to her ocean blue eyes that sparkled down at him. Maker, he could crouch there all day, he decided. Boots shifted to the side and trousers with them, Cullen shifted to his knees as his eyes zeroed in on the laces of her breeches. He unconsciously licked his lower lip for a moment as he reached out to grasp the string. His heart was pounding, hand shaking ever so slightly as he pulled at the knot until it loosened, then placed a hand on either side of her hips, ensuring his index fingers were touching her skin to feel her as he pulled the breeches down. 

Lana stepped out of the breeches one foot at a time as Cullen pulled them for her. Standing, he looked around the room as if there would be instructions written on the wall. When he met Lana's eyes again she merely smiled in a manner that seemed almost mischievous.

“I believe I'm still clothed, Cullen.”

Maker, but she was. Two strips of fabric kept her from being known to him. Two simple, measly strips of fabric, one which seemed a miracle it was holding her breasts back at all. 

“Which… Um… Which one should I…?”

“I vote the breasts,” Alistair piped in suddenly from his chair. Lana shot a look at him that clearly told him to stop meddling, to which he threw his hands up in defense and added, “Just a suggestion. I apparently don't get a vote, sooo…”

“Whichever you prefer,” Lana cut in, turning her attention back to Cullen. Whichever he preferred… Maker, was there a preference to be had? In that moment, everything so very different from his traumatic past, it felt not unlike being presented with two gifts on Satinalia: two gifts which went hand-in-hand, each which would be opened eventually. Just… Which order?

Cullen let Alistair decide for him. It was simpler that way, though he wasn't sure he wouldn't have done the same in different circumstances. The grey breast band wrapped around her chest seemed to have a difficult task. It got the job done, if that job was only to hold her breasts in place long enough to get her armor on which would surely help with the rest. The world had seen plenty of advances in armor and weaponry, but, it seemed, these had scarcely seen an upgrade since the Exalted Age. 

Standing and stepping close enough to reach around her back, Cullen peered over Lana's head to eye the knot. He fiddled with it a bit, gritting his teeth at one point when it seemed the knot had possibly gotten tighter, when suddenly he felt it pop free. He gingerly took a step back as it fell to the ground, his eyes shamelessly glued to her breasts. Cullen could tell Lana was blushing, but, Maker help him, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He barely even registered the happy hum of approval from Alistair over in his corner, until Lana spoke.

“Would you like me to take care of this?” Her eyes were on his, watching his eyes follow her hand as she hooked her fingers in the corner of her smalls. Cullen managed a nod, and took a step back as she slipped them down.

A breath escaped Cullen as she stood before him. When first he had gazed upon the demon’s form - her form, twisted by what it had read in his mind - it had given off a feeling. Cullen couldn't explain it more than that. It hadn't felt right. It had felt conniving, eerie, like a dark, thorny path in the woods on an otherwise sunny day, riddled with tempting berries that carried an uncertain fate to whomsoever was foolish enough to pluck one and eat it. As Lana stood before him now, she seemed to glow in his mind. There was nothing eerie about her - her scars reminded him of that. And, Maker, she was perfect. 

“Almost.” Cullen stopped in his tracks as Lana piped in after he had taken one step towards her. He furrowed his brows in confusion, only to catch her drift as her eyes trailed downwards on his body with a sly smile. “Not quite fair… Is it?”

“I suppose not,” he chuckled as he flushed once more. Cullen slid his smalls down, pink spreading across his body as his cock stood at full attention in the cool room. 

“So…” Lana smiled, glancing eagerly at his length before looking back up at Cullen while she walked back towards the bed. She sat at the edge before sliding into the middle and patting the mattress as she continued to steal glances of him. “You were on the ground? I thought a bed may be more comfortable. I can move to the floor if you'd like.”

“No - No, you're right. A bed is… Better.” Cullen nodded as he followed her over. He slid onto the bed, suddenly aware of how strange the whole situation must have been. Here he was lying naked on a bed, with a naked woman, and her fully clothed husband sitting in the corner - and yet, there was a part of it that excited him, enough to keep him wanting to see how this would all play out. 

“What happened next?”

Cullen took a deep breath as he prepared to answer her question.

“It… Sat on my legs, and began to… Situate. And that… That's when it all ended. And became… Then it turned, and…” Cullen sighed shakily, closing his eyes as Lana ran her fingers softly through his golden hair. 

“We can take our time,” she said softly at his side. “We don't have to do this all tonight, Cullen. You're doing wonderful. If this is too much -”

“No.” Cullen said it firmly, shaking his head adamantly. He turned his head to the side to look at her, focusing on the scar on her chest, the top of the burn on her right shoulder, a cluster of freckles below her collarbone he had never seen before, all the differences. “I don't want to associate it with you anymore. I - I wasn’t certain before, but now... I want to do this.”

“Good.” Lana smiled, running her fingers through his shallow chest hair. “Because, I have to admit… Ever since you took your smalls off, I've been curious what you'll feel like…”

“Maker's breath.” Cullen nervously laughed, unable to say much else. He had never felt less suave in his entire life, he was sure of it. He blinked, watching as Lana straightened her body and slowly slid her leg over his side. Seeing her above him then, her hands on his chest, fiery copper hair in the candlelight, his mind began swirling. Lana watched as the color drained from his face, his hands gripped onto the blanket beneath him as if it were his only lifeline. 

“Cullen?” She spoke his name softly. Placing her hands on either side of his face she could feel him beginning to sweat. His eyes seemed to stare right through her, as if he were lost in a deep memory. “Cullen?”

Alistair got up from his chair when Cullen didn't move. Cullen's breath was heavy, his muscles tense as Alistair crouched down next to the bed and put his hand on Cullen's shoulder.

“Come on, Rutherford,” Alistair said firmly, giving him a good shake. Alistair's voice seemed to snap him out of it, his voice and way of addressing him not too different from how he had addressed him when they were both Templar trainees. Cullen swallowed as he met Alistair's eyes, then he turned and looked back at Lana.

“Do it.”

“What?” Lana was shocked at Cullen's request. It left him more like a command than a plea, determination coursing over his tongue. Alistair had backed off again to his chair, trying his best to let the two of them work through it now that Cullen seemed to be back.

“I want it to end. Please.” 

“Then end it,” Lana said. “You said this was where it changed… So change it. Take control. What do you want to do?”

It had never happened before. In his nightmares, reliving that hell he had been through, it played over just the same as he had experienced: everything but, her soft legs wrapped around his torso, melting away into purple and horror before he could even experience her. He knew exactly what he wanted to do to change it. 

Cullen grasped Lana by the waist, holding her in place as he rolled them until he was on top of her while she squeaked shortly in surprise. Lana hummed as his lips crashed to hers, whimpers bubbling in her throat as his fingers delved between them to test how wet she was. Maker, she was soaking, clearly having been ready for this since the moment she sat on his lap what seemed like ages ago to him. 

In normal circumstances, Cullen would have liked to have taken his time. These were anything but normal circumstances. Desperate to break the cycle, to have something new to add to the loop, Cullen slid up slightly, groaning low in unison with Lana's loudening whimpers as he rubbed his cock against her heat, coating it in her quim. He sat back just enough to glance between them, taking his hard cock in hand as he guided it to her entrance. 

Cullen's breath was loud, relieved as he felt her heat surround him. It was as if glass had been his prison and it had shattered all around him the moment her mouth hung open with a moan that echoed throughout the room. The sound made him shiver, and he watched Lana as her brow furrowed near her shut eyes, hands gripping the blanket as she fought the urge to roll her hips until he was ready. She was waiting for him to be ready. Cullen pulled back with his hips before gently thrusting back into her. His eyes rolled slightly at the feel of her, quickly opening again to watch as her chest arched slightly with each thrust. Maker, she was already making so much noise, and he was barely doing anything. The thought made Cullen feel warm, stroking his ego as he moved one hand from her hip to balance on the mattress near her face. 

Lana arched towards him, her mouth hanging open as her lips curled into a smile. Maker, Cullen felt different than Alistair. Alistair was gifted when it came to his size - she knew that from the few she had been able to compare by then. Cullen still filled her well, though, very well, in a way that didn't stretch too much for comfort. Oh, Maker, and that slight curve Cullen had to him - that was new, that was very nice. 

Her arms reached up, wrapping around to Cullen's back as he pressed his chest closer to her. Lana took advantage of Cullen's shoulder being level with her lips, pulling him closer to moan loudly against his skin as his thrusts became more purposeful. His hand slipped down to her thigh, pulling until her legs were wrapped around his hips. Cullen slid his hand over every inch of her he could reach, memorizing the feel of her, embedding the memory of her and this moment deep in his mind: he felt the difference between the soft skin of her breast to the scar his thumb ran over; the curve over the peak of her nipple, the way she shuddered and gasped as he grasped over it; the dip over her navel, down to the rough and smooth of the burn that lay over the bump of the long, deep scar just near her hip; and the sweet, sweet way his fingers could dig into the flesh of her bottom, the way her moans became louder and louder as he pulled her towards him while he became totally and incandescently lost in her. 

Time slowed down for Cullen, and at the last possible moment he suddenly remembered one of Alistair's rules. His abdomen was tightening, his body practically lifting as he felt his end near so soon after only just beginning. Grasping her legs Cullen peeled her from his body, pulling out of her and grasping his cock with his hand as he sat up on his knees. He groaned loudly, covering the tip with his palm as he pulsed and spurted into his hand. Cullen gasped, suddenly finding the room less than full of air to him. He gave himself a few hearty, slow strokes, ensuring that he had been emptied of every last drop before falling back to sit on the bed. 

The sound of Lana's happy humming made the corners of Cullen's mouth twitch into a lazy grin. He lifted his head to look her over, finding her still in the position he had left her: on her back, practically spread eagled with a wide grin on her face and flushed skin all over. As her eyes fluttered open and she met his gaze, Cullen felt his insides flip for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 

“How did we do?” She asked breathlessly, and Cullen couldn't help but chuckle. 

“I would say… We did a perfect job.” 

“Think you'll have better thoughts in your mind when you see me now?”

“I - Yes, I... I think I have quite the image to think of now.” Cullen flinched slightly as a cloth hit his shoulder. He looked down, picking up the light blue handkerchief Alistair had tossed at him before looking at the warden questioningly.

“I promise, it's clean.” Alistair winked as he lifted himself off the chair. Cullen nodded in sudden understanding, flushing as he used the handkerchief to clean his hand off. He looked up as Alistair approached the bed, watching as the man looked over his wife with a sparkling interest and a smirk that even made Cullen blush. “I hope you haven't been tired out just yet… My turn, yes?”

#spicy #lana surana #alistair theirin #cullen rutherford #cullanistair #lanistair #cullana #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #my ocs #my writing #fanfiction #the start of a beautiful friendship lmao

[lady-sapphire]

Sapphire’s WiP Wednesday OC Introduction - Part I

Well, I wanted to show my OCs and @kemvee shouted: “YES PLEASE!”. So, blame her for the following masses of text and posts. :D Let’s start with: 

Light and Shield (original title: “Licht und Schild”) (because that’s my big main story and the wellspring of everything)

Mina Russelton

She is my main OC I started planning back in 2017!  Mina is a human mage from Ferelden. She has porcelain-hued skin, crystal blue eyes and very long fire-red curls. She is 5'6’’ tall (1,70m) and has a slim figure, she is a member of the Small Tits Club.   Mina was born 9:16 near Southreach. Her mother was waiting-maid at the court of Arl Bryland, there are some rumours about her potential father. Her magic manifested when she was three years old which makes her the youngest case of magical ability that was ever documented (in my headcanon). (In my headcanon I decided that) The power of a mage can be measured, amongst other things, by the age at which their magic shows. Accordingly to this, she is extremely powerful but has enormous difficulties controlling this, especially at a young age.  Mina causes an explosion which partially destroys Arl Bryland’s castle, kills her mother (and other people) and he commits her to the templars. So she ends up in Fereldan Circle. She has a talent for fire and explosions. She gets to know Cullen in Kinloch and has quite a strong relationship to him, despite the fact that he is a templar and she is a mage. The circle is her home and her family, but she knows she is not truly free. On the other hand, she is aware that she needed the education and discipline to master her magic, which makes her rather hesitant about the Mage-Templar-War.  Mina chose battlemage as her specialisation, trained from the circle and later Cassandra. It’s her dream to become a Knight Enchanter that she can never fulfil. Solas discovers her deep unconscious connection to the power of the Fade and assumes, that’s the well of her unpredictable and to disaster tendering magic. He helps her to regulate this connection which makes it easier for her to control her magic. But she doesn’t become a rift mage. Later she shows interests in shapeshifting. Mina sucks at healing magic.  During the events of Inquisition, she rebuilds her friendship to Cullen and fell in love with him. He needs a long time to come to terms with his feelings for her and even longer to make them public. They have a “secret” relationship for several months (Dorian, Cassandra, Leliana and the Inquisitor know).  Mina spends a lot of her free time reading books, likes painting and acquires a reputation as a prodigiously Wicked Grace gambling woman, but is hopeless at chess. She loves strawberries and hates raisins. She doesn’t like alcohol very much (“fereldan beer makes me wanna puke”) but has a soft spot for sweet red wine. Mina is afraid of horses and not a got rider. She is friendly to most people and has dry wicked humour with her friends and camerades, she likes taking care of the younger kids in the circle and tends to be unwary when she researches. She prefers taking matters in her own hands, but have a disposition to impatience. Mina has sworn off religion and doesn’t have a high opinion about the Maker or the Chantry. However, she is able to recite the Chant of Light almost entirely from memory.  She is friends with Varric and Dorian and has a good relationship with Iron Bull and his Chargers. At the start, she is afraid of Cassandra but grows quite fond of the seeker. She doesn’t like Vivienne, but she respects her for her political understanding and her magical talent.  Varric calls her Tittle, Dorian Luv, Iron Bull names her Firebug. Cullen calls her sometimes Love. Solas changes from her name to Da'len, later Falon. Years later, at the events at the Exalted Council, he calls her Lethallan once. Mina is hetero, demi-sexual and infertile for some years because of an ovarian trauma. She thinks, she shouldn’t have kids of her own. Cullen and she marry 9:44 Dragon. Mina calls him and his siblings her family.  She is left-handed and has terrible handwriting.

For supporting characters click Read More! :)  

2. Tristan Trevelyan

Herald of Andraste and later Inquisitor in Light and Shield. Mage of Ostwick Circle, Knight Enchanter specialisation and romances Dorian. He sides with the mages and treats them as equal, makes softened Leliana Divine. Quite flirty at the beginning, grows more earnest as Inquisitor, likes to joke and laugh. Is a big supporter of Cullen’s lyrium withdrawal and helps him overcome his insecurities and issues. Becomes one of Cullen’s best friends and cares deeply for him, plays matchmaker for Josephine and Blackwall and has a strong right hook, according to Bull. 

3. Ser Raphael 

Templar from Wycome who joined the Inquisition at the very beginning. Is a righteous man, believe in mages and wants to protect them from any harm. Becomes Mina’s lieutenant and cares for her (and makes jokes about her habit of collecting books), as well as his whole unit. Dies in Adamant.

4. Ser Albert Dubois

Becomes Knight-Commander of the Circle of Ferelden four years after the Blight (in my headcanon, Greagoir dies under unclear circumstances, maybe because of age and/or lyrium addiction). He is from Orlais and a cruel man, who justifies his actions with “his right as a man of faith” and the Chant of Light. He rules in Kinloch Hold with terror, violence and rape. For four years, Mina is one of his favourite victims until the mages revolt and flee. He knows about Mina’s great magical power and wants to break her mind and enslave her, which he fails at. After the rebellion, he goes underground, brings her phylactery in his possession and kidnaps her later. He thinks Cullen “stole” Mina from him and demands her back. Tristan takes him prisoner, judges and executes him. 

5. Lynna Theirin (née Amell)

Hero of Ferelden and later Queen at Alistair’s side. Was Mina’s best friend back at the circle (vice versa) and misses her, when she got recruited by Duncan. Arcane Warrior and Spirit Healer, survived the Blight by Morrigan’s dark ritual. When Hawke becomes Champion of Kirkwall and the connection to the noble family Amell becomes public, she is finally able to marry Alistair (in my headcanon). Visits Skyhold during the events of Inquisition with her husbands where she and Mina meet again. Goes later on her quest to find the cure for the Taint. 

And a lot of “small named NPCs” with short appearances. Next part next week @kemvee? :) 

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfic #my OCs #mina russelton #fanfiction Light and Shield #i wrote this #funny I didn't puplished anything from this so far #I'm a fucking mess #useless fanfiction backround shit #tw: rape