#Our corner at the afterlife

[ellfiend]

[bonchobrick]

Dead on Main au where Jason is of course Danny’s Fright Knight and like all knights do he has a weapon—except it’s his gun.

The batfam + justice league + everyone (except ghosts duh) don’t know that his normal average everyday gun is actually like a super powerful spiritual soul shooter that is, yaknow, capable of blasting someone into an alternate dimension where their greatest fears become real.

So imagine there’s like a big battle where a ghastly ghoul reigns terror on Gotham. The world sends their best hero’s—wizards and occultists are notably high highest in demand—to stop the ghost but, nothing works. All of the weapons and spells and chants fail.

But,

As the fights worsens and the heros scream for people to flee suddenly--

Loud squeaking footsteps echo across the ground. Jason yawns strolling into the battle zone in a ghostbusters t-shirt plaid pants bunny slippers--he strolls up in pajamas--as if annoyed at being woken up and cocks his fucking normal 'i could buy you at walmart' gun at the ghost.

His brothers screech at him yelling ”Are you insane” and to "get the hell out of here" in fear and panic because their idiot brother is trying to kill a real life ghost with a damn gun.

But then Jason shoots the ghost and it works.

The ghost fizzles down with a cry into just a little blob.

The young man then spends 30 minutes lecturing the spirit saying things like “you’re glad I’m not calling the big guy” and “you know our highness would not be happy learning what you’ve been doing” before taking out a thermos of all things and sucking the ghost into it.

Jason then sighs and walks away as if he hadn’t just defeated a hell raising ghost with a gun people can buy off a corner pawn store and a soup container.

Immediately the bat family swarms him with questions

Dick grabs him by his shoulders tense with worry, “Are you okay?”

“Um yeah—“ Jason tries to reply squirming in his hold

Damian cuts him off, “How the hell did your gun a physical weapon hurt that ghastly demonic spirit!”

“Uh that ghost is actually pretty chill you guys just pissed him off." Jason replies plain

They stare at him with a look saying 'you did not call a ghost that has been decimating gotham chill' probably because he did just that.

Tim is the first to break out of the disbelief stupor as he very inteligently says, "What?"

Jason responds easily with a confused quirk in his brow, "Second, my gun affects entities of all sorts, perks to my job and all that."

"How did being a vigilante and also probably crime boss give you a gun that could do that?" Dick asks

Jason sends him a look saying "are you an idiot" as he replies, "Yea, sure, kicking petty thieves and druggies got me my all powerful spirit weapon--No you dumbass, it's from being the bodyguard of the King of the Infinite Realms! How the hell did you guys not think of that!”

Tim breathes in, then breathes out, then breathes in again and screams, "Why the HELL WOULD WE THINK OF THAT JAY?!"

"The--" Batman, suddenly beside them, chokes, "Bodyguard of T-the what."

Jason blinks at his family then his eyes widen, "Oh shit."

"What?!" His family screech in panic

"Oh fuck," Jason says with a growing hysteric smile, "Danny's gonna have a big ol' fucking laugh with this."

"Brother who is Danny!" Damian demands for an answer

Jason coughs into his palm, "Oh yeah you guys really dont dont know. So I may have forgotten to explain some... things."

Bruce levels him with a stare that says "you think?"

Jason chuckles nervously, "So y'know how I'm half dead?"

pause

Damian very eloquently responds for the suddenly dying screaming combusting members of his family, "...sure."

"Well I met the King of the afterlife which is like the Ruler of Everything and he was really cute--" Jason says distant in his own world

"Theres a afterlife?" Superman asks casually appearing beside the emotionally wrecked family

"Yea its pretty cool. So I start flirting a bit with the guy and we hit it off, I now im his zombie ghost knight boyfriend lover for all time. Oh and i got this sickass gun." Jason says with a happy grin

"That is a pretty sick gun." John Constantine nods

"I know right?" Jason chirps

"You wouldn't mind if I inspected--" John reaches his hand

Jason slaps it away, "Not a chance you soul whore. Y'know your basically the tax evasionist of the Ghost Zone right?"

John only sighs and leaves

"But yea so I'm like the ghost world equivalent to married with the king and became his knight and thats how I was able to stop that ghost guy." Jason reiterates as if explaining a simple question, "Y'guys get that?"

Tim is on the ground trying to decide whether; sobbing hysterically, interogating jason to find out all the things he doesn't want to know or sleeping would be a better use of his time.

Dick has decided to blame himself and has started to draft a reddit post in the middle of the street starting with "I (23 m) have a younger brother (19 m), who I used to resent but really regret now, he died and came back and doesn't even tell me about what goes on in his life anymore. How do I fix our--"

Damian is just staring at the gun and... Jason pushes it deeper in his holster and shifts to the side, better to be safe than sorry with this thieving shit.

As Jason adjusts his weaponry he hears Bruce sob in the background, "He didn't even invite me to the wedding! Am I that horrible of a father!"

Wonder Woman pats his shoulder reasuringly whilst the rest of the League seem to be trying to calm him down

Jason looks around tiredly at the mess he had created and decides fuck it

"Alright I'm heading out for the night, you guys get home safe!" He yells and without caring to listen to anyone and everyone voicing their confusion he zips open a green portal and stumbles in

He crashes down on an unbelievably comfortable bed

Danny blinks blearily before sending the young man a sleepy smile, "Hey Jay, what kept you up so long?"

Jason slipping under the blankets with a yawn says, "You would not believe the night I just had."

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

Edit: UMM HII The fic is out now here!! you guys are awesome I'll post the new chapter 2 in a hot sec after editting ^^

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman and Female Reader

Finale

Word Count ~ 3.3k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut, pregnancy

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

The true name of your doppelgänger is crooned into your ear.

A sound that is strangely soothing, syllables slipping like water in a brook, a gentle rush of water.

You attempt to replicate the sound and of course it doesn’t come out right. He’d warned you of this. The human tongue is incapable of replicating the foreign language.

“Why do you have such an easy time learning ours and we can’t learn yours?”

He’s gone back to the human version of his being, the tired eyes of the milkman studying your frustrated features, his fingers stroking and smoothing away the lines creasing your brow and the corners of your mouth.

“The newness of it, maybe. Yours is a relatively young race.”

You prop your head up on your hand, dragging fingernails over your lover’s chest. “How old are you?”

“Me, or my species?”

“Both.”

He turns onto his back, nestling down in the pillows. “In Earth years….we have existed for tens of thousands of years. I’m a tenth of that.”

“You are not over a thousand years old,” you murmur in disbelief.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles softly. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m teasing. Sorry, love. More like one hundredth of that.”

“A century.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wow.” It’s hard to reconcile the idea. Despite whatever face he wears, you’ve always thought of him as near enough your own age. “An older man, huh?”

“Something like that.” He lifts the hand you have resting on his bare chest and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Is that okay?”

“It’s a little late to ask, but yes, it’s definitely okay.” You bend to kiss his mouth. “I really wanted to learn your name.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He worries his bottom lip, considering. “What if I tried to describe what it meant instead? And we discovered a language equivalent that was similar.”

“Alright,” you agree.

The milkman’s copy pauses, considering. “In Greek mythology, there was a name for something otherworldly that was borrowed from Latin, then later used to describe a kind of afterlife. Fields of paradise. An eternal resting place of bliss for the worthy. Elysium. But that notion of otherworldly is the best way to describe it. The original term is Elysian.”

“Elysian,” you try it out. It sounds nothing like what the alien had said earlier, of course, but the idea is there. “I like it. It’s pretty sounding.”

“Well, that’s it, then.”

“Elysian,” you repeat, bending to kiss his mouth again. He smiles against your lips. “You like hearing it, huh?”

“It’s pleasant, I’ll admit.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “How do you know about Greek mythology?” You have never seen anything that indicated the milkman read classical literature.

The doppel clears his throat, looking a little nervous. “There was a professor.”

“Oh.” Of course Francis wasn’t the first human he’d ever cloned. “Did you…take him over, too?”

“No. Just replicated. Retired. Library at home.” He squirms a little, looking uncomfortable.

“Did you…” You don’t really want to give voice to the query. You’re not even sure precisely which it is. Kill? Consume?

“Sweetheart, please don’t ask me that.”

You swallow thickly. You forget, sometimes. Caught up as you are in how he is now. Denying what he used to be.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember what you read in a book.”

The doppel sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “It was awhile ago.”

“Not who you were when you…Francis…”

“No.”

“How many? How many people have you…”

He sits up, and you straighten beside him. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not who I am anymore. What I am. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” Your voice trails off again.

“Listen to me, sweet girl. All that matters now to me is you. Keeping you safe. Making you happy. I love you.” He plants a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

“We should go to sleep. Work in the morning. And that damned box to deal with,” he mutters, leaning to switch the bedside lamp off.

You feel him lying down again and you snuggle next to him, your head pillowed against his chest, his arm curled around you. You’re wide awake, now. Questions spiral in your mind. “Elysian?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever miss your planet?”

“Maybe a little. I did. Not so much now.” His arm around you tightens.

“What was it like?”

“Very green. More of a tropical climate, I suppose you would say.”

“And you left because…”

“Food shortage.”

A brisk answer. You’re not going to ask what precisely the doppels consumed in their native location. “Have you been to any other planets?”

“One. Small. We didn’t stay long.”

Another ominous answer. Not enough to eat, perhaps? Did anyone ever properly repel the invaders? Or were they an unstoppable force, like a plague of locusts sweeping the land, consuming everything in their path, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake?

“What’s it like traveling in space?”

“So many questions tonight.” His lips press against you hair. “It’s indescribable, really. Beautiful. Vast. Daunting. Someday, I would like to show you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you both mull over that prospect. You had never thought much about space travel. Had no real knowledge of astronomy. But the idea of exploring the stars with this creature by your side made you curious. What would it be like, to be so far away from the only home you've ever known? You feel the gentle rise and fall as the doppelgänger’s lungs expand and deflate and hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. You try to match his rhythm. A game you haven’t played since childhood. Facing off with a friend in the schoolyard. While cuddling with a parent at home. That is what he feels like to you. Home. How fiercely you want to protect him. You squeeze his shoulder.

“What happens when you run out of members of your squadron to send here for sacrifice?” You ask quietly. A concern you’ve harbored for a long time finally given voice.

“Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to be harmed, either.”

“I know, my love. Now try to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, thinking there’s no way you’ll be falling asleep anytime soon, only to find yourself proven wrong as you soon descend into slumber.

***

You awaken to darkness.

It’s early, dawn still a ways off. You reach out drowsily to find the doppelgänger sitting upright beside you in bed.

“Elysian?”

“There’s a doppel,” he says softly. “But something about it is off. I don’t…”

You’re instantly alert again, jerking upright, throwing the sheet off of you. “Where is it? Outside? On this floor?”

Had you let one in by mistake? Or was this some new intrusion?

“I’m not sure,” he replies distractedly. The weight on the mattress shifts as he rises, his face barely visible when he draws back the curtain to peer at the street below. “Not outside,” he declares. “Closer than that.”

Your pulse quickens. Inside, then.

“Wait there,” he advises. “I’ll go have a look around.”

You immediately disobey, sliding out of bed. You can’t just sit still waiting for whatever was going to happen. You pad barefoot out of the room, finding yourself in more darkness. Your fingers trail on the wall as you move forward, your feet leaving carpet and finding linoleum.

“Elysian?” You hiss, squinting, trying to detect him in the shadows.

“I told you to stay in the other room,” his voice growls from somewhere to your right. The living room. “It was gone, but now I’m sensing it again”

You bump into the couch, finally deciding it’s more of a hazard trying to find your way in the dark, invader be damned, reaching blindly until you crash into the lamp, nearly knocking it over before your fingers fumble for the switch.

Francis’ doppel paces the small apartment, even unlocking and cracking open the front door before shaking his head and shutting it again. His gaze meets yours.

“So where is it?”

He steps towards you slowly. His eyes widen. “Is it possible…”

“What?”

“Sweetheart.” He stands before you, laying a palm on your abdomen.

“I’m…”

“Carrying my baby. Our baby.” His other hand cups your cheek tenderly. “We did it, my love.”

He gathers you against him, his face burrowed into your neck. Wet. He’s crying. You’re crying, too. Weeping. Relief. Joy. A new kind of fear. Maternal instinct kicking in already.

You had to protect your unborn hybrid child.

***

There’s no sleep to be found for either of you now.

You’re cuddled on the couch, wrapped in Francis’ bathrobe, the doppelgänger’s arm curled around you protectively, waiting for the new day to begin.

“I’m afraid to make an appointment with the doctor. I should go, but…what if they find out?”

“Best not then, love. Just to be safe. You should talk to your mother. Whatever you need to be doing, what to expect…”

You nod. “We need to get married as soon as possible.”

“You’re already my wife in every way that matters, but yes, we will. Very soon.” He pauses. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I know your reasoning behind it, but I think you should stop working for the DDD. Especially since we’re moving into your house together. There’s no reason for either of us to be anywhere near here anymore. Let’s go, sweetheart. Leave this behind. Start over. Begin our life together properly.”

“Let me give a notice. Finish this week, and the next. It’s just how we do things. Allow them time to find a replacement. We still have the box to deal with,” you remind him.

“Then you’ll leave the DDD?”

“Yes, I’ll leave.”

He sighs heavily. “Thank you.”

“What time do you think it is?”

“Maybe three? I left my watch in the other room. Can’t see the clock from here,” he murmurs against your cheek. “We still have time.”

“I was thinking we should go downstairs. Tamper with the device right now before the sun even rises.” You lean back to look at your lover. “They’ll keep working on it. There’s no guarantee they won’t succeed again. Or find another means.”

“I know. But that won’t be your fight, love. That’s for someone else to worry about.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes,” he admits. “More than I ever have been. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Our baby is worth it.”

***

The director of the DDD requests an exit interview with you.

Really not a request, more of a requirement. You’re not entirely surprised. You didn’t think you’d escape quite that easily.

It’s been a little over a week since you and Elysian sabotaged the anti doppelgänger frequency box. Lying about the results on the survey after the allotted trial period. A temporary solution to a larger problem, but at least your doppel was safe for now.

And your baby. Your half human, half doppelgänger child nestled in your belly.

You try not to rest your hand on it as you sit before the stern faced man’s desk. Of course there is nothing visible yet, your stomach still flat, but you’d already grown accustomed to touching there. You force your hands to meet and fold together in your lap, your head bowed slightly, the very picture of meekness and subservience that seemed so favorable for women of the time.

“You’ve submitted your two weeks notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the reason for that is?”

“I’m getting married. Ready to settle down, start a family.”

He grunts. You can’t tell if it’s approving or not. “People don’t often leave the DDD. Not voluntarily,” he adds.

“Yes, sir. I’m aware. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I feel it’s the right one.”

“Not going to be easy to replace you. Not if you gave two months notice, let alone two weeks,” he admits grudgingly. “The DDD thanks you for your service. I’m certain you’ll still uphold the tenets of the cause, even if you’re no longer formally employed by us.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The middle aged man begins to slide a document across the desk towards you after signing it and stamping it with the official seal, only to halt at the last moment, staring hard at you. Your eyes lift to meet his.

“I understand there’s a new vacancy in that residence now. Another rare occurrence.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“The milkman that was missing that day of your…indiscretion. Francis Moss, wasn’t it?”

“Mosses,” you correct, then wince internally.

“Yes. Him.”

You remain silent, your hand still stretched out, reaching for the paper. Your heart thuds in your chest. Please, just let me go. Please, please…

You suddenly have the document clutched tightly in your hand. He was letting you go after all. Freedom. You force yourself to walk from the room at a dignified pace, the paper carried in front of you like a shield. When you exit the office building your tense, rigid posture relaxes and you heave a sigh of relief. Another challenge overcome on the road to forever with your doppel.

***

You love coming home to your fiancé.

Seeing his delivery truck in the driveway. Soon you’ll be the one welcoming him inside every afternoon. But for now, he’s the first one to your inherited farmhouse, waiting for you on the porch he’d raced up to kiss you all those months ago, gifting you a taste of new rain and the smell of fresh petrichor.

“How did it go?” His tone is casual but you know better, seeing his white knuckled grip on the railing.

“I’m free.” You wave the letter in the air and he snatches it from your hand, hurriedly scanning the words.

“You really are,” he murmurs, looking bewildered and relieved.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still be watching. But for now, for now…”

He smiles at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. “Should we celebrate?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully, his lips brushing your ear. “Come inside with me, love.”

***

There are little details of the house that bear traces of Francis Mosses, now. The crocheted blanket rests over your couch. The portable record player has a permanent home in your bedroom. The dresser hosts a collection of your doppel’s things: a belt, cologne, some spare change, a wooden handled hairbrush. There’s a shirt that needs mending hung on the post at the end of the bed.

“I’ll fix this later.”

“Mmm hmm.” His eyes never stray from your face. You sit on the edge of the bed and he kneels in front of you, sliding each shoe off, caressing your calves. You sink a hand into his hair, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his scent. Notes of bergamot, the clean citrus in his cologne. Your shampoo now in his hair. Strawberry. Everything a combination of you two. Already joined in so many ways.

His hand cups one knee, his palm warm and comforting over the joint. He slides it inside, stroking under your skirt, creeping between your thighs. He nudges at the clothing that is your work attire, shoving impatiently to gain better access. You accommodate him, pushing yourself back until you’re lying horizontally across the mattress, your skirt now rucked up around your hips, the doppel’s fingers dragging your panties out of the way.

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

He’s on his hands and knees above you. You work on the fly of his pants. Your haste makes you clumsy. The metal teeth of the zipper catch on the fabric of his pants. He shakes his head, laughing softly, the sound turning to a growl when he struggles in your wake. It finally gives and he lowers himself down, guiding his cock into your entrance.

You gasp and his mouth crushes yours, swallowing the sound.

His hips press yours and you’re thinking of the nearby field with its fading summer flowers. That’s where you want to be wed. Here beneath the open sky, in this sanctuary of yours. You whisper it beside his cheek and he draws back, looking at your features. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.” Your rock your pelvis against him, your legs wrapping around his body. “Elysium fields with my Elysian…”

“I love you,” he breathes. He thrusts and it hits something tender inside, the aching place deep in the hollow. Your fingers tangle together. Hot inside you. Something molten in your core. You’re melting. Clinging to him. The world shatters, comes back together in little pieces. Tired eyes gazing into your own. Soft smile.

***

You’re still tangled together.

Bodies intertwined. A comforter thrown over you both to ward off the chill of the oncoming autumn night. You’re discussing possible baby names again. You like the idea of something celestial. Named for the sun or the moon or one of the countless stars above. A constellation, an outline of a portrait when they arrange themselves just so. A planet, a galaxy. Infinite possibilities.

“It reminds me of a song,” Elysian murmurs. You’ve been taking turns tickling each other. You were losing horribly but determined to get revenge, making another attack along his unprotected ribs. He remains stoic and unresponsive despite your best efforts.

“What song?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully. “In Other Words, I believe it’s called. How does it go?”

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On-a Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, darling, kiss me

Your heart lurches. It’s the melody. The one Francis used to hum. The replicant notices your teasing fingers grow still and he stops singing abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was the song. The one Francis used to hum all the time.”

“Oh, love. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Your eyes feel a little full, tears brimming.

“I know you still love him. I wouldn’t ask you not to. That wouldn’t be fair.” He drags a thumb across each cheek, close to your lashes, collecting the salted liquid. “He’s always going to be present in some regard. But I can’t resent him. I have to love him a little bit, too. Because he brought me to you.”

“What if I’d called the DDD that day? What if…” More tears escape. You’re suddenly overwhelmed. If you’d contacted the disposal team and destroyed him, this person that has become your world, created a new life with you…This song was what had finally swayed you. Another gift from Francis.

“Sweetheart. You didn’t. You let me into the building. Into your heart. There’s nothing there to be sorry about, from your perspective anyway. If I had to choose again, I would not see you hurt, I would not want to take him from you, but love, how could I ever give you up? I can’t. I could never. You’re carrying our future. You’re my forever.”

His lips graze yours. Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, drawing him more firmly against your mouth. “Sing the rest for me. I want to know all the words.”

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

“I love you.”

You’re joined again. Hips and hands and mouths.

Maybe one day in the future you will be brave enough to travel with the alien into space. Explore the wonders of the heavens with your children by your side.

For now, you are content in this bliss on Earth.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like A Lamb

**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.

Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.

He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.

John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.

The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.

How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?

John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.

With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.

The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.

He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.

~~~

Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.

“What do you think it is, Danny?”

He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.

“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”

For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.

The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.

That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.

Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.

“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”

“Adopted?”

“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”

Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.

“Why did he- what made him do that?”

Pandora ruffled his hair.

“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”

~~~

“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”

Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”

“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”

John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.

He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.

Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?

“Fine. What are the details?”

Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.

“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”

“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”

The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.

As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.

The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.

The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.

This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.

Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.

And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.

“Hi.”

The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.

“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”

Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”

“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”

Bless Diana.

“Can you leave the circle, young one?”

The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.

“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”

John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?

[bluerosefox]

Our Well Deserved Break

Its

Shenanigans (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Time again!~

-x-x-

Danny, our boy the Ghost King, looking over a small team going over relic's given or 'offered' to Pariah Dark over the years both before and after he was sealed away. As they're taking inventory of the chaotic offering room, they stumble across a certain artifact.

This artifact is able to summon a set number of people (it does have its limits) of the users wishes to them and it sets up a barrier around the surrounding place so no one summoned gets out. You know, those kinds of artifact's certain people use to summon heroes and or villains into a room and have them fight to see whose the strongest or for a tournament, Yeah that kind of artifact!

Danny, who found the item, takes a look at after being told what it does. Then out of the corner of his eye he spots himself in a mirror in the room and see's his crown floating above his head and feels the full weight of his responsibility since before and after his crowning. Yes he had help with his advisor, despite how cryptid he can be at times, and of his council but still the weight was a bit too much for a teenager like him.

An idea struck his mind when he hears the ticking of a clock behind him. Without saying a word Danny looks back and raises an eyebrow at Clockwork whose staring at him in silence as well. He glances at the item, tilts his head a bit before...

Smiles in only the way CW knows would both be good for Danny and amusing for him. He nods and says "One weekend should be fine. All timelines will be paused for them. I suggest telling your friends to help prepare for your guests. Enjoy and have fun my King."

"YES!" Danny's voice echoing in the offering room made many ghosts in the room jump for a bit.

This was totally going to be fun!

-x-x-

When the following weekend arrived, young and very stressed teen heroes from across the multiverse are suddenly pulled from their worlds and are summoned into the Infinite Realms. Before any of them can panic or start fights a voice rang out above them and when they looked they could see a young teen, with a crown floating above his head, white hair, and glowing green eyes sitting on a throne.

He smiled and said

"Welcome fellow stressed out Heroes and Heroines to Phantom's Keep! I'm King Phantom, recently crowned fifteen year old, and this is the Infinite Realms! The birth and ending of the multiverse afterlife! Now don't worry none of you are dead or anything like that. I summoned you all here for one reason and one reason only..."

Here Danny paused, just to troll a tiny bit, and could see some of the more tense heroes readying up for a fight or at least argue to let them go. He grinned though and then said.

"And thats.... TO HAVE FUN!"

After that he floated out of his throne and with a flourish in the air he waved his hands and his throne room changed with party decor all around. Tables off to the side appeared with food and drinks from well everywhere and anywhere the multiverse, balloons rose from the ground and floated upwards, streamers flew across above to attach themselves to the other sides, the castle lights shifted to a dim and music began playing from somewhere.

Danny grinned brightly down at them and their shocked faces. oh that's funny, thank goodness Tucker is recording this and Jazz is gonna scrapbook this party for him (she plans on making them for all the guests as a party gift later, you know to remember how fun the party was)

"Now all of you are stressed out teen heroes with a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders! Believe me, I know that feeling, been there done that still doing it even now! But! My advisor says this will be both fun for me and good for you guys to spend one whole weekend here to de-stress and have fun! I do have some ground rules though. One your timelines are in fact PAUSED, you don't have to worry about calling your parents or if you got mentors to let them know where you are at. Two you are all heroes here, many of you are from different worlds and if you are from the same world they already know or CAN be trusted with your real identities but you are NOT required to remove any masks or de-transform or anything like that, if you wish there are masks on that green table over there you can stick on if you want to keep your identities hidden and are spelled to stay on and fuzz the minds of anyone trying to remember your looks once its on, even if they catch a good look at you right now it'll fuzz their memories of you once the mask is on and even after the party don't worry we thought of the time. Three, boys and girls rooms will be at different wings within the Keep! Just ask any of the maid or butler ghosts that will be joining us shortly and they will guide you to the rooms! Fourthly! There are sparing rooms if you wanna test your strengths with others, I only ask please don't get too carried away. We are here to have fun not make enemies! and lastly PLEASE DO NOT try to leave the castle, we are in the very afterlife of the multiverse people, its like the ocean and even I find it hard to navigate it sometimes. Portals can open up to any and all worlds, different timelines, etc etc. I have key items here in the castle that can pinpoint YOUR timeline and world so when the party is over I can send you home no problem, so again please do not attempt to leave."

Danny paused to take a breath, okay ground rules set up and warnings given. He could see the absolute bewildered looks on all the heroes faces and held back a laugh. He smiled however when one of the teens, mask on his face already and dressed in green, yellow, and red asked 'Why?'

"Why? Well... I think its time us teens get to have some fun without worrying about the next big bad or world ending event. Even if just for a weekend, we do deserve a break. So... Lets have some fun for once!" Danny responded.

[romanoffsbish]

Double the Trouble

Yelena Belova x F!R (Platonic / Focus)

Natasha x F!R / Wanda x Yelena (Romantic)

Warnings: Drugs (Weed) | Alcohol Referenced

When your girls are off to save the day, you and Yelena have plans to stay and play. | WC: 1,852

Behave; this is what your girlfriends said when they left for their mission this morning, it was offensive and truth be told, only likely to warrant the opposite.

Who were they to tell you what you and Yelena should do? They being Wanda and Natasha, who lived their life off of some moral code, whereas you two didn't.

Quite the contrary really, at your cores you two were on the right side but you both also craved mischief.

To behave is to concede, and you two were far too stubborn to; to see their intentions weren't malicious.

——

Which is why neither of you listened to your lover.

There was a distinct odor to the room, bouncing off the cement walls of your garage that was decorated to look like a lounge. In one corner sat a record player that currently spun a random vinyl of Natasha's to fill the otherwise quiet space. An unlikely find when the both of you were usually in the same room together, but you were rather preoccupied and the blonde was irritated.

"Cyka," Yelena groaned, "stop hogging the blunt!"

You smirked around the damp filter, rolled your eyes then continued on, sucking on the burning stick until the smoke circling your chest sufficed you enough to allow Yelena a turn. "I am not giving this back."

"Whatever," you chuckled as you pulled another joint from the pile you'd spent an entire hour rolling. To be honest there was no reason to share the blunt, but in your sober state you'd deemed it the cautious play.

Now though, with the weed already infiltrating your mind you decided to throw all caution to the wind and sparked up another in mere seconds of losing the last.

The lack of conversation was no longer a concern, the tense atmosphere gone as you both settled into your highs... "Do you think babies can understand us?"

You snorted harshly, nearly choking on the inhale you just took in but you somehow managed to turn the cough into a burning sensation instead. "What?!"

"Listen to me Y/N Y/L/N!" Yelena pointlessly shouted, your attention was already on her. "What if when we are born we have the ability to just understand? Like, maybe our soul is still attached to our old lives?"

You hummed, "interesting," then took a final hit before putting the nearly finished blunt out so you could shift to face the blonde, with the amusingly low tolerance.

Yelena pouted, her signature expression. "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious Lena, it's just—I didn't really peg you for the type to believe in reincarnation."

"I don't fully," she replied with furrowed brows, and pursed lips, "I think old souls live in us momentarily before they leave to their afterlife. Leaving only a small part of themselves behind so we can be individuals."

You nodded, though you didn't quite see it the same.

"I think the ones that look like old people understand us—like, a two month old fella with hella wrinkles."

Yelena cackled, "Oh no, those babies are so ugly!"

You slapped her shoulder that had jerked off the couch with just how intensely her amusement had flowed.

"Hey, they need time to grow into their features!" You shook your head, "You can't call a baby ugly, asshole!"

"I did," Yelena flatly replied as she took another drag, smoke following her next words, "and I always will."

You looked at her astonished and she shrugged her shoulders. "What? You Americans need to face the cold hard truth, not everyone thinks your living, breathing potato looks cute. Some babies are ugly, it is simple."

You huffed, "but they're just babies, you can't—."

"Why can you call adults ugly?" Yelena cut you off.

"I don't," you groaned and she laughed, "Y/N, you literally told Bruce he was uglier than a pile of shit."

"That's different," you whined, "he flirted with Nat."

"Potato, po-tato, either way babies can be ugly."

"But-."

"Move on, I have more thoughts to explore."

"Are they all offensive?"

Yelena smirked. "Oh, most definitely..."

"Then I'll need another one of these," you concluded, one hand rubbed at your temples while the other reached for a packed joint. "Give me one too, cyka."

You passed the blonde another one then moved off of your bean bag so that you could lay on the furry rug. A shiver ran down your spine as the cold material rubbed against your bare arms where goosebumps rose. You giggled as you released a cloud of smoke and peered up at your pouting best friend. "Why so glum, chum?"

Another giggle left you as she grunted and dropped to sit down beside you, her legs crossed over one another. A rough hand gently caressed your cheek but you knew better than to trust the moment to remain sweet. In less than a seconds time she squished your cheeks and laughed maniacally as you struggled in her grasp.

"I hate you," you spat, words slurred as she hadn't let go yet. Once she did you continued to bitterly rant on, tone full of faux resentment, "I don't know why I even put up with you Belova. Wanda must be a saint."

"Because my bud is premium," she deadpanned, then her lips upturned softly. "And I'm your best friend."

You grinned then sighed, reluctant to admit, "You are."

"Come on," she shook your shoulders as she jumped to her feet. "We cannot let the weed slumber kick in yet!"

Reluctantly, you stood to your feet and wobbled over to the blonde who was stood waiting by your foldable table. Just like every time before you faced her and settled your elbow down on your side of the table.

"I am tired," you grumbled but the blonde didn't care. Her jacket was shrugged off and her hand linked with yours. "We have to be stronger than the weed loser."

"But why?" You exasperated, hand slamming hers into the table in the heat of the moment. "Oh my god!!!"

"No," Yelena immediately negated, "I wasn't ready."

"I don't care," you squealed and did a lap around the couch to release your excitement. "I finally won!"

Yelena shook her head, afraid of what you were about to say. "I get to pick your wedding entry song!!!"

"No," she growled, knowing damn well what this likely entailed. Your love for jokes superseded your loyalty.

A fight ensued as you turned the record player off and spoke, "Hey Siri, play my Yelena's entrance playlist."

"Y/N, I swear to god," she groaned, her arm swung out to swat your phone from your hand as a universally familiar tune played—clown music, how funny; not.

Yelena chased a giggling you around the room for several minutes before you started to slow down. Giving her the perfect opportunity to tackle you onto the same carpet she forced you to vacate earlier.

"Say sike right now or I will do it," Yelena threatened, her hands par curled beside your sides, you gulped knowing exactly how ruthless of a tickler she was.

"Hey siri," you squeaked, "play Lena's wedding song."

Yelena's eyes widened as she recognized the familiar tune of her favorite song, American Pie, but it was not the exact same. Instead it was void of the usual lyrics, slowed down on a piano alone and pitched upwards.

It brought tears to the blonde's eyes and she dropped to the floor beside you with a warm smile. "I hate you."

"I hate you too," you yawned, lips smacking almost dramatically as the cotton mouth hit you full force.

In contrast to the both of your baseless words you didn't let go of the blonde, you actually only held on tighter and she cuddled up to you as well, as sleep consumed the both of your drugged up minds entirely.

—

On a bed, only a city over sat your fiancé with a hand on her stomach as she came down from her laughter. Wanda was on the bed beside hers in a similar state.

"Do you think she'll call our baby ugly?"

Natasha smirked. "Oh, most definitely..."

"Shut up," the witch groaned then averted her gaze back to the screen where the tomfoolery took place.

"Do you think they'll be mad when they find out?"

Natasha blinked away her tears of amusement and shrugged, this was truly their favorite past time. Every month, without fail, the women announce an overnight mission knowing you and Yelena would use that time to unwind together with your favorite substances.

Most of the time you two smoked weed, but on the rare occasion, her birthday, Yelena could convince you to down a bottle or two of pure vodka. Those times were usually under semi-supervision though. The one time Natasha or Wanda didn't they found the both of you passed out on the rooftop in clothes bigger than you.

No explanations were given, and quite frankly they preferred not knowing. Fortunately weed slowed the two of you down more than anything, so for a few hours they'd get endless laughs before you succumbed to the glorious sleep that always follows a dank sesh.

"Honestly, I think they know us enough to expect this. Y/N's even hinted to me that she knows, but this is harmless and helpful since they respect us too much to engage in their nefarious activities when we are there."

Wanda smiled, feeling more confident as she settled back into the plush pillow that lined the hotel bed. It was foreign to her to experience such comfort when Yelena insisted on hogging the pillows so that the witch had no other choice but to use her chest as a cushion.

Normal partners just ask to cuddle, but Yelena says, "I'm pretty sure I have scoliosis, I need them," and yanks the brunette into her embrace without fail.

With the two of you in your weed induced slumber the witch found herself near the same outcome. Then as if annoying others ran in the family, Natasha spoke tension into the peaceful air, "But since you lost our bet, and will be playing these clips at your wedding reception next month Lena will most definitely make you sleep on the hotel couch on your honeymoon."

"I hate you," Wanda groaned and threw her pillow at the smirking redhead who caught it with ease. "And yet you're signing on for a life of being my sister in law."

Natasha winked then laid the witches pillow beneath her head, "thanks for the extra cushion, I needed it."

Wanda fell back on her mattress with a sigh, "Cyka." Then a soft smile followed as she felt warmth in her chest at the reminder that she had a family, again.

Natasha flipped her off, but as she laid on her side with her phone propped on the stolen pillow she smiled just the same. Yelena was cuddled into your side and you unconsciously held her with such care that it made the redhead thankful as she reminisced your relationship.

This was all she ever wanted, her little found family.

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Inseparable Love

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song Inspiration: Yellow by Coldplay)

You felt the sunlight kissed your skin. You hated looking at it. Your frail, bruised, and pale skin. Once full of life and now slowly dying. A knock was heard and you turned around to see the door open. You smiled weakly to see your husband walk inside.

“Kento,” you tiredly called. He came in with a blanket hanging on his arm. He gave you a smile and wrapped you up in the blanket before bringing you into his arms.

“How are you feeling today, my love?” he asked softly.

“I’m more tired today,” you said.

Nanami pulled a chair closer to your hospital bed. He caressed your cheek and you couldn’t help but lean your face in his palm. You were skin and bones at this point. You covered your shaved head with a beanie since you always felt unconscious to not have a head of hair anymore.

“Can you please stay with me today?” you asked. “Please?”

“Of course, my love. What do you want to do today? I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

“I want to go home and live my last memories there with you,” you answered. Nanami gave you a soft smile and nodded.

“We’ll make arrangements right now,” he said. “And when I’m on missions or at the school, a nurse will stay with you at all times.” You smiled.

“I like that,” you replied.

Nanami made sure everything was done today. By tomorrow, when he returns back to work, a nurse will remain by your side. And when he returns home, he will assist the nurse back home by paying for her ride. It was the least Nanami can do.

Nanami held you close when you two arrived home. It was just the same as ever. Nothing was moved. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. If Nanami wasn’t at work, he would stay at the hospital with you. He only goes home for a change of clothes and a shower.

“Kento-kun, let’s read a book together,” you requested. Nanami nodded.

“What book do you want to read, my love?”

“Anything fantasy and action related.”

Nanami lightly chuckled and shook his head. You could never give an exact book title. But at least you knew what genre you were in the mood to read. He sat on the corner of the couch and you sat on his lap. You relaxed, leaning back by his chest and a smile forming on your lips. When one of you was done reading, you would keep your fingers by the corner of the page, as if they are ready to turn it. After the second person finishes, their hand goes to the bottom corner and the two of you will slowly turn the page together.

“I’m sleepy,” you said. Nanami bookmarked the page. He carried you in his arms and brought you to your shared bedroom. Nanami laid you down before lying down next to you. He held you close, scared that you were going to disappear if he woke up from his nap with you.

“I love you, my darling,” he said.

“I love you too, Kento.”

Months passed. You grew weaker and weaker. Nanami ended up spending every waking moment with you, taking off of work unless it was an emergency.

Nanami paid the nurse more for her to stay 24/7, making a room for her to stay in and allowing her to make herself at home just in case something happened. She reassured Nanami that her phone will always be on her if she stepped out. And he appreciated her for letting him know if she was going to go away to see her family. Nanami couldn’t argue with that.

But Nanami did most of the caring. He helped you make food, carried you around the house despite your protest, and helped you bathed. You slept more and he would read his book in bed while you slept.

“Tomorrow, on Halloween, I have a mission,” Nanami announced quietly. You nodded, understanding that he couldn’t back away from the mission.

“Be safe and come back home to me,” you said. Nanami softly kissed you.

“Of course, my love,” he said. “I always do, don’t I?” You smiled and let out a soft chuckle.

“You do, honey.” He held you close to him. “When I die, hopefully I’m at the beach in the afterlife. I’ll wait for you and we can enjoy our time forever and ever.” Nanami let his tears escape his eyes.

“When my time comes, I’ll be there with you,” he said.

“And don’t worry about me on your mission. Do what you have to do, okay?” Nanami nodded. “What should we do today?”

“We can just stay like this. Want me to cook you dinner? I can make you soup.”

“Miso soup,” you requested. “And hot tea. It’s really cold.”

“Yes, my love.”

The next day before he left, the two of you finally finished the book. You managed to stay awake until he had to leave that night. The two of you were inseparable. It became hard for the two of you to separate. You managed to sit up from bed with his help. You wanted to tie his tie. He watched you try. It wasn’t perfect but he didn’t bother to try and fix it. You straightened out his jacket and fixed his hair before you lied back down.

“I love you so much, Kento. Please be safe. Please come back home to me,” you said sadly.

“I love you so much too. I’ll come back to you, my love. I always do,” he said and kissed you one last time before he reluctantly left. Once he left, your nurse entered the bedroom. You smiled and when she sat down on the bed, you held her hand.

“I don’t think I’ll make it tonight,” you said. “I-I can feel it. Tell Kento-kun that I’m sorry.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But if he doesn’t come back, don’t think ill of him,” you said. The nurse just nodded.

“I have never seen a couple love each other like you two love each other,” she said. “It’s very beautiful. Makes my heart ache.” You lightly chuckled and squeezed her hand.

“Kento-kun is the best husband,” you said. “I think I’ll go to sleep now. I haven’t gotten any sleep today.”

“Ma’am, is there anyone I should call in case something were to happen?” You nodded.

“A list of numbers are in my dresser. Keep calling someone if they don’t answer. Maybe call Ieiri Shoko. She’s most likely to answer.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll check up on you every now and then.” You nodded and slowly closed your eyes, your thoughts on Nanami.

Nanami can feel the cool breeze. He hears the ocean waves crash on to the shore. His feet on the warm, and wet sand. That was when he knew. He knew he didn’t make it. He remembers Mahito standing in front of him. He remembers seeing Yuji and telling him that he’s got it from here. And he remembers thinking about you one last time before he was killed.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he said as he looked up at the sky. “I couldn’t come back home to you.” He walked along the shore, feeling at peace even though he feels empty. He just needed you and the afterlife will be complete.

“Kento-kun!”

The voice was barely heard, but he knew your voice anywhere. It was different. More lively. More loud. Nanami turned around and watched you in a white dress, waving at him excitedly. Your hair flowing down, moving with the breeze. He watched you run to him. You jumped to hug him and the two of you fell onto the sand.

Nanami looked at you. It was as if the cancer never affected you. You were now glowing. Your face is full of life. You were stronger, he can feel it with the hug you gave him.

“You didn’t—“

“You didn’t either,” you said with a pout. Nanami smiled. His hand rested on the back of your head and pushed your head so he could kiss you deeply.

“In that case, I’m back home, my love,” he said softly.

“I’m glad you came back home to me.”

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 28th:  Ghost Hunting | Seven Devils - Florence and the Machine | Frantic read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

“Wait,” Eddie pauses and whips around, nearly knocking everything off of Steve’s kitchen counter. “You don’t believe in ghosts?”

It just doesn’t make any sense– after all they’ve seen? After all Steve’s seen? How can he not believe in ghosts? 

Steve shrugs and pops another Pringle in his mouth as he leans against the counter next to Eddie. “No, why? Do you?”

Eddie’s eyes bulge and Steve rolls his own. “Do I believe in ghosts? The guy who got eaten alive by demon bats in a funhouse mirror version of our current waking world? How do you not?!”

“The Upside Down was created, Ed,” Steve laughs and eats another chip, speaking with his mouth full. “Ghosts though? Like, spirits and the afterlife and all of that? I just don’t buy into it.”

“That doesn’t make any kind of sense, Harrington. So you’d just walk into a haunted place or whatever, fearless?”

Crumbs fall from his chest as he brushes them off his shirt Like most things Steve does these days, it’s cute and Eddie wants to beat himself over the head with that Pringles can for the thought. 

Steve nods and licks the leftover Pringle dust from his fingers. Eddie tracks the movement subconsciously. “I guess so, yeah. Why, you wanna go ghost hunting or something?” 

Well, there’s an idea. Does he want to test the waters of the underworld again? No, not really. But does the idea of spending more time with Steve speak to his particular brand of impulsivity? 

It sure does, which is why he responds with glee. 

“Hell yeah!”

--

Dustin hooks them up with some sort of special camera and instructions that go way over both Eddie and Steve’s heads before calling them both idiots and sending them on their way. 

And as they approach the old cemetery, Eddie starts to agree with him. 

Barren trees wave hello with decrepit branches and the gate clatters in the wind. A cool breeze whips through them, cutting Eddie to the bone and he sees Steve shiver next to him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Place is bigger than I thought,” Steve says. “How many people do you think are dead here?” 

“Hopefully of ‘em,” Eddie teases. “Nervous yet, big boy?” 

Eddie bumps their shoulders together and turns to see Steve pull his jacket around him tighter. Like Eddie, the chill hits differently these days, something about the nerve damage from their Upside Down battle scars. It’s hard not to reach out and 

Steve scoffs with his arms crossed over his chest and nudges him back. “Not even a little. Let’s get this over with before we freeze to death.” 

--

Eddie manages to lose Steve in the supposedly haunted cemetery. He’s not sure how it happens– one minute, he’s tracking something that popped up on the camera and the next, he’s alone in a mossy, overgrown corner of the graveyard with nothing but tombstones for company. 

“Steve?” Eddie calls out into the wind. 

Nothing. 

He tries not to let panic set in. 

He’s just veered off course, that’s all. If he retraces his steps, he’ll find himself back to the main path and find Steve, probably annoyed that he’s been stuck waiting. An easy enough task, if he knew which direction he’d come from– the hyperfocus on the camera makes it difficult to reorient himself. 

“Steve?” He yells out again, louder this time as he walks back in what he thinks is the right direction. 

Eddie’s heart starts racing a bit faster, frantic energy thumping in his chest and down to his stomach as he turns in a circle. Nothing but gravestones and epitaphs as far as the eye can see. Another chill takes him by surprise and every hair on the back of his neck stands at attention, probably a placebo response but eerie and unsettling just the same. 

“Steve, where are you?” He yells again, marching forward and up a small hill he’s fairly certain he’d nearly stumbled down when watching the camera screen. 

As he clears the hill, Eddie looks across the bleak expanse of dead grass and dreary landscape, searching for a glimpse of Steve. 

“Steve! Can you hear me?” His voice breaks, quieter than the last few calls. 

When he finds nothing, he starts to walk a little faster, his feet crunching dried up leaves that litter the ground beneath him. Silence envelopes him, loud and consuming, broken only by the sound of his breath. 

Whirling around a tree, he finds himself at another deadend and feels the panic he’s tamped down into a shallow grave begin to claw its way out.

He knows that Steve can handle himself– he’s seen it for himself, after all– but even outside of ghosts, outside of the Upside Down, there are still certain consequences to being seen out in public with Eddie.

The town has been none too kind, even with his name being cleared, and Eddie knows all too well what they’re capable of. Images of Steve beaten and bloodied somewhere in the cemetery, whether by monsters or humans, plague him. Rage and terror seep into his thoughts as he shivers against the wind. 

--

“What the fuck!” Eddie screams and whips around, dropping the camera as his hands ball into fists when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s just me, are you alright?” Steve’s eyes widen and he puts up both hands in a faux display of surrender.  

He releases a breath he hasn’t realized he’s been holding and folds forward, one hand on Steve’s shoulder and the other bracing himself on his own knee. 

“Yep, all good here, never better, Stevie.” Eddie wheezes out, offering a thumbs up without looking.

“You sure? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost… that wasn’t supposed to be a pun.”

Eddie looks up at Steve to find him smiling down at him, soft and crooked, his absolute favorite– the only beam of light and color in this desolate cemetery. 

“Wow, that was lame, even for you.” 

Steve’s smile only grows wider. “Seriously though, did you see something? I turned around and you were just, poof. Gone.” 

“Didn’t you hear me yelling for you? I got caught up tracking what I thought was something worth tracking and got myself lost as shit.” 

Eddie watches as Steve’s smile turns to a grimace. “Hearing’s not great these days. Guess I uh, took a few too many hits to the head. Sorry.”

“Dude, I didn’t know that. And don’t apologize,” Eddie starts, standing up straight but not dropping his hand from Steve’s shoulder. “I’m the one that wandered off. Wayne jokes he wanted to put me on a leash when I was a kid because of it.” 

“You know, that makes sense.” Steve’s smile returns and Eddie mentally pats himself on the back. “Anyways, see anything worth the trip?”

Eddie steps closer, equal parts emboldened and weakened by the adrenaline, and pulls Steve into a hug. If Steve ever asks him why, he’ll write it off as the come-down from hysteria but he needs to feel Steve’s heartbeat more than his own right now. One arm around his neck, the other around his waist, and Eddie just… squeezes. 

He doesn’t expect Steve to hug him back. 

To his surprise, he feels Steve’s arms come up and pull him tight, one around his waist and the other wrapping around his upper back, one hand resting carefully on the back of his head. Eddie inhales the scent of what’s left of Steve’s cologne and lets himself rest, the throbbing of his heart synchronizing with Steve’s. 

It’s a lovely fantasy, pretending this isn’t just Steve being Steve and comforting someone who looks like Hell. 

Too soon, Steve pulls back, both hands still in place but their bodies just inches apart. Under the moonlight, Steve’s eyes sparkle and his hair glistens, shades of copper and hazel, two of Eddie’s new favorite colors. 

He swallows and nods in delayed response to Steve’s question. 

“Yeah, yeah I definitely did. You?"

Something different coats Steve's expression, something soft and fond– tender, even– and Eddie isn't sure exactly what to make of it. Or of the warmth that blooms in his chest. Steve moves one hand to brush a clump of Eddie's hair out of his face and cradles Eddie's cheek, far too delicate for him to understand. 

"No ghosts, but yeah. Definitely found something worth the trip." 

Eddie swallows and watches as Steve comes closer, and then closer still. Closer until his lips graze Eddie's, a silent question, one that Eddie returns without hesitation. 

When Eddie nearly kissed Steve in the Upside Down, he'd imagined it full of desperation and fear, terror and hopelessness. Now, still surrounded by ghosts but none that can touch them, their first kiss is vibrant– full of light, full of life in stark contrast to their surroundings. 

Like their hug, it's over too soon, pulling apart and resting their foreheads against one another. Steve laughs, a low rumble in his chest and shakes his head. "Please tell me we don't have to tell our friends our first day was in a cemetery?" 

Eddie smiles and nods. "Of course we do. Can't imagine anything more metal."

[seronsalk]

A pretty little nightingale...

Part 1

Alastor x female reader (sorry gents and non-binary pals, I'll do you next!)

Masterlist AN: An idea I've been obsessed with recently...sorry if it's bad. Dividers from our lovely @saradika-graphics Warnings: Mention of Violence

"Sometimes I stare at my ceiling for so long that I forget where I am. I forget I am in a fiery pit where at any moment a knife could be jabbed into my shoulders or back and twisted. At any moment I could be killed, kidnapped, tortured, or even feasted upon. Would I taste good? Would my killers be satisfied with my death or would they too be disappointed in what I could have been for them? And even now as my alarm goes off, I wonder where my soul would go if I did one night, not wake up."

The morning in hell was pretty normal to the morning's you were alive. Wake up, get ready, go downstairs to the club, dance and sing. That beautiful structure, belting one's heart to an audience every day with no worry.

Until you found yourself doing the same thing, but in your afterlife. In hell. You will forever curse yourself because who else would you blame for your eternal damnation?

As you walked down the stairs to the dark empty club, the other performers were there already practicing.

"Look who rolled out of bed! And how is our princessa this morning?" Dante spoke, he was an insufferable demon to be around this early in the morning, and that Spanish accent rolled off his tongue right into his trumpet. He was a beautiful demon; all the musicians were. It made you wonder why such pretty boys were stuck down here with you.

You smiled at him before speaking, "doing just fine til you opened your mouth, save your air for the horn." Another musician whose name was Hernando, forced everyone to refer to him as Sir Pesci for some weird reason then spoke with a laugh in his voice. "As if saving his air would help him sound better!"-"Hey Hernando, did your mom get the flores I sent her?" Dante suddenly spoke. "Ahhh, vaffanculo," the Italian man cursed back as he waved his hands dismissively at Dante.

You laughed at the scene as the other band members didn't understand a word being said under the accents before they all turned to you. It was warm-up time and it would go on for at least three hours.

By the time the jazz club was about to open you had dolled yourself up. The servers and bartenders had finally rolled in.

Throughout your shift many older sinners had trotted in at the sound of the music. But as you went to take a break in-between songs Dante came up to you. "Y/N, apparently some big shot wants to talk to you backstage."

You looked at him curiously, "Why m-" but you were cut off by your boss. He was an arrogant man who cared less for what others thought of him unless they were giving him money or popularity. One time just to get him to hear you when you complained about fixing the door in your dressing room, you had to pay him twenty bucks. He was built like a bull and like a bull, he sometimes charged in without thought or reason.

"Y/n let's go, got a big customer who wants to meet you!" he dragged you away with his bulky hands. Dante gave you a shrug as he walked off.

Alastor's POV:

It was a normal day in hell, he strutted down the road cane in hand. He was on his way to the cannibal colony to meet with Rosie.

When demons saw him they would jump into traffic or even through windows to avoid his gaze. His devilish constant smile sent even the tougher, bigger demons groveling.

As he was walking though, his ears twitched. The sound of jazz, but more prominent, a beautiful voice. He could recognize the song immediately, Heatwaves, by Ethel Waters. He followed the voice around the corner of the street and saw some demons trickling into a club. He twirled his cane in interest and his smile became wider.

He walked towards the bouncers, two of the biggest mobsters stood strong and firm, but one look at Alastor made them sweat. "Good'ay my good gents, tell me what is this fine establishment about then?" A little hint of Alastors transatlantic southern accent sprung like cattails in a bayou.

One of the bouncers spoke in an almost whisper, "It's The Spotted Fawn jazz club, sir." Alastor's smile widened in interest again. "Well, pay me no mind gentleman, I simply will be taking a look around." And with that, he walked past them and a second later one of the bouncers told the big boss.

He walked in, it smelled of rye and smoke. He loved the atmosphere, it was like he was in New Orleans all over again.

Then your voice struck his ears like lightning. He looked over towards the stage, jazz musicians playing behind you as you sang. Your h/l h/c hair bouncing as you swayed your hips to your own song.

Your boss had interrupted his train of thoughts, "Why I wouldn't have expected the radio demon to be in my club-welcome sir." He offered his hand to shake and Alastor's smile twisted as he ignored his hand. "Charming establishment you have here sir! I appreciate people who are still following the more traditional...ways." Alastor spoke his eyes wandering back to you as you danced on stage with one of the musicians.

"Say, my good man, who is that lovely dame singing?" Alastor inquired as he twirled his cane. "That'd be y/n sir, one of my finer performers." Y/n....your name twirled circles in his mind. You were gorgeous, as was your voice.

And for the first time in a while, since his mother and Rosie, he felt admiration for a woman. He spoke again, "Well I would love to meet h-" he was cut off. "2k upfront," was all the bull-built man said. Alastor's neck basically snapped as he looked at him, "Excuse me?" he said. "I don't trust any of you overlords and the last thing my performers need is the attention from one of you causing them, or me, problems. You wanna talk to her? Pay me or strike a deal sir." This bull had no class it made Alastor cackle. "Normally I'd kill you where you stand, but because I'm feeling generous about how lovely this establishment I'll let you off with a warning. Talk like that again towards me and I'll pull your guts out and serve them to your customers." His radio static backed his voice like a snarling panther. "Now about this deal, tell me what do you desire?" "Follow me we talk business in the back." The bull led Alastor away.

The bull brought her into his office, where Alastor was sitting. Her eyes widened a little, but she quickly sat down. "I was told you wanted to speak with me?" she asked. They were alone now.

EN: Hi guys so I like this idea, I was gonna make a part two, but let me know what you think!

[duckiemimi]

an in depth explanation as to how an on-screen gego sex scene would actually solve all of the problems in jjk:

1. while the series mainly focuses on the manifestations of “negative” emotions (i say negative with quotation marks because no emotion is inherently negative or harmful; it’s what comes after that counts), i’d argue that “positive” emotions would also manifest the same way—perhaps not as cursed spirits, but within the context of sorcerers, it could manifest as a source of strength. in volume 0, gojo likens love to a curse, but colloquially speaking, love is considered a “positive” emotion. (it can be more than an emotion, but for simplicity’s sake, we’ll refer to it as that.) within this context, love can be strength.

now let’s briefly explore the intersection between love, an abstract concept, and sex, a tangible physicality. what do both these things have in common? serotonin and much more, or in short, “positive” emotions. i’d imagine the output of “positive” emotions between people in love who have sex must be astronomical—limitless, even (at least momentarily).

now let’s imagine the relationship between geto and gojo is one full of love, notwithstanding the trauma. let’s put them in a situation of sex. considering how they were both two of the strongest sorcerers of their time, i’d imagine that their combined cursed energy output concentrated through a lens of “positive” emotions would be incredibly powerful. so powerful that it would even theoretically eradicate the repercussions of humanity’s “negative” emotions, or what we canonically call “cursed spirits.” mass exorcism. this would include our muppet-brain character and the character with repeating limbs. it would be an act of letting love into the vast and empty space of infinity, so to speak, filling every corner and every curve full.

of course, one might ask, how would this happen if both instrumental characters are dead and gone? where would this take place? why, the afterlife, of course! in the series, the afterlife is the wonder that keeps on giving, a mysterious realm where almost anything is possible (except life). it would be a cross-realm mission of sorts. let’s say something like cursed energy exists in the afterlife. if this “making love out of nothing at all” scenario were to happen, then the combined output of cursed energy through a lens of “positive” emotions would leak into the tangible realm, not unlike how cursed energy leaks from non-sorcerers. this, in my humble opinion, would be the metaphysical peak of the battle and this is how gojo can still win. this is the conceptual reverse cursed technique as a large-scale solution. the one who will teach us about love is gego.

2. would make up for the shit way gojo died off-scren methinks

[reaper2187]

Wednesday addams x necromancer reader

It was a dark and stormy night as I made my way through the cemetery. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, the cold air and howling wind sending chills down my spine. I was a necromancer, and the graveyard was my haven. Most people would be afraid to be here alone, but I found solace in the shadows and the voices of the dead.

As I reached the old mausoleum that I called home, I noticed a figure standing in the shadows. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized her. Wednesday Addams, the daughter of the Addams family. I had heard of their eccentricities and their fascination with all things dark and macabre. I never expected to meet one of them in person, let alone have her seek me out.

With a flick of my wrist, the door to the mausoleum creaked open, inviting Wednesday inside. She didn't hesitate, walking past me with a confident stride that intrigued me. As soon as she stepped inside, I closed the door, blocking out the raging storm.

'What brings you here, Wednesday Addams?' I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

'I've heard of your abilities, and I require your assistance,' she replied with a nonchalant shrug.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her straightforwardness. 'What do you need help with?'

'My family's ancestral spirits have gone silent, and I want to bring them back,' she explained, her voice cold and determined.

I couldn't help but be intrigued. The Addams family was known for their connection to the afterlife, and if their spirits have gone silent, it was a cause for concern. 'Very well, let us begin.'

We spent the next few hours in deep meditation, connecting with the spirit world. Wednesday was a natural, her presence enhancing my abilities. Together, we reached out to the spirits of the Addams family, and we were met with a concerning silence.

'They're not responding,' Wednesday stated with a hint of worry in her voice.

I could feel her frustration and determination to bring her family back. Without hesitating, I reached out to the spirits, pleading with them to return. Slowly, one by one, they began to appear, whispering their concerns and fears to us.

Wednesday listened intently, her face a mask of calm, but her eyes showing a deep understanding. 'We must perform a ritual to appease them,' she said, turning to face me.

I nodded in agreement, and we spent the next few hours gathering the necessary ingredients. As we worked, Wednesday surprised me with her knowledge of ancient rituals and her unwavering determination to bring her family back.

Finally, we were ready. The full moon shone down on us, illuminating the cemetery with an eerie light. As we chanted and performed the ritual, the spirits became restless, their voices growing louder.

And finally, they appeared. The spirits of the Addams family, their forms translucent and ethereal, but powerful nonetheless. They thanked us for bringing them back, and Wednesday's face lit up with joy as she was reunited with her loved ones.

As the spirits began to fade, they left behind a small trinket for each of us as a token of gratitude. Wednesday's was a delicate black rose, while I received a beautiful silver amulet with a skull embossed on it.

'Thank you,' Wednesday said softly, her dark eyes twinkling with gratitude.

'It was my pleasure,' I replied, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. 'You have a powerful connection to the spirits. I believe our paths were meant to cross tonight.'

She nodded, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of vulnerability in her expression. 'I never knew my family's spirits could be silenced. I feared I had lost them forever.'

I put a hand on her shoulder, offering her comfort. 'They are always with you, Wednesday. As long as you remember them and honor their memory, they will never truly be gone.'

Wednesday smiled faintly, and for the first time, I saw a glimmer of warmth in her usually stoic demeanor.

'I must go now,' she said, turning to leave. 'But I would like to stay in contact with you.'

I nodded, handing her a small vial of graveyard soil. 'This will help you connect with the spirits whenever you need to.'

Wednesday took the vial with a grateful nod and disappeared into the night. As I watched her go, I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her. She was not the average Addams family member, she was strong, determined, and unapologetically herself.

As I made my way back to my mausoleum, I couldn't shake off the feeling that this encounter with Wednesday Addams was just the beginning of a strange and unexpected friendship. And I couldn't wait to see what other adventures awaited us.

[the-whispers-of-death]

The Middle: Ghost's Shadow

The Beginning, Part 1 of The Middle, Part 2 of The Middle, Part 3 of The Middle The only warning here is that there's canon-typical violence. Also, there’s a time skip.

**

It took years for Ghost to heal from Roba, but that was to be expected. That didn't stop you from being relieved when he slowly but surely regained his humor, making you chuckle and groan at the cheesy dad jokes he'd tell his fellow soldiers.

He eventually made it into a task force called Task Force 141 and he seemed to finally be thriving with them. He was letting them in, creating a new family after his old one died.

And you were still there too, always hiding in the shadows. Ghost would be up on a rooftop, using his sniper skills to shoot down enemies on missions, and he'd see you. Only he could see you, see your form shifting into whatever mortal form a dead enemy soldier would be more comfortable with as you helped guide them to their afterlives. It was a sense of comfort for him, to see past all the blood being shed and see you in the middle of it all.

Your mortal form was never constant as you moved through the falling bodies and fighting soldiers like the shadows that always encased you. If someone preferred to see a masculine form, then you looked masculine. Someone wanted to see a feminine form? You looked feminine. You even looked androgynous if a dead soul didn't have any preference.

Despite Ghost being the only one who saw you, his fellow soldiers were always quick to joke about how they could see the shadows move slightly whenever he was around. How they said amongst themselves that Ghost had a shadow following around him.

And to them it seemed plausible because when they'd find Ghost standing outside the base all alone, looking out in the distance, they could see his hand reached behind him like he was holding a hand of someone who was invisible. They'd walk past his barracks only to hear him talking softly inside and they'd expect someone to walk out with him but they could see the barracks were empty when he left.

One day you were talking about the stories they made up about Ghost, how they said Ghost could control the shadows.

You were cuddled up against his chest as you two laid in his bed, your mortal form whatever it had been when you had last taken a soul to an afterlife. Ghost was running his fingers up and down your back gently, his chin resting on top of your head.

"Well, they wouldn't be curious about my so-called oddities if you would take on a permanent mortal form when visiting me," he teased, his black balaclava and white skull mask off so you could see the way the corner of his lips turned upwards into a smirk, able to see all of his scars.

You had missed the light in his eyes during the previous years. And it was almost fully back now.

You rolled your eyes, huffing at his response. Even after so many years, he was still trying to get you to take on a permanent mortal form, join him on the mortal realm to live a mortal life.

"While I'm glad you managed to still do your job as Life while being a mortal, Ghost, I don't think it would be that simple for me," you replied, looking up at him from where your head was resting on his chest.

Ghost moved his other hand from where it was holding your hip and he ran his fingers through your hair. "Come on, you can't deny that it'd be easier for us to cuddle if you took a permanent mortal form, Death. I'm sure you could become like a medical examiner and still be able to do your duties as Death."

You sat up, making him withdraw his hands from your hair and back. "I don't know, Ghost.... I just can't see myself being completely in the mortal realm," you said, your voice soft.

"Why not? You already don't go back to our home realm much unless it's to sleep." Ghost sat up as well, your close proximity making it easy for your two power signatures to reach out to each other and intertwine like always. "Think about it, Death. I could create an adult mortal body for you so you wouldn't have to spend an entire childhood before we could meet again. Any type of mortal body, I could create it for you."

One of his hand ran up the side of your arm.

"Any gender you wanted."

Another swipe of his hand up your arm, giving you goosebumps.

"Any skin color you wanted."

His voice was closer to your ear than before, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

"Any body type you wanted."

His other hand swiped up your other arm but instead of caressing it up and down like his first hand was, it cupped your cheek. His touch was so gentle, but this form... It wasn't necessarily yours.

"You could finally have whatever form you wanted. Present yourself however you want, no longer changing yourself to be what everyone else wants you to look like. Don't you want that? To know that my hands are touching a body that's completely yours?"

And you did want that. Having no permanent form made it easier for you to change into whatever type of person a dead soul would better react to, since they were so raw from dying, but it was exhausting. Years of watching Ghost interact with everyone in the mortal realm made you yearn to be mortal too, but you had been pushing it down.

Ghost could see the answer on your face and he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. "Your kindness beneath that gloomy, withdrawn demeanor you have is one of the reasons why I enjoy your presence, but you're too selfless. Every other being has presented themselves to each other in a way they wanted. You don't always have to be changing forms."

You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder. "Okay, as long as I'll be able to visit you after you create my mortal form so my spirit can settle inside it."

"We'll have to make sure that your mortal job will be something that'll allow you to come and go from the base then. Don't worry, you'll love it."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: 2582 Days of Purgatory

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[Word count: 2588 Cw: mild cursing, soul deals]

——————

Alastor traded blows and insults with Vox. The screen faced demon launched both electricity and fists at his opponent. Alastor responded with his shadows and dodging the physical blows. His jovial taunts goaded Vox into wilder attacks, fueled by decades of simmering anger.

But some of Vox’s jolts were getting through. Not only did they hurt, they left a numbing sensation whenever they hit. Alastor noticed that the bolts hitting him had another energy added to them. Something subtle, a greenish swirl that blended into the blue of Vox’s lightning. It didn’t belong to anyone he knew, but it added power and aimed the attacks straight at the Radio Demon.

In addition, some of his shadows were enhanced and directed by a reddish power. He saw curving lines and hints of music notes. Something about it tickled his memory but he had too much going on to pursue the thought. He needed to beat Vox down hard enough that the wannabe wouldn’t dare challenge him again (if he didn’t kill him) in addition to defending against this third party.

He launched a mass of tentacles at the other Overlord. They crackled with the extra energy he poured in, sending them faster than before. Just before they hit, Vox retaliated with a column of lightning. Both shows of power were enhanced by whoever was interfering.

It was almost a given that both strikes would hit, with enough force to knock both Alastor and Vox out of their full demonic forms. The television demon changed into a spark to retreat through a drone camera nearby. Alastor called up his shadows, letting them envelope him to make his own way out.

He intended to reform in either his broadcast station or the home he shared with Y/N. Except for the first time in his afterlife, someone was following his shadow. And they were close. He could only put on so much speed after that fight and every twist and turn he made was matched by his pursuer.

Angry and exhausted, he exited the shadows in an area outside of the Pentagram. He used his microphone cane to support himself, determined to appear unflappable.

The other emerged from their own shadows. A tall, statuesque woman, light gold hair flowing in an eternal breeze, dark horns arching in graceful curves over her head. Slightly behind her, revealed as her hair waved, was another woman. She was practically the double of the first, albeit without the horns and a softer, sweeter aura.

Of course, that’s why the magic interfering with his looked so familiar. “Queen Lilith.” Alastor’s voice crackled as he made the effort to remain steady. “To what do I owe the pleasure, your majesty?”

“Alastor.” Her lyrical voice dripped with amusement. “Have you met my dear sister yet? Eve, this is one of our Overlords, Alastor the Radio Demon. Alastor, this is my counterpart, Eve.”

“Ah yes, the Mother of All. A pleasure to meet you my dear, quite the pleasure.” He gave a sharp toothed smile, ignoring the lingering numbness and increasing pain. “Although I doubt you chased me down simply to introduce us, your majesty.”

She gave a refined laugh, Eve joining in. “You did say he was perceptive Lily,” she remarked, coming to stand next to the queen of Hell. Her voice had an identical cadence to Lilith’s, but an octave higher. “We have a proposal for you, Alastor.”

Then she explained what the pair wanted. The ever growing evil that hooked itself into all of humanity, the worsening exterminations and what the first two women intended to do about it. How Alastor was going to play a part. The proposal was really if he was going to be kept in the know about his role.

Cornered between the two of them and the pressure of what was coming, he agreed. Ears laid back, with a snarl in his voice he said, “It’s a deal.” Surprisingly, it wasn’t Lilith that held out her hand to close the deal for his soul.

No, it was Eve, not a demon, not quite an angel, that extended her hand. “Are you certain Eve?” Lilith asked with clear concern.

“Absolutely. You and Luci have taught me a lot; I can handle him. Not to mention you’re going to be occupied for the foreseeable future.” With a sweet smile, she held her other hand out to the demonic queen. “Some of your help would be appreciated however.” Lilith took it and they both focused on the injured Overlord.

The fight and his attempt to race away took more out of him than he realized. Vision blurring, Alastor took Eve’s hand. Instantly, vibrant green vines scrolled around them. Eve’s power? It must have been her messing with Vox’s attacks. Her smile gained an edge as she saw him put the pieces together. It was too late though, the deal was in process. Lilith’s magick, red musical bars, flowed through Eve. The notes fused into the swirling vines, giving them a ruddy hue.

Then, as he had done to so many others, the power formed into chains. Collar and shackles locked around his neck and wrists. The chains latched on, with Eve holding his new leash. She clapped her hands and the bindings became intangible. At the same time, all Alastor’s injuries were healed and his exhaustion wiped away.

“Fuck,” he muttered. Y/N is never going to forgive me for today. First he let Vox provoke a fight, battled until he was forced to retreat, then sold his soul to another. Incoming destruction of existence or not, his wife was not going to be happy with him.

“Best we get started,” Eve said as she turned, spreading her hands to open a portal. “Come along, no time to waste.” Best to put on a good act. Alastor twirled his cane and walked confidently through it.

It didn’t lead to Pentagram City. Or anywhere in the Pride Ring, much less the rest of Hell. This wasn’t Heaven or the living world either.

“Welcome to Purgatory!” the pair said in harmony. “It’s terribly boring here!” Eve added. She was correct; there was a vast spread of nothingness. No buildings or beings as far as he could see. In the distance he could see faint hazes of colors, but that could have just been his imagination.

“The benefit of course being it’s an excellent place to hide,” Lilith added. She took the lead, strolling in a seemingly random direction.

“Really?” Alastor drawled. He expected his voice to echo back, but there was nothing here to bounce sound off of. “I would have thought a realm of nothing at all would make it easier to find someone.”

Eve walked alongside him, easily keeping up. “Ah, but there is an entire realm to look through. A realm that not even the angels know about. Or if they do, they haven’t cared about it for longer than we’ve existed.”

Alastor didn’t know how long they walked for. He did start humming, if only to calm his nerves. But at some point there was a change in the landscape; a modest building about the size of his home on Earth. The faded siding and roof shingles blended into its surroundings. Even if you knew where it was, you’d have trouble noticing it.

“Oh good, I’m getting better at portalling,” Eve said as she skipped ahead to open the door.

“That was much closer than usual dear. Well done.” Alastor followed them inside. He was greeted with an abundance of greenery. Thriving plants were everywhere, their leaves and flowers almost eyeburning after the dullness outside. Was Eve recreating the Garden here?

“You should get going, Lily. You know how he gets,” Eve said wryly as she headed toward the kitchen.

With a sigh Lilith agreed. “May I borrow something a bit less regal? I doubt this will be appropriate.”

“Of course! I’ve raided your closet enough times after all. Would you like some tea, Alastor? Or coffee?”

“Tea would be appreciated, cher.” He followed her as Lilith headed upstairs to change. When Lilith returned, he and Eve were just adding sugar and cream to their first cups. Hell’s queen had exchanged the long dark gown for a lightweight sundress. It was still a deep purple color but much less sumptuous than what she’d had on. Her horns were hidden and she had on a wide brimmed sun hat and dark sunglasses. “Well?”

“You look lovely, your majesty,” Alastor said truthfully as Eve nodded. “You have to keep that one, it just suits you so well,” the other woman added.

Lilith smiled slightly before her expression turned pensive. “I suppose it’s time.” She pulled a phone out of her tote bag and handed it to Eve. “Don’t respond to any messages but forward Charlie and Lucifer’s to the new number please.” With a shaky hand, she removed her wedding ring and placed it in a cushioned box. Eve took that as well, promising to keep it safe.

Holding both the phone and ring box, Eve created another portal in her kitchen. This one had the golden light of Heaven pouring out. Lilith gave Eve a peck on the cheek and said, “Best of luck dears!” with a forced cheerfulness.

Eve settled into her chair and sipped her tea once the portal closed. “She’ll be in touch regularly but we won’t see each other for some time. And we’ve got work to do in the meantime.”

Alastor’s smile turned sardonic. “I’m at your command my dear.”

“Indeed you are.” With that she retrieved a packet of papers. Opening it, she started detailing what needed to be done in a professional manner at odds with her sweet demeanor. After hours of discussion, multiple pots of tea and dinner, she let him retire to a guest room.

‘Guest room’ was probably inaccurate now. There was no telling how long he’d be here. Alastor went through his usual nighttime routine as best he could. The repetitive actions only soothed him so much. He already missed the light banter with you. Niffty’s skittering as she finished little tasks and the soft drone from the bayou. He was a creature of habit in the end and this was so at odds to his norm.

Agitated, he sat awake on the bed. In one hand were the cufflinks you’d given him decades ago. Even clenched in his palm, they were cool to the touch. A soothing breeze that brought to mind the gusts from your wings and your voice lifted in song.

“I’m sorry my dear,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back when I can.” He pressed the hand holding the eighth note shaped cufflinks to his lips and said, “Bonne nuit, cher.”

After a couple weeks, he couldn’t take it anymore. First, this jungle needed at least a bit of taming. Second, Eve just needed some help with domestic tasks. Third, he needed some sense of normalcy. So he summoned Niffty to Purgatory.

It was difficult to call a soul across realms. He felt as tired as he had after that fight with Vox. Niffty, for her part, squealed in joy. She hugged his leg before climbing up to his shoulder. “Alastor! You look messy sir! What happened to you? And where are we? Y/N’s been so worried you know.”

“Ah Niffty, you even make Purgatory brighter.” He gave Niffty a brief overview as he brought her to Eve.

The woman did like the idea of some help around the place, but at his suggestion to send Niffty back to you was met with instant fury.

“Absolutely NOT!” Vines exploded into existence all around her, forming into his chains. A quick tug had the Radio Demon on his knees. His eyes shifted to glowing dials as his antlers grew. But he couldn’t summon his shadow to fight back. He glared up at his captor with equal fury.

Eve gave his chain another tug to haul him up, face to face. All the sweetness in her demeanor was gone. Now she had the aura of an enraged parent, dealing with a stupidly dangerous mistake from her child. “You are forbidden from sending your little maid back or trying to contact your wife in any way. If any hint gets out of where we are, everything we’re working for goes to shit. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” She bit off each word of the last question with another pull on his leash.

Alastor snarled, “Crystal clear.” They stared each other down for a moment before she released him. He dropped back to the ground, gasping for breath.

“Excellent. Now get to work.” She returned to her coffee and the paperwork for their plan.

With effort, Alastor got to his feet and headed to the room that had been changed to his study. Niffty kept pace with him for once. “Sir?” she asked, the concern on her voice evident as he collapsed in the desk chair.

Alastor took a few deep breaths before replying. “Once this is all over, those bitches are going to pay.”

The following 2,500+ days were filled with the tasks Eve (and by extension Lilith) ordered. Alastor knew why they had him working, but it didn’t make him any less furious at the situation. Niffty took to snuggling up with him on occasion, the little maid being one of the few he was comfortable touching him unprompted.

He wore the music note cufflinks everyday. Not that he had any other sets at the moment, but he needed the tiny fragment of you with him. He spoke to them almost nightly as if you could hear. Eve dutifully forwarded messages to Lilith, who occasionally called for updates and to exchange news.

Then, Lilith’s daughter Charlie left a series of messages that made them shift focus. She wanted to stop the exterminations…by rehabilitating Sinners. She was converting one of the old Morningstar hotels into her facility. She had recruited an infamous porn star to be the first attempt.

She was also adrift, scared, and desperate for her parents approval. Lilith couldn’t respond nor could Eve. They couldn’t contact Lucifer about it. Alastor refused to even touch any modern technology that could put him in contact with someone in Hell. Regardless, he didn’t know Charlie or Lucifer personally.

Yet.

“We’re going to have to send him,” Lilith said on speakerphone. “I know my girl, she’s going to try this with or without help.”

“And what about everything he’s doing here Lily? Are we just supposed to give up on the past seven years?” Eve asked back, clearly frustrated at this unexpected turn.

“Eve, with Charlie meddling in souls and the exterminations, it’s going to throw all our plans into disarray. Whether she succeeds or not, I think this is going to get the fight started.”

Eve sighed. “You’re probably right. Alastor, I’m sending you to Hell. You need to assist Charlie with her hotel and protect her as best you can.”

He couldn’t help lighting up at the prospect. “Gladly my dear. When do I leave?”

“Now.” She opened a portal and the red gloom of Pentagram City bathed her houseplants in its hellish glow. “And Alastor?” He paused at the portal’s entrance. She looked uncomfortable as she continued, “You’re allowed to be with your wife in Hell. But only tell her what we’ve agreed on.”

“As you wish.” With a mocking bow and a twirl of his cane, he stepped through. “Niffty, keep up dear! We’re going home.”

——————

Taglist: @whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

A/N: I know there’s a lot of vagueness about what Alastor has been doing but we’re entering the realm of pure speculation on my part.

[bounded-accuracy]

One of the most fascinating corners of Fantasy High lore is the existence of hardcore Helio worshippers. Because, in Solace,

hell provably exists

you can find out exactly who went there and why

In our universe, the uncertainty about hell is a massive factor in why evangelicals behave the way they do. Like, people love to argue with biblical literalists about how a loving God wouldn’t be so judgmental. But it doesn’t matter. God might turn out to be chill… but they can’t be 100% sure. And hell is potentially REALLY bad. So they’ll act on the assumption that God is the most ridiculous tightass imaginable, and maybe get pleasantly surprised later.

But for Helio worshippers, they can find out exactly what criteria matters (or not) for hell. They don’t have to be hyper strict just to be on the safe side. Hell isn’t this nebulous threat of infinite proportions, it’s very concrete. It’s also not eternal/inescapable. People can straight-up leave, given the right magic.

I wonder if churches of Helio explicitly forbid contact with other planes? I guess it could be similar to Christian prohibitions on mediums and contacting spirits (except that in Solace you can actually talk to spirits lol). Maybe they say it’s all a trick, that no one is actually seeing the “real” version of hell? But resurrection exists, and people do see the afterlife there — maybe they treat those like real-world near-death experiences, and say they’re just random neuron activations (which would be a very funny solution, because in our universe Christians loooooove citing NDEs as evidence of life after death).

Anyway, I think it’s an interesting area to speculate on.

[protemporescitor]

"But she ded tho" (a.k.a. the dumbest argument against Clerith) - A rant

To expand on my previous post, in which I posited the crazy, far-fetched theory that in a fantasy setting mayhap death is not the relationship brick wall that it would be in a more grounded, realistic one*, I just want to bring up a few points to further buttress this off-the-wall notion.

"Cloud can't be with Aerith. She's dead!"

We've all heard it a thousand times. It is the argument most commonly levelled against Clerith. It is also the worst (and laziest) one.

It's often delivered in a declamatory and glib fashion, as though it were some sort of obvious conversation ender. Q.E.D. End of debate. The ultimate gotcha. "Checkmate, Clerith fans!" the haters think to themselves, chortling and patting themselves on their backs for this profound insight. (Insert tasteless and juvenile comments about Aerith being "shish kebab-ed" by Sephiroth as desired.)

And all I can think is "That's it? That's your best argument? That's some weak tea, man."

Despite its myriad flaws, this idea continues to radiate throughout the fandom a good quarter century after the original title's release, as though it had never once been challenged. It is a feeble and untenable position, a house built on sand, and one that deserves to be thoroughly demolished. With Rebirth on the horizon, and all the shipping wars nonsense rising from the grave once more as a result, it is high time, if you'll forgive the expression, that we laid this cliché to rest once and for all.

(*Note: Even in a more "realistic" setting lacking any kind of fictional afterlife, this would still be a gross oversimplification of the story's themes of loss, regret, and yearning, as well as entirely ignoring the idea of love transcending death, but we'll set those concerns aside for the time being.)

Lastly, before we begin: This is not an anti-Zerith / CloTi screed. Those pairings both have an undeniable canonical basis. My aim here is simply to demonstrate that the notion that Cloud and Aerith are forever separated by death is rendered invalid by virtue of the type of setting that their story takes place in. (Something that, frankly, one would reasonably assume to be perfectly obvious. Alas, such is not the case. And so I find myself yet again pointing out the glaringly obvious.)

Now, without further ado, let's begin:

Part 1. Before (the Compilation) Crisis

In the beginning, there was the year 1997, and Squaresoft had just released their latest title. And lo, it was good. We spent days and weeks following our favorite polygon people around their embattled little globe. We fought, laughed, cried, and struggled up until the Meteor Crisis reached its crescendo, and the credits rolled. Gosh, what an ending! But what did it all mean? How did things REALLY turn out? Did we get a happy ending at all?

According to some, Cloud lived happily ever after with his childhood sweetheart, Tifa. According to others, he continued to roam the earth in search of his Promised Land to be reunited with his tragic lost love, Aerith. Yuffie swiped everyone's materia (again). Cid finally went to the moon. Red XIII opened a haberdashery in Costa del Sol, or something. No-one really knows for sure.

And so, the fandom began to spread to every corner of the internet in search of answers. Thus began the age of dissension. Opinions clashed across fanzines, blogs, and fanfic country alike. Wild fan theories abounded pertaining to special codes, methods, and blood rituals capable of bringing back our erstwhile flower girl. The fan-made media bubble surrounding the game turned into a lawless land of misinformation and vicious disagreement. None were spared.

A brief digression on why said rumours persisted for as long as they did (CAUTION: Massive spoilers for Chrono Trigger).

One side proposed a simple solution. A way to cut the proverbial Gordian Knot of our fandom. It was quite obvious, really. Just staring everyone in the face. The flower girl was dead, and that was that. Thus, there was only one possible conclusion to our narrative. Cloud's feelings on the matter were, of course, irrelevant. With Aerith out of the picture, the only logical choice left to him was to settle down with Tifa, and that was that. Never mind the themes of doomed, tragic love and the possibility, strongly hinted at throughout the game and outright confirmed during its ending, of existence after death.

Overall, direct evidence for said afterlife was scant, but not entirely absent from the story. As an example, at one point during her childhood, Aerith speaks to Elmyra, trying to comfort her, saying that the spirit of her husband wanted to come visit her, confirming that an afterlife presence did indeed exist. But for some, this simply wasn't evidence enough. And so the war raged on. Which brings us to…

Part 2. Advent Children: The smoking gun

Remember back when a certain portion of the fan base insisted that Gaia erased all the humans at the end of the story, on the flimsy basis that we don't see any during the game's brief post-credit scene? Well, that little theory was neatly undone by subsequent releases in the Compilation, showing regular ol' humans still roaming around Gaia in all their everyday human-ness. Hence, it is rarely brought up these days. Would that the pernicious notion of "but she ded tho" could follow in its footsteps, given that the same film roundly contradicts it in every way possible.

For starters, the film inexplicably bring two characters, Rufus and Tseng, hitherto assumed to be dead, back to life, probably in an effort by Square to shoehorn as many recognizable members of the cast into their animated feature as they could. But that's not all. Next we have three characters that everyone agreed were deader than doornails ALSO making appearances, first in flashbacks, and then directly influencing the world of the living. Zack speaks to and encourages Cloud during his struggle. Aerith reaches out to him (quite literally) from beyond the grave and assists him in defeating Bahamut. And of course Sephiroth pops back into existence just in time for his contractually-obligated boss fight near the end of the film. All three demonstrate quite clearly and definitively that death is not the impenetrable barrier to continuing interactions between the living and the dead in the world of Final Fantasy VII, as a certain segment of the fan base would have everyone believe it is.

To be blunt, I don't know what level of dense you'd have to be to keep up this so-called "argument" in light of this information. Advent Children reiterates what most of us already knew, that our story takes place in a fantasy setting* with a confirmed afterlife existence.

(*You'd think that the name of the series would clue people in.)

The notion that death represents, within the context of said setting, the ultimate end was already softly contradicted by the original game's narrative, and then (because that was apparently too subtle for some people) flat-out annihilated by the existence and events of Advent Children. It should have long since ended this nonsense. But somehow, it didn't. These revelations, obvious though they are, remain ignored for some reason. And so, the cycle of willful ignorance continues.

But we're not done yet. We now move on to more tangential, but still relevant arguments against this line of "reasoning".

Part 3. Stop Hitting Yourself: Why "but she ded tho" is insulting to everyone

And I do mean everyone. Let's examine this, shall we?

It's insulting to Cloud.

To suggest that he loses interest in Aerith the moment she sinks beneath the waters, or that he is obligated to move on simply because she is no longer among the living, with no mourning period, no time to work through his guilt and grief, is to portray him as shallow and uncaring, something that goes against virtually all the characterization that he's been given throughout the story. The line of thinking apparently goes "Well, she's gone. That sucks. She was cute, too. Better move on to the next available piece of meat."

Sounds pretty gross when you write the quiet part out loud, doesn't it?

It's insulting to Aerith.

"Didn't even toss the b@#h a Phoenix Down, just dumped'er in the water LAWL"

I'm sure you've all come across comments like that at some point, usually originating from some errant redditor or blogger. Thinking themselves fine fellows and enlightened, above-it-all gadflies, they provide us at length with this and other prime specimens of 14 year-old internet edgelord "humour" that carries about as much edge as a perfect sphere. Remarks like these serve little purpose beyond confirming my suspicion that our fandom is indeed plagued with illiterates who can't tell the difference between the terms "revive" and "resurrect", and insist on conflating game mechanics with storytelling. And you wonder why some people are confounded by words like "flammable" and "inflammable".

(All right, I'll put the salt down. For now.)

"The party's designated white mage dies, oh no, that's so sad, boo-hoo, life goes on," I hear you say.

But boiling Aerith's role down to one of merely that of a temporary party member who kicks the bucket halfway through the story, never to be heard from again, both cheapens her purpose within the larger narrative and denies the clear effect that she continues to exert, directly and indirectly, on it and the other characters after her passing.

Though Aerith may have departed the world of the living, the story makes it abundantly clear that her influence on it has not ended. There are hints here and there that she still tries to assist her friends from the afterlife. As an example, when the party rediscovers Cloud in Mideel after assuming that he might be lost for good, a villager sums it up best with the following remark: "That boy must have one hell of a guardian angel."

It's only mentioned as a vague hint in the original story, but it is clear that some beneficent force is acting on Cloud and Tifa's behalf, aiding them in their survival and uniting them in the Lifestream in order to help Cloud recover his memories. Later supplemental material confirms that to have been Aerith's doing. If that's not enough to convince you, though, the original game's ending leaves little room for ambiguity as to Aerith's continuing influence. When Holy sputters and fails, she coaxes the Lifestream itself to intervene, burning away the calamitous meteorite, helping her friends put an end to the planetary crisis long after her own demise. I suppose the lesson here for silver-haired godhead wannabe villains is this: Strike her down, and she shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.

So the idea that Aerith's participation in the story immediately comes grinding to a halt upon her death is both puerile and easily demonstrated to be false. But even if that were the case, downplaying her lingering influence on Cloud and the other characters in this manner would still be ignoring the creators' intent. Whether one interprets Cloud and Aerith's relationship as romantic or merely platonic, it is clear that her death, the loss of one of his closest allies, is something that wounds him deeply, and scars him forever. Two years on, he still pines for her company and desires her forgiveness for his perceived failures. She clearly occupies a special place in his heart, and her memory and legacy live on within him, spurring him on as he wanders the planet, searching for some way to meet her again, defying the impossible. (Which, as we all know, isn't going to happen. This is, after all, Final Gritty Reality we're talking about here.)

Ah, but all of this is a moot point, you say? Even if he did wish to be with her, preferring the company of the last Cetra over that of his childhood friend… well, too bad. That's no longer an option. We can spout all of this verbiage about "soul pain" this and "star-crossed lovers" that, but at the end of the day, Aerith is still dead, and that's that. At least, that's what ardent CloTi fans will insist, no matter what. So, what is Tifa to Cloud, then, by their own logic?

Which brings us to perhaps our most salient, and most overlooked point, at least as far as CloTi shippers are concerned. If all that wasn't enough for you, you may want to consider that it's deeply insulting to Tifa, as well. Grievously so, in fact. Quite possibly more so than any other character in this whole equation. And the reason why should be plain as day if you stop to think about it for a fraction of a second.

Here's the thing… if you can't articulate why you think Cloud would prefer to be with Tifa in spite of Aerith being alive, then you are essentially declaring her the "winner" by default on no other merits than the fact that she's still sucking down air. Stating "but she ded bro" means relegating Tifa to the role of a consolation prize. I don't think I could ever hurl such a staggering insult towards her as her biggest fans keep doing, without even realizing they're doing it.

Ask yourselves, is that really what you want for your supposed favourite character? To frame her as being doomed to eternally play second fiddle to her fallen friend? Cloud's "plan B"? The "side piece"? Someone who only stands a chance if her rival in love is literally six feet under? I'm sure she'd be thrilled by the high regard in which her own fans seem to hold her. (Hey, you said it, not me. It's not my fault if you don't take the time to actually consider the ramifications of what rolls off your keyboard. But by all means, keep insulting your own favorite character just to put down a ship you don't like.)

In closing, if we unearth the subtext and reframe it to highlight what people are, in essence, saying, it's this: "It's a good thing that she-who-shall-not-be-named bit the dust, because otherwise our beloved Best Girl Tifa (tm) wouldn't stand a chance."

It's a simple enough question: Why do you think that Cloud and Tifa belong together? What, in your mind, makes them a good fit for each other?

"Well, the competish is dead." ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Not exactly a ringing endorsement for your best girl, now is it?

Part 4. "Heads, I Win. Tails, You Lose": A brief word on hypocrisy

In fandom, it's often the loudest and most obnoxious voices who tend to drown out the more reasonable ones, those of fans who are just minding their own business and grooving on the thing that they like. Which, unfortunately, renders this next part a necessary component of the greater argument that I'm trying to make. Multishippers and sane, reasonable CloTi and Zerith fans may consider themselves exempted from the following harangue.

The rest of y'all, buckle up.

The too-oft repeated refrain of "but she ded tho" entails a twofold hypocrisy. The first part is:

Case of Tifa: Fan hypocrisy regarding death.

Strident anti-Clerith fans, with their usual level of maturity, will often bring up Aerith's demise in a gleeful, mocking tone that can best be summed up as "ding dong, the witch is dead!" And if the shoe were on the other foot? If their Best Girl Tifa (tm) were the one pushing up daisies instead of Miz Gainsborough? Would they be quite so cavalier in their attitudes?

Who wants to bet that these fans wouldn't be making this "argument" so loudly if it was their ship that was in question? Consider this scenario: Suppose that the remake trilogy does the unthinkable and has Tifa die in Aerith's place. What then? Would they accept that "but she ded tho" is, at best, a double-edged sword, one that applies equally to their own favourite ship were their fortunes to be reversed?

Something tells me that's not the case.

But if you think that's hypocritical, you ain't seen nothing yet. This first point pales in comparison to…

The Zerith Exemption: Fan hypocrisy regarding the afterlife.

You know what my favourite thing about this whole debacle is? When people inform me that because they are separated by death, Cloud and Aerith have no hope of ever being together again. They will then unironically pivot to shipping Zack and Aerith, two characters who are together in the MOTHERFUCKING AFTERLIFE.

It's wild. How do you even compress that much cognitive dissonance into one skull? We're talking about mind-melting, Olympic medal-worthy levels of mental gymnastics here.

Now, before someone accuses me of being morose, I'm not suggesting that Cloud hop off the nearest cliff just to be with his beloved (Aerith would not approve of him throwing his life away, for one), just that when he reaches the end of his natural life (which may not be too long, given the cells eating away at his body), he can finally be reunited with her in the afterlife.

Many ardent CloTi shippers see themselves as bound by law to uphold Zerith as a shield against the dreaded Clerith plague. But to proclaim, implicitly or explicitly, that the afterlife encompasses one but not the other is not an idea that can be taken seriously. It remains an utterly bizarre blind spot, one that beggars belief.

On a related note, there is the infamous misconception that is…

Part 5. The ZaCloud Fallacy

While this is not directly related to my main point, I nonetheless find myself compelled to address this issue. There is a long-standing confusion that bedevils our fandom, one that has its roots in the Shipping Wars (tm). I am, of course, referring to the ZaCloud Fallacy.

We owe this particular misapprehension to Crisis Core, a prequel/gaiden game that was released ten years after the original FFVII. Already, its existence can mess up the timeline, so to speak, as, strangely, people tend to treat it as a sequel rather than a prequel, and as though it were adding new and vital building blocks to the world of FFVII instead of merely distorting the original story while retreading it with a far less interesting cast of characters. It also retcons major elements of the original story that it shouldn't have (such as the events taking place in Nibelheim five years prior to the main narrative), lazily steals Clerith scenes only to rehash them with Zack and Aerith, and forces players to endure, at length, crimes against literature, courtesy of Genesis.

It's an odd prequel, to say the least, given how heavily it relies on the original story for context. Sequentially, it may take place before FFVII, but it can only be fully appreciated with the original in mind; it cannot be treated as a stand-alone story. The worst thing about Crisis Core existing is that playing it first can outright ruin people's perception of the original narrative by spoiling several major plot elements and even lessening them in the process. Crisis Core's writers are especially guilty of cheapening dramatic moments like Zack's last stand by transforming it from a quiet, tragic, harrowing scene about sacrifice to an utterly over-the-top and emotionally overwrought trainwreck. It all merely serves to add to the confusion, especially for gamers who started with this title instead of the original.

But if that were not enough, Crisis Core's reckless meddling with the story combined with the acrimonious and all-consuming nature of the shipping wars has resulted in one of the most nonsensical misconceptions in the entire fandom. During Crisis Core's ending, Zack implores Cloud to carry on his legacy, thus giving rise to the erroneous assumption that Cloud's behaviour in disc 1 is merely that of him "being Zack". Clerith-hating fans, in particular, pounced on this idea as a way to put a safe distance between him and Aerith, characterizing their interactions, whether platonic or romantic, as merely a case of Cloud utilizing Zack's memories and personality around her (Never mind that Zack and Cloud's personalities are as different as night and day).

It is a fundamental and willful misreading of the story, a gross oversimplification of a more complex and granular truth in service of a fan-originated meta-narrative, one that has been assembled in order to reach the conclusion that Cloud and Aerith's relationship is null and void, and that therefore the romance between him and Tifa remains unchallenged. (Never mind that the story is intended as more than just some playground tug-of-war romance). To maintain this lie is to do violence to the story by destroying Cloud's character arc and reducing him to a virtual non-entity until the very end of the game.

Having already been rebuked in regards to this pervasive delusion, certain fans have tried to hedge their bets by suggesting a second, more advanced version of this idea. ZaCloud Fallacy 2.0, if you will, which states that Cloud is only in Zack Mode (tm) when he's around Aerith. I don't even know what to say about that sort of nonsense. To paraphrase Charles Babbage, I am not able rightly to apprehend the kind of confusion of ideas that could provoke such an assertion.

I'd go into this in more detail, but YouTube creator LinkOnTheBrink has already covered this topic extensively in their superlative video essay "How Shipping Can Ruin a Narrative".

It may seem like I'm trashing Zack or Zerith here, but I'm really not. That was never my intent. So let me be clear about this: I like Zack. I just hate Crisis Core and what it's done to this fandom. If you prefer CloTi and Zerith to everything else, I don't much mind. Ultimately, this isn't about shipping wars nonsense, but protecting the narrative from such nonsense.

And that leads us to…

Part 6. I Against I: Where the fandom went wrong

We all know that the infamous FFVII Shipping Wars (tm) are as stupid as they are inescapable. Anyone who's spent any time at all within this fandom has inevitably run afoul of them and their detritus at some point, whether they've chosen to participate in them or abstain from the whole debacle. But there's a reason why this acrimonious dispute has raged on for as long as it has. Much like Blade Runner fans would argue until they were blue in the face about whether or not Deckard was a replicant, fans of this story have been squabbling about CloTi versus Clerith for ages for similar reasons. (Zerith got roped in as a "political wedge", I would argue, as much as a pairing in its own right.)

It's more than just a war over shipping, it's a war over canonization, over character motivation and psychology. Of how we ultimately interpret the story and its characters. Given the vagueness of the story's ending, one can't help but wonder and speculate as to how everyone ended up afterwards. (Advent Children and Dirge of Cerberus may have offered some answers, but they still largely sidestep these questions in a noncommittal, to-be-continued manner.)

The problem is that, for many fans, it isn't possible to simply say "It's my preference" and be done with the matter. Unlike most rarepairs and bananas pairings like Cait x Jenova, CloTi and Clerith remain hotly contested because they go beyond mere shipping, or even aesthetic preference, or which characters one most identifies with; they lie at the core of how we perceive the story and its inhabitants. In that sense, I don't consider it to be an entirely frivolous debate, just an unsolvable one.

So, what's the answer?

There's this long-standing piece of received wisdom about JRPGs vs. WRPGs, where the latter involves more freedom at the expense of focused storytelling, and vice versa. This idea might hold true to some extent, but it is not some iron law that must be obeyed without question. For a game like FFVII, choices that radically affect the narrative structure would be considered an aberration and not the norm. And yet, it might represent the only way out of this quagmire that doesn't involve throwing half the fandom under the bus in the process.

For me, Mass Effect and similar titles (e.g., Quest for Glory) have already presented an obvious solution: Let the players choose. (There is already some precedent in the form of the Gold Saucer scene, although it ultimately doesn't change the outcome of the story all that much.) It may not be a perfect solution, but I'd argue that it's far better than leaving one side out in the cold. At least this way, everyone gets something.

"Ah, but this is not feasible," I hear you respond. "Not for an Eastern-style RPG, at least. Only one of these pairings can be correct, and one must, above all, respect the creator's vision."

Yeah, look where that got us.

Part 7. As You Like It: Ship whatever you please (just stop this nonsense)

I realize that this little essay of mine has been digressive, rudimentary, rambling, extemporaneous, and scattershot. So let me try to reach some kind of meaningful conclusion here.

Much of this anti-Clerith rhetoric we've seen over the years seems to stem from a place of insecurity, whether it's murmuring "but she ded tho", claiming that Cloud was only ever Zack in disc 1, inventing a fictional sex scene underneath the Highwind from whole cloth, and so on… The thing is, there is no need for it. Clerith and CloTi both exist canonically. Even the game manual says as much, describing Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith's relationship as a love triangle. In other words, the love triangle is what's canon, and the rest is by and large up for interpretation. (Zerith also canonically exists, and we've known this since the OG.)

The true reason why this whole disagreement has gone on for eternity, I suspect, has less to do with any debate over canonicity alone than it does the sheer enmity and pettiness that it has continued to spark for so long. It has metastasized over the years, going from being a mere squabble over which pair is canon to an exercise in holding the other side in contempt. That endless cycle of disrespect and reprisals is undoubtedly where it all went wrong in the first place. (If I had a nickel for every time someone commented "but she ded tho" or "wHy iS zAcK bLoNd iN tHiS pIc?" when someone posts a piece of Clerith fan art, I'd have a pretty nice collection of coins by now.)

Obviously, we should all try to just click off when we encounter content that we dislike, but it's not always easy, especially when something we harbour a strong aversion to is so deeply enmeshed within something that we do enjoy. And so, our fight-or-flight instinct kicks in. Before you ask, yes, I'm as guilty of that as anyone else.

Still, I firmly believe that the occasional olive branch can go a long way. So let me simply say that I have the utmost respect for Tifa and Zack. They are worthy characters in their own right. So create and share all the CloTi/Zerith fan works your little hearts desire. Hire a fleet of skywriters to declare Zerith your favourite couple. Throw a giant CloTi parade through the middle of Times Square. We don't mind. Honestly.

As stated above, whether it's CloTi, Clerith, or Zerith, you can stop fretting over which one is canon; they all are. The other three permutations (Zakkura, Zifa, AerTi) don't get much in the way of canon acknowledgement, but they probably should at this point.

In the end, this is about saving the narrative from the shipping wars, as much as anything else. To say that you prefer CloTi or something else to Clerith is fine. To assert that Clerith doesn't exist in any form, however, is where I begin to take exception.

Ultimately, I say ship what you like. All I ask is that you retire this sort of narrative-wasting nonsense. It's time we threw it into the garbage can of gaming history where it belongs. As for questions of motives, character interpretation, canonization, and so forth… if we cannot reach an accord, then let us at least try for a more amicable disagreement.

As for my fellow Clerith supporters, the next time you see the withered old canard that is "but she ded tho" being bandied about in the wild, feel free to laugh and treat it with the derision and contempt that it so richly deserves.

[dungeons-and-dictions]

Musical-loving Americana Cannibals AND the cesspit angel getting his comeuppance? Why thank you!

SPOILERS for Hazbin Hotel Ep. 7-8

What I suspected with Lucifer’s reaction was true; most demons just don’t know exorcist features well enough to recognize an angel without wings.

Also, I have wondered because Vaggie and Carmilla look similar - is Carmilla also an angel? Her eyes and facial features especially made me wonder, and may explain her gathering up of weapons and refusal to start a war.

It was cool to see these two have another duet, this time face-to-face. It matched the theme of protecting who they loved, and without being a reprise!

And now… the big stuff!

Alastor unhinged! Loved his lack of voice when his cane broke, and his reaction. But ooooh boy, I really fear for Charlie with his meltdown. Her favor’s going to be devastating with how Alastor is taking his almost death. Also due to a note below, maybe he isn’t owned by Lilith after all.

Imagine still arguing 10,000 years later over your ex-wife (and maybe ex-wife to both?). Love the little white auras around them.

Short Duck Daddy better make good on all the caviar mountains promised! All the revamps and coverage is about to make this place lit.

Why???

Oh.

Because.

Congrats, Sir Pentious! An excellent run as a lovable, ascended extra. I hope we get more of him though!

I mean, I’m hoping between seasons this is reported on like crazy. The hotel took on Heaven, sent them packing, got a giant update, AND Charlie’s redemption theory is true?! What sinner wouldn’t want that?

A few interesting implications so far:

A sinner can only go to Heaven upon a death in Hell, aka judgement only occurs at death. This makes it analogous to the situation people on Earth face.

Death via a noble cause is what grants you entrance to Heaven. This could be another way some questionable people end up there

Angels and demons may be the same race, only affected by the respective environment in terms of powers. Sir Pentious has very minor changes when we see him redeemed.

Death in the afterlife is not the end if you now qualify for the opposite team?! A crazy loophole if this is true.

Who is excited to see Adam, who died, rejudged to Hell since he died again? Bonus points if he is in the hotel or cavorting with the BIG baddies in Season 2.

And Emily is the cutest thing ahshsjaisd

This will be fun to see progress. I wonder if we’ll get to see God or a big good in this series. Also, maybe Emily is Eve? Idk there’s so many possibilities and we really could have had 20 more episodes.

Finally, Adam had a deal with…

Lilith?! And Lute’s going to be first in command of the exorcists now.

Also, we don’t actually know where this lovely beach is. It feels to me like a private beach, in-between Heaven and Hell, tucked away in an inconspicuous corner that was always there.

So, did Lilith leave Lucifer for Adam? Maybe she decided that our depressed duck demon was too much and at least gritting her teeth and being by Adam’s side was productive? I expected Lilith to show up, but not with Lute knowing about a deal she made.

Now to hunker down and await Season 2! Vivienne and Co., it’s been an honor to analyze and theorize with all the fun goodies. Thank you for making this dream come true and sharing it!