#i mean its called FANTASY football for a reason

[man-i-love-folklore]

fantasy football? do you mean Sports Bro Dungeons & Dragons?

[shuttershocky]

Out of all the curses of modern gaming, it's season passes / battlepasses that saddens me the most, because what I am fairly sure is its origin is really close to my heart.

One of the most notable things about Dota 2 is that (even now) it's the only MOBA (games like League of Legends, Heroes of Newerth, etc) on the market where every single one of its playable characters was immediately free for the player, no money or grind required, unthinkable for a free to play game. That means a player completely new to the game was actually on even footing access-wise to players with thousands of hours: everyone had access to the same cast, there were no upgrades you could get to amplify your favorites before a match (unlike the rune system League had back then, though I hear that's gone now), nothing. You were theoretically on even footing with everyone at all times, your only difference being your experience.

In its early years, Dota 2 didn't even have lootboxes for its cosmetic microtransactions yet (even when its sister game Team Fortress 2 did, and it does now). You browsed through the online store and paid 2.5 dollars to give your favorite character a cowboy hat.

All in all, there was very little way the game was actually making any money. The only reason it was even designed that way is because the original DotA was a Warcraft 3 mod faithfully updated for years with the free labor of community modders. When the lead was hired by Valve to make Dota 2, they insisted complete parity between the two versions: they would have the same updates, no gameplay can be locked behind monetization, Dota 2 should be able to run on crappy computers, etc.

Now Dota 2 has an annual tournament called The International, famous for holding the single largest prizepool in the history of Esports (back then, 1 million dollars), with the money contributed by Valve. However, they knew pumping millions of dollars into the tournament every year on a game that was not monetizing its playerbase was a great way to go bankrupt eventually, even if at the time Dota 2 was acting as a gateway for many people in third world countries (where DotA remained supremely popular) to get into Steam.

So for the third International in 2013, Valve had an idea that would plague live service games for the rest of time.

They called it The International Compendium, a way for the community to support the pro scene. You paid 20 dollars (or was it 30? I no longer remember) to get a whole set of missions to unlock exclusive cosmetics, you could make predictions for how the tournament would go and if you were right your compendium levelled up even further, you could play Fantasy Dota the way people do Fantasy Football (I still have no idea how that works) and collect cards of your favorite players then watch as their performance in the tournament gave you points, and 25% of all sales went straight to The International 3's prizepool.

People loved it. Dota 2 didn't charge you for anything but hats that could also be gained by random drops from playing anyway, so the playerbase at the time saw it as a fair deal, and besides, 25% of it went back to "fostering the community".

They sold like gangbusters. The tournament's final prizepool was $2,874,380, with 1.6 million of that being contributed by Valve.This meant that the 25% sales added by the community totaled $1,274,380, so if you multiplied by 4 to get the money the TI3 Compendium made, you had almost 5.1 million dollars, for what was the earliest battlepass in PC gaming.

So of course, everyone else followed suit.

10 years later and everyone's doing a battlepass, even games that aren't free to play. It's format of a virtual passport that levels up as you complete its task with rewards for every level gained is one of the most psychologically effective player engagement systems, keeping players hooked on a game by constantly giving them a checklist to work on. World of Warcraft perfected the skinner box design for grinding to keep players hooked, but Valve introduced an idea that could be used by any game, in any genre, of any size.

And it fucking sucks dude. This was originally designed for a game that charged you nothing. No grind, no unlocks, no free rotation because everyone is free, no daily mission checklist to keep you hooked because it was supremely confident you were playing for the love of the gameplay (and even now 10 years later where Dota 2 has caught up with the rest of the world in providing dailies, I still ignore them because I only play for the love of the game), it felt fair.

It wasn't attempting to seize all my time, it wasn't disruptive to normal gameplay, it was on a game that charged nothing, you could ignore it completely if you didn't care for the pro scene, back then the idea felt reasonable.

And now for most online games that don't feature some kind of battlepass system, I see complaints that the game does not give them a reason to play. Players NEED this checklist now, because there are other games they can play that give in-game rewards by accomplishing their checklists. You cannot make a game whose ONLY engagement system is an enjoyable core loop anymore, you will simply be buried if you don't keep up.

I always knew something like gacha was coming and it was going to be a thing that affected the industry. When I was still studying around 2012 and attended all these talks from the local game industry, the ideas always centered around monetization, and designing games to hook whales into spending, discussion around designing a core loop was how to make a player spend money in order to stay inside that core loop they were engaged in rather than creating a core loop that would impress a game designer. Mobile games back then were beginning to truly emerge as the new goldmine that the AAA industry ignored until even Call of Duty was threatened by the sheer profits made from the casual space. Even if nobody mentioned gachapon/trading cards /whatever, it was obvious the future of game design was towards monetizing addiction.

Battlepasses though, that one hurts. I really didn't see it taking over live service games the way it did. I remember seeing it crop up in other games and going "Why are they making their own compendium, they don't have a tournament to base it around?"

oof

[stinkycooters]

Part of the reason handmaidenry is so prevalent (like what we’re seeing right now with D*pp) is because women have collectively deluded themselves into believing that men can change. Women desperately want to believe that if they love men hard enough, if they cape for men hard enough, men will suddenly come to their senses and see their humanity. They have also bought fully into the narrative that women are just as evil and abusive as men, because its a lot easier to see domestic violence as a phenomenon that affects everyone than have to admit that, as a woman, you’re more likely to die by your male partner’s hand than anybody else. Then you would have to recognize that as something deeply off with men and that would mean having to recognize that men aren’t changing and that no matter how much you love them, they will still hold onto their misogyny.

Women are supporting D*pp not because the evidence is compelling, or because they care about domestic violence victims (when have you ever seen people as a whole cape this hard for any female domestic abuse victim?) its because they are trying to push a *narrative*. the narrative being that women are just as capable of being abusive and evil and violent as males are. That women are just as likely to be as abusive as males are (even though 90% of those dying from DV are female). Because believing that means that you don’t have to come to terms with how misogyny permeates every facet of your life, especially romantic relationships. You don’t have to acknowledge that even the lowest of men will never fight for you the way you fight for them. Men will never see you as an equal. Its painful for most women so they choose to ignore and pretend it’s equal. That the odds are not stacked against them. But its painfully obvious when you just even look at the difference between the comment section in the The D*pp trial vs any female domestic abuse victim.

For example, a while back a football player by the name Zac Stacy was caught with actual video footage brutalizing his wife with his baby in the same room. This massive football player was 2x her weight and had a foot over her in height. When going through Johnny D*pp trial videos, i could not find one single negative comment. On Zac Stacy’s footage though:

I didnt have to look hard for these, and theres way more. If you watch the video, she did not instigate the fight. She got video evidence of him attacking her unprovoked in front of her infant child. Men still took to the comments to ask ”what did she do to make him act like that” looking for some reason why this attack was her fault. Some men in the comments were even calling her a gold digger. making disgusting comments like “When gold digging goes wrong”. This was a woman brutalized in front of her baby because Stacy thought she was cheating. But that still was enough for people to blame her.

Johnny Depp? A history of violence. Admitted to abusing Amber. Has texts joking about wanting to burn and rape Amber. Accused of rape. Drug and alcohol addiction. Still not enough. Given the benefit of the doubt, still seen as a victim even with all this. You know why this is.

Men as a class will fight for you the way you fight for them. you need to stop worrying if men can change. You need to ask yourself why they wont change. you need to ask yourself when have males ever cared about domestic violence until Johnny Depp appeared. Stop chasing fantasies and look at whats in front of you.

[kendrixtermina]

(a meditation on the concept of an insult bouquet) AN IMPERTINENCE - that you even ask, that you even speak, and in the very nature of asking, betray your lack of comprehension. In assumptions implicit. Of my dreams, naught left but a fishbone stuck between your teeth, to you, just an unpleasant taste left in your mouth that you hereby wish to wash out. FOXGLOVE – INSINCERITY peeking through like black spots from a pristine pink sheath. I don’t care if you’ve actually changed this time, there is no means for me to tell how its different from all the others. No reasons to suspect that it will go any different, from the self-repeating madness that is doing the same and expecting a different result Nothing for me to gain from practically invite you to pull away the football all over again. SCARLET AURELIA – AVARICE Like floral-red paint peeling off to reveal the gold, what it is you really covet with your ossifrage claws sharpened your beak, how could you possibly be here for the goodness of your heart? That which I’ve never been shown to exist. So tumble down your claims under the weights of their own contradictions. You’re in it for yourself and thus I shall look out for me, no use relying on you to do it. TURK’S CAP – HATRED like twisting flames of red, punctuating stalks of long long green, the pain you have sown now has blossomed, bringing forth this obscene naked stamens, so was your pollen thrown to the wind to wander where it may. To clog up the lungs and cough forth contaminated slimes. It has been no bed of roses. It was you that brought it forth, now you may lie in it. A REBUKE - don’t think I didn’t realize what you did there, putting the onus on me. The ball thrown in my court. But so what? You’ve already called me worse than the devil, there’s really nowhere lower for me to fall, unless you were to make a superhell just for me. These days I rebuke you mostly for my own peace of mind, because you’re just a convenient, helpful antithesis I’ve long since given up on speaking any sense in the insensate callous mass that is you The loathing is for my sake, not yours. LONDON PRIDE – FRIVOLITY The peak of humiliation is, how you somehow remained a terror even once you were revealed as pitiful and childish. A composite wheel of knicknaks and bright colors, a mobile of nature, so haphazard were they, your words, the way you couldn’t spell the words properly when you were trying to spy after what I was looking at on the internet Your try-hard pretentiousness of copied words. how you fall for those silly conspiracies, how you change like a little banner in the wind based on what your overlords tell you the sheer predictability of your mechanical response - and how it still rent my flesh. You’re Hubert Hubert if he liked adult women LOBELIA – MALEVOLENCE It’s such a nifty stress relief is it, so convenient. So nice to make the problem go away, to just assert your will upon reality, believe whatever you need to any time you’re faced with some argument or compromise, you just shout until it goes away, make yourself impossible to deal with until theyre all sick of it, until the other chose to be the bigger person, until they unfold for you, like a pretty purple petal carpet. and you’ll never lose, since no one who remotely cares could quite sink as low as you Your glucocorticoid levels must look marvelous, you’ll live long and well and easy, growing fat on all of us LABURNUM – FORSAKEN so falls, on this, the golden curtain. She said, once, that if you didn’t change your ways, you would end up forsaken by everybody around you. She proclaimed that she would be first, and I would be last. But for all that you bitched about my absence, you’re still surrounded. I’ve given up the fantasy of you rotting in a hole, comforting as though it is as some cool teething ring to gnaw on, you’ll probably die quickly, honored and beloved, getting away with it same as all the villains of history. THE FLOWERS SHOULD BE BOUND TOGETHER BY A FADING LEAF

[the-ghost-king]

the term malewife isn’t a very nice term to use...

A man who acts as a wife and is inferior to his #girlboss girlfriend.

Person A: I just got myself a malewife. He's gonna clean my kitchen and watch me download custom content for the sims.

Person B: Sweet! You must be such a girlboss

^^urban dictionary. It’s just confirming to the sexist stereotypes that perceive and expectation of what a wife should act like. It’s quite harmful

It's a parallel to girlboss which is conformity to the sexism within corporate America:

"it becomes inescapably clear that when women center their worldview around their own office hustle, it just re-creates the power structures built by men, but with women conveniently on top. In the void left after the end of the corporate feminist vision of the future, this reckoning opens space to imagine success that doesn’t involve acing performance reviews or getting the most out of your interns." (here)

The word girlboss comes from a book quite literally called #girlboss, in parallel to the negative aspects of this book people eventually rebranded the term "malewife" to parallel it (malewife was originally an nsfw type thing)

In the malewife/girlboss "system" it's essentially the swapping of the problematic aspects, expectations, and socialization of men and women within a relationship

"Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep" was a meme started to pick on the idea that women should become men and enforce the sexism within corporate society, and I'm sure it was a jab at the book the word came from as well.... "Manipulate, mansplain, malewife" was created to parallel the original meme

So yeah, the whole concept is mocking sexism within corporations and and modern relationships and showing how ridiculous it is. Girlboss mocks the idea of 2014 (largely) white feminism within America.

In example the original meme (created on Twitter) is intended to make mockery of Karen-types:

On January 12th, 2021, Tumblr user missnumber1111 posted, "today’s agenda: gaslight gatekeep and most importantly girlboss," garnering over 43,500 notes in a month (shown below). On that day, Twitter user @CUPlDL0VE posted, "my agenda is gaslight gatekeep and #girlboss," the first instance of the phrase on Twitter.

And a day later on January 13, 2021 Tumblr user a-m-e-t-h-y-s-t-r-o-s-e reblogged the post along with a photoshopped image of "Live, Laugh, Love" wall art instead reading, "Gaslight every moment, Gatekeep every day, Girlboss beyond words" (shown below). On January 18th, the image was reposted to Twitter for the first time.

Malewife doesn't hold those same implications however... The term malewife which is now being used to parallel girlboss achieves it's origins from p*rn, now I'm not an nsfw blog or someone who blatantly discusses nsfw concepts on my blog so I'm not getting super into it but there's a few places it comes from: femdom, bdsm, and feminization kinks... All of which have a connection to queerness in their own right but I don't feel comfortable going into the complexities of that with so many younger people following me.

On February 15th, Tumblr user @relelvance posted, "Manipulate, mansplain, malewife" as a male-themed opposite to "gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss," garnering over 27,000 notes in four days. The post was screenshotted and reuploaded by Twitter user @nortoncampbell on the same day, garnering over 14,200 likes and 2,800 retweets in the same span of time (shown below).

Urban dictionary's explaination of "malewife" is not only harsher than what malewife was intended to mean, but also removes the context of origin from the word- making it something new, different, and erasing the history of who originally used this word.

Because of Malewifes origins vs Girlboss origins, malewife is a less problematic term than girlboss and is more "affectionate" because the term malewife and it's use (up until recently) involved the man acknowledging that he wanted to be the "wife" in his relationship. There's a variety of reasons someone might do this, but it can generally be summed up as a mixture of personality and also personal wants.

I do think it's important to also note that although these words are being "glamorized slightly" they're still intended and being used in a memeing manner, but they're also used to quickly denote arbitrary traits in an individual and categorize those traits...

Although there's lots of conversations to be had for a variety of reasons about the origin and use of the word "girlboss" in relation to sexism, up until recently the world "malewife" was something claimed by men, something men wanted to be called, and something that men who used the term wanted to reference them.

Malewife is about "stepping-up" to "take on" "female" social roles, and it's something that at least some women would be happy to see in society:

"...We have been told that we can have it all, but so far we have noticed that it is extremely hard work having it all, because you still have to do everything that your mother did but now you have to do everything your father did as well. Except that your father had your mother waiting at home with a gin and tonic and his slippers when he came home from work, and you have the washing up and the shopping and a few screaming brats as well as a bloke with his feet up on the sofa watching the football... " (via. Victoria Mary Clarke)

And I don't think that she's wrong at all. Women are still expected to do so much more than men in society without equal reward.

Malewife exists as a a sort of fantasy removed from the truth of society. It's an idea that a husband can be waiting at home to care for his wife, and in this instance it benefits the woman- unlike Clarke's situation above, the woman comes home from a long day and is able to relax without the pressures of society and her life.

Where housewife is a word that holds its origins in forced subservience, malewife is a term that is showcasing men "picking up the torch" in regards to housework- where housewife is socially forced, and girlboss is reversed social compliance, malewife is the rejection of social expectations.

Malewife is about men finding a place in their life's and relationships to make themselves more than a paycheck. To say "I can be emotionally there for my spouse, I can clean a toilet, and drive kids to school, and I don't treat my spouses wants as something expendable". In a society in which men are often demeaned, mocked, and scorned for picking up socially female roles (say hello to misogyny and gendered contamination!)

The Urban dictionary definition, is not only too harsh- but not the way in which the word is intending to be used, because that's ignoring the origins of this word, and the fact that men had a choice in becoming malewifes where women didn't have that choice. It should read more like:

Person A: Ah yeah, I have a malewife waiting for me, he's going to clean my kitchen because I've had a hard day at work and need a break, and then he's going to watch me download custom content for the Sims because I enjoy the game so much and it helps me take a break from life!

Women's wants were often ignored in favor of men's wants, so by the malewife saying he's going to watch his spouse play the Sims, he's really saying "I care about her interests" and by him picking up the kitchen cleaning after she's had a stressful day he's saying "I have a lower stress job so I can handle that for her and make her life a little easier" (because malewife doesn't mean he doesn't have a job).

In a society in which a man's worth is tied to his ability to bring home money and be emotionally distant, malewife is the rejection of this norm. Malewifes are going to be there for their spouse, they're going to step up and take on traditionally women's roles and they're doing it because they want to, because they like it, and because dividing chores into pink vs blue is wrong.

I also want to say, you can't flip a word around and say it does "this" because that's not how it works... Men and women are forcibly socialized in very different ways, the two binaries have very different treatment, and expectations within societies social constructs. If you could flip the forms of oppression that men vs women face (because yes, the patriarchy oppresses men) then you could also flip the forms of violence faced by trans masculine people vs trans feminine people- but that doesn't work either, because women will always be oppressed in the most public way to "make an example of them" while the patriarchy expects anyone who is male to "keep his mouth shut and fall in line". (I know that's worded poorly, but I've just written at least a couple hundred words and my brain is a bit fried already from various other things today- basically anyone perceived female or male will be treated in a certain way as a result of others perception of them)

Anyhow, all this isn't to say that the term "malewife" is inherently free of any form of flaw ever... Malewife is a newly mainstream word, it wasn't popularized until February 15 of 2021... So?? 5 days ago?? The origins of malewife and the social implications of malewife combined with the history of the word, don't make the word bad or impressive and it's not "upholding the ideals of a housewife" but instead a word which provides men freedom from male social expectations.

Can the word malewife come to be a word which enforces expected female social behavior? Yeah it absolutely can become a word to mean that, erase the history from the word, and give it to someone who doesn't know the history of the word, and someone who doesn't have an intimate understanding of gender theory, and you've got a recipe for hundreds more asks like the one you've sent me...

I can't find a single positive reason to use the word girlboss in an empowering way, but I can find more reasons to use the word malewife in an empowering way than not to do so.

So at the very least if all you come away from this with is that I don't personally use the word malewife to uphold female social expectations in a relationship but instead I use this word to provide space for guys to be allowed to be feminine, soft, caring, emotionally present, and worth more than their monetary value, then I guess that's okay.

[lee-aveyourmark]

excerpts of a mingyu work.

playlist: 

> ‘sunkissed’ by khai dreams > ‘nervous’ by shawn mendes  > ‘like me’ by pH-1 > ‘you’re the reason why i love’ by redpestbeats

wordcount: 2.7k+

“Heads up!” 

The words are shouted all too late as a football makes contact with your head, leaving you momentarily shaken as your vision flashes white. You stop in your tracks, hands immediately dropping the stack of notebooks and loose-leaf papers and flying up to clutch at the zone of impact. A wince forms on your face as you will yourself not to cry, fingers digging at your scalp. 

“Shit, I’m so so sorry.” 

The voice is laced with worry as a larger, sweatier pair of hands cover yours. Looking up, you make eye contact with a tall muscular boy adorned in sweaty football gear. His eyebrows are furrowed and is biting his lower lip in nervousness at your state of distress: injured in a messy sea of probably very important papers. The athlete quickly lets go of your head to bend down and pick up the excerpts of research papers you had printed out for your new assignment, apologising profusely all the while. 

“I really am sorry, I didn’t think it would hit you that hard. Or on the head for that matter.” 

You blink, trying to smooth your unkempt hair. 

“Wait, what?” 

The tree of a male stands back up and hands back your papers that he recollected into a neat pile with both hands and bashful eyes that are unwilling to linger on yours for too long. 

“You...hit me on purpose?” 

He scratches the back of his head, now definitely too afraid to look at you. 

“Um, yeah...I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you though!” 

You fold your arms across your chest, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment. 

“Then what exactly were you trying to do?” 

He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up, sticking out a hand. 

“I’m Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. Arts major. Star of the college football team.”

- - - 

The next time you bump into the attacking midfielder, he’s still a little sweaty. Only now, it’s just his hands that are perspiring out of anticipation. 

You’re relaxing on the couch when he catches sight of you: hair splayed out on the back pillows, hands resting comfortably on top of your stomach and eyes tracing the imaginary lines of your apartment ceiling. Mingyu takes a moment to quietly appreciate the lilac of your sundress, the glow of your collarbones and cheekbones in the dim lighting of your apartment and the pink peach painted upon your lips. 

His breath hitches in his throat when you look at him after he calls out your name, the Arts student quickly feeling himself blush under your gaze and perspire even more in his subsequent efforts to look presentable. He doesn’t think he could feel any warmer than at that very moment, holding himself back from reaching up to wipe possible beads of sweat forming on his forehead, until he hears his name escape from your lips. 

“Mingyu.” 

Your tone is soft, albeit surprised - so soft that he’s certain his heart is melting inside its chest. Mingyu wants nothing more than to run out of your apartment screaming in joy at how adorable every part of you is, arriving at his own dorm before violently shaking Seungcheol by the shoulders and furiously - but very gently, rubbing noses with his older friend’s blue British shorthair kitten Mia. Oh, and he definitely has to thank Seokmin profusely for inviting him to the party with his treat to barbecue at the grill house doted by college students placed on a week-long waiting list. 

That fantasy will just have to wait until he finishes this conversation with you. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

That is, if he even manages to make it out alive. 

- - -

Warm. That’s the only thing your mind can comprehend when he’s around you. Every detail of him, from his golden skin to his saccharine smooth talk, sends heat coursing throughout your body. The scene is so new yet so familiar: Mingyu dressed in charcoal slacks and a Prussian blue short-sleeve button up sitting opposite of you at a small round table for two in a cozy Italian restaurant nearby campus, delicately sipping on a glass of cheap, bright red wine with one hand and softly holding yours with the other. 

You hang onto his every word as he admires the mellow spring breeze and the bright starry night sky, stopping yourself from telling him how you think that they couldn’t compare to his wide and curious eyes. However, the glint in his eyes as he shifts his gaze back to you from the restaurant balcony that is fenced by chipping wood coated in a messy layer of white paint tells you that he’s already picked up on your thoughts. Embarrassment rises to your cheeks as you look down at your bowl and continue to eat your pasta, being careful to not let the sauce smear to prevent the dream of Mingyu touching your lips being fulfilled. 

Although, when Mingyu tries his best to not whine about you not giving him a chance to be romantic while walking back to your dorm but ends his complaint with a pout and the swinging of his arms, you stutter to him out of sheer amazement at his brazenness that you’ll try to be more open next time. Excitement lights up Mingyu’s face at the thought of going on another date with you, prompting him to hold you firmly by the shoulders and swoop in for a kiss on your temple. His uncontrollable giggles afterwards is like music to your ears, and you wish you didn’t reciprocate the gesture of affection so quickly that you might’ve been able to listen to his audible enjoyment just a little longer. But his agape jaw and clasping of his left cheek with both hands is more than gratifying enough. 

He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, tongue poking his cheek, and your heart stops. 

“Wow, I really I can’t believe that I like you this much.”

- - -

One of your many other meet-ups with Mingyu later is at one of his football training sessions. His face is gleaming and his team jersey is clinging to his defined body like a second skin, the neon green of his bib fluttering against the wind as he dribbles the ball with ease across the vast green field. You’re waiting on the benches, watching him finish up the last of his practice. The mock match ends with campus heartthrob Jeonghan kicking the final goal before shooting finger guns and winks at a group of girls seated at the adjacent section, the shrill blowing of the whistle bringing some players to collapse onto the soft grass beneath in relief. You rise to your feet and send a few claps the team’s way in acknowledgement of their hard work, eyes immediately locking with Mingyu’s at your show of support. 

Despite the strenuous exercise, you still manage to pick on up his cologne - the same one at the party and during dinner, when he runs over and greets you with a kiss on your cheek that lingers. His action brings on a cacophony of cheers from his teammates, the captain Seungcheol patting him on the back with a dimply smile while jogging by.

“Let me get washed up, and then we can go to that new dog cafe on the corner.” The suggestion is mumbled in a smile against the warmth of your cheek, ending with another kiss before Mingyu pulls away and rushes off to take the quickest shower of his life.

As the two of you walk in the spring breeze, you can’t help but think that the world is on your side when watching the cherry blossoms fall. The feeling of his calloused hand tightly holding yours and his attempts to close as much distance between as possible by pressing his side to yours brings butterflies to your stomach, the nervousness and excitement persisting whenever you’re with Mingyu. 

And when he leans in to plant a sweet kiss on your cheek just before taking a picture of you two crouched on the floor of a dog cafe cuddling a lovable Samoyed smothering kisses on your other cheek, you hope that the butterflies never leave.

- - - 

“I think Wonwoo likes you.” 

Your head snaps up from your notebook towards your study partner with wide eyes, your pen stopping its writing mid-word. 

“Wonwoo? My Wonwoo?” 

Mingyu doesn’t reply, just stares at you with an unknown expression clouding his face. 

“Come on Mingyu, if you’re jealous, you can just tell me. And besides, you know that there isn’t anything between us.” You laugh, refocusing on your notes with a light shake of your head. 

“That’s want I want to believe as well, but I don’t think that’s true. I think he does have feelings for you.” 

Mingyu thinks back to all those times he’s seen you with your best friend, the way that Wonwoo looked at you, his eyes all too similar to how his own shone when catching sight of you. He thinks of Wonwoo, the best friend who doesn’t bat an eyelash when insulting any person on earth but doesn’t make a single judgmental comment about you, even when you do need the discipline. Wonwoo, who tries so hard to be physically and intimately close to you as possible without being rejected, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder during lectures and sharing his drink without a second thought. Wonwoo, who Mingyu has made attempts to befriend, but can never find himself to be successful at doing so for vague reasons. Vague reasons that he now has come to understand. 

You notice Mingyu being caught up in a trance, thoughts plaguing his mind as he chews on his bottom lip. With a stroke of his cheek and a mention of his name, you bring him back. 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“How do you feel?” 

He breaks gaze with you to look at the chipping of the table, the chewing of his lip highlighting the distress that whirls inside his mind. 

“I...I don’t know. I want you. But, I don’t want to take you away from your best friend.” 

- - - 

You see him everywhere. 

Running across the football pitch, hanging out with Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the campus cafe, in deep conversation with Minghao at the library. You don’t look for very long, afraid of what might happen if he caught you staring, but your memory captures his figure quite vividly. His slowly growing fringe covering his eyes that still manage to shine through, his golden cheeks that radiate the early sunset glow, his lips that trapped between his teeth when he stumbles across an obstacle. The details appear in your dreams. 

Your subconscious thinks back to how you used to run your fingers through his hair, sweeping that fringe back so that you could gaze into his loving eyes better, how you used to place lip gloss stained marks on those cheeks which would shine on summer nights as he smiled in contentment, how you used to catch his bottom lip between your teeth on a slow Friday night. Even when you close your eyes, you still remember the darkness of his hair and the tan of skin as clear as day. 

But as you continue to walk past the football team in practice, as you decide to hang out with Seokmin at a cafe off campus, as you choose to move your Thursday study session to your dorm, the fear of forgetting such beauties grows within. 

Slugging back to the dorm after a long day of classes and grueling part-time work, the cycle continues as you toss your bag to one side of the couch and meet Seokmin’s arms at the other where he places slow, comforting pats on your head and back.

“Mingyu, huh?”

- - -

The coolness of the window does little to alleviate the blazing heat flaming your entire body as the taxi drives you to the campus dorms. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and try to relax yourself against the oddly slippery seat of the car, your mind drifting to the events which occurred just before. 

“Fuck, I can’t give you the love you want from me. You know I can’t.” 

You stare at the blue ocean breeze candle decorating the console table in the entrance of your dorm, it’s flickering flame barely illuminating the eyebags sunken into both yours and Wonwoo’s faces. 

Your best friend doesn’t respond, instead he just fixes his gaze on the same light.

You wish he would say something. Anything. Anything to help let you know where his mind is right now, because you’ve grown weary of trying to read Wonwoo over the past few weeks. You can’t seem to understand Wonwoo anymore, especially when he refrains from sharing his feelings with you. 

The thought of the change in your relationship with him brings tears to slip out, streaming down your cheeks. Your hands quickly lift to wipe away the hot streams, nose sniffling from what you wish was the cold of winter season. 

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Just stares. His fingers tremble slightly, and his eyes glisten, but he doesn’t reach out towards you. 

So you take a deep breath. 

“You should go back to Hayoung. She’s probably waiting for you.” 

Wonwoo clenches his jaw, then unhinges. Closes his eyes, then opens them. Takes a slow breath. In and out. 

Seokmin comes around the corner, the couple of drinks in his system bringing rose to tint his caramel visage. He catches you slipping on your shoes and putting on your coat, and moves forward past Wonwoo to wraps his arms around you. 

“Where are you going?” His question is muffled into your neck. 

You return the auburn-haired boy’s hug, planting a firm kiss on his cheek before stepping back to take hold of his hands. 

“I’ll be back, okay? Don’t wait up. And make sure that Woozi eats something, he can’t drink on a handful of Flamin Hot Cheetos.” 

Seokmin nods with a pout, embracing you tightly once more. Walking back to the party in the living room, he stops to give a consoling pat on Wonwoo’s shoulder then continues on towards the said Music major reaching for his fourth shot of soju for the night. 

You clear your throat, partially due to the lack of liquid consumed in the past half hour, and also in attempt to rid the fear lurking in the pit of your stomach. With your eyes trained on the floorboards beneath, you step closer to Wonwoo and reach out to grab his forearm. 

With another clear of your throat, you look up at him. Tears gloss over his eyes, threatening to spill, but never falling. You see the miniscule quiver of his chin, a sight only beheld when being at such a proximity; a sight that you don’t think you will really ever be able to see again in all its vulnerability. 

“Goodbye Wonwoo.” 

- - -

He looks so out of place, sitting in the small retro diner wearing a grey taupe two-piece and shiny black dress shoes with his hair slicked back accessorised with a pair of tired eyes as he stuffs four fries into his mouth and sighs. You hear parts of the conversation they’re having, mainly of Seungcheol trying to cheer him up by praising him for doing well in the interview, but the arch of his spine renders the older friend’s attempts obsolete.

“Mingyu.” 

Your voice is quiet but he catches on, blinking in bewilderment before sighing loudly once more. 

“Hyung, I think I’m going-” 

“Mingyu.” 

You’re moving towards him this time, the sound of your shoes against the tiled floor bringing him to perk his head up and look around the diner with frantic eyes. 

His gaze falls on you, and your feet stop its movement. 

As he stands up and walks over, you notice that attached to his navy tie is the silver tie clip engraved with the initials kmg that you bought for his birthday, and that as he wraps his arms around your beneath your coat to sweep you off your feet, he still wears the cologne you bought as an accompanying gift. 

You also notice, as you bury your head in his neck, that tears are dampening the shoulder of your thin wool coat and his body is shaking with each sob that he racks out. 

"Oh, Mingyu.”

Thank you for reading this! I hope you’ve enjoyed it, even though it’s at its bare bones. I don’t think I ever will rewrite this the future to fill in the gaps, so I’ll leave it to your imagination. Thank you again. 

Also, stay tuned for the version of this more focused on Wonwoo’s relationship. 

[to44y]

39 Role-Play Fantasies Every Gay Couple Should Try

By Alexander Cheves

39 Role-Play Fantasies Every Gay Couple Should Try

I snuck into the bedroom on all fours. I was tired. It had been a long day. My boyfriend at the time was sleeping on the bed. I started sniffing his neck until a sleepy grin formed on his face. When I knew he was awake, I licked him �� a long, sloppy, wet lick up his cheek — then ran to the living room. 

I heard him behind me. “Where are you going, puppy?” I was being bad. I was on all fours, shaking my ass on the sofa in his direction. He pulled out his dick and said, “Here boy.” 

This is role play. Specifically, this is “puppy play” — a form of role play I love the most. Role play can be spontaneous or pre-planned, and as elaborate as you make it. At its simplest, role play happens when two adults consensually engage in an eroticized pretend game, a shared sex fantasy. And it is not limited to two adults — group role play offers some of the hottest sex experiences imaginable.  

Everything in the world can inspire role play. You could do sofa role play and have someone sit on you. The most iconic gay role play scenarios have been done and redone endlessly by gay porn companies because they work — “Daddy and Son” will never get old — but that does not mean you can’t try them out for yourself. Try these 39 role play scenarios for the adventurous gay couple. Use your imagination! 

A Word of Warning From Writer Alexander Cheves

My name is Alexander Cheves, and I am known by friends in the kink and leather community as Beastly. I am a sex-positive writer and blogger. The views in this slideshow do not reflect those of The Advocate and are based solely off of my own experiences. Like everything I write, the intent of this piece is to break down the stigmas surrounding the sex lives of gay men.

Those who are sensitive to frank discussions about sex are invited to click elsewhere, but consider this: If you are outraged by content that address sex openly and honestly, I invite you to examine this outrage and ask yourself whether it should instead be directed at those who oppress us by policing our sexuality.

For all others, enjoy the slideshow. And feel free to leave your own suggestions of sex and dating topics in the comments.

Hungry for more? Follow me on Twitter @BadAlexCheves and visit my blog, The Beastly Ex-Boyfriend. 

1. Construction Workers

As I write this, the house next door is being renovated. If you listened to them, you would think a gay porno was being shot outside my window. Lots of laughing and group camaraderie with one poor guy (the sub) making pained, grunting noises. He’s being paddled with what sounds like a wooden paddle wrapped in sandpaper. Just when I think the mean top is about to ease up, the sound of an electric drill starts, and the guys start laughing again. They’re playing old school country music and I imagine there’s lots of spitting. One of them literally says, “It’s a bitch.” 

Construction worker role play is a great group role play to get into if you can conjure up some buddies and orange vests — and you can even redo your kitchen in the process.

2. Sports Teammates

There seems to be more “locker room” gay porn than any other sub-genre. You know the scenario: a young freshman walks in the locker room among the beefy seniors on his football team, who have a nasty initiation ritual planned for him after practice. 

Accouterments of this play involve sports gear (a fetish all on its own), knee-high socks, gym shorts, copious amounts of sweat, and that wonderful camaraderie that forms when the group’s submissive guy gets bent over a bench press. 

3. Frat Boys

The gay porn site Fraternity X has capitalized on the fantasy of frat boy hazing. All their videos have the same basic narrative: a group of horny college guys are sitting around in a trash-strewn commons area drinking beer and watching TV when one bro starts running his mouth. Before long, his hands are tied and his mouth stuffed with someone’s underwear while everyone takes turns fucking him in a swivel chair. “Come on bro, it’s not gay if it’s with your brothers.” 

4. Brothers

When my ex-boyfriends and I visited new cities where no one knew us, we would sometimes say we were brothers. It was funny sometimes, a lark — other times, it was really sexy. At the local gay watering hole, we would tell the guys interested in us that we were related and see how many of them believed it. I’m not sure many did — especially when we got a little drunk and started making out on the dance floor — but they wanted to. Many guys have a brother fantasy. This is an easy one to role play in the bedroom, and there are endless imagined scenarios available to you: Big brother is visiting home from college and has to share your bedroom for a night. You two are close and like to wrestle, and one day the wrestling goes a little too far when one of you gets excited.

5. Strangers

Anonymous public hookups are rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Our mediated, digitalized hookup culture has all but replaced discreet staring contests in the gym and public cruising in parks and bathrooms. Many formerly cruisey places are more heavily watched now, and your success rate is inevitably lower. 

Also, some guys have some discomfort with completely anonymous sex. The risk of sexually transmitted infections is a factor — although, to be sure, someone who says they love you poses the same risk unless they’ve been rigorously tested. 

One solution to all these is to do anonymous role play with someone you know. If you want to play in public, plan to meet up somewhere that you are fairly certain will offer some privacy. If your fantasy is to anonymously pick up a stranger and take him back home, this is easier: just plan to meet somewhere (the gym, a bookstore) and watch him from across the room. Pretend you don’t know each other, and when the time is right, make that classic, subtle head nod — “Let’s get out of here.” 

6. Coach and Player

Another common gay porn scenario: the gruff, frustrated football coach tells his star quarterback to stay after practice for some additional training. For obvious reasons, this scenario works great for group role play as well. Who says the coach only has one MVP? 

7. Pup and Handler

Like many scenes in the world of kink, puppy play at its simplest is a form of role play. It falls under a broader category of role play types called “pet play.” In pet play, humans act stereotypically like different animals before and during sex. 

Like all forms of role play, puppy play is as simple or complex as you make it. Some pups — myself included — love the pup headspace and extend it past the bedroom into daily life. We do this by wearing collars, barking at/sniffing guys on the dance floor, and sitting/kneeling whenever our handlers/boyfriends say, “Sit.” 

There is an inherent power dynamic in puppy play, and many pups would say there is a Dominant/submissive relationship. Pups are automatically submissive to handlers. A good pup loves getting scratches, treats (sexual or otherwise), and led around on a leash by a handler. And while this is certainly not always the case, handlers are typically tops and pups bottoms (alpha pups being a common exception — see number 11). 

Puppy play is implicitly, if not explicitly, a sex role play, but some pups and handlers have removed the sex aspect of it and turned puppy play into a practice more akin to yoga — a de-stressing activity that frees them from the daily rigor of life. While I’m certainly not one such pup, I think that reveals something important about role play itself. There can be a therapeutic aspect to adult pretend games, if only because they remove you from your daily headspace and allow you to be imaginative. We know the positive effects that playing has on children, but few cultures have spaces for adults to do the same. 

8. Kitty and Cat Owner

This is like puppy play, but the submissive guy acts like a cat. This features of this role play are endless: rubber or latex cat suits, tail plugs, and felt mice dangling on a string. 

9. Pony and Rider

Pony play follows the same basic form as the other pet play types. Human ponies love neighing, wearing bits in their mouths (ones designed specifically for human pony play, as actual metal bits will break teeth), and being taken for a ride. The rubber, latex, and leather gear for pony play gets pretty elaborate and very costly, but I know some guys who have an almost quasi-religious dedication to pony play and are willing to fork over the cash. If Equus and all the endless bestiality porn on the internet reveals anything, it’s that horses inspire something very carnal and sexual in us humans. 

10. Pig and Farmer

In modern gay lexicon, a “pig” is a guy who loves bareback sex and male bodily fluids (cum, piss, spit, and sometimes scat), so it should come as no surprise that pig play has evolved as a form of pet play that typically involves all these things. Say “oink” when the farmer comes around with his fisting gloves — you’re in for a wild night. 

11. Beta Pup and Alpha Pup

There is nothing more fun than pupping out with another pup, which means barking, roughhousing, wrestling, licking, and rolling around on the bed with another guy that shares the pup headspace. If you’re a beta pup (submissive), you hope to pup out with an alpha — one that gets dominant when you start sniffing his groin. 

12. Slave and Master

The range of power dynamics in the world of kink can be explained by placing them on a spectrum. On one end, you have puppy play — a mild role play with a relaxed Dom/sub dynamic (some guys say there is not a Dom/sub dynamic at all). On the opposite end, you have Master/slave. Although extreme, Master/slave is still a role play — one that typically involves hardcore BDSM, leather, rubber, extreme bondage and restraint, temporary imprisonment, and long-term domestic service (washing, cleaning, yard labor, etc.), all in service of the Dom/Master. 

13. Doctor and Patient

You’ve undoubtedly seen these scenarios in porn. The restrained male patient needs an anal exam from the rugged doctor, who is conspicuously naked beneath his white coat and stethoscope. Doctor and patient role play is enhanced by a plethora of sex toys and kink supplies that fall under the “medical fetish” umbrella — speculums, metal douching nozzles, anal probes, white latex gloves, etc. 

14. Soldier and Drill Sergeant

This is a clear Dom/sub role play where the sergeant barks orders and the sub — I mean, the soldier — obeys. When sergeant tells you to drop down and lick his boots, you better drop down and lick his boots, private. Atten-shun! 

15. Ransom Victim and Kidnapper

Ransom/kidnap scenes typically involve a lot of bondage and duct tape. The full parameters of the play should be discussed before starting. Some guys might think the idea of being kidnapped and tied up is hot, but after three hours in a closet with duct tape over your mouth, you might feel differently. In the pre-play negotiation talks, you should set clear limits and boundaries. This role play is one that can be taken to extreme lengths — some guys love getting abducted from a public place and thrown in the back of a car — so you should only play with someone you know and trust (not a stranger or someone you met online). 

16. Daddy and Son

Many tops like being called “daddy” in the throes of sex, but daddy/son role play scenarios go a bit further. There is a lot of written and video daddy/son porn online, so explore the internet for ideas, because the scenarios are endless: Daddy sneaks into his son’s room at night while mommy is sleeping. Son comes home from college one day and catches his dad in the shower and decides to join. Son sneaks into his dad’s room one night to see his dad jerking off. Son forgets to clean his room and daddy decides it’s time for a spanking. Daddy and son are washing daddy’s car and they both get soaked and have to strip off their wet clothes. The fantasies are unlimited! 

17. Merman and Fisherman

Don’t lie, you’ve fantasized about walking down the beach and coming across a poor mer-boy washed ashore who needs help getting back out to sea. He will do whatever it takes. You might need to carry him. But first…. 

Aretwork courtesy of Fred Lammers. See more of his work here.

18. Baby and Parent

Baby role play commonly overlaps with diaper fetish and sometimes scat (feces) fetish. An adult baby will crawl around, cry, and eventually need someone to change his diaper.

19. Intern and CEO

For all its wincing misrepresentation of BDSM relationships, Fifty Shades of Grey touched upon a longstanding role play with a clear Dom/sub dynamic — low-level intern and executive CEO. Business tycoon and office boy. “Cancel my 3:30 meeting and crawl under my desk, boy.” 

20. Porn Star and Director

This one works great if you and your boyfriend like to film yourselves having sex. Strip for the camera as he directs you. He may eventually decide that this shoot really needs a second man, at which point he’ll begrudgingly have to step in as an actor/director. This role play obviously lends itself to groups, especially if you like to watch and direct others and be in control. 

21. Santa and Naughty Child

Christmas role play! When Santa finds out how bad you’ve been this year, he’ll have something more than coal to fill your stocking with. While a santa hat and some black leather boots should get you started, a hefty amount of playfulness and creativity is all you need to get on the naughty list this year. 

22. Cousins

This is like “brothers” role play, but considerably easier to accomplish if you do not, in fact, look anything like your boyfriend. Some guys are wigged out by immediate-family incest scenarios, but cousins? No problem. It’s perfectly acceptable to disappear off to the basement or woods during family reunions for some quality time, right?

23. Batman and Robin

The dynamic duo has been the source of superhero role play for much of the caped crusader’s long career. Their whole setup is kind of obvious, and pretty gay in itself: a wealthy older bachelor takes in a poor young house boy just to fight crime (in spandex and black rubber) every night? Please. 

See more of Philip Bonneau’s great photography here.

 

24. Batman and Superman

This power couple has inspired a plethora of gay fantasies (who’s the top? who’s the bottom?) and if you’re into cosplay, this role play is an easy one to get into. Unsurprisingly, a gay porn parody of the recent Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice movie just hit shelves.

25. Uncle and Nephew

There’s a lot of gay porn modeled after the proverbial “gay uncle” that comes by the house and messes around with his in-the-closet teenage nephew. As you can see, anyone into incest fantasies has unlimited role play options to choose from.

26. Married Couple

This is only role play if you are not, in fact, married. Everything under the sun — including the sun — can be fetishized and inspire eroticism, especially a married couple (as opposed to boyfriends or simply two gay men who play together). This milder role play involves acting like a married couple before or after sex. If you’re non-monogamous, go out and introduce each other as your husbands the next time you’re in a new city, and interested guys will flock to you. Many guys, myself included, love being the third (or forth, or fifth) for a married couple.

27. Pirate and Cabin Boy

All hands on deck! This more imaginative role play goes great with costumes and props. What submissive guy has never fantasized about being the lowly cabin boy on a ship full of rough and restless pirates? The group scenarios are very sexy, and the role play necessitates a lot of rope and a gag — opt for a torn strip of cotton cloth instead of a ball gag. 

28. Teacher and Student

The handsome, bespectacled professor needs you to stay after class. You’ve been misbehaving and it’s time for a lesson in manners. If you want to paddle your student’s bum over a wooden desk, do not use an actual yardstick, because they break easily. Invest in a good wooden or rubber paddle designed for the job. 

29. Firefighter and Rescue Victim

You do not need to light your house on fire to enjoy this role play. It will simply require some creativity, and perhaps a firefighter’s costume, which you should be able to find at your nearest costume store.

30. Policeman and Criminal

“Officer, please don’t give me a speeding ticket. I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

This old-school role play scenario is not complete without a good set of handcuffs and a black police baton — or, even better, a baton dildo. Thanks to Tom of Finland’s Kake Comics, homoerotic group police scenarios will always be part of the gay canon. 

31. Warden and Inmate

There is a lot of “prison” and “psych ward” porn on the Internet that typically involves groups, handcuffs, straight jackets, cages, and intense BDSM and ass torture (one particularly intense enema porn scene comes to mind). These should give you some inspiration when it’s time to teach your unruly prisoner a lesson. 

32. Hitchhiker and Motorcyclist

This is another Tom of Finland inspiration — one that old-guard leather enthusiasts will be familiar with. Grab a pair of daisy dukes and stick your thumb out on the side of the road — your leather-clad biker boy will surely come along and take you for a ride. 

33. Priest and Sinner

The darkly kinky undertones of penitence and adulation, glory through suffering, and asking for forgiveness on one’s knees has created an massive fetish sub-genre in which religious iconography is integrated beautifully into sex play. This darker role play can get very raunchy with a priest’s robe, a rosary, robe, anal beads, a good leather flogger, a gag, and an unbridled imagination — crown of thorns not required. 

34. Rape Fantasy

Many forms of role play involve overpowering someone or being overpowered, but as soon as you add the word “rape” to any label, it pushes the descriptor into uncomfortable territory, and in the case of “rape fantasy,” intentionally so. “Rape” is a socially and politically charged word that automatically evokes something ugly and violent — as it should. While the kinky community has always embraced pushing the sexual envelope, we draw the line at consent. We stand by three tenets: play must be Safe, Sane, and Consensual.  

That last tenet, “Consensual,” is one that does the most work combating the still-heavy stigma and misunderstandings that people seem to have for kink — namely that it is a culturally condoned form of abuse and rape. While this misconception is not true, at least for not the international majority of kinky men and women, it is simply a fact that many people fantasize about non-consent scenarios. Talking about them and addressing them goes into murky territory. If you engage in “rape fantasy” role play, it must be role play — that is, it must be consensual, a carried-out fantasy, a sexual pretend game. While you and your boyfriend can pretend that your play is non-consensual, and use bondage gear and other kink supplies to enhance that idea, you should also use safe words and establish and respect limits to make sure that what your are doing is safe and healthy.

35. Interrogator and Prisoner

Interrogation typically involves some degree of bondage and BDSM. We’ve all seen hot interrogation scenes in action movies, where the hero is tied in some kind of predicament while the bad guy and his thugs question him. He always escapes at the last minute, but while he’s tied to the chair, guys into interrogation scenes are intensely aroused. This role play may seem more like a performance than a sex play, it can also get pretty intense. Some questions can strike a painful and emotional chord in someone, especially if they are hooded and blindfolded. You should discuss beforehand emotional limits as well as physical ones: What “no-tread” topics can the top/interrogator not ask?

36. Home Invasion

You’ve see it in porn: the handsome thief in a black ski mask breaks in and sees the muscular home owner sleeping in bed (with an all-too-obvious erection beneath the sheets) and decides to take what he wants. Sometimes this scenario gets flipped on its head — the home owner knows Jiu-Jitsu or something and handcuffs the thief to the bed: “You’re going to pay for this, punk.”

While it certainly nudges closer to “rape fantasy,” some guys into home invasion are not aroused by the sex aspect of it. Some guys get off on being held up or mugged, and their fantasy may simply involve someone entering their home and stealing their money. 

37. Airport Security

If you’ve ever had a fantasy of traveling to Berlin and being stopped by the German airport personnel, strip searched by seven muscular men in uniform in a sterile backroom, and rectally examined on a cold chrome table, you might be into role play scenarios involving airport security. 

38. Fantasy Characters

The idea of being fucked by a minotaur is in the upper echelon of my hottest fantasies (their pantheon includes getting fucked by an faun, getting fucked by Rocco Steele, and being stranded on a desert island with all the guys from high school and seeing who makes me his bitch first). Fantasy and its counterparts — anime, comics, video games, mythology — are playgrounds of hot role play. Carried out, they might seem pretty elaborate and require some dedication, and probably some makeup and prosthetics, but what better weekend pastime could you have? Imagine the refusal texts: “Sorry guys, Danny and I can’t come downtown tonight, he wants to role play as a satyr so I’m dressing up as an orc and fucking the shit out of him.” 

Orcs, by the way, are so hot. 

39. Daddy-Home-Early and Yard Boy

This is one of the oldest in the book. Bill comes home from work, loosens his power tie, drops his briefcase by the door, and sees the new yard boy his wife just hired through the kitchen window — young, shirtless, and bent over transplanting sod. Bill gets stirrings he never felt before, and before long he’s stroking his enormous penis in the window when the young man turns and sees him. The two have an uncomfortable five-second staring contest, then Bill calls him in — perhaps for a glass of lemonade — and the young man struts and sweats across the yard and closes the screen door behind him. 

And that, gentlemen, is how gay porn was made.

[trensu]

Episode 49: The One with Too Much JGY and Not Enough Wangxian

Very little wangxiantics in this episode, guys, there’s like, VERY LITTLE wangxiantics

The fact that the show is bringing us down to breadcrumbs again is Homophobic 

But let’s get through this!

blah blah blah jgy acts all pathetic blah blah blah lxc engages jgy in a convo blah blah

lwj has to go in and be like, bro, please, don't talk to him

and wwx is like, yeah, you literally just told jc not to talk to him, follow your own advice dude 

lxc is like, hm, you make a good point...i shall continue talking to jgy regardless

jgy continues with his pity party speech and i continue not to care

BUT THEN LXC KNEELS DOWN TO SPEAK WITH JGY MORE INTIMATELY????

WTF LXC STOP THAT RIGHT NOW

lwj is like BRO

lxc is like I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING BRO

and i'm like DO YOU THO?

now he's going to question jgy and counting on him answering truthfully??

WHAT HAS HE DONE TO MAKE YOU THINK HE'LL DO ANYTHING BUT LIE, ZEWU JUN??

so we get a much less entertaining Q&A session accompanied by jgy's flashbacks 

(can we go back to lwj's drunken Q&A sesh? I’d much rather question drunk!lwj than sober!jgy)

the only point i had any actual sympathy was when jgy brings up qin su and her mom bc qin su and her mother deserved better

Ooh, lxc is getting super judgy about jgy killing jgs

This is where you draw the line, lxc?? c’mon.

i mean, judge him for how he did it, sure

there was no need to involve all those innocent women in the murder

but really, killing jgs was the only good act of public service jgy did

give credit where it's due, pal.

HELL YEAH IT'S BITCH-SLAP JGY TIME AGAIN

LOL EVEN WWX AND LWJ LOOK SURPRISED THAT LXC DID THAT

oh noooo lxc is asking about jzx and oh, wwx is PISSED

Wwx grabs the front of jgy's robes and hauls him up and yells in his face “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO? SAY IT!”

cue flashback scene to jgy tricking jzx 

AND NOW MY BRATTY SON IS YANKING THE FRONT OF JGY'S ROBES SCREAMING WHY? WHY? TELL ME WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO IT??

HIS VOICE IS ALL CRACKED AND HOARSE AND HE'S CRYING 

I WANT TO WRAP HIM UP IN BLANKETS AND COZY THINGS AND PROTECT HIM FROM ALL THE BAD THINGS IN THE WORLD

jl collapses to his knees and my beautiful sunshine boy falls to his side and scoops him into his arms 

BC WWX LOVES HIS BRATTY NEPHEW AND GOD DAMN IT, JL DESERVES HUGS AND AFFECTION

oh jgy was about to touch jl's face and i was like DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE I WILL CUT THAT HAND OFF YOU

but then he pulled away bc i am very fearsome actually wwx was glaring at him 

and ofc jgy can't have people being sympathetic to anyone NOT him so he's like, what about me, huh? you never ask why I personally had to suffer!

Cue another flashback in which JGS IS A FUCKING DOUCHEBAG 

I HOPE HE ROTS IN ANCIENT FANTASY CHINA HELL

HALF OF THE PROBLEMS WERE A RESULT OF HIM NOT BEING ABLE TO KEEP IT IN HIS FUCKING PANTS

ROBES

WHATEVER

ugh i hate jgy too

he's essentially telling jin ling that oh, i killed your father bc your grandfather was scum of the earth

AS IF JZX AND JL DESERVED TO SUFFER FOR JGS'S SINS

FUCK YOU JGY

suddenly jgy takes my bratty son hostage!!

wwx shouts "JIN LING" as he jerks towards his only nephew

BUT IT'S TOO LATE, jgy already has that garrote AROUND JL'S NECK

WIPE THAT SMUG SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE SU SHE

I WILL END YOU

god i need to stop threatening people, i have no ability to back it up

lol jc is like WWX YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE ALL HIS WEAPONS AWAY!!

and wwx is like I DID! 

siblings always find time to bicker, even in dire situations

lwj tells them that jgy hid the garrote inside his body 

bc lwj is smart and observant

but ewwww, the idea of yanking that gold string out of a vein squicks the hell out of me

yuckyuckyuck it makes my skin crawl

jgy tightens the string around my bratty son's neck and everyone freaks out, obvs 

oh jc loves his nephew so much! he's all like, if you need a hostage take me instead and leave jin ling alone!!

JC IS A GREAT UNCLE, JC LOVES HIS FAMILY SO MUCH, JC DESERVES TO RECONCILE WITH HIS BROTHER AND HAVE A LOVING HAPPY FAMILY

jgy is like, nah bc of Reasons

then my sunshine boy is like, hey aren't you forgetting smth jgy? what about your loyal lackey here?

but ss is an idiot and is like, don't worry about me boss!

and jgy is all, cool thx lackey

now lxc and jgy do some more chitchat i don't care about

suddenly there is ominous knocking on the doors AND A WILD LAN SIZHUI APPEARS!!!

He got chucked into the temple like the football lol

NOW WEN NING IS HERE! HE’S COVERED WITH RESENTFUL ENERGY, CARRYING BAXIA LIKE A BADASS

Dude, for real, wn looks so cool here

letting the tip of the saber scrape ominously against the stone ground and walking with slow measured steps

and baxia is freaking glowing

nhs calls him "brother" but i'm pretty sure he knows it's not nmj and just said it to freak jgy out

wwx ofc recognizes wen ning

AHHHHHH WWX IS DOING HIS EERIE WHISTLE AGAIN, I LOVE IT WHEN HE DOES THAT

SO COOL, WWX, SO COOL!!

his brow is all furrowed when he sees wn is not reacting and he starts to whistle more earnestly

wwx: what's happening? why is wn not listening to me? could it be...?

cut to lwj, looking all serious bc hey, this is actually a serious situation 

lwj: he is possessed by the blade spirit

wn roars and vaults over the distance between him and jgy with baxia raised high and it looks freaking AWESOME

lol we get a quick shot here of nhs panicking and ducking behind su she

jgy lets go of the gold string around jl's neck to flee from wn which gives wwx an opening

Wwx dives forward and wraps himself around jin ling

Then he twirls them to the side away from incoming baxia and crashes them both to the ground where they're safe

as this is happening, lwj sees his opening and draws bichen

we get a quick moment where wwx and jc are both fussing over jl, it’s super sweet!

AND THEN WE GET A SHOT OF JGY'S DISEMBODIED ARM 

THE CAMERA STARTS TO TILT UPWARDS 

WE SEE THE HEM OF LWJ'S PRISTINE WHITE ROBES FRAMED BY BICHEN 

BICHEN HAS RIVULETS OF BLOOD STREAMING DOWN THE BLADE

THE CAMERA CONTINUES TO TILT UPWARD UNTIL WE SEE LWJ STANDING TALL, FACE GRIM AND SERIOUS AND JUST OVERALL HOLDING HIMSELF IN AN IMPOSING BADASS WAY

wwx is looking at him like HOLY SHIT LWJ

Which is a totally reasonable reaction bc holy shit lwj

HA, now jgy only has one arm

I may not be able to follow up on my threats but it is gratifying to see lwj follow through for me lololol

gross, ss is all begging for medicine to help jgy

stfu ss, nobody likes either of you two

wn's blow struck the ground and cracked it before so now he's back up doing his steady creepy walk to finish what he was going to do

lwj's brow furrows and he sits himself down, cross-legged and summons his guqin

lol i love how he summons his instrument tbh

he just wooshes his flowy sleeves and his guqin glitters into existence

it looks very Magical Girl and i appreciate that

someone needs to draw lwj in a Magical Girl outfit IMMEDIATELY

lxc gets his flute out and our lan bros do a duet to chill out the angry sword spirit

LOL WEN NING JUST STEPS ON JGY'S CHOPPED OFF ARM

DO IT AGAIN WN 😆😆😆

let me just say, i'm really enjoying watching jgy and ss cower away from the oncoming wen ning

but oh noo! jl calls out for his evil uncle and draws wn's attention and wn tries to attack him

i guess baxia senses jgy's blood on jl's robes or smth? Idk, doesn’t matter

wwx tries to do some sort of spell to stop wn but it doesn't work and in a fit of panic he yells out “WEN QIONGLIN!”

thankfully this snaps wn out of it enough that he stops baxia like, one inch from my bratty son's face

the lan bros are still doing their Magic Music thing and wn is trying to reign in baxia but baxia's pissed off so everyone’s struggling 

wwx starts his whistling again and it's rattling Plot Device 3

lxc tries to stop wwx but lwj shakes his head at his brother like no, back off

wwx turns to look at lwj, lwj meets his eyes and gives him a single solemn nod

AND WWX SMILES AT HIM BC HIS SOULMATE BELIEVES IN HIS ABILITIES AND TRUSTS HIM!!!

this is the first legit proper wangxiantic moment in the whole episode, what the heck

GIVE ME MORE WANGXIAN AND LESS JGY, PLZ & THX

jc: wei wuxian!!

wwx turns to see his brother and jc FLINGS THE DEMON FLUTE AT WWX bc apparently he's been carrying chenqing around THIS WHOLE TIME??

wwx nods to him (and omg jc is helping him, this is good, this is a step in the right direction!!) and brings chenqing to his lips

we get a shot of lwj staring at wwx as wwx starts to play 

and the background music starts to get SUPER INTENSE and EXCITING as wwx plays

CHENQING STARTS TO OOZE THAT SMOKY RESENTFUL MAGIC STUFF

we get a shot of JC watching wwx play and this is the softest we've seen him look at his brother since he came back from the dead

he's looking at him like it's finally hitting him that wwx is back, his big brother is alive and here and protecting him and jin ling bc that's what family is supposed to do

AND IF I CAN’T HAVE WANGXIANTICS, I WILL ACCEPT YUNMENG BROS TIME AS RECOMPENSE

oooh, Plot Device 3 starts to zoom around and we get a fun bit of camera work so it seems like we're seeing everything from Plot Device 3's perspective

which is kind of adorable for some reason???

it's just zipping along and it sees wwx and wwx guides its attention to where wn is struggling to control baxia

wwx starts to walk, getting both baxia and Plot Device 3 to follow him further into the temple

lwj sees this happening and whooshes away his guqin and follows bc he's always going to follow wwx obvs

WWX IS SO AWESOME, I LOVE WATCHING HIM WORK

EVERYBODY IS STARING AT HIM IN AWE AS THEY SHOULD BE BC MY SUNSHINE BOY IS SKILLED AS HECK

he manages to get baxia into the coffin with nmj before he starts coughing up blood 

But before we can freak out about that, nhs scream in the background 

so everyone runs to check out what's happening there

nhs is all SS WHY'D YOU TRY TO KILL ME OMG MY LEG IS ALL CUT UP NOW, EVERYTHING IS AWFUL, HELP HELP

and ss is like BUT I DIDN'T, HE'S LYING!!!

lol baxia just leaps out of the coffin buries itself in ss's chest

AND THAT’S IT FOR SU SHE

good fucking riddance

But also baxia is nmj's saber

DID IT HEAR NHS AND BE LIKE, NO I CAN'T LET MY MASTER'S BELOVED LITTLE BROTHER GET HURT BY THIS USELESS NOBODY???

BAXIAAAAAA

WHAT A GOOD SABER YOU ARE *CRIES*

wwx starts up his demon flute again even tho baxia seems much more chill now that it has finally killed someone 

But let's watch wwx be a badass on the flute anyway

look at my sunshine boy go! 

look at him corral all that resentful energy!

love my sunshine boy

baxia is finally subdued and wwx lays it and Plot Device 3 in the coffin with nmj

he covers the coffin using some of his wicked awesome red magic stuff

but it's taking a lot out of him i guess bc he stumbles back and lwj is right there to catch him 

bc they're soulmates and they love each other 

aND GOD THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER HERE

JUST, UGH

EVERY TIME THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER MY HEART GETS PALPITATIONS

And this is the only other wangxiantic moment in this episode, wtf show

cut to the next scene, everyone's patching up wounds and whatever

lol we can hear nhs whining like a baby bc omg it hurts it hurts, lxc be more gentle

and lxc is like, chill bro it's just a stab wound

nhs is like JUST a stab wound?? r u kidding me, i'm DYING!!

Which is exactly how i would react to a stab wound lol

now lxc is with jgy and he's like jgy if you do ONE more bad thing, i will definitely finally punish you mercilessly

then he starts checking out his armless shoulder bc lxc really is too good and not all that bright apparently

lol when wwx sees lxc tending to jgy's wounds and his face is like ugh i can't believe this guy

AND THIS IS WHEN WE GET THAT AMAZING AWESOME SHOT OF NHS'S FACE GOING ALL SERIOUS AND, LIKE, VENOMOUS

WE ONLY SEE PART OF HIS FACE, THE OTHER PART COVERED BY LXC'S OUT OF FOCUS FACE

AND NHS GLOWERS AT JGY

oh, my poor sunshine boy is wincing and holding a cloth to his STILL SLUGGISHLY BLEEDING NECK WOUND

SOMEBODY GIVE MY SUNSHINE BOY MEDICINE 

TAKE WHATEVER LXC GAVE TO JGY AND GIVE IT TO MY SUNSHINE BOY STAT

lsz is watching him very intently bc he's figuring out some things about himself and wwx that LWJ DIDN'T HAVE THE GOOD GRACE TO EXPLAIN TO EITHER OF THEM YET

lwj ofc has got his eyes glued on wwx bc, i mean, what else is there worth looking at in the Temple of Doom?

And i guess this counts as a wangxiantic too bc lsz is basically wangxian’s love child anyway!

lxc has the gall to ask nhs to hand him the medicine bottle to tend to FUCKING JGY'S (AKA HIS BIG BROTHER’S MURDERER) WOUNDS

GOD JUST LET JGY BLEED OUT AND DIE ALREADY

nhs is like sure! grabs the medicine bottle and hides it in his robes 

he makes a whole show out of rooting around in his robes to ‘find’ it and lxc goes to him to grab it or whatever so his back is turned to jgy

AND NHS, THAT CLEVER CLEVER BOY, USES THIS CHANCE

he makes a show of looking over lxc's shoulder and shouts LXC LOOK OUT!!

lxc grabs his sword and whirls around and stabs it right into jgy

and nhs is all stuttery and nervously saying how omg he saw jgy reach behind him and he thought he was gonna do something awful so he panicked

Then jgy finally sees nhs AND THAT'S WHERE THE EPISODE ENDS

So another episode with way too much plot stuff, yuck

I mean, we only got 3 actual wangxian moments?? 

What is that about, huh? THAT’S NOT EVERY GAY RIGHTS OF YOU, SHOW!

The next episode is THE LAST and we’re definitely getting wangxiantics there and i will definitely cry about it

Return to Masterpost

[gascon-en-exil]

But What If You Want to Come Out on Vers Bottom?: A “Coming Out on Top” Review (Part 2)

Part 1

The main substance of Coming Out on Top - and around 80% of its wank material - lies in its main story love interests, so each of them deserves a dedicated section for review and...erotic evaluation, if you will. It would be much too cluttered to try to cover all six in one post however, so this one will only include the first three with Part 3 to follow with the remainder. Note that I’ll be doing these in alphabetical order, except for the sixth who was added in an update and whose route comes with some mechanical differences that warrant leaving him for last. I wouldn’t want to seem biased, would I? But I’ll be ranking them from most to least favorite at the end anyway.

Also, if anyone is wondering why most of my screenshots are from dialogue scenes rather than CGs, it’s because there are remarkably few CGs in this game that are both interesting enough to include in a review and tame enough for Tumblr’s censorship standards.

Alex: Mark Makes the Grade (With His Ass)

And how fitting it is that I get to start with Alex, fresh off over a year of involvement in the fandom of Fire Emblem: Three Houses and all its exaggerated pearl-clutching over that game’s teacher/student relationships. That’s exactly what Alex’s romance with Mark is, begun under more innocuous circumstances wherein Alex judges Mark’s alcohol preferences (the uncultured barbarian favors whiskey, and has nothing to say if you have Mark order a glass of presumably passable cabernet) but then progressing rapidly to hot for teacher territory once Mark discovers that Alex is his anatomy professor. As expected a handful of jokes - and one sex scene, kind of - hinge upon Alex’s field of expertise, but compared to the other routes of CooT this one is remarkably tame. It’s the only one in which it’s impossible to have sex with the love interest during the game and still get his ending, and the story requires the player to thread a fine line between expressing attraction to the man and respecting his professional boundaries. Alex is nothing if not ethical, almost to a fault, and the game also doesn’t allow you to lose sight of how strange his connection with Mark is...allegedly, anyway. I personally don’t see much issue with it, when Mark is of age (this isn’t even the largest age gap of the main love interests) and about to graduate. Eh, I’ll chalk it up to a cultural difference and move on.

The plot of the route also pivots around the potential scandal to be found in some hot one-on-one anatomy lessons, as Mark finds himself embroiled in the cutthroat world of tenured professorships and overworked postgraduate toadies moonlighting as paparazzi. I guess I lucked out in my much more reasonable graduate advisors, but I think I would have taken well to snooping around in men’s locker rooms looking for hot gay action/blackmail material. With all that going on it’s little wonder that there’s no real sex to be had on the full route, and that the one potential steamy encounter Mark can have with Alex in the professor’s office swiftly ends the romance then and there. I suppose it’s worth noting that Alex is also the only primary love interest who will never bottom for Mark in any encounter the player gets to see, so props if you’re looking for a total top. He’ll give head though, so that’s nice.

That said however, I can’t help but feel as though CooT wants to have its cake and eat it too when it comes to the teacher/student fucking. Amidst everyone being reasonable and ethical about the situation Mark can have a dream in which Alex fingers him and gives him a prostate orgasm as a live demonstration during a lecture - unquestionably hitting some of those teacher crush buttons even as it comes with the easy out of being a dream sequence. I’ve also seen reactions to this route labeling it as an example of the type of lover/beloved relationship found in ancient Greek pederasty, in that Alex is lowkey masc4masc and that he and Mark bond over the ancient and manly sport of, er, racquetball (I don’t know, just go with it). You also have to keep Mark’s grades up to get Alex’s full ending, which is both entirely logical - Mark is trying to date his professor after all, even if he doesn’t fully get there until the semester is over and he’s ready to walk the stage - and an extension of the idealized pederastic relationship as an educational one for the beloved younger man. If you’re into that kind of thing, Alex’s route is among the better options in this game to find it.

There’s also this obscure random line, which triggers an unusual extra CG added in an update that might be pet play? It’s honestly hard to tell - and I say that as someone who likes pet play. Something you may notice in my review is that, while the five romances included in the game on initial release are all fairly mundane, the writers clearly felt more free to get weird in the later additions. 

Brad: Frat Boys Gone Wild Parts 2, 5, and 7

Do you like beefy jocks, and huge dicks, and harsh but realistic indictments of the unequal attention lavished upon athletics departments at most American universities? One of these things is not like the others, but thankfully the route knows where to place most of its priorities. This is the story that puts Mark to work in his job as a writing tutor, tasking him with saving a hunky frat boy from failing his composition class and losing his scholarship in the process. Much unlike my own time as an undergraduate writing tutor however Mark is required to make house calls, setting him on a collision course for Brad’s burgeoning homosexuality and almost getting his ass kicked by the other equally hunky - but tragically straight - members of the frat. Brad is indeed the only one of Mark’s love interests who struggles to any degree with his sexuality, but it’s a muted part of this storyline and only really comes up in one scene involving Brad’s overbearing older brother. Despite some heavier moments here and there CooT is still a lighthearted dating sim at its core, so don’t expect too much in the way of angst even for a character who under more realistic circumstances would likely have to keep his inclinations on the DL.

Where there is plenty of intensity though is in those tutoring sessions, because, well -

- Mark ends up with a serious case of blue balls from all the UST and frequent teasing of Brad’s behemoth cock. Disclaimer: despite years of professional phallus measurements, this reviewer is unable to determine if Brad’s endowment is measurably more impressive than those of the other love interests based on his CGs alone; all pronouncements to this effect may thus be taken as the hyperbole of a horny size queen.

An even bigger source of tension in this route is the cheating angle: during their first meeting Brad will attempt to pressure Mark into writing his paper for him, remarking that American football players at universities get this kind of preferential treatment all the time and that their grades are basically irrelevant. Mark can actually take him up on this offer, and end up quite a bit richer for it via a little bribery (a nice perk if you’re angling for Ian’s friendship ending). Doing so will make it impossible to obtain Brad’s good ending but will instead lead to an alternate storyline with its own set of CGs, culminating in some saucily unethical fellatio as Mark proves to Brad that he can provide just as many perks as the rival female tutor who’s been capturing the jock’s attention with blowjobs and amateur porn. Incidentally, while it very quickly ends the route I like that Mark has a dialogue option to offer those exact services to Brad in front of the other tutor. It’s almost as funny as the earlier option about rimjobs that also ends the route but results in a dream CG of the straight frat guys having their way with Mark. That’s like wish fulfillment Inception, or something.

But no, to finish this route properly you have to keep both Mark and Brad honest, and convince Brad to write his own essay with Mark’s help...and provide genuinely good help, so I hope you know the basics of how to structure an academic essay just kidding you can save scum through that stuff. Many heartwarming life lessons are learned through all-nighters, ruminations on long-term career prospects, and mutual masturbation, until at last the two of them succeed and celebrate their victory with full penetration. How exactly you prefer the penetration to go down isn’t the most intuitive set of dialogue options in the world, but bear in mind that on initial release the only possibility was Brad splitting Mark open with that ginger club swinging between his legs. As I brought up in Alex’s section, the later additions usually get rather freakier. In this case that means an extended dream sequence with football role play (which is a thing that exists, I guess?) followed by some actual sex, with Brad bottoming in both scenes and much loving detail lavished upon his meaty ass. It’s...clever, I suppose, but I think I prefer the original version. Maybe that’s just because I always thought American football uniforms looked ridiculous; where’s the sex appeal to be found with those ridiculous shoulder pads?

Ian: Oh My God They Were Roommates

Even years later I still don’t know for certain whether including Ian so casually with the other love interests counts as a minor spoiler. He’s introduced alongside Penny as Mark’s longtime roommate, and in that first scene it’s also established that he has an on-again, off-again girlfriend. I’m going to err on the side of it not being a spoiler however, because well before his route proper begins the game drops hints that there might be more to Ian than a goofy slacker best friend with appalling personal hygiene. His route progresses as might reasonably be expected from Mark’s coming out, with Ian as the fantasy gay-friendly straight guy who turns out to be not quite as straight as initially advertised. 

There’s just one very large problem with that and it’s not the size of his dick. Because Ian is first and foremost Mark’s roommate he has the privilege of appearing as a supporting character in routes other than his own, and in fact there are CGs featuring him in some of those routes. This results in Ian receiving the most overall development of any of the love interests, ranging from the oddball humor that he injects into situations all over the story to his raging and, er, adventurous libido leading to all manner of masturbatory mishaps for Mark to, most jarringly, poorly-disguised jealousy over the other love interests should Mark choose to pursue them. One would expect this to result in a fantastically fleshed-out character and an excellent foundation for a route of his own that builds off Ian’s simple charm and manic energy to craft an excellent best friend romance.

Yet...it kind of doesn’t? It took me until my most recent playthrough to appreciate this properly, but more than any of the others Ian’s route is written as the most conventionally romantic. It incorporates a host of romcom staples - UST, misunderstandings, miscommunication, more than one romantic false lead, a wedding at the end, mood lighting for its softcore bondage scene - and while most of the other routes include one or two of those elements as well this is undoubtedly the only one that ever comes close to feeling cheesy or maudlin. Unfortunately however that kind of writing just doesn’t play well with Ian’s over-the-top comic relief antics, and so for most of the latter part of his own route he comes off as oddly bland. The writing mines some jokes out of his growing jealousy of the other men Mark expresses interest in dating, and it offers Mark a devastating early sex scene bad ending opportunity in the form of Ian coming onto Mark while drunk and forcing the player to choose between a rimjob now or double oral and/or flip-fucking later. Sure, that setup and some of what comes before it plays right into who Ian is as a character - a well-meaning idiot with a lot of insecurity surrounding his relationship to Mark - but after that point whether you take the rimjob or not Ian practically fades into the role of generic romantic lead as Mark must work to repair their friendship and then guide it into uncharted territory.

To illustrate the point I’m trying to make, contrast these two CGs. The first is from Ian’s friendship ending (something only he and Penny get, based on spending time with them on weekends among other factors); the second is from his romantic ending.

Which of these images tells you more about Ian’s characterization, or about his dynamic with Mark?

I’m not going to deny that Ian has sex appeal, or that he doesn’t have a slew of genuinely funny lines all over the game’s script, or that there’s nothing satisfying in watching Mark and his best friend fall in love with each other - but it’s the lack of integration between Ian the comic relief roommate and Ian the love interest that doesn’t sit well with me. When I was reviewing Chess of Blades I name-dropped Ian in comparison to that game’s own best friend love interest Arden. I’ll do the reverse here: Ian may be sweet and a ton of fun, and there may be far more options for which pegs go into which slots in this storyline, but Arden’s character and story stick in my mind more because they’re never at odds with one another. Ian in the earlygame and outside his own route is so goofy that it’s very hard to take him seriously as someone who could be a romantic partner for Mark, and unfortunately that comes across all too well when the occasion finally arises.

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Kissing Booth (2018)

I recognize the problems of The Kissing Booth. We've seen this plot so many times. Even if this take did put some spin on the familiar romance, it still wouldn’t be enough to call it even mildly original. You could also point to some problematic/dated story elements as proof that it's a bad movie. I know, but I kinda liked it.

Nothing could tear apart Shelly “Elle” Evans (Joey King) and her best friend Lee Flynn (Joel Courtney). Except maybe Lee’s older, handsome brother Noah (Jacob Elordi). Despite their friendship rules explicitly forbidding the dating of each others’ siblings, Elle can’t help herself.

Immediately, you can tell the story’s just too quirky for its own good. Elle and Lee were born at the same time. On the same day. Their mothers were best friends. Elle’s mom died when she was 11. Guess what? Lee’s mom (Molly Ringwald) didn’t hesitate to fill the gap. The pair are inseparable and love playing Dance Dance Revolution.

When Elle goes to school in a skirt and gets her behind slapped, Noah jumps to defend her honor. Yeah, he solves many problems by punching them but he’s so dreamy. It would be great if he wasn’t a womanizer but Elle's never been kissed. He’s just a bad boy that needs to be tamed/fixed/changed. Plus, he rides a motorcycle! Did I mention he has a football scholarship?

You know exactly where this is going. The only real surprise is whether Lee secretly pines for Elle or not. You’ll find out once we get to the titular, needlessly extravagant Kissing Booth. The thing’s got lights and a custom-made neon sign (Weren’t they using it to raise money, not spend it?). Here's where you might have a problem with the story. The boys/girls who line up are practically licking their lips while getting ready to pucker up with a hottie that would otherwise never give them the time of day. The idea of lesbian/gay students participating never comes up (the issue is “addressed” with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment). I can’t argue with you on that one. At least it’s a welcome change from the Mean Girls wannabee thing it was previously doing. This entire movie is barely functioning as an escapist fantasy for teenage girls. Even they know they shouldn’t like this but are tolerating it because the guy's handsome. Stick to the softened 50 Shades of Grey thing you've got going. ... I just talked myself out of the 3/5 I was going to give it.

So why was I even tempted to recommend The Kissing Booth? Two reasons. First, the ending. It hits the right amount of “ah, those were the days” sentiment and sweetness. Second, the actors. Joey King is quite charming and when she’s standing next to Jacob Elordi, you can feel the heat between them. Ultimately, it isn't enough. We may all be starving for a good romance but The Kissing Booth doesn't live up to our needs. (September 28, 2020)

[theshortwavemystery]

NOTES FROM WATCHING THE FIRST EPISODE OF “RIVERDALE”

1. Riverdale is a bizarre town that seems cut off from everywhere else, temporally straddled between an eternal 1950’s—more accurately a 1950’s stuck in an endless repetitive loop. But it takes place in the late 2010’s. Even so, the decor in the town is vintage, and the characters recognize this. The activities of the kids are vintage. the internet and cell phones exists, millennials are named, but it doesn’t seem to matter. something is very weird here, as if all these people are ghosts. all the stock scenarios and characters are here, which is to be expected for a teen drama, but there’s an exactness, a literalism, that is too perfect to be unintentional. 2. what is this world? it seems to be a staging of a certain inertia in american culture, which changes in superficial ways—technology, new TV shows, music new taboos—but all if this somehow serves to reinforce, or justify a return to the “leave it to beaver” universe. 3. any reminder that these are modern kids—their frequent references to contemporary TV shows like Mad Men for instance—only serve to increase the spooky vibe. everyone in this town seems to be low key crazy, making the show feel like twin peaks but written by what’s left of your local shopping mall. 4. the show’s script is constantly making fun of itself to the point that we seem directed by it to avoid taking the drama seriously—it is perhaps a smoke screen, like the haze of the presumably northwestern woods that seem to surround the town (it is filmed in Vancouver). the gay best friend is named as the gay best friend, establishing him as a living archaism—i felt bad for him after this. 5. plot points are shown to be cliche—the fake lesbian kiss, once scandalous in the 2000’s, is brushed off as false and an erasure of real lesbians. the script fools us, indicating it means to aim for more intelligent territory. and yet, veronica’s confrontation with cheryl, her tough girl speech, where she reveals her vulnerability as a rich girl fallen from grace but also stands up for betty—this goes without an ironic comment, even thought it is also a cliche, but a more contemporary oneq—the “mic drop” moment. so we see how the naming of particular cliches, employed ironically, serves to hide others the show is earnestly employing. 6. veronica says she needs to be redeemed for her father’s crimes, how is that fair. 7. archie’s desire to make music seems like a stand-in for a recognition that he’s gay. they cover this up by making his character straight but i don’t buy it. because his music itself clearly doesn’t matter. this is similar to the dead poets society where the kid kills himself obviously because he’s gay and he’s afraid his dad will disown him. why? nobody kills themselves merely because their dad shames them for doing theater. the reason is simple: theater is already such a humiliating and abject thing to love that you have to be totally shameless to even start doing it. once you become a theater kid your dad has lost you. in the second episode, the gay friend of betty reveals that he agrees with me here. 8. archie is the decentered center of the show, not a particularly interesting character so much as a holding container for female desire/fantasy. he’s dumb, cute boy who’s kind of artistic and kind of jockish, but the complex psychology belongs to betty, veronica, cheryl so far—all plotting, calculating characters, whereas archie just wants to enjoy himself and be liked—and to be fair, these shallow needs get him in plenty of trouble, but they’re simple needs. but this is always what archie was, even as a comic book character. he’s kicked around like a football like a more jocular charlie brown. 9. archie’s problem is identiied as the problem of "all millenial men", who need to be told what they want—but this is really everyone’s problem. what makes the girls/women different is that they don’t care that they don’t know what they want—they just act on feelings, and try to make the world match up with the feelings. archie thinks he ought to know what he wants, and then do it. but the women, whose desires as women are not even encouraged from day one, are free from this tedious problem. this is why archie is the one who has to be the moral authority regarding his mutual witness to the murder with the hot teacher, while the hot teacher is only afraid people will find out she fucked a student. veronica brushes off archie’s identity crisis as a false dilemma, critiqueing the categories of “jock” and “artist” and insisting he can be both, and anyway who gives a fuck? but this whimsy and indifference toward boundaries can get devious with veronica, who is betty’s friend one second and hooking up with archie the next. 10. although women are still often denied full subjectivity in literature, in real life it’s always been the opposite—men tend to forego personality development in favor of power or the illusion of power, and end up more shallow, rigid and fragile, more prone to the whims of their entourage. they never really have to become anything in particular--masculinity functions like a hive mind. if male relationships superficially appear to have less friction, it is only because men are brutally conformist and end up with little personal to argue about, usually coalescing around some common interest and not prone to discussing their respective inner lives--except, occasionally to defensively deny their existence. so-called "sensitive" men only do this in more devious ways--it's obvious that jughead is the most devious character we've met so far. women, in contrast, are each a hive mind unto themselves, compelled to construct an array of selves, carefully deploying them to get by in a world structured by the male gaze and booby-trapped by the machinations of other women. this complexity is of course terrifying to men who either submit to it as a fetish or suppress it— and one way of accomplishing that suppression in literature is to create stories where the men are supposedly complex and the women supposedly shallow and dependent wholly on men--the typical gaslight job of the mediocre male writer. this is clearly a show that, whatever its other blindnesses, is not going to let that happen. 11. we are told through veronica that archie is more dangerous than he looks. why doesn’t the show want us to figure this out ourselves? this feels ironic on the writers' parts, another winking use of cliche. 12. everyone’s problem is a cliche—archie’s father pressures him to do sports to get into college, he wants to do something else. betty’s mom is controlling and betty is a people pleaser who already in the first episode explodes about how perfect she has to be all the time and can’t she just do something for herself for once? 13. the music is annoying and cloying but it also grounds the contemporary nature of the show, because of its peculiar sense of melodrama, which is endemic to this time period, and the neoliberal overvaluing of the self. 14. the video on this show seems filtered into oblivion, or photoshopped or otherwise conspicuously treated. just like the self-awareness of the script, it contributes to the sense of unreality. 15. more self-aware cliches: archie and betty grew up next door to each other—they’re stuck in a feedback loop of being the ____ next door. cheryl describes herself as the queen on stage at the dance. 16. classic literature is referenced oddly—betty loves toni morrison, even though by the end of the episode, we have been introduced to zero black main characters. is this self-aware critique of white fetishization of blackness? and there's also thornton wilder’s “our town”… veronica suggests that the high school is part of the lost epilogue from “our town”—wilder also presented a transparently fake and timeless town to stage his existentialist story in, one in which horrifyingly, dead people remain in a liminal space between death and life, vainly trying to communicate with the living they can still see. 17. every celebrity/media reference is bizarre. a thin veneer draped over an unchanging reality. "Riverdale" seems not so much about the dark underbelly of suburbia, but about the idea of suburbia is the dark underbelly itself. a murder has to happen because someone has to bring death here, lest everyone become paralyzed by their immortality. 18. archie’s “making a deal” with the hot teacher is way more erotic than anything he’ll do with b or v… why is this happening at the Dance lol, unless we are to read it this way? they have shared the most precious thing in this town, death... why does archie love the teacher and toy with his peers? because they can't give him death. clearly archie is blackmailing the hot teacher into continuing the relationship, but he does so seemingly unaware of his own motives. he lives in the age of youtube tutorials, he doesn't need music instruction. and here is another paradox of the modern gender binary--men think they don't know what they want, but unconsciously they know what they want--they receive their instructions from the Borg Queen of masculinity and pursue it ruthlessly, whereas women end up thinking they know exactly what they want, but unconsciously they don't, because it's fractured amongst their afformentioned hive of selves. This is why both traditonally-socialized genders are completely right in saying the other is full of shit. 19. “we have no past” goes the song josie sings—and maybe this is america’s problem—the past is empty, the past of ordinary suburbia, interrupted only occasionally by wars perhaps but untouched by cultural progress—and because we have no past we can have no present, only an empty recycling of the same void, the same problems, the same catharses—new episodes of the same show. we live forever at the cost of never changing. is riverdale a socially critical prestige drama LARPing in the ironic costume of a CW teen soap??? 20. all the characters are trapped in a carnival haunted house ride. the theme: adolescence. 21. cheryl’s party—brett kavanaugh could have been at this party 22. jughead is the narrator, and i like the idea that this is all in jughead’s head, which is why it’s so unstuck in time aesthetically, so stylized and knowing. and it's no wonder he's the most popular character, because he represents the writers themselves, and fandom is to have an illusion of a privileged relationship not so much with the characters, but with the property's creators--and to be hyperinvested and, if necessary, hypercritical of their choices. 23. the gay hookup is interrupted by the presence of a corpse—a classic trope in teen horror but it’s interesting to see it with a gay pair. it’s as if in the clash between the perpetual 1950’s aura and the contemporary references and morality, a gruesome surplus appears, the specter of homophobia. which, incidentally is a corpse of a man guilty of a sexual act that is still considered taboo—incest. a corpse symbolizes the death of innocence for a hetero couple, but for a queer couple it can’t just be that—it also must evoke the threat of actual murder. which makes this a very different moment. 24. jughead says riverdale has changed—but it has only been revealed to be what it always was—"full of shadows and secrets", as jughead puts it. he must be putting us on—this place is way creepier than Sunnydale, and that place had actual demons… but this is often what a change amounts to—not the addition of a new trait, but the acceptance of one that was already there. 25. jason blossom is a ginger like archie and he therefore seems tied to archie in a unique way. he dies on july 4th, given some fuel to my reading as a show with something to say about america’s self-image. 26. all the parents are single parents or in strained, unhappy marriages in this town. this us realistic, but that should tip us off: what in the show has been realistic so far? debuting in january 2017, "Riverdale" seems retrospectively shaped by the trump era-a teen drama not about the undead, as buffy was, but a teen drama which is itself undead, fitting for a president who also wished to raise the dead, and also what had never lived. riverdale’s preservation of the old “great” america is superficial—indoors, a very contemporary isolation and alienation reign, in contrast even to the desperation of actual 50’s suburbia. 27. is everyone dead already in this show? is riverdale purgatory? is that what explains its being unstuck in time and drenched in fog? but i’ve been to small towns in the northwest that look like riverdale—nothing has been updated since 1954. in order to seem fake, riverdale has to be even faker that real life, even more uncanny—and that’s a tall order.

[five-rivers]

Masquerade/Laboratory

I do a lot of bad things to Danny in this.  Major themes are ghost psychology, brainwashing, and clones.  Use your discretion.  

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Masquerade/Laboratory

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Against the wall, separate from the rest of the party, stood a boy known to all the world but two as Danny Fenton. He played with his mask and watched the clock, waiting for a time when it would be appropriate and acceptable to leave.

His eyes swept over the masquerade, full of people he didn't know, and didn't care to know, all wearing masks. Mostly, they were Vladco and Axion Labs employees, much older than he was. This whole thing was too loud, flashy, uncomfortable. He would have much preferred to spend the evening alone with his family, in Amity Park, not Wisconsin.

A soft smile spread over his features as he allowed himself to dwell on his most cherished fantasy. All his family and friends together with him, happy, peaceful, safe, loving, accepting him for who and what he was.

He picked out his sister, Jazz, in the crowd. She was hard to recognize in her mask, and the unfamiliar dress, but that didn't matter to a half-ghost like him. He could recognize people with senses other than the ones humans used. He found his dad, Jack a much easier proposition, seeing as he towered over most of the other guests. His mom, Maddie, was easy to find, too.

He sighed. He loved them so much, but, like this, his family was sadly incomplete. It couldn't be helped, of course, not yet, but it still hurt.

Soon, though, soon. Soon his preparations would be ready, and he'd be brave enough, strong enough, to start to reveal his secrets. The fantasy bloomed and swelled in his mind, providing a level of refuge from the overstimulation of the masquerade party.

But that comfort grew thin, and he started looking at the clock again. It was a huge, ornate thing, like something out of a fairy-tale. The whole masquerade, with its glittering masks and costumes, should have been like something out of a fairy-tale. But it lacked something. Elegance, maybe. Authenticity. It felt tacky. Tawdry. Overdone. Fake.

It was time for him to escape.

He pushed off the wall, and reluctantly entered the crowd. As best he could, he threaded between the people, and made his way to his mom and dad. He tried not to hiss or flinch as people bumped inevitably bumped into him. He could smell alcohol on most of them.

He reached his mom, and tugged on her sleeve. "I'm going to go to bed," he said, straining to make his voice heard without yelling.

"Already? You've been looking forward to this so much."

Had it seemed that way? Crud.

"I'm just tired," he said.

"Alright, sweetie," she said. "We probably won't be up for a while."

"That's okay, we have separate rooms anyway."

"Well, that's Vlad for you. Always so generous."

He nodded in agreement, distracted by anticipation.

"Good night, Mom," he said, giving her a quick hug. He said good night to his dad as well, then he left, fleeing for quieter parts of the castle.

At first, he passed people, partiers taking a break from the main room, but after a while, he became the only one. He played with the edge of his mask. It was uncomfortable, but he had been told not to take it off without permission.

He did not go to his room.

He went to the study, and pulled on the secret lever (disguised as a football). The fireplace shifted, revealing the passage to the laboratory below.

It slid closed behind him as he went through, and he spiraled down into the earth, humming, the way forward lit only by his glowing green eyes.

He emerged into the bright lights of the lab, blinking, and smiled as he saw the two people he loved most in the whole wide world.

"Father," he chirped, happy and excited. Soon he would be doing his very most favorite thing.

"Daniel," said Father, standing from his seat in front of one of a plethora of complicated machines. "Excellent. You're just in time."

His core vibrated at the praise, and he bounced forward to embrace Father, careful not to rumple his expensive clothing. Father could get annoyed about that, sometimes.

Father ruffled his hair affectionately. Father was in a good mood tonight.

"Is he ready?" he asked, looking up. Could that be the reason for Father's good mood? That would be wonderful.

Father's expression fell. "Not yet," he said. "But we're getting closer."

Father put his hands on his shoulders, and turned him so that he was facing the other occupant of the lab. The real Daniel Fenton.

Danny was asleep, of course, and had been for almost as long as the clone had existed. He laid in a containment chamber, tubes and wires running in and out of him, padded green-silver cuffs engraved with arcane symbols circling his wrists, ankles, thighs, biceps, waist, neck, and forehead, similar bands stretched across his chest. The outside of the chamber glittered with electronics, but also with symbols copied off of the Sarcophagusof Forever Sleep. Danny was kept unconscious and powerless by a combination of science and what might as well be magic. But also very comfortable. The clone had been in the containment chamber himself many times to make sure of that.

The idea of Danny being uncomfortable was one the clone couldn't stand. It was even worse than Father being uncomfortable, because if Father was uncomfortable, he could just change things. Danny couldn't.

"I think he needs a few more sessions," said Father. "Then, before the end of the week, before you have to leave, we'll have a... trial run."

"Really?" asked the clone, bouncing on his toes and looking up at Father.

"Yes," said Father, chuckling indulgently. "But don't be too disappointed if we have to put him under again. In fact, we will have to put him under again, regardless, to put our full plan into motion."

The clone nodded, but he was so excited. He couldn't think of anything better- Well, he could: that fantasy image of his whole family, Danny, Mom, Dad, Jazz, Father, Sam, Tucker, and all his clone brothers and sisters together, safe, and happy. But having Danny awake would be the first step towards that, and he couldn't wait.

"We will have to restrain him somewhat, of course, restrict him. Perhaps modify him, temporarily, to complete our little illusion. What do you think would be best to remove?"

The clone didn't really want to answer that. He had the feeling removing anything would upset Danny. But Father was right. Father was always right. And the clone had to answer all of Father's questions truthfully when they were alone. It was a rule, and he always followed the rules.

"His voice," he said. "He won't need it, after all. I can tell you what he's thinking."

"Hm," said Father, patting the clone's shoulder in approval. "Very good. That's what I thought as well."

The clone's core purred at the approval, though he still worried about Danny and what his reaction would be to waking up without a voice.

"What should we call him when he wakes up?" asked the clone. "And am I going to be the real one, or another clone?" Sometimes, if the clone came up with a good question, pointed out a flaw in a plan, or better yet, came up with a solution, or an improvement, Father would laugh and call him clever.

"Another clone, for this trial. As for a name... Do you have anything in mind? And would you like to be called something different as well? For the purposes of the trial, of course."

The clone beamed. He was going to get his own name! And he got to give Danny a name, too!

This was shaping up to be the best day ever, except for the day he first met Danny and Father, which was also the day he had been born. It was hard to top that. Being able to play with Danny while he was awake might do it, though.

As it turned out, he had put a lot of thought into the matter of names.

"I was thinking, maybe Damien and Cosmo, like the saints, or Damon, or Dara, that means 'star' in some languages, or Damir, which means peace, or Dante, or Darius, or Darwin, or David, or Dmitri, or Pollux and Castor, or-" he paused for breath, and Father held up his hand.

"You have plenty of time to decide," said Father. Then Father sighed, looking at Danny. "There are a number of ways," he said, almost to himself, "steal a voice. Temporarily. Permanently. Indefinitely."

Father's hand moved sideways to brush against the clone's throat, and he felt a thrill go down his back. The clone didn't like imagining bad things happening to Danny, but he did like imagining that he was Danny. He also, and this was something of a guilty pleasure, liked imagining Danny dependent on him. He could never decide what he liked better. Danny dependent on him, or Danny protecting him.

Father looked down at him. "I think we had better go for one of the indefinite options. It wouldn't do for it to wear off, hm? Now, are you ready for tonight's session?"

"Yes, Father," said the clone, obediently. He was always obedient, loyal, and loving. The perfect son. Father had created him to be that way, so that he could teach Danny.

But he would have said yes, anyway. He loved the sessions. They made him close to Danny. Usually, sessions had to be short, only couple hours at most, because the clone had to travel from Amity Park to here. Using the portals made the journey easier, but it was difficult to find the time to get away.

Not tonight. Not this week. Father would distract Mom and Dad, and Jazz had to go back to college first thing tomorrow. She didn't know that yet, of course, but Father was good at manufacturing emergencies.

"Good," said Father. "Here is your medicine for this session." He pulled over a small cart with a tray on it.

There was a lot more medicine than there usually was, and the clone made a face at it. Pills, potions, powders, even a little cake thing. It made sense, though. This would be a longer session. He started with the powders, washing them down with the liquids, and watched Father pressing buttons on a console near the containment unit. With every other press, liquids started moving in the tubes connected to Danny. That was his medicine, which was administered intravenously, not orally.

The clone was vaguely aware of what went into the medicine. He had helped Father gather some of the reagents. Ghost Zone flowers that grew near the banks of the Lethe, waters from the spring of Mnemosyne, ectoplasm harvested from this or that great beast, crystals from the Isle of Records, etcetera. He was, however, more familiar with the effects.

His medicine made his memories sharper, and made it easier for him to reach out with his core and feelings. It put him more in control of what he broadcast, and better able to read the cores of others.

Danny's medicine did the opposite. It made his memories pliable, his thoughts vulnerable, and muted his ability to reach past the defenses of others. They were helped by the effects of some of the artifacts Father was using on him.

Of course, all that would have been moot and useless if Danny and the clone weren't so similar. Ghosts with sufficiently similar ectosignatures could share memories, thoughts, feelings. Sometimes, those memories could even be mistaken for their own. With practice, time, effort, and pharmaceutical help, one such ghost could edit the memories and feelings of another. The clone had done it before, to practice, with other clones, who were now in storage in Father's Rocky Mountain retreat, before Father had set their plan in motion.

Danny, of course, was a much more difficult subject. He had memories of his own, and more experience being his own person. But he'd been here for months, now, and the clone had been working on him all that time, along with Father.

Father had other things he was trying, tests he was running, and he did not always tell the clone what they were. Sometimes, the clone would see, through Danny's memories, dazed and confused fragments of those attempts.

The clone sighed as he finished the last of the medicine, rinsed his mouth out with the cup of water that had been set behind the tray, and popped the toffee into his mouth. Father was thoughtful, to provide something to take away the bad taste.

The clone then crawled up onto the padded table next to the bed, and laid down, waiting for the medicine to take effect. It made his mind sharp, but his body languid, sluggish, slow.

Father came around, pulled off the clone's mask, and started playing with his hair. The clone sighed in contentment.

"Now," said Father, "as we are going with the scenario where both of you are clones, you should focus on the memories that support that."

"Fake funeral?" asked the clone. Father had staged several memories, and had the clone act them out in real life, for the purpose of giving them to Danny. One of those staged memories was Danny's own funeral.

"Yes, I think that would be a good one to include. Remember, don't give him anything that would contradict him being just another clone. A newly created clone."

"Yes, Father." The words were blurred. His tongue was starting to feel thick and clumsy in his mouth.

"Do you think this would be better conducted with both of you in ghost form?"

"No, Father." He didn't like the pain a forced change caused Danny, and a forced change put his core on the defensive, making it hard to manipulate.

Father nodded, accepting his judgement. "If you feel like your medicine or his is wearing off, call me." Father touched his ear, where an earpiece was cunningly hidden. "Unfortunately, as the host, I must return upstairs."

"Yes, Father. I love you, Father."

Father's slow smile was incredibly rewarding. "I know," he said.

Then the clone was alone with Danny.

He waited, making sure Father hadn't forgotten anything. Then he got up, off the table, and shuffled over to the containment unit. Technically, he wasn't supposed to do this, it weakened some of the bindings placed on Danny, but it was just so much better. He opened the lid, and, careful of all of Danny's attachments, climbed in.

Being close to Danny was an amazing feeling. He never got tired of it. He cuddled closer, and with one hand, traced the line of Danny's face. It was exactly like his. He brought his hand down, so that his skin whispered against Danny's constellation of scars. Again, exactly like his. He had made sure of it. He hugged Danny.

Jazz had told him that positive human contact was important for people. Danny put high value on Jazz's advice, so he did, too.

Finally, at long last, he reached out to Danny's core with his, showering it and Danny with love and affection. In response, Danny's core sent back the same message, the same love; it was weak, sleepy, and confused, but, oh, so incredibly, beautifully genuine.

Danny loved him back. He always had. Since the very beginning.

The clone started the session by giving Danny new memories, of things the clone had experienced since the last session. It took Danny a while to process them, and they distracted him from other things the clone was doing. The clone started with the first memories after their last session, and continued on, lingering over the important memories of family, friends, school, and protecting their beloved Amity Park. The clone made sure to reassure him especially on the last part, soothing his Obsession. The clone knew how important it was. He had the very same Obsession, after all: keeping the people he loved happy and safe, and everyone Danny loved, the clone loved.

It would be nice, in many ways, if Danny and the clone became exactly the same. Same thoughts, same feelings, same memories, like one was the extension of the other, and neither knew where one left off and the other began. The clone purred at the thought. He liked the idea of being Danny, and he liked the idea of Danny being him. It was just another fantasy, of course, and he knew why it couldn't happen, but he was allowed his fantasies.

With Danny's memories caught up to the clone's, with all the plotting edited out, the clone tracked backwards. There, that was a good place to put the funeral, a week or so after the clone was created. In the memory, Father and the clone were the only mourners. The funeral had been kept secret. It would not do, after all, for the ghosts to discover that Phantom was no more, not to mention what news of the death would do to Danny's loved ones. The only reasonable solution was to have the clone take Danny's place, and continue to protect Amity Park. The narrative played to their Obsessions, and cast the clone in the role of a hero.

It also, once Danny was woken, provided a reason for Danny's creation. Father was lonely without the clone, and wanted someone to help him, and keep him company while the clone was away. Such a purpose would be hard for Danny to turn away from, especially if it was framed properly.

Father and the clone had put a lot of thought into these scenarios.

Settling the memory into place sent out ripples of distress, as expected, but the clone quickly distracted Danny by prodding more recent, happier memories into the forefront of his mind. The clone smiled, feeling how his love and happiness with his family and friends in Amity Park was reflected by Danny. But that wasn't all he wanted to be reflected.

The clone gathered together all the happy memories of Father, and stroked them, making them stand out bright in Danny's mind, accentuating the love, loyalty, and obedience in each one, the filial piety, the happiness, the contentment. Danny's response came much faster, and stronger, than it had in the beginning. It was, perhaps, not so clear as his response to memories of his birth family, but that could be forgiven.

It wouldn't have been possible at all, if Danny hadn't cared for Father at the start. It was a small care, and hidden, but present. A tiny ember that the clone had nursed through the sessions, blowing on it, and feeding it, until it was a respectable flame.

That done, the clone began to wind his way through Danny's older memories. He couldn't truly erase these, as Father had first wanted, but he could bury them, obscure them, overwhelm them, and, occasionally, write over them with memories of his own.

It was subtle work. First, he pushed memories of calling Father anything but Father away. True, the clone often had to do just that to keep his cover, but never the insults Danny had once flung around. Fruitloop. Really. He left the surrounding situations intact for the most part, but hid memories of pain, eased the interactions between Danny and Father into more benign territory, glossed over the nastier details of some of Father's plots (Danny must have misunderstood, anyway), and generally made Father look like less of an enemy, and more like the chastising parent he was.

He lingered in the memory of Danielle. He wanted so badly to meet her, his sister, but he didn't dare. Even with all the precautions he took, she might be able to read him, and then she'd know. The clone had no doubt she would try to 'rescue' Danny if that happened, not understanding that he and Father were making Danny better, improving him.

Then he moved on, to his favorite memories. These had to be handled with the utmost care, as they contained the few memories Daniel had of the clone. He paused from his work to savor them.

Danny was in his room, lying on his bed, thinking. (Vlad) (Father) had been oddly quiet, lately. The last time Vlad had been this quiet... He glanced at his closet. It hadn't been good.

He fidgeted, then stood, walking to the closet door. Unless he was actively researching how to fix them, he usually tried to forget what he had hidden in his closet wall, but, sometimes, he just felt the need to check up on them. Make sure they were still there.

Slowly, he reached into the wall, feeling for the box with his fingers. Finding it, he pulled it out, and knelt, setting it on his lab. He opened it, and sighed with relief to see all four ecto-sample preservation jars (aka Fenton Ghost Preserves) still glowing. Within each was a ghost's core. Each core belonged to a clone of Danny that had melted before they could be stabilized.

The first clone, melted before Danny even knew what he was, had melted close enough to FentonWorks that Danny could snatch up the ghost's core and rush home for something safe to put it in. He hadn't meant to melt the ghost, and the idea of accidentally ending someone filled him with existential dread. After that, he always carried some of the jars with him, just in case, and good thing, too, with all the other horribly melting clones.

He picked up one of the jars, and felt the core. It was totally unconscious. Better than being in pain. He put it back in the box.

Someday, he would find a way to revive them, give them back their bodies. After all, if Ellie was his sister, they were his brothers.

Downstairs, the phone rang.

Quickly, in case the call was for him, Danny quickly replaced the lid, and put the box back in the wall.

Just in time. His mom knocked on the door, then opened it.

"Danny," she said, "Vlad wants to talk to you."

Danny took the phone with a (scowl) (smile). His mom, loaded down with laundry, continued on.

"(Vlad) (Father)," he said, (harshly) (pleasantly), "what (do you want) (can I do for you)?"

"I need you help," said (Vlad) (Father).

Danny's (scowl deepened) (smile broadened). "Like you needed my help with Vortex?" he asked.

"More than that," said (Vlad) (Father), his voice wavering. "It's- Do you remember, with- with Danielle? What- What happened to the others?"

A spark of (intense) worry flared in Danny's chest. "Are you melting?"

"No. Not me. I- I tried it again, Daniel. I'm so sorry. I just didn't want to be alone anymore, and now... I can't do this again. I can't watch that again. Please. If not for me, than for him. If you think of Danielle as your sister, then he is your brother."

As (Vlad) (Father) spoke, the seed of worry sprouted into a bramble twining around and through all his limbs. He felt frozen. (How could Vlad) (How wonderful of Father to) do this again?

He felt himself nodding. "What do you need?" he asked.

"You, and whatever you gave to Danielle. It will take time."

"How long?"

"At least six hours."

"Fine. Where are you? Here or Wisconsin?"

"Wisconsin."

Danny groaned. "You're really a terrible mayor."

"Do this for me and I'll resign. I'll do anything. Please, Daniel, I'm begging you."

Danny looked at the phone in (disgust) (concern). Did he really think Danny would let someone die just because he didn't want to go to Wisconsin?

"I'll be there in an hour." He paused. "I'm telling Jazz where I'm going, and to expect me back in the morning, so no funny business."

"I wouldn't dream of it, dear boy."

Danny hung up the phone, and began packing. His conversation with Jazz was brief and to the point. He barely listened to her cautions. Within fifteen minutes, he was on his way to (Vlad's) (Father's).

As soon as he landed in the lab, he started handing things to (Vlad) (Father).

"This is ecto-dejecto," said Danny. "It's what I used to stabilize Ellie. This is another stabilizing agent. It came later, but we use it to help us heal. This is energized ectoplasm, in case the issue is with energy levels. I've got some other things in here, too. You didn't give me a lot of information about what was wrong." He breathed in. "I want to see him."

"Of course. This way."

Danny followed (Vlad) (Father) deeper into the lab, away from the portal. Finally, they came to the clone's containment chamber. He slept behind glass.

No. Not the clone. Danny's newest family member. His brother, who was dying. Danny felt tears prickle at his eyes. He wanted to (punch Vlad) (hug Father) for doing this again. For bringing another innocent person into this messed up situation. But now that it was done, the only thing Danny could do was help his new brother.

"What's his name?"

(Vlad) (Father) shrugged, sheepishly. "I've been calling him Daniel."

"Of course you have."

Danny drew closer to the containment chamber, and put his hand on the glass. He couldn't feel the clone through it, but he supposed he could blame the containment chamber for that. He could tell it was much more resistant than the jars in his room. He sighed. He would have liked to communicate with his new brother, even if all he could transmit were feelings. He would have liked to comfort him, tell him that he and (Vlad) (Father) were working to help him.

(Vlad) (Father) cleared his throat. "I'm going to need to take some samples from you," he said. "It's possible that the issue is that the original samples were corrupted or contaminated."

Danny thrust out his arm without hesitation. (Vlad) (Father) already had enough of his DNA to make a clone, what did it matter if he had a little more?

The blood draw was bad. The ectoplasm draw was worse. But worse yet was the way (Vlad) (Father) hmmed and tsked over his computer readouts and results.

"What?" snapped Danny, finally.

"I'm going to need a sample of your mid-morph DNA."

Danny (remembered fighting the machine Vlad tried to use to harvest it before, he remembered the pain, the agony, the fear, the near-total loss of control) (didn't know why he had fought so hard to keep Father from getting it before). His mouth went dry and he licked his lips, but glanced at his sleeping brother.

"Fine," he said. "What do I need to do?"

(Vlad) (Father) picked up a bracelet from a nearby table. "If you put this on and transform, it will take a sample. I will warn you, it is somewhat painful."

"Whatever," said Danny, regarding the bracelet (warily) (curiously). He (didn't trust) (was always to interested in) stuff that (Vlad) (Father) made. "How does it work?"

"It detects certain changes in your ectoenergy output that precede a transformation. This button here is a release." He demonstrated, and the bracelet sprung open. "You can hit it at any time. While active, however, it should fit snuggly around your wrist, with no gaps."

That sounded (suspicious) (amazing).

An alarm sounded, and (Vlad) (Father) rushed over to a screen.

"Quickly, Daniel, his instability is reaching critical levels!"

Danny hesitated for a split second longer, but grabbed the bracelet and snapped it onto his wrist. It fit (a little too) perfectly. But he was committed, now. He triggered his transformation, rings sweeping up and down his body.

(Vlad) (Father) hadn't been kidding about it hurting. It felt like a dozen needles had been driven through his skin.

"Good, good, that's almost it. Now, the other way."

Danny (glared) (grinned) he (didn't like) (greatly enjoyed) being ordered around like this. He let go of his ghost form, and again experienced the sensation of needles slamming into his flesh. He hissed, and hit the release.

The bracelet did not come off, and an experimental tug rewarded him with more pain. He opened his mouth to complain, but was interrupted by (Vlad's) (Father's) crow of joy.

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "That's it, that's what we needed." He typed furiously into the computer. "It's working!"

"That's fast," said Danny, confused. (Vlad) (Father) had said it would take hours to fix things, and he hadn't even retrieved the samples. Could the bracelet send data? That made sense, if (Vlad) (Father) had originally intended to get it on Danny during a fight.

But speaking of fights and injuries, Danny's fingers were starting to feel funny. Stiff, numb, and tingly. They were falling asleep. The bracelet was too tight.

"(Vlad) (Father)-"

"Would you like to meet your brother, Daniel?"

Danny was instantly distracted. "Yes," he said, eyes on the containment unit. His own discomfort could wait.

The lid slowly opened. The clone swung his legs over the side, and stood up, unsteady, trembling, like a newborn animal. Danny rushed over to support him, embracing him with one arm. The other hurt too much to move.

He sent love, acceptance, and encouragement to the clone, an offer of friendship, kinship, and was gratified when the clone responded in kind.

He turned to look at (Vlad) (Father). "If you ever hurt him I'll-" He stopped.

The words felt wrong in his mouth, blurred and fuzzy in his ears. Almost unintelligible.

Was he supporting the clone, or was the clone supporting him?

One of his legs gave out, and the clone caught him, neatly answering that question. Danny tried to ask what was wrong, but only nonsense came out.

His clone-brother and (Vlad) (Father) started talking, and Danny could tell that they were using normal, English words, but he couldn't make sense of any of it.

What was wrong with his ears?

Had the lights been this bright the whole time?

Was he having a stroke? Was this what a stroke felt like?

His whole body felt heavy and limp. All but immobile. Numb and fuzzy, like he'd been packed in cotton.

The clone murmured something into Danny's ear, and slowly started lowering them both to the ground. The clone was sending feelings at him. Everything was fine, safe, good. Security. Happiness. Love. Peace. Togetherness. Contentment. Everything was going to be better from now on.

Danny knew that was wrong. That something was wrong. But it was hard not to feel those emotions when they were broadcast with such conviction.

The sounds around him had morphed into rhythmic, soothing, white noise, like waves on a beach. The lights in the lab were so bright as to be blinding, washing out all colors. His brother was now emitting a sense of restfulness, an urge to sleep. His head was cushioned nicely on his brother's lap. But he couldn't close his eyes.

(Father's) tall form blocked out some of the overhead lights, and he knelt down, next to Danny and his brother. Danny felt a spike of foreign love. Love for (Father).

Long fingers began to card through his hair, providing a pleasant physical counterpoint to the noise. The lights grew brighter still. He could barely see anything at all anymore, and his eyes hurt. Why was he keeping his eyes open? He was surrounded by people who loved him, he could feel it. He was safe.

He closed his eyes.

He did not open them again.

The clone sighed. The memory was so beautiful, and it highlighted how close to perfect Danny was.

Danny loved his clone-brothers that had been sent to fight him. He loved his clone-sister who had betrayed him. He loved the clone from the very second he saw him.

Danny had his flaws, of course, but most of them were small. A touch of laziness, of procrastination, of denial, sprinkled in with rudeness, and a tendency to not think things through. In the clone's opinion, these small flaws only accentuated Danny's overall perfection.

Danny's only big flaw, his only real flaw, was in rejecting Father. But that's what they were here to fix.

The clone had the impression Danny might not approve of their methods, knew that most people wouldn't, but, ultimately, they were putting more love into Danny's life, and love was always a good thing.

The clone sighed again, more heavily. He hated manipulating this memory. It felt like painting over a masterpiece. But it had to be done.

He began to lay over the last several minutes of the memory with his own perspective of events, from emerging from the containment chamber onward. He skipped over a few details to make it seem like the real Danny had woken after having a bad reaction to the DNA sampler, and that the clone had returned to the containment chamber to finish stabilizing.

Those details included the hours in which the clone absorbed Danny's memories, and the other preparations he had undergone so as to successfully pass as Danny.

After that, almost all the memories were of the clone posing as Danny. He didn't have to do anything extra to those.

The clone would probably return to Danny's memories several times before tonight was over, but it was time for some variety.

Another aspect of the sessions was the clone's work on Danny's Obsessions.

It was, of course, impossible to externally change a ghost's Obsessions. A ghost's Obsessions were their reason for existing. Their foundation. Any change to Obsessions had to come from within the ghost in question.

However, the clone had discovered that the prominence, focus, and activity of an Obsession could be altered by external stimulus. AKA him.

Danny had a nice, easy astronomy and space Obsession that was usually hidden under his protectiveness and need to help. The clone had been encouraging that Obsession, giving Danny extra memories of the night sky, and drawing attention to his astronomy knowledge. Danny could get quite excited about it, even asleep. Sometimes he even dreamed of stars. The clone had learned a lot.

The clone had also been busy adding Father to Danny's list of people his other Obsessions focused on. It hadn't been too hard. Danny had already cared about Father, but getting him moved up the list, to where the rest of their family was, had been tricky at times. The clone's persistence had paid off, though, and Father was at about the same level as Valerie Gray. The clone had confidence that once Danny began interacting with Father again for real, Father's place on the list would go up even more.

Finally, the clone had been emphasizing ways of helping people that didn't involve violence. It wouldn't do to have Danny go off fighting ghosts again, at least not until Father had trained him. The clone could do that, and some of the injuries Danny had received in the past made him blanch.

Together, the clone hoped these measures would make that part of Danny's Obsession fade into the background.

With that, the clone pulled his awareness out of Danny's mind, and wiggled, readjusting himself and enjoying the feeling of Danny's body against his. He flicked himself into ghost form, and let his tail twine around Danny's legs.

This next part was fun, but not one Father knew about. The clone had been careful to keep it from him. He didn't want Father to stop him. Father probably wouldn't, but he didn't want to risk it.

He phased his hand into Danny's chest, and started to stroke his core directly. The first several times he had done this, Danny had reacted badly, violently, lashing out at the clone with electricity, ectoenergy, and ice, giving him little burns and chilblains. But the clone had gained Danny's trust since then, and Danny's core submitted docilely to the petting, even purring a little.

Doing this gave the clone a great and terrible feeling of power. A core was a ghost's brain, their existence, maybe even their very soul. But that was not the reason the clone did it. At least, it wasn't the only reason the clone did it.

Part of it was, of course, being close to Danny. The clone rather thought he had developed an Obsession in that direction, but he never dwelled on that. The other part was a contingency, in case the memory tricks didn't work, and they couldn't make Danny better. More perfect.

He had gotten the idea from one of Danny's memories. One that he hadn't told Father about, because it technically hadn't happened.

Ghosts could merge with one another.

It hadn't worked out well with Danny and Father, but the clone suspected that was either because Father and Danny were so different, or because their cores weren't used to each other.

But the clone, well, he was a clone. He was made to be similar to Danny. If he and Danny merged, then Danny would just be more Danny, with the clone's traits, like his love for Father and greater understanding of the situation, added on.

It was a delicious thought, becoming one with Danny like that.

But.

But existing separately was good, too, and the clone was pretty sure he'd have to tear himself in half to merge properly. A physical, earthly, human body would surely get in the way. He didn't want to do that, and he could always do the merge later, if this didn't work.

There was a limit to the amount of petting Danny would tolerate. As that limit approached, the clone stopped. But he didn't withdraw. He dove in.

Danny's dreams were the best.

Thanks to the medicines and the supernatural restraints placed on Danny, the clone was always in charge when he visited Danny's dreams. He rarely changed Danny's scenarios, instead using his control to insert himself and Father into them.

To the clone's surprise, however, he was already in this dream.

The sky was dark and starry, and the air was cold. The setting was a graveyard. Danny was laying face down on the ground, held there by hands thrusting up through the earth. The clone's dream-self (and the clone did not know how he knew it had to be him, and not a duplicate of Danny) was sitting next to him, sewing huge, feathery wings into Danny's back. Each turn of the needle was another pinprick of blood. Each pinprick of blood ran welled up and ran down Danny's side after a moment, leaving a stripe.

Sometimes, the clone had to wonder how much Danny was really aware of. As far as the clone could tell, Danny had no awareness of the true purpose of the sessions, but then he went and dreamed up things like this. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

The clone slipped into his dream-self. Danny sniffed, and turned his head to face him.

"Please," he said. "Stop. I want to go home."

The clone examined the needle. "You are home," he said. The clone put aside the needle, and used his control of the dream to seal the wings to Danny's back and shoo away the hands.

Danny pulled himself into a sitting position. The wings looked marvelous on him. "No, I'm not. Stop this. I'm begging you. You're hurting me."

"We're making you better."

"It won't work."

"It's working so far," said the clone, reaching out to pet the wings. They were so soft. Danny's dreams always had so much detail.

"They'll know you're not me. They'll find out."

The clone looked dream-Danny in the eye, and searched his mind for any knowledge of Father's plans. Nothing.

"They haven't yet," said the clone, cautiously. "They won't, ever. Because we're the same."

"They will. They'll hurt you." Danny's face crumpled. "I don't want you to be hurt."

Oh. How precious. The clone embraced Danny, and guided his head down to the clone's chest. He wept. Precious, and endearing, but depressing. It was time for a happy dream.

With a thought, the scene changed to that of a family dinner, warm and bright. To be safe, the clone destroyed Danny's memory of the other dream completely.

After a while playing with the new dream, the clone exited Danny. It was time to get up and stretch.

Then he would do everything all over again.

.

Later that week, the clone sat on a stool in the laboratory, pouting. Except for the Fentons, all the masquerade guests had gone home. The Fentons, meanwhile, were hunting rumors of ghosts in the next town over. Except for Jazz, who had not gone to take care of Father's manufactured emergency. Instead, she had been intent on staying with the clone.

It was frustrating. The clone loved Jazz, but he wanted to spend more time with Danny. He had only gotten Jazz off his back this afternoon by 'revealing' he had a 'truce' with Father, that Father was 'turning over a new leaf,' and that he really wanted to go flying.

But now, instead of a nice, rewarding, relaxing session with Danny, he was just watching Father administer the modifications, and prepare the restraints Danny would need upon waking up.

He sighed deeply, and let his eyes roam over the lab table and all the objects on it.

There was the jar with Danny's voice. The spell that removed it had called for a jar, but Father intended to move it to a more secure receptacle and store it somewhere secret as soon as he had a chance.

The next point of interest were the implants Father would insert to mimic the effects of the medicine, and keep Danny from being able to read anything from the clone but emotions while allowing the clone to read Danny normally.

Then there were the ectorestriction bracelets. They would tell Danny that they were stabilization bracelets, and that without them, he, as a clone, would destabilize. It was a bit cruel, but it was for his own good. Every time Danny would try to use a power, the bracelets would siphon off some percentage of the energy Danny put into it. Once the battery's reservoirs were full, a red light would go on. If Danny tried to use a power after that, the bracelets would dump all their power back into Danny's system in the form of ectoelectricity, knocking him out. Father and the clone would tell him, of course, that the red light meant that the bracelets were out of energy, and that he passed out because he overexerted himself. Father hadn't decided what percentage of power the bracelets would siphon off, yet, but he was thinking something along the lines of ninety percent. The bracelets looked much like the one that had drugged Danny when he had first met the clone, but they didn't even have a fake release. The only way to get them off would be to hook them up to a special machine in the lab, and have Father type in a code, although Father could change how much power the siphoned off with coded voice commands.

The clone sighed. He had worn ectorestriction bracelets a few times, while training to bring his strength up to Danny's level, though those hadn't had the shock feature. They still hadn't been pleasant.

Finally, there was a little chip that would key the castle shield into Danny's ectosignature exactly, from moment to moment, preventing him from escaping. The chip was necessary, because otherwise the shield would have to be programmed slightly more generally, and the clone would be trapped as well. That would be phased into one of Danny's bones. It was also a tracking device. Just in case. The clone had made the suggestion, when Father asked. He knew how clever Danny could be.

Closer to Father were the tools for making physical alterations to Danny, and the books on how to use them. They couldn't make too many alterations, or ones that were too distressing, or that were wrong thematically, or else Danny would instinctively reset them. A ghost's appearance depended partially on self image.

Father asked for the clone's opinion a lot in this process. The clone knew Danny best, after all, and he thought Danny would actually like some of the modifications. They were certainly thematically correct.

Still. The clone sighed again.

"Bored, little badger?" asked Father.

"No, Father. I just would like it if he could wake up."

"Well, tomorrow you will have your wish," said Father.

"Really?!"

"Really. Have you decided on names?"

The clone nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!" he said.

.

As soon as he awoke, he knew what he was, where he was, and the purpose for which he had been created, thanks to the generously-shared memories of his older brother. He inhaled, deeply, his first conscious breath. His chest strained against the bands restricting it, but they didn't bother him. Nor did the cuffs and other restraints that held him in place. They were to keep him from hurting himself in these, the first moments of his existence.

He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a well-groomed man with long, silver hair. His mind fluttered for a moment. He knew this man, cared about him deeply, but who-?

Then it clicked. This was Father. His creator. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to recognize him.

He smiled.

"Good morning, son," said Father.

Another figure leaned in. It wore a familiar face, one he had seen in mirrors in memories. This was his brother. "Good morning, little brother. How do you feel?"

He opened his mouth both to answer the question and to return the greeting. But he couldn't. Not only did nothing come out, he couldn't even make his mouth form words. He closed his mouth and frowned, troubled. That wasn't right, was it? But his brother sent him love and affection, and his mouth eased back into a smile.

"Father," said his brother, "I don't think he can talk, but he feels fine."

Father let out a long, thoughtful hmmm. "It must be a side effect of what we did to stabilize him," he said. "It might be permanent, I'm afraid." Then Father smiled down at him. "Don't worry, son. Voice or no voice, we'll love you just the same." Father patted his shoulder.

"Yeah," said his brother, broadcasting heavy reassurance, "don't worry. I can tell father everything you're thinking. It'll be just like being able to talk."

He managed a tiny twitch of his head and a smile in response. If both his father and his brother thought so, it had to be true.

"Now, I'm going to take some readings to check if you're stable, and see if we can let you out of the containment chamber," said Father. "In the mean time, I believe your brother has a birthday present for you."

"That's right," said his brother, sitting on the edge of the containment chamber. "I've come up with names, for both of us!"

He smiled in excitement, hoping his brother could pick up what he was feeling. Names were important.

"Names are important," agreed his brother. "I think you'll like these. They were the names of twins. Like we are, even though we're born a bit apart, technically speaking. And they're the names of people in a constellation. Can you guess?"

Of course he could guess! It had to be Pollux and Castor, from Gemini. His brother, being older, and the perfect clone, would be Pollux, while he would be Castor.

"That's right!" sang his brother. "Do you like it?"

He loved it. Constellations were amazing, and it was like saying he and Pollux were part of the same constellation.

"I was thinking Cosmo might be good, too, but I decided it was a little silly."

A wise choice. It would have been nice, too, though. Castor didn't think Pollux could pick a bad name. Besides, who else was going to use it?

Actually, that was kind of depressing. He knew he was made to be a companion to Father, and only Father, but he would have liked to meet Mom, Dad, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and everyone else, too.

"You will, eventually," assured Pollux, wiping away Castor's momentary sadness. "We just have to ease them into the idea of you, first. Well. Not Mom and Dad, I guess. But the others, the ones who know. They think I'm the real Danny, remember? You can be me, the clone he helped Father stabilize."

That was a bit confusing, but Castor smiled.

"It isn't even a real lie, is it? But I've only just told them I have a truce with Father, so it'll take a while."

Castor understood. This was complicated. It was too bad the real Danny was dead. He probably could have fixed this, and he seemed like such a good person.

"He was," said Pollux, wiping away a tear making its way down Castor's face. "But between the two of us, it's like he's still here, isn't it?"

Father came back. "I have good news and bad news. The good news is that you will be able to come out, at least for a short time. The bad news is that you will have to wear these." He held up two silvery bracelets. They were pretty. "They're stabilization bracelets." He started to explain how they worked.

Castor was touched. Had Father made them just for him?

"He did," said Pollux, after Father wound down. "He worked very hard on them."

"Yes," said Father, briskly, leaning into the containment chamber to put them on. "Now, be careful, even with these, if you over-strain yourself, you'll start to destabilize, and for these to work they have to stay charged. If the red light comes on, stop using your powers and get me immediately. I will show you how the charging machine works, in case you can't find me, but if you use it without me present, it will initiate an emergency procedure to put you into stasis until I return. Understand?"

That sounded frightening. He swallowed. Not following Father's rules would be a very bad thing. Very bad. Terrible. Scary things would happen. But following them would make everything wonderful. Father's rules were always right.

"He understands," said Pollux.

They unlatched Castor from the unit, and he sat up, but he got dizzy and had to lie down again. He was weak, his limbs much thinner and frailer than Pollux's. His heart raced even after this small exertion. It took Castor a while to get up and out, to a chair.

"Don't worry, dear boy," said Father, affectionately tousling Castor's hair. "You'll be up to strength in no time."

Castor leaned into the touch. He was happy. It felt good. But there was something else. A burst of emotion from Pollux swamped that something else, driving it from his mind.

"That's right. Remember, it took me a while to get used to moving around, too. This is your first time, you know." Pollux held Castor's hand, transmitting patience, and, as always, love, belonging, and reassurance.

Of course. Pollux was right. Castor had known that. He just didn't want to be a burden.

The sensation of belonging redoubled. "You'll never be a burden."

Castor looked down at his hand in Pollux's. Pollux's was smooth and pale all over. His was covered in little spots. Freckles. Castor had known he didn't look right, that he wasn't right, that he was wrong and imperfect and broken, but the comparison-

Pollux was tracing a shape in the freckles. It looked familiar. Was that-?

Pollux giggled. "I'll get you a mirror." He ran to the other side of the room, picked up a small oval, then came back.

For the first time, Castor saw his face. It had the same shape as Danny's, as Pollux's, the same eyes, ears, and mouth, but the freckles changed its character significantly, as did the silver strands in his hair, and the too-sharp canine teeth. He raised a hand to trace along the dots on his face, connecting them with invisible lines. They were constellations. His whole body was covered in constellations. Polaris was in the center of his forehead, Ursa Minor pointing up, to his hairline, Cassiopeia and Cepheus splayed across his cheeks and neck. Perseus and Cygnus were on his collarbones, and Pegasus was on his chest. Aquarius and Cetus were just above his waist. There were others. All Fall constellations. The spring ones must be on his back. The ones below his waist must belong to the Southern Hemisphere, but he wasn't as familiar with those.

"We have lots of astronomy books," said Pollux. "I know it isn't as good as going out and seeing them all for real, but you can't do that until the Fentons leave. Would you like me to get them? We can map you out. We can find where we are. Gemini."

Castor nodded vigorously. Pollux gave Castor a hug, and kissed him right on Polaris. Castor giggled, and waved to Pollux as he darted to a bookshelf on the other side of the room.

Father shifted so that he was standing behind Castor, and put both hands on his shoulders. Castor looked up, eyes wide, and hesitant. Why did he feel threatened? Father loved him. Father had made him. The feeling was washed away by a wave of safety, sent his way by Pollux.

"Do you love me, little badger?"

Castor nodded, confused. Father smiled, satisfied. Castor was happy. He was happy whenever Father was.

Pollux came back with a stack of large, colorful books. They had stars on them, and Castor wanted to look through every one. He wanted to memorize and understand them.

"You'll have plenty of time to do that," said Pollux, "and there are lots more where these came from. You won't be bored for ages. Until I can visit again, at least."

Castor didn't like the thought of Pollux leaving.

"Neither do I, but I have to. Amity Park, you know. Honoring the original's memory."

Part of Castor wanted to go, too.

Pollux pushed the feeling of duty at Castor, and it soaked into his mind. Castor had to stay with Father, of course. What would he even do in Amity Park? How would he live there? He would be much more helpful here.

"Much more entertained, too," said Pollux.

They should find Gemini first.

"I think so, too."

Father coughed, and both boys looked at him immediately, alert, ready for instructions. "There are a few things I need to take care of," said Father. "The two of you entertain each other while I'm gone."

"We will, Father," said Pollux, as Castor nodded.

"Castor," said Father. "Before I go, this is your room." He gestured at the surroundings. "You may use it, and the bathroom through that door," he pointed, "as you see fit. However, you may not leave without my express permission. Do you understand?"

Castor nodded, wide-eyed, and looked around the room for the first time. It was so big, and nice, roomy even with the large containment chamber in the center. There were bookshelves full of books, and a desk with a computer and a game system, and- oh!- the ceiling had stars on it.

"He understands, Father," said Pollux, "he's just overwhelmed. He's very thankful, and he especially likes the stars."

Castor blushed and nodded.

Father ran his hand through Castor's hair again, and put his fingers under his chin, tilting his head up. "I'll be seeing you again soon," he promised. Then he left, giving Pollux a pat on the head.

"So," said Pollux, "Gemini."

.

The two brothers laid on the bed in Castor's room, looking at a book about kinds of stars and star life cycles. It was the second-to-last night Pollux would be here. After that, he'd leave for Amity Park.

Pollux snuggled closer. "I'll try to visit again, soon," he said.

Castor felt reassured. Or was that just because Pollux was sending him reassurance? He wasn't sure. Unless Pollux was sending him a whole lot of an emotion, he couldn't really tell which emotions were his, and which were Pollux's. Thoughts were similar. He was never sure if Pollux was just thinking the same things he was, or if he was just reading Castor's core. Did it matter, though? They were so similar. When they were in the same situation, surely they would think the same thoughts, feel the same things. Right?

"We're like a binary star," said Pollux. He turned and smiled at Castor. "We're so similar, we might as well be the same person."

Binary stars were still different, though.

"I know it's silly, but it's just a simile. Still. We're similar. We're the same. We're clones. Of course it doesn't matter who thinks what or feels what first. It would be the same anyway, but it's better, because we get to share. There's no one else who can share like us. We'll always understand each other."

Castor nodded. That was a great way to say that, and he was so confident. It had to be true.

.

"I think I will let him stay awake," announced Father.

Pollux paused, and set aside the tool he was cleaning. "Really?" he asked, surprised. The plan had been to put Danny back to sleep tonight, and start preparations for the 'final' scenario, where Pollux was the original Danny, and Danny was the clone. That scenario hadn't been used this time, because both Pollux and Father had agreed it would be easier for Pollux to act naturally, rather than how Danny should have acted, and that it was easier to keep tabs on Danny in this scenario.

"Yes. This scenario is going well. He's been obedient, following instructions even when it would be easy to do otherwise. He has shown no signs of realizing who and what he is. His powers are under control. He's been as affectionate as you. I find it hard to justify throwing away a bird in the hand."

That made perfect sense. Pollux nodded. At the same time, he felt a stab of, what, jealousy? Ridiculous.

"Do you see any reason we shouldn't proceed as we have been?"

Pollux couldn't exactly say that he had been looking forward to having the real Danny think that he was the real Danny, and look up to him like Pollux looked up to the real Danny. That would be silly, and not a reason.

"No, Father."

.

The last night before he left, Pollux slipped into Danny's dreams again. Danny slept heavily these days, a side effect of the medicines Father was giving him to 'stabilize' him. He didn't notice.

It was the same dream he had come upon before. Danny with wings, sitting in a graveyard.

"You can still stop this," said dream-Danny. "You don't have to follow Vlad. We can be together as a family. Just let me go home. We can go home."

Pollux frowned. "What do you think is going to happen, exactly?"

"You'll get caught. You'll get hurt."

"By who? No one knows, except you and Father. No one will ever know."

"They already know."

The frown had turned into a scowl. "How are you even doing this? How can you remember? I've checked. You shouldn't."

"You don't understand. I'm not having this dream now."

The dream faded, then, into a much more pleasant one of Amity Park at night.

.

Castor wasn't bored, exactly. He had lots of things to do. Lots of things to work on, and he did work on them.

He had the freedom of the castle and the grounds, now, a week after Pollux had left. He could explore, right up to the edge of the protective ghost shield, and he did. He had all his books, fascinating ones about space facts, exciting science fiction ones, whatever he wanted. He could read them, and he did. He had his games, which he played. He had space documentaries to watch, and movies, too. He could play with Maddie the cat. Father had given him a list of chores, which he had done right away. He had a dozen little self-assigned projects undertaken to make Father happy.

But Father was gone for long stretches of time, in the middle of the day. Castor understood why, of course. Father was a very important man, with lots of responsibilities, in both worlds. Castor was grateful for even the relatively small amount of time and attention he received from Father. But it wasn't enough.

If Father was gone at night it wouldn't be so bad. Castor's main Obsession, as it turned out, was astronomy. Obsessions were great distractions. But there were a limited number of astronomy things to be done in the daylight.

If there was only someone, anyone, else here, with him, someone who would talk to him, it would be bearable. But there wasn't.

The enforced silence was doing funny things to his head, too. Music, movies, and other things that made sound helped, but it wasn't the same as talking. He kind of felt like he was being over-dramatic. After all, Deaf people had it worse. He was only mute.

But since he didn't have to make his thoughts comprehensible for other people anymore, they had started to lose order entirely. He had started writing, but writing with the bracelets on made his wrists hurt, and Father had seemed sort of disapproving, so he had stopped. He'd asked Father about sign language, too, but Father had given him a hurt look, and asked who, exactly, Castor wanted to talk to other than Father and Pollux. Wasn't family enough for him?

He didn't talk in his dreams anymore. Not even in his dreams of being Danny. Then there were the dreams where Danny was talking to him, telling him things about false memories, voices on shelves, and lies. He didn't have to be Jazz to know what those were about. He knew he was an imperfect clone.

He wished Pollux was here.

Castor sighed and headed for Father's library. He'd had a dream about it the other night. Maybe looking at something more practical would do him good. Maybe, in all of Father's books about ghosts, he could find a way to make himself stable permanently, without the bracelets.

He ignored the voice telling him that, if there was something like that in the library, Father would have found it. It wasn't right, after all. Danny's memories showed him that Father could make mistakes, could be wrong, even with the best intentions. That was why Father needed Castor.

The library made Castor think of Jazz, Clockwork, and Ghostwriter. Thinking of Ghostwriter and Christmas felt a little funny, because he knew that this Christmas he would not be with Mom, Dad, Jazz, or even Pollux. It would just be him and Father, and Father wouldn't be with him the whole time, because Father held a big Christmas party every year. At least there wouldn't be any fighting.

Castor wandered around the room, looking at anything that caught his fancy, and putting them back neatly when he lost interest. A couple of them had to do with ghost powers, and Danny tried out their suggestions, but the best he managed was a bout of intangibility that sent the book tumbling through his hands and left him panting and shaking.

He stopped after that. He didn't want to use up the charge on the bracelets without Father here. The idea of going into stasis scared him. The idea of destabilizing scared him more.

He found a ghost history book that looked interesting, and started looking for a place to settle down and read. The books from the library stayed in the library.

The tables in the center of the room had things Father was working on on them, and Castor didn't want to disturb them. He made his way to a dusty, unused corner and sat down. Doing so, he noticed a book wedged behind a shelf. Curious, he pulled it out, and started leafing through it.

It was about divination. Seeing the future. It looked like Father had been researching it, but had given up on getting any of the methods to work.

Castor paused on a chapter, with lots of notes in the margins, about prophetic dreams, and how to gain knowledge of one's future or past self. He didn't know if anything written here would work, and a lot of it called for chanting and incantations, which he couldn't do, but... He frowned. This little bit, and that. Clockwork had shown him- Well, Danny- how to do them. Then, here, Clockwork had given him a workaround for chants like this, a way to substitute a silent component.

That meant Clockwork knew about this, about Castor, and wanted him to do well. A warm fuzzy feeling settled into his chest. He couldn't wait to show this to Father! But first, he had to test it out himself and make sure it worked.

He'd do the ritual, with all the workaround and tips Clockwork had given him, it would be easy, and then he'd take a nap.

All he had to do was draw some symbols on a piece of paper, drip a little blood on them (his sharp teeth helped with that), and make a few arcane gestures. He finished with a flourish, and waited to see if anything changed or felt different.

The bracelets' red lights came on.

Oh no.

Not wanting to destabilize, he hurried downstairs to the lab and practically threw himself into the charging machine.

The machine reminded Castor of a dentist's chair, only with more padding and arcane attachments. He made sure he was seated properly and put the bracelets into their proper position over the sensors on the armrests. At once, the machine clamped onto the bracelets, surrounding them completely with larger cuffs.

Castor glanced uneasily at the monitoring station. If Father's code wasn't input soon...

Two tiny pinpricks in his wrists interrupted the thought, and numbness spread from them.

He hoped Father or Pollux would be home soon.

.

Pollux slipped into a disused closet, and pulled his secret phone out of his pocket. "Hello?" he whispered, worried. Father rarely called him, especially not during school, and Danny's odd dreams had had him on edge all week.

"I need you to go check on your brother. He seems to have triggered the warning on his bracelets."

"I understand, I'll leave immediately," said Pollux. It was only one in the afternoon, so leaving would be noticed, but he could always blame it on a ghost attack. To his friends, at least.

"Good, I will join you as soon as I am able." Father hung up.

Pollux flicked himself into ghost form, and immediately made for the Fenton Portal. He was at the castle in record time. To his relief, Danny had obediently put himself into stasis, and had not triggered the shock feature of the bracelets.

He pulled over a stool, and sat next to Danny, tracing his features like he used to, when Danny had been in the containment chamber. He sighed, and started looking through Danny's memories to find out what had happened. Father would surely ask.

As soon as Father arrived, he did.

"He just overused his powers," said Pollux. "He was in your library, and he was trying to use your research to activate them."

"So there's no problem with his programming?"

"No, Father."

"Why was he doing that, though? Was he bored? Doesn't he have enough to entertain himself?"

"It isn't like that, but..."

"Go on."

Pollux considered his phrasing. "I think he's lonely. It's his Obsession, to help people, and if there are no people..." Pollux shrugged. "We strengthened his astronomy Obsession, but there's a limited amount of stuff he can do during the day, and you're also gone during the day, so he gets... fidgety, I guess. He used to satisfy his helping people Obsession all the time, and in a big way."

"I see. Should I give him more chores, then?" asked Father.

"That might help. But I think it might help more if you made him change his sleep schedule so that he sleeps while you're gone and can look at the stars while you're sleeping. It might get worse during the winter when it's overcast all the time, though."

Father put a finger to his lips. "Yes, that's a good thought, but not a fix. What if... What about waking one of your brothers? We would, of course, tell Daniel that they were a newly created clone, one made especially to be his companion. They would keep an eye on each other, and the clone would reinforce Daniel's treatments."

Pollux swallowed, and forced down jealousy. "I think that would work," said Pollux. "We'd have to be careful about how we 'grew' him, and what we told Danny about it. What the clone was impressed with, too, and which one."

"D44, I think," said Father, "and we would give him the same memories as Daniel."

"Less chance of Danny finding a hole or a contradiction if he manages to read him?"

"Just so." Father walked over to play with Danny's hair. "Anything else?"

"I think," started Pollux, not sure if this was something he should bring up, "that not being able to communicate is messing with him, too. At least in his memories, his thoughts feel more... jumbled, I guess? Fewer words, more feelings and pictures? Not, like, a lot, but noticeable."

"Good," said Father.

"Good?" asked Pollux, surprised.

"Yes. One of the medicines I am giving him is to accelerate that process. Pseudomyosotis alexiconia. You helped me gather it from the Ghost Zone."

"But... why?"

Father smiled. "Keeping him silent inspired me. I realized that we don't want him to communicate with anyone but us, after all, so why let him retain the ability? The dose is low enough that he will retain his ability to understand language. If it becomes necessary for him to communicate verbally or in writing with us, we can teach him to do so in something suitably obscure."

"I see," said Pollux, hiding his distaste for the idea.

"If I'd known how nice it was not to have him question me, I would have been administering it all along," said Father, chuckling. He ran a finger down the side of Danny's face. "Like this, I don't need to explain anything, he can only trust me, and obey. An elegant solution, don't you think?"

"Yes, Father."

Father nodded. "You should return to Amity Park."

"Yes, Father."

Pollux walked slowly to the portal. He did not want it to look like he was running away.

.

When Castor woke, it was like no time had passed, but Father was there. He smiled, relieved.

"Hello, Castor. Do you feel stable?"

Castor nodded.

"Good. You scared me, you know. You shouldn't try to use your powers without supervision."

Castor's eyes stung, both at the reprimand, and at the idea of causing Father any distress. He felt oddly unbalanced.

"I'm going to release you now. Sit up slowly. I've given you a stabilizing agent. It may make you feel strange."

Castor nodded again. The machine snapped off of his bracelets, and he obeyed, sighing. Father came over, and gave him an affectionate embrace, kissing his hair. Castor hugged him back, trying not to cry.

"You can cry if you want," said Father, stroking Castor's shoulder. "I know how frightened you must have been."

The tears started pouring out of Castor's eyes. Father comforted him. Father would always make sure Castor was safe, but Castor had to follow the rules.

"I'm have changed your sleep schedule," said Father.

Castor was still crying, but he was crying silently, so it was no obstacle to hearing and understanding Father.

"In fact, I'm have changed your entire schedule. You have more structure to your time, and this will not happen again." Father led him to a computer screen with a colored list on it. "This will be your schedule for your next day. Every evening, when I return and you wake, I will give you a new schedule. I'm sure it's a relief to you, not to be at loose ends while I'm away."

Castor looked at the schedule. Every minute of his time was parceled out and accounted for. His chores had expanded. Father had assigned him readings from the library and other activities. It was a relief. He wouldn't have to wonder about what would help Father, or what Father expected him to do, nor would he have to worry about accidentally running out the charge on his bracelets while Father was away.

It was too bad the prediction thing didn't work, though.

Father patted Castor's shoulder. "I've also noticed," began Father, rather hesitantly, "that you have been feeling lonely."

Castor looked up at Father in surprise. He didn't think he'd been so obvious about it.

"Don't look so surprised, I have my ways," said Father, playfully tweaking Castor's nose. "How would you like a new brother?"

Castor's eyes widened. A new brother? For him? To be his friend? To stay here, and keep him company? He nodded vigorously.

Father laughed. "It will take a while," he said, "and we will want to make sure that, well, what happened to you doesn't happen to him."

Castor nodded even more vigorously. Of course. Of course. He wouldn't wish this silence and weakness on anyone. He wanted his brother to be strong and free.

"Very good. Now, for your new schedule, you'll be staying up until I leave this morning. Until then, you will help me run some experiments."

The experiments were mostly experiments on Castor. Some were pretty mundane. He ran on a treadmill, lifted weights, breathed into a tube. Others were esoteric. Father wanted to test a lot of odd tools and artifacts on him. Castor longed to ask what each one was, what each one was supposed to do, and what Father wanted them for, but he contented himself with knowing what they did to him. Or what they seemed to do to him. Father wasn't forthcoming with the results he was getting from the wires stuck to Castor.

After a while, there were too many things to keep track of. A gun that made him shrink and then grow. An engraved disk that made him giggle uncontrollably when he touched it. A necklace that made his freckles and eyes shine and sparkle, and get brighter, and brighter, and brighter until they hurt to look at. An eyeless, mouthless mask that stuck to his face for ten minutes, and then fell off and couldn't be put back on. A set of symbols that made his mouth water, his nose run, and his eyes tear up. A second set of symbols that made his mouth, nose, and eyes run with sticky ectoplasm. A cream that made his skin temporarily ghost-green. A light bulb he couldn't look away from while it was on. A mirror that, when he looked at his reflection in it, made his teeth slowly grow longer and sharper.

It took both him and Father a while to notice the effect of the mirror, so now his canines were really more along the lines of fangs. He licked them, feeling put out. He was even more different from his original than he had been before.

Soon after, it was time for dinner. Father had a ghost cook, who haunted the stove. He never came out except for mealtimes, and he rarely spoke. Father had put wards around the kitchen, so he couldn't leave. His food was always delicious. Castor worried about him sometimes, but Father and Pollux had both said he was happy.

The food, fillet mignon and fancy little colorful potatoes with the skin still on, was as good as always, but Castor had a hard time eating with his new dentition. He had to open very wide to get a good bite of anything into his mouth, and he kept biting his cheek, lips, and tongue. Finally, he just pushed the food away, defeated, even though he was still hungry.

Father looked at him with concern, then went to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of soup. Castor brightened. Father had noticed, and had come up with a solution. Father was so nice to him.

After dinner, it was time for Castor to take his medicine. The medicine always made him feel weird, right after. Sluggish and dazed. That was, Pollux had said, how you knew it was working. So Castor just laid on Father's lap while Father watched his sports and TV shows. His core purred.

Then, Father went to bed. It was hard for Castor to stay awake, but Father had said he had to, and so did the schedule. So Castor went ahead and followed it, as well as he could. He knew he didn't do a very good job. He was too tired.

All the time for stargazing was very nice.

But Father was forgiving in the morning, and even tucked Castor into his bed downstairs in the room off the lab before he left.

Castor went to sleep. He dreamed.

Danny woke up.

.

"I knew this would happen," said Danny to himself, in the dream. "I knew this would happen, so I planned for it. Clockwork helped. A lot." He made a face. "Well, I guess I didn't plan for this exactly. Definitely not for being unconscious for months. That was a surprise. But I knew Vlad would try brainwashing eventually. It was really the only play he had left, and there are so many ways to brainwash ghosts it's scary."

The other Danny, who couldn't speak, nodded, urging him to continue. They were in a graveyard, under the stars of Amity Park, which were just a little different from the stars of Wisconsin.

"Like, there are a lot of things you just can't change about a ghost, but you can add things in. Thing is, I'm not just a ghost. Clockwork and I were able to set up this kind of double-brainwashing thing. A trigger phrase, sort of, that would make us do some kind of metaphorical mental time travel stuff. Not something I can explain completely while we're asleep, I don't understand it that well, yet, but thinking about anything related to seeing the future or time travel without being aware of this," he waved his hands around, "would have triggered it. Would have made you unlock this. Clockwork says that we're a natural seer, you see. Prophetic dreams, and stuff, seeing the future when we're in altered states of mind, etcetera. So it would have come up, eventually, but not in a situation that would immediately tip off the brainwashers. Got everything so far?"

Danny nodded to himself, and sighed.

"I won't lie, I, we, you, whatever, we're pretty much screwed right now. Pollux is way smarter than Vlad, and he's the one that did most of it, poor guy. But at least we know we're screwed, now, and we can use that. We can get out of this, because we remember getting out of it. Prophecy stuff. But not an inevitable one. Future's not set in stone."

Another sigh. "Luckily, we only have to be smarter than Vlad."

.

Pollux woke up late on Saturday. He'd stayed up most of the night fretting over what he had learned. It was one thing to make sure Danny stayed in a safe place, to widen his ability to love, but taking away a basic human ability like communication was a lot different.

He groaned as he sat up. Danny wasn't able to do even that. It wasn't right. That was supposed to be temporary. Adding expressive aphasia to that was cruel. It didn't make sense. Father was treating Danny more like a pet than anything else. It was like he just wanted to control Danny. True, controlling Danny was an important part of their plan, but Pollux's understanding had been that it would be temporary. That once Danny had seen how much better things with Father were, he would work to make Pollux's fantasy of one, big, happy family come true.

That Danny would choose to do that. What good was it for him to be safe, if he didn't have any freedom to enjoy it?

Oh. Oh, Ancients. He had messed up.

With that one question, he finally understood Danny. He thought he had before, but he had been so, so very wrong.

He swung his legs off the bed. There had to be some way to fix things.

His breath turned cold and white. He groaned. If this was the Box Ghost... But he did have to take care of the problem at hand first, and he owed it to Danny to keep Amity Park safe.

It was the Box Ghost.

He beat the annoying specter up in an alley a few blocks from Fentonworks, somewhat more viciously than was his wont.

"Hey."

He turned to face the familiar voice. "Jazz?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at college?"

Jazz shrugged and walked closer. "It isn't that far to drive, to visit my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother," retorted Pollux, rolling his eyes, and flipping over in the air so he was upside down. He had to keep the act up. He had to act relaxed, playful, like Danny would be.

"Hm," said Jazz. She whipped out a Fenton Thermos from behind her back and sucked Pollux in. "Nothing is too far for my favorite brother," said Jazz, voice echoing through the walls of the thermos, "and it's really too bad you aren't him."

.

Pollux knew where he was the moment he was dumped out. He recognized it, even if had never been here, personally. After all, he had been avoiding Clockwork.

"Hello, Pollux," said the time ghost.

"Hi," said Pollux, not getting up. He stared up at the great pendulum of Clockwork's lair.

"That's your name?" asked Jazz.

Pollux floated to his feet. "Yeah."

"Where's Danny?"

"With Father," said Pollux. He played with the edge of his glove. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" snapped Jazz.

Pollux flinched.

"Be kind," admonished Clockwork. "Vladimir literally built him to be obedient, to always follow orders, to not question what he was doing. He didn't have a choice."

"I only just understood," said Pollux. "I didn't before."

"You were still lying," said Jazz. "Still pretending to be Danny." She sniffed, and wiped a tear away from her eye. "Why? Danny would have accepted you. He thought of you as a brother even before he left. I would have, too."

Which meant she didn't now. Pollux sagged. "What gave me away?" he asked, quietly.

"I suspected from the beginning, from the morning you first came. It was little things that could be dismissed, not calling the mailman by name, eating toast, those spelling test, but they added up. There were big things, too. You didn't tell Ellie about the 'clone you helped Vlad save,' and Danny would have. He wears a lot of masks, and he tells a lot of lies, but he wouldn't have kept that from Ellie. That was a red flag. But I only really knew after the masquerade at Vlad's. All that time without our parents in the castle, and you didn't once suggest that I meet your clone?" Jazz laughed, but it was slightly hysterical. "That was the nail in the coffin."

"Oh," said Pollux. At least, he comforted himself, they were things out of his control. He couldn't tell Ellie. He couldn't introduce 'the clone' to Jazz.

"So I came to Clockwork to ask for advice, and he showed me what was happening. What you did to Danny." She shook her head. "You're family, and I know what Vlad did to you was awful, but I don't think I'll be able to forgive you." She looked at Clockwork. "I'm sorry, I have to go." She spun on her heel and marched out. Pollux caught a glimpse of the Specter Speeder beyond the door.

"Now what?" he asked Clockwork, resigned.

"You know," said Clockwork, "my situation is not entirely unlike yours. I cannot leave my lair except on orders from the Observants."

That wasn't what Pollux had been expecting. He blinked.

"Daniel is one of the few ghosts who visit me regularly, and for nothing more than companionship. He is one of my only friends. I would not hurt someone he loves so much. But I cannot let you return to Vladimir."

"What about Danny?"

"He is more resilient, and more cunning, than you think. Come with me. I would like to offer you a choice."

Pollux followed Clockwork down past hundreds of ticking clocks, into the bowels of the lair. The came to a stop in front of a huge door that Clockwork opened with a wave of his hand. Behind the door was a thermos.

"All of us have a purpose in this world," said Clockwork. "I know what you have fantasized about. But this may not be your purpose. You may choose another."

"What other?" asked Pollux, breathlessly.

"Being my companion, assistant, apprentice, and guest, until you are no longer a danger to yourself and Daniel. After that, you may stay or go. It would be up to you."

Pollux shook his head. "No. I want to try it. Let me try."

"Very well," said Clockwork. He picked up the thermos, and pointed it at Pollux. With a flash of blue, Pollux vanished.

In the thermos, he could feel Dan's core, made of Father's and Danny's and in so much pain, so close to his.

How wonderful.

.

Danny was screwed.

Oh, he'd known that from the moment he woke up, but this evening with Father (who he couldn't even think of as anything else) had really driven it home. He had all his memories, but he also had Pollux's memories, and they interacted weirdly, his emotions were all over the place, and seeing anything astronomy related distracted him for a good fifteen minutes at a time.

Then there was Father. Danny wanted to hit the man, but even contemplating actually, physically, doing so made him ill and panicked. Pollux had done something to make Danny's protective and helping Obsessions latch onto Father, but the real issue was that for the last week Father had been the only one feeding that side of his Obsession, and, unless Danny got out, Father would continue to be the only one.

(He felt violated.)

But Danny wasn't in any position to pick a fight. He had to play along. It wasn't so bad. Father wasn't being like he had been in the past. He wasn't actively beating Danny up. In fact, he was being quite caring. Nice. Gentle. Attentive. Affectionate. Loving.

No, no, no. He pulled himself out of that train of thought. Father was in the middle of testing miscellaneous ghost artifacts on him. That was not nice, or any of the other things. He was also lying when he said that it was to find something that would stabilize Danny. Danny knew that. So why did the lie feel so good to hear?

He picked up a decorative tortoiseshell comb at Father's direction, and put it in his hair. It didn't do anything until he took it out, at which point his hair promptly grew a foot. Father had him put the comb in and take it out several more times, until pooled on the floor behind Danny's chair, then cut the hair off into a bob like Mom's. Father then put the hair away in a separate container. Danny did not want to think about what he could do with it. Voodoo dolls came to mind.

The next thing was a pair of white magician's gloves. Danny put them on, and when he took them off, he couldn't make his hands tangible. Sadly, he also couldn't push off the bracelets, which he was now sure were inhibitors of some kind.

Then it was time for dinner. His hands still hadn't returned to the touchable world, so Father cut up his food and fed him, smiling. It was creepy. Did Father get off on having Danny helpless, somehow? But it was so kind of him, so thoughtful, so-

Stop that.

He couldn't. He had been conditioned to love Father and he hated it.

As it had been for the past week, after dinner was 'medicine.' Father fed that to him, too. Danny didn't want it. In his dream, he had found out what some of it was, what it was doing to him. But he couldn't avoid it, not with Father literally pouring it down his throat.

So after dinner, Danny was fuzzy and foolish, drugged, and couldn't resist. Couldn't help but purr when Father petted him.

Later, when Father was asleep, he hated himself.

But Danny could try and come up with something, now. He had memories from the past and the future, hands that were tangible again, and a brain that was mostly functional, despite Father.

But... The schedule. He had to follow it.

No, he didn't.

Father would know if the chores weren't done.

So he did the chores. By the time he was done, he was half out of his mind with internal conflict.

He had to do something to Father. Something bad. But he couldn't. But would Father do something bad to Danny? Of course not, Father loved him. So he could do to Father what Father was doing to him. Excellent.

He started to march to the lab to find something, but was distracted by stars outside the window. He lost an hour, staring up at them in wonder. One of the drugs had to be something that exaggerated Obsessions. Or Pollux had broken him. He really hoped it was the drugs.

What had he been doing?

His head swam.

What would really help, was doing something good for someone other than Father. It hit him. The cook. He could break the wards around the kitchen. But Father would notice that, unless the cook really was happy, and stayed.

But now a chorus of help help help was echoing in his core, and Danny didn't really want to ignore it. Hands shaking, he went to the kitchen and rubbed away the teeny, tiniest bit of the ward, which still rendered it useless. The cook came out of the oven, nodded at Danny, then went back in. Danny sighed in relief. He could think more clearly, now.

More important than getting back at Father was getting away. How could he do that?

He went outside and tested the shield. Still strong. He poked his powers. Still suppressed. Not that way. Could he destroy or disable the generator? First he had to find where it was. Could he go through the Zone? No, Father kept his portal locked. Could he call for help? No, the only phones in the castle were landlines and Danny couldn't talk.

Then he slapped himself in the face. There were some numbers that would send help even if you didn't talk. Sure, he wasn't sure how helpful they would be, but...

But, no. He couldn't. Not with all the ghost stuff in the lab. The GIW would be called.

Screw it. They could probably be worse than this, since they'd add dissections into the mix, but they wouldn't be called right away, especially if the lab wasn't found. Which it wouldn't be, because... because it would be pretty obvious why they had been called. Danny smiled evilly.

He went down into the lab and started searching. He found what he needed. Father really needed to have better security for these things. Sadly, he did not find his voice, which he was fairly sure had been moved to another of Father's hideouts, or destroyed entirely, or a way to magically remove the bracelets.

He trashed the lab, destroying as much as he thought he could get away with without tripping an alarm.

Silent as a ghost, Danny slipped into Father's room. He crept up to Father's bed, and raised both hands up, over his sleeping form. In one motion, he slammed both the Plasmius Maximus and a massive syringe of Pseudomyosotis alexiconia extract into Father's chest. Father spasmed and choked. Danny depressed the plunger. Then he ran. A wordless cry of rage followed him down the hall.

Wow. That stuff worked fast.

The closest landline was in the study. He picked it up, dialed 911 and dropped it. He ducked past Father in the hall, and got to the next landline. He dialed 911 again. He ran. Father was growling.

Danny didn't think he'd get to the next one before Father caught up to him, so he hid in a closet.

Which happened to have a false back that Danny knocked into and opened. Oh. So there was the shield generator. Crap. Maybe he should have looked for it a little harder before he involved the police.

He pulled the 'off' lever, then started whacking the thing with a broom, intending to break it. The closet door was flung open, and Vlad dragged him out.

Neither of them had access to their ghost powers. The fight was between a recently electrocuted, recently stabbed, powerfully built 40-something-year-old man with martial arts training and practical experience who had been exercising regularly and a drugged, skinny, somewhat malnourished 16-year-old with martial arts training and practical experience who had been in an induced coma just two weeks ago.

Danny lost the fight badly.

Which is why the police walked in on Vlad Masters dragging said semiconscious and bloody 16-year-old down the hall. Not a great image.

.

Danny sat on the back of an ambulance outside Father's castle, a notebook and pencil in his lap. His words were shaky and awkward, but he was relieved he could write anything. At first, he had tried to explain what had happened to him without sounding like a lunatic or talking about ghosts, then decided it didn't matter. His initial bloodwork had made the paramedic blanch. He must have so many drugs in him.

The scene they had walked in on, and the lab, if they found it, would probably be enough, and if there was any justice in the world, Father's aphasia would be permanent.

He handed the notebook to the detective. She read it, slowly. "You mean, those dental implants? He did that to you?"

They weren't really implants, but he nodded.

"Can you explain what you mean by, he stole your voice?"

Danny took the notebook back, and wrote, 'He did this to me. I could talk before.'

"Masters is having some difficulty there, as well," said the other detective.

Danny nodded. 'I did it to him because he did it to me. Its the drug in the syringe.'

"We'll have to test that," muttered one of the detectives.

"Well," said a paramedic, crossly. "He's definitely been abused. Look at these." She pointed at Danny's wrist, still encircled by the bracelet. "What even are they? Don't you have anything that can cut them off?"

The detectives shrugged.

'I just want to go home,' wrote Danny. 'Please.'

The first detective rubbed her eyes. "We're trying to contact your family, kiddo. In the meantime, you're headed to the hospital."

Danny nodded in understanding. His family might not even realize he was gone, and he looked so different now. Maybe he could undo some of the changes once he had access to his ghost form, but for now.

He sighed and looked up at the stars. They were so beautiful tonight.