#cheeseghostmaster

"Uh…"

//You can list all the Vlads you know if you want to.

"Oh. Okay. Well, Danny’s Vlad…"

// lordofthespookyfruitloops?

"… God is that really his name? Yeah, that Vlad. He’s not bad. I guess he’s sort of like a… a mentor, but not exactly? I mean, it’s weird. I’m actually closer to him right now than I am to my own father, but I don’t see Vlad as a dad, even though I know he’s admitted once to sort of seeing me as a daughter. Still don’t know what to think about that though."

"As for teen Vlad…"

// spoookymasters?

"… Is this some sort of Halloween thing among the Vlads? Yeah. Him. He’s okay in my books too. A little naive sometimes. Lets himself get pushed around too easily, but I guess that’s better than the alternative. We’re friends, I guess."

"As for the last one…"

// cheeseghostmaster

Valerie struggled to keep from glaring at the older half-ghost, knowing that the persona he knew of her wouldn’t have a reason to do so. In fact, she would probably have been thankful for the attention.

If she didn’t know what she already knew. And if she wasn’t trying to hide secrets from him.

Send a ۵ for my muse’s reaction to yours visiting them in the hospital.

Danny stiffened, the brief burst of pain washing over him at the action going ignored as he stared, eyes narrowed in suspicion and wariness, at the older half ghost standing at the door of the hospital room.

"What?" He croaked, cringing internally at the hoarse I-just-woke-up sound of his voice. Wow. Great. Just great. He wouldn't even be able to scare a kitten with that.

Clearing his throat, the halfa absently - almost nervously - ran his fingers over the cast covering his right arm, gaze never leaving Vlad. He wasn't looking to take advantage of the fact that he was injured or anything, was he...?

That was a little easier said than done, but the biting retort died on his tongue as the world spun around him and the dark spots at the corners of his eyes seemed to spread and he blinked, slowly, before turning an unfocused gaze in the direction of the other man's voice. 

His fingers twitched and he swallowed down the burning nausea, because the last thing he wanted to do right now was throw up all over Vlad. Not because he'd probably ruin the other's clothes, but because he wasn't sure his body would be able to take the strain and still keep him conscious. 

...No matter how tempting it was to just close his eyes and slip into blissful unawareness. At least then he wouldn't hurt.

How the hell had this even happened?