#hjbwrites

[vladdyissues]

This is a post about Box Ghost 📦👻

A while ago I got to thinking about him seriously. What's his backstory? And most importantly, why is he the only ghost who never touches the ground?

With the exception of one episode—Prisoners of Love, when he was shown sitting at a cafeteria table in Walker's prison—he's always floating. I wonder why this is.

Box Ghost first showed up in 1x03 One of a Kind, at a dock.

He's dressed like a fisherman: bib overalls, rubber gloves, boots, a type of beanie that is specifically described as a fisherman beanie.

B▋▋▋▋ H▋▋▋▋▋▋'s 10 Years Later concept art, and Box Ghost's upgrade in The Ultimate Enemy, kind of gives that same marine-centric impression. Hook hand, patch eye, sailor tattoo, etc.

But he's the Box Ghost, not the Fisherman Ghost. Boxes are his thing. How did that happen?

I have a theory.

Box Ghost was former fisherman who found a job as a dock worker. It wasn't the best, and it didn't pay much. Maybe he started complaining on his lunch breaks, and someone overheard him. Someone who had connections to the mob.

So Pre-Box Ghost gets involved with the local mafia. They pay him to handle special shipments and strange boxes and keep his mouth shut. It's a substantial pay raise.

Until one day. One of the boxes break open. Maybe it's something horrible, something that makes him want to get out of this business and go back to good, honest work. Maybe it's something that tempts him. Money, gold, things that he can pawn for more cash than what the mob is paying him. So he starts skimming a little off the top of every shipment.

Whatever the situation, the mob bosses catch wind of what's going on and stage a "friendly severance meeting". And they double-cross him (of course). They tie him up, throw him in a crate, carry him out to sea, and dump him over the side. Their last words to him are a curse that would follow him into eternity:

"You'll never touch solid ground again, pal."

So Box Ghost died in a box. But because it was wood, it floated. And that's why Box Ghost never touches the ground.

[hjbender]

I asked myself, What am I doing here? Why am I here, now, of all places, at this point? And I replied, Because this is your path. To what? Nothing. Or anything. The meaning is yours. (I thought about that for a while.) How does that make you feel? I asked I don't like it, I said Why not? Because so much depends on me. And are you not strong? (I thought again.) I am. Then you will find your way, I answered. But keep walking.

[softpadawan]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger/Kanan Jarrus Characters: Ezra Bridger, Dume (Star Wars), Loth-Wolf Characters (Star Wars), Kanan Jarrus Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cults, Horror, Lothalian | Lothalite Culture & Customs (Star Wars), Fictional Religion & Theology, Paganism, Human Sacrifice, Virgin Sacrifice, Drugging, Public Nudity, Loth-Wolves (Star Wars), Blood and Gore, Disturbing Themes, The World Between Worlds (Star Wars), Supernatural Elements, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Warnings May Change Summary:

Three days before his sixteenth birthday, Ezra is chosen to be sacrificed to the wolf god, Dume.

[vladdyissues]

Danny slid a folded piece of paper across the table.

“It’s a PTA reminder,” he explained, even though Vlad was already reading it. “Wednesday, next week.”

“The ninth? I’m afraid that won’t do. The new furniture will be delivered that afternoon and I must be present when the movers arrive.”

“We—you’re getting new furniture?”

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to do some minor remodeling and decorating since last year but never could seem to find the time. The party is as good an excuse as any.”

Danny’s frown deepened. “What party?”

Vlad peered over the top of the paper. “Your sixteenth birthday party.”

Familiar, Chapter 21: Memory

[vladdyissues]

Vlad broke the seal on a bottle of Spätburgunder. “Nothing is worse than being powerless.” A grunt, followed by the pleasing pop of a cork. He poured half a glass for himself and a small measure for Danny.

“You trying to turn me into an alcoholic or something?” Danny joked.

“You’ve gone toe to toe with Pariah Dark and lived to tell about it. I trust you’re mature enough to handle a little wine.”

“I’d classify Pariah Dark as a strong spirit, but that’s just me.”

Vlad let out an unexpected burst of laughter. A few strands of gray hair fell free from behind his ear. “Good one.” He lifted his head, eyes twinkling. “I’ve missed those puns of yours, Danny. More than I can say.”

Danny’s smiled wavered at the tender tone in those last five words. “Well, here’s hoping I make you regret it.” He raised his glass, and Vlad returned the gesture.

“I welcome the opportunity.”

Familiar, Chapter 20: Resonance

[vladdyissues]

After Danny starts growing body hair Vlad shaves him while he's asleep.

He can just phase the hairs off, too. Easier and less likely to wake Danny.

Of course now I can't help but imagine Vlad sipping coffee at the table and Danny bursts into the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas, fuming.

"What have you done to me?!"

Vlad blinks serenely at Danny over the top of his newspaper. "Last night or...?"

Danny's face goes scarlet. He grasps each side of his button down shirt and rips it open.

His hairless chest gleams in the early morning light.

"Look at me. I'm SHINY."

Vlad lowers his paper, one eyebrow arched with interest. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Fenton?"

A vein throbs in Danny's temple. "Do you know how long it took me to grow those chest hairs?"

"There were only three. Hardly worth a tantrum."

"It's not just them! Every single hair below my nose is gone!" Danny lifts his arm to show off his smooth pits.

"Oh, dear. Looks like you might be the latest victim of the Twink Ghost."

"The what?"

"Twink Ghost. Serial hair remover. Twinkifies every spectral male entity he can find. It's his obsession. Would you like some breakfast?"

"You're telling me the Twink Ghost—which sounds totally made-up, by the way—somehow got through your security system last night and removed my pubes while I was sleeping next to you?"

Vlad shrugs. "He doesn't attack older specters. I'm immune."

Danny throws his hands into the air and lets out a frustrated snarl.

"Tut tut, little badger, it's too early to start your day off enraged. Would you like some French toast and—"

"I'm going to the Ghost Zone!" Danny stabs an angry finger at Vlad, his left eye twitching. "And if I find out there's no such thing as a Twink Ghost, I'm going to come back here and kick your ass."

"Daniel, please," Vlad titters, "it's much too early to be tempting me with such"—he shivers—"delightful promises."

Uttering one last exasperated scream, Danny spins on his heel and stomps toward the basement with vengeance boiling in his heart.

Vlad raises his newspaper once more, hiding his triumphant smile.

Only one person in this relationship is allowed to be hairy, and that person is him. 🪒👻

[vladdyissues]

The thought of dining alone in a restaurant with strangers filled him with anxiety, but so did the idea of making multiple phone calls to order extra food if the breakfasts were that super tiny gourmet stuff. Going ghost would be the easiest option, but stealing was more distasteful to Danny than eating by himself.

A latent confidence burbled up from some hidden place inside him, and he frowned determinedly.

He was a Masters. He was rich. He had supernatural powers and a credit card with a fifty-thousand-dollar limit. Why was he worrying about some stupid little kid crap like eating by himself? He could bring his laptop down, maybe finish up the last bit of his classwork, read a book, plug in his headphones, whatever the hell he wanted. Who was going to stop him? Why the hell was he still sitting here?

Familiar, Chapter 19: Dream

[vladdyissues]

Semimmortal

Thinking about Vlad and Danny’s human bodies aging while their ghosts remain the same age at the time of their respective accidents. Forever twenty-something and fourteen in spirit, their human forms getting soft, saggy. Wrinkles, aches, arthritis, youth dissolving with each passing holiday, anniversary, birthday.

Eventually mortal tissue becomes a poor conductor of spectral energy, and Vlad and Danny can no longer use their ghost powers while in human form. Going invisible or intangible causes pain and prolonged weakness. Flight is out of the question. So is overshadowing. The ease with which they enjoyed the mixed use of their skills diminishes rapidly after age sixty. Soon the only vestige of their hybrid abilities remains in the occasional red or green glow of their eyes, but even that is on the decline.

Yet while their human bodies weaken with time, their ghost halves—like all spectral entities—grow stronger. They know the day is coming when all metabolic functions will cease and their flesh will die, at which point they will become entirely ghost, no longer trapped between worlds.

Will they level up, shaking off the mortal raiment that has been trapping them for most of their lives? Or will it be a downgrade, losing the part of them that made them so special? Perhaps the most important question is what to do when the time comes.

“Do you want to pass together?” Vlad asks, his voice dry and crackly with age as he strokes the back of Danny’s hand with a wrinkled thumb. “Or shall we let nature take its course?”

“I don’t know,” Danny answers. His forehead is marked with deep horizontal creases; sixty-two years’ worth of cares and joys. “On one hand I like the idea of going out at the same time, but…”

Vlad nods, almost reading his mind. After so many years together, he practically can. “Yes. You still have a few more decades of life to live.”

“Not sure how good they’d be without you, though.”

Vlad grins. He still has most of his teeth, though they’ve darkened over the decades to a dusky ivory. He has a set of dentures for what few public appearances he still makes, but they’re deliberately imperfect. At some point, blazing-white chiclets on a man nearly a century old looks absurd.

“It’s not as if you won’t be able to see me every day, Daniel.”

“I know. But still. Vlad Masters will be dead and only Vlad Plasmius will exist. It’s gonna be hard knowing I’ll never see that man again.” Danny raises his head. “Whichever one of us dies first ought to make a promise to haunt the survivor until he dies.”

“Hm. You can count on it, little badger.” Vlad squeezes Danny’s hand. They share a chuckle, two old men sitting close together on a park bench, one in Italian trousers and a vicuña cardigan with a gold-handled cane balanced between his knees, the other dressed in jeans and a Cornell University sweatshirt, his alma mater. By all appearances, as opposite as night and day. Around them, autumn leaves tumble down from overhanging tree branches in a gold and orange snowfall.

“I’m gonna miss this world,” Danny says with a wistful sigh.

“Well, then”—Vlad leans back with a sigh of his own and a wag of his bushy white eyebrows—“I suppose you’ll just have to leave the door open when you leave, won’t you?”