#• New Sewer Lines.

[dani-luminae]

Is it just me or do the Marleybone quests following Sinbad just feel really... really half-done?

[nationaleconomy999]

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[doctordrain]

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[enigmaris]

Danny Kills the Joker AU

Danny is on the run in gotham, as you do in dpxdc fics. His parents are dead and he is trying to stay out of Vlad's custody. Gotham has plenty of ectoplasm to hide his ecto signature. It also has a high enough population of homeless people that no one would even notice Danny just showing up.

He's been living rough in gotham, mostly sticking to Crime Alley and The Narrows, sleeping in abandoned buildings or in relatively clean parts of the sewer system. He eats what he can find and does his best never to be seen.

Not good enough since he along with like 30 other street kids get picked up by joker goons and tied up. Joker is planning an explosive party for the city to watch and he needed guests. Joker literally set up bombs of joker gas around the city that will go off and send the entire city into pandemonium, killing millions. The only way to stop the bombs is to kill his guests (homeless kids from Crime Alley) which the city can vote on. Kill themselves or kill kids.

Danny is sitting at the edge of the group, listening as Joker televises his new plan to the entire city.

He really, really hates clowns.

He is also not gonna let this guy kill all of these kids. He may not be a hero anymore but those protection instincts didnt die with his parents.

And also fuck that clown.

He phases through his bonds, and then starts asking the various kids to borrow their hat, gloves, and scarf. Gotham street kids take one look at this out of town kid and mentally wish him luck while planning out his funeral. They keep on acting terrified because as stupid as this kid is being, they're not snitches either.

Danny puts on the borrowed clothes to hide his face and hair. He can't be identified, or Vlad is gonna be on his ass tomorrow. Once fully covered he gets up and into view of the camera. The Joker notices him, turns around to laugh and jeer at him. Probably shoot him for being impolite and interrupting him. Danny doesnt even pause just walks right up to the clown and coldcocks him.

Based on the sound of bones snapping Danny admits he might have punched a little too hard. Danny checks the Jokers pulse and immediately panics. Danny has Batman levels of fear around killing and he is panicking about becoming Dan.

"Holy Shit I killed him!" He says, to the entire city because the camera is still rolling.

Cue:

Danny running for his life, trying to hide away from his fear and guilt.

Red Hood becoming like his dad and drawing up mental adoption papers

Harley Quinn also drawing up adoption papers, paper ones, while Poison Ivy changes their home's 'no boys allowed' banner to 'son boy allowed'

Jokers goons trying to find Danny to kill him for killing their boss

City wide pandemonium as the jokers death is confirmed and people are partying in the streets, the mayor is planning on giving the street kid who did it the key to the fucking city

The batfam trying to find Danny to protect him from Jokers Goons (Bruce is third in line for custody not that he knows he is gonna have to fight both Harley and Jason for the honor)

The crime alley kids are still not snitching on the kid who saved them. Anyone who asks them about Danny only respond with 'what are you a cop? Fuck off pig'

Vlad Masters, as someone who has been punched by Danny, immediately recognizes the punch and flies to Gotham to find his wayward 'son'.

Vlad even meets with Brucie Wayne to ask for help in finding Danny. Bruce gets bad vibes from Vlad and is even more invested in finding Danny. The boy has dark hair, blue eyes, and a tragic orphan backstory. Its fate!

Danny meanwhile is hiding in some sewer somewhere breathing into a paper bag as he panics about becoming a world ending threat.

[frownyalfred]

Examples of Bruce’s “Dad Strength” as witnessed by various Robins throughout the years:

can and will bodily pick up any new Robin and bail as soon as gunfire starts on patrol

one time Bruce got out, physically ripped off a broken part of the Batmobile, and threw it in the backseat so he and Jason could keep chasing someone in the Narrows

ran home with Nightwing over his shoulder when he got shot

frequently lifts sewer grates/manhole covers like they weigh nothing

does push-ups with Robins on his back for a challenge

held onto the side of a building with just his fingers for ten minutes once when Steph’s grapple line broke and he had to help her back up

pulls hot dishes from the oven without mitts sometimes for Alfred (insists scar tissue on his hands means he can’t feel it, nobody fully believes him)

Damian swears he saw him kick a tree down once during training. A big tree.

Dick frequently catches him unscrewing screws in his prototypes with his bare fingers

Punches through walls????

can drink nothing but straight black coffee for several days before any signs of discomfort (this freaks out everyone but Tim)

[pagepulse]

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[sewersurgeons]

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[emacrow]

Damian and the Dumpster baby.

Damian was doing patrols, with a bit of a minor rescuing and feeding the strays animals until he heard a noise from a dumpster.

Tonight was going to be a storm coming, and he rather check up on the strays, feed them, fixing any of the secure hiding places he put out for them for rain occasionally, and try to smuggle 1 or 6 into the barn again without Father knowing. Alfred can keep a secret sometimes.

Jumping on the edge of the dumpster to see a plastic bag tied up on the pile of trash with something squirming inside, alive obviously. Oh if this another group of puppies, he going to find the culprit himself and break their kneecaps and arms this time.

Easily untying the plastic bag and opening to reveal.. a little baby.

Not a kitten or a puppy, a living breathing human baby, cut and tied umbilical and a pale with a unique birth mark in a shape of a lichtenberg from his tiny hand fading to his chest.

This..

This was out of Damian's comfort line.

He had dealt with saving animals, people, children, hell even toddlers. He never dealt with a baby before much less a newborn.

He could panic later as he hear the sounds of a storm brewing. Carefully picking up the baby by the back of the head and and by the body, using his cape to as a blanket to cover the obvious nudity of the baby. Climbing onto his Red Robin theme Doom Buggy.

Taking care of a baby is no different then taking care of a baby animal, right?

.....

.....

.....

.....

He got caught after 5 month and a half by Alfred during feeding Danyal time, while scolded him about hiding the baby instead of coming to him.

He had a good reason to though, last time he told Alfred about the last newest addition, Bruce sended the Jafar the Ligor to a sanctuary. He still felt betrayed by that.(even though now Jafar is happily spending his days with the other mixed big cat breed but still)

He done a good enough job taking care of Danyal, even though he had to secretly look up baby stuff, medicine, clothes, a soft bedded cot and diapers.(the smell was much less worse then the sewer) he considered himself a great care-taker.(even though in the back of his mind, he feared that he might had unlocked that genetic adopt-bat bait traits that Dick warned him about)

Damian had gotten.. a bit attached, considering the idea of putting danyal in orphanage or a foster care wasn't ideal afterall the corrupted ones that Father and him had broken through over the years left a bad gut feeling if he had actually gone through with his plan. Danyal was one of his babies, only not covered in fur, scales, or a shell.

And he didn't do everything all on his own, Cass was the only who figured it out, kept it a secret and help out.. then steph found out... and Jason, Tim and Duke unfortunately found out after Cass and steph snuck danyal in the manor for a nice bath.

Only reason Dick didn't found out because everyone know he can't keep a secret away from Bruce's ear for long after found out Jason's new girlfriend was the new therapist in Gotham, and telling Bruce would feed his adopt-holic again and he end up having baby fever. (Tim didn't tell him what that word meant but he did look it up in a baby care guide book for new parents. And EW)

They were going to wait it out til Danyal was at least toddler age before sneaking him in the manor to gatekeep gaslight girlboss Father into thinking he already adopted him. (Steph's words, not his)

New post <-

[hughmanbean]

Loving Threats

Inspired by a song and its remake. But I am trash at syncing lyrics to storybeats.

Danny and Jason met in the ghost zone when Jason was dead, but he forgot it all coming back to life. When the two of them were together, they went through the entire song and dance (literally) of asking each other out.

I'm serious. There were like 10 different musical scenes with varying themes. It was Fenton Romance at its finest. And Jason's old school romance heart was certainly played a large part too.

It was their love language. Dramatic acts, vague threats and all.

Post revival and reconnection with the Batfam, Jason spots a familiar face. A flood of memories wash through him, and with it a bout of giddiness. Though he's currently dressed as Red Hood, Danny'll be able to tell who he is and keep quiet. Just have to greet him in a way that he'll recognize.

---

Danny is out taking the kids for a walk. Dan was grumpy since he wasn't allowed any ecto chips, for both his health and as punishment for severely beating a guy who tried to mug Danny without permission yesterday. Ellie is quite cheerful, since she's going to visit the Crocodile and Zombie sewer-dudes when Danny's not looking.

All of a sudden, Red Hood, casually wielding a gun, approaches Danny. He makes an overly familiar gesture, wrapping an arm sideways around Danny's waist. He whistles under the hood, a faint green glow from the white eyespaces.

"Well who do we have here? You look half dead, honey."

Danny looked at him. Horrible pick up line? Check? Thin veneer of confidence? Check. Zero self control around Danny? Check.

Jason. The rancid ecto signature is new, though. Honestly, not surprised he's a crime lord now.

"Well, you know how it is. The kids have been running me ragged. And you sure haven't been any help."

Danny puts on an innocent smile. Jason sidles closer. A few bystanders watch them with varied expressions.

"Well you don't need to worry about that now. How about you and I go somewhere more private?"

---

"A crime boss, huh?"

Dan is raiding the fridge. Ellie is watching a fight on TV.

"It was a... necessary step. I promise I would've visited you sooner if I had known."

"It's fine. What else happened while you were gone?"

"Well..."

[nationaleconomy999]

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[doctordrain]

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[dcxdpdabbles]

How about one where Danny saves Tim after Damian cuts Tim’s line?

Danny is throwing out his trash when a hero falls into his arms. He had just finished settling the lid of the bin, stretched his two arms outwards, lacing his fingers together to pop them, and the very second he unlaced them, he heard the shout of alarm.

Glancing up, Danny watches in open astonishment as a body descends from heaven, and he barely has the time to bend his elbows into a catch as the body slams into his arms.

Thankfully, Danny was quick enough to cushion the landing with a big ectoplasm, letting it burst from his forearms and spreading into a makeshift glove that deflates as soon as he catches the body.

Owlishly, he blinks at the white lens of a mask that belongs to the man he caught. A vigilante, one of those bats, he thinks. Danny doesn't pay much attention to the news regarding them, so he has no idea who he's holding.

The other seems frozen in shock, so Danny looks at the sky, wondering where he came from. Standing at the edge is Robin, looking genuinely unsettled.

A rope swings in the wind, obviously been cut. The impaled knife shaped like an R is on the wall next to it. The same R that the kid is wearing on his uniform. His parents are genuine, but it doesn't take Danny long to figure out what happened.

The kid cut this guy's line, which could have easily killed him if not severely harmed him. In all his mature wisdom, Danny does the most natural thing to him.

He flips the bird, jolting the human in his arms into a more comfortable carry and retreating back into the manhole he had crawled out of. The kid seems startled, flipping down from the building, but it will be too late by the time he gets down.

Danny had actually placed a portal to his house in the Infinite Realms right at the diameter of the manhole. The second Danny recovers them with the metal plate, he swings back into the yard of his lovely garden and snaps his fingers to seal off the portal.

By the time the child gets the manhole cover, all he will see is the entranceway to Gotham's sewers. He may even be tempted to search for them, but Danny and his guest will be on an entirely different dimension.

The man in his arms slumps in his hold, looking utterly exhausted. "Where are we?"

"My house. Would you like to come in for some coffee?"

There is a moment where the stranger thinks it over before shrugging, "Why not."

Later, Danny realizes that the easy way Tim allowed himself to be brought inside was a facade. The little shit had just been gathering information on him before he flipped the table and attempted to beat Danny up with impressive martial arts techniques.

Then he stole his specter speeder, flying off into the Realms while Danny wheezed on the ground. Rude. He even took Danny's inbox of who knows what artifacts.

Danny was tasked with discovering their purpose and fixing them as his part-time job as a Ghostly Artifact repairman. Now, his client's stuff was stolen by a spandex-wearing weirdo from what he called the "Trash Dimension."

All because some other spandex-wearing ninja chose to cut his line.

"Crude, one of Clockwork's time amulets was in there," He mutters, wobbling to his feet and shifting into Phantom. He better catch the human before the idiot messed with a timeline. Last time, he took his trash out on a Wednesday and the usual Thursday. This is what happens when he breaks his routines.

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 5; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

Give him blood and he’ll give you something new to chew on.

Except that isn’t the way it goes. Not this time at least.

He tries to talk Ghost out of it, but it falls on deaf ears. Blatantly ignored. The car barrels down the motorway under the cloak of night, a swell of stars overhead as the city falls farther behind. Radio shut off. Johnny thinks if Ghost had his way, the radio would’ve been pulled out entirely, just wires and an empty, black cavity in the dashboard, but it’s a rental. 

And no one wants to deal with the paperwork involved in damaging military property. Not even Ghost.

Ghost won’t so much as glance over at him. Unaffected as ever, as if they didn’t just fuck. Johnny’s stomach hurts when he thinks about it. Even without her knowing, he’s broken his girl’s trust. Not for the first time; maybe not even the last. His guilt echoes not only that he let Ghost make him come, but that he liked it—that the buzz in his bones says do it again, please god, again, please let me come, I need to come, touch me, please—

He thinks about his girl, then turns to Ghost again.

In the pit of his stomach, Johnny knows this is wrong. In his rational mind, he knows it. If he were in a better place, he wants to think that he’d make a real attempt to change Ghost’s mind, maybe get him to turn around at the next gas station, but he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in his belly at the prospect of seeing his girl again after a week of nothing. 

The silence has been eating away at him. Bits of his brain flaking away, moth-eaten. Checking his phone again and again to no new messages, getting the same voicemail message whenever he calls. Something flutters high in his chest, an itch he can’t scratch; it tells him to take off in the middle of the night, drive all the way back home and pound on her door until she’s forced to answer it, forced to talk to him face to face.

Again and again, he tries looking at it from her perspective—tries to empathize with her. What he would’ve done in her shoes had she allowed a coworker to grab his dick in front of a crowd of strangers. It’s more than fair, he thinks. His own shame leaks out of his pores in the middle of the night, sleeping on top of the covers because he sweats right through the sheets. 

And yet, he keeps butting up against his own anger. Talk it out with me, yell at me, he growls into her voicemail, anger growing as the days pass one by one. 

It’s the road that alerts him to their arrival into the city more than anything. More cracks in the asphalt, the car rattling over sewer depressions and potholes in a way that says home sweet home. Usually it’s a source of comfort, like seeing the silver lining on grey clouds or the iridescence in an oil spill, purples and greens catching the light. Not now. Now the road winds like descending into the underworld, each turn coming with a sinking feeling. 

They park down the road from the flower shop, tucked just out of sight. A cool breeze wafts over his hot face when he steps out of the car. It nearly rocks him back. When he glances up, his heart stutters at the sight of her bedroom window, sealed tight now. Only cracked open during their sleepovers, when Johnny runs a bit too hot at night for them to sleep comfortably with the window closed. 

“Should I…do ye want me to give her a call to wake her up?” Johnny asks tentatively, shutting the car door softly so as not to make a noise. 

Ghost shakes his head. “We’ll let ourselves in.”

Johnny’s picked hundreds of locks in his time; he’s jimmied open doors with crowbars, set up explosive charges, used a good old fashioned ram from time to time—no stranger to the trade—but it feels decidedly uncomfortable with Ghost at his back, staring down at him as he breaks into his own girlfriend’s apartment. 

“This is a bad idea,” he grumbles, turning the pick in the lock until he hears a familiar click inside. 

Ghost doesn’t answer, just raps his knuckles against the back of Johnny’s head. A silent get a move on. 

Her apartment looks the same but different when they enter it. His muscles remember the layout though. The pink couch in the living room with two dimpled pillows on either side, the footstool by the door, the stand with her shoes all piled in neat little rows, the vase on her kitchen island with a fresh new bundle of flowers, fragrant when he dips his head to take a whiff. He’s loved flowers ever since meeting his girl. 

Ghost doesn’t try to muffle his footsteps for once. He rummages through her cabinets and drawers with all the finesse of a first time burglar looking to get caught. It smacks of intentionality. Johnny’s worked with him too many times in the field to know that if Ghost wanted to disappear into the darkness, he would. He’d be the thing creeping silently through the shadows, tread lighter than air, close enough to touch but never see. 

So it’s more than deliberate when he noisily shuts a drawer. Baiting her out. 

It’s no surprise when Johnny hears her creep around the corner from out of her bedroom. He’s tucked in the shadows of the living room, just out of the light, so he sees her first when she comes silently down the hall, whole body trembling with fear, the bat she keeps beside her bed drawn over a shoulder. Even her hands shake around the grip.

Of course she yelps when Johnny says her name, stepping out of the shadows, swinging wild. He winces when the bat smashes into a lamp, shattering it on impact. 

“Fuck!” she screams, scurrying backwards into the wall behind her. Several framed pictures rattle against the wall, nearly knocked off their hooks. 

“Noisy, isn’t she?” Ghost grumbles from the kitchen, tossing a bored glance over, unbothered by the commotion. He undoubtedly heard her creeping down the hall as well. 

“What the fuck?” she gasps, chest heaving when she breathes. Her eyes dart from Johnny to Ghost’s massive form in the other room. Poor nervous thing. She must recognize Johnny’s voice saying her name even through the panic because her lips droop in a frown, more confused than petrified.

“Hen, it’s jus’ us—nothing to worry about,” Johnny coos, hands stretched out in front of him to show he means no harm. 

It gets her to lower the bat, but only just, the slightest dip that has him darting forward to pry it gently from her hands. The ceramic shards on the floor will have to be swept up later, but he’s relieved that at least she didn’t step on any of them. 

Up close, she’s just as pretty as he remembers. Pretty as pie. How could she not be? In the glow of youth still, not like it's been a decade since they last spoke face to face—only a little over a week. A sight for sore eyes, even though Johnny’s narrow when he stares down at her and thinks about the week of his texts and calls going unanswered. His jaw undulates, rage held back by the thin thread of her scent that wafts under his nose, making him lean into her. 

Breathe in and out. 

“Us?” she repeats, brow furrowing.

She glances over at Ghost again, the man still ambling around the kitchen, at home in her little one bedroom apartment like he visits her frequently. Like it’s his as well. 

“Aye…Ghost wanted to come—Simon wanted to apologize…for the other day,” Johnny explains. 

“You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night…so Simon could apologize for sexually harassing me?” she says, the disbelief smacking in her words. 

“Hen, it's no' nice to say it like that—” 

“No time like the present,” Ghost says, not ashamed in the slightest. “Heard you weren’t taking Johnny’s calls. Might not’ve had to do this if you’d picked up.” 

Johnny doesn’t believe a word of that, but there’s no reason to call him out on it now. 

He can see her wrestle with a trifecta of emotions competing for first place. Anger, embarrassment, and then, a smidge of worry holding up the rear. Aware of the fact that she woke up to two grown men, one practically a stranger, breaking into her apartment under the guise of having a conversation. His heart aches at the thought. The lion’s share of the blame rests with him, but still it’s her that suffers for it. 

“You…you shouldn’t be here,” she rasps, flinching when Johnny lays a hand on her waist, towering over where she’s still cowered against the wall. Bat gone now, defenceless. Her pupils narrow to a pinprick. He almost tuts, poor thing. Scared out of her wits. 

It feels so good to touch her though. Soft and yielding. 

“‘Was Simon’s idea, hen, but, ah—” his breathing picks up when his fingers tighten on her waist and she squirms “—I was goin’ crazy thinkin’ ye were pissed for what happened last week. Couldnae get a wink of sleep—kept closin’ my eyes and seein’ your face. Nearly broke me.”

“I am pissed at you,” she snaps, temper getting the better of her.

“I ken, I ken,” Johnny coos, ducking his head until his lips graze her temple. “Simon’s sorry—we came all the way here so he could tell ye to your face, but fuck, hen, I’m sorry too—shoulda said something instead of standin’ there like a fuckin’ dolt—”

“You should’ve,” she interrupts, still fuming mad, an iceberg melting right in front of them. It makes his cock pulse.

“—Aye, hen, I’ve no excuse, none at all. Shoulda told Simon to fuck off and keep his hands to himself—”

“Careful, Johnny,” Ghost says warningly, finally stepping into the living room. He fills out the archway imposingly, almost forced to twist his body on an angle to step in. 

Her eyes cut over to Ghost, narrowing, lips pursing. Johnny’s heart jumps in his chest. It’s one thing to see his girl again in the flesh, but to see her all righteous and on the verge of an argument—he could bend her over the back of the couch now, sink into the plush, delicate folds of her pussy, reacquaint himself with deep, languid thrusts. Heaven after not getting his cock wet in a week.

He flinches when he thinks about the last person to touch his dick. 

“So you’re sorry?” she says to Ghost, her disbelief clear. Difficult to see why she wouldn’t find it hard to believe that the man that shamelessly grabbed her ass in broad daylight in front of a group of his colleagues and her boyfriend would now choose to apologize. 

Johnny knows the answer is no when he sees the way Ghost’s eyes rove over her body, taking stock of her little cotton pajamas and her bare feet curling against the cold floor. Ghost tilts his head to the side, eyes travelling back up to meet hers. “Sure I am, bird. Don’t I look sorry?”

Neither of them answer that. Arguing with Ghost feels different, like inviting in danger. Moving too suddenly in front of a hungry dog, jowls loose and salivating for a bite. 

He takes a step closer. “Complete pillock, wasn’t I? And now Johnny’s getting the silent treatment ‘cause of it. Just couldn’t bear another second of him moping around base on the verge of tears.” 

Johnny frowns at that. His girl frowns too, but there’s something more to it. He wouldn’t blame her for not accepting Simon’s apology, if he could even call it that—nothing about it rings sincere, more like words spoken softly to call a kitty over—but questioning it feels worse somehow. Like detonating a bomb at two thousand feet above ground. 

“…Okay,” she says instead, voice trembling a little. “Apology accepted. You guys can go home now.”

“Bird’s forgiving, huh, Johnny?” 

Johnny preens despite himself. “Aye. She’s a good girl, Lt. Told ye so.”

Ghost nods. “That’s right. A good girl who’s gonna let us make it up to her ‘til we have to report back in forty-eight hours.”

“Wait, you can’t—” she starts, then cuts herself off when Ghost’s eyes flash.

He can’t help the way he shudders at the helpless look on her face. Downturned eyebrows, pretty lips slack with disbelief, just the slightest hint of a whine building in her throat that dies when it dawns on her that nothing short of calling the cops will make the two of them leave. 

And she’s a good girl—would never call the cops on him. His perfect girl. Sweet as pie. 

Johnny falls in love a little bit more when she presses her squeezed fists against her eyes and exhales. “Fine. I’m too—I’m going back to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Ghost doesn’t react to her acceptance. It’s taken as a simple fact of nature—he says something and it happens. He speaks the world into being. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he grunts, finally sitting down to unlace his boots. He looks comically large on her little couch—it’s more than likely that his feet will hang off the end, if not everything from the knee down. 

Johnny already figured as much. No point in them driving all the way back to base when they both have the next two days off duty and there’s a perfectly serviceable couch for Ghost and the other half of her bed for him. He thought they’d have to convince her a bit more or strong arm her into it (a putrid thought; he’d rather have sweet talked her into the idea), but his girl always manages to surprise him in the best way. 

On that thought, he looks over his shoulder towards the bedroom door, cock throbbing again at the thought of getting to hold his girl’s body against his. Touch starved dog. Mangy mutt, tongue lolling out at even the possibility of a pet. 

Ghost must notice the object of his gaze because he sets him straight. “You can take the floor, Johnny.” 

His tone brooks no argument. When Johnny whirls around, the words already on his tongue, she’s my girl, I’ve already slept in that bed ten times over, the sight of Ghost’s bare face, the mask now off, dangling in his hand like some scrap of fabric, makes him lose his train of thought. It’s not often he’s granted the luxury of seeing Ghost’s face—wide, clean shaven jaw, buzzed blond hair, old burn marks like a half-moon around his eye, nasty old scar slicing through his lips—and to see it now, here, makes something in him give. 

Saturnine man with a wolf’s appetite. Ravenous. 

It burns him that his girl looks slightly relieved at having the bed to herself. Irks him. Makes his jaw clench on a mean remark, half tempted to spit out something cross. Just because things have gotten complicated, now he’s not welcome in her bed? After the week he’s spent toiling, trying to make amends? Pleading desperately over the phone, stewing in guilt and heartache—Johnny knows she’s a good girl, but if he finds out that she’s replaced him with someone else in the week since they last saw each other—

Even the thought makes him see red.

He watches her as she turns around to retreat back to bed, more than a little displeased. 

“Give Johnny a little kiss before bed, why don’t you, bird?” Ghost lightly suggests. Not a suggestion. 

She freezes mid-turn. His expression dares her to put up a fuss. Johnny again nearly clucks his tongue, troubled on her behalf. Her spitfire nature is snuffed out easily under that stare. Grown men with experience in the field wither under Ghost’s stare. It’s no weakness of hers that she acquiesces time and again to his demands, glancing up at Johnny from under her eyelashes before shuffling over, pressing the lightest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Better than that,” Ghost grunts, unimpressed. 

His poor darling. Humiliated now. No skin off his back though. Johnny’s heart pumps double time when she presses her lips to his; soft petals that spread when he slips his tongue into her mouth, too eager after a week of nothing. Touch starved. Desperate to sink into her, lap his tongue over her lips and the roof of her mouth and press her jaw open to spit messily in her mouth. Take it, hen, every piece of me.

She rips her lips from his and dances away when he tries to get his hands on her, eyes wide, casting one last glance over at Ghost before hightailing it back to her room. 

He barely resists going after her. Only Ghost’s stare roots him in place; his voice in Johnny’s head that rumbles, heel. I’ll tell you when to go.

He still doesn’t know what it says about him that he angles himself towards it. Bows his head to it. Moth to a flame that shocks him to the bone when he touches it.

Ghost tosses him the second pillow from the other end of the couch and takes the only blanket for himself. No matter. Johnny’s bivouacked on snowy cliff sides, chilblains blistering his toes for weeks; nights spent camped in torrential downpours, his tent on the verge of collapsing; windswept baysides chilling him to the bone. He can handle a pillow on a hardwood floor. 

The ebb and flux of an ocean in his ear, and then Ghost’s voice from the couch: “I’ll take first watch.”

Whole body falling loose as if snipping a cord tethering him to the world. 

“I’ll clean up the lamp in the morning,” he mumbles, vision already blurring. Ghost hums low in his throat.

He falls asleep with Ghost’s voice in his head, his girl’s taste still in his mouth.

[dandylovesturtles]

explaining the train of thought that got me to this would take way too much backstory but basically I had an idea and then I wrote it. I rewatched Scream recently so maybe that helps lol

cw: death (not of a canon character), mentions of blood and vomit

-----

The call comes in at a little after 2 AM, and he almost doesn’t answer because he’s busy.

But Leo almost never calls him, and it’s a singular enough occurrence that he picks up the phone and hits the button.

“Hello, you are conversing with Donatello,” he greets. “Make it quick, Nardo, I’m elbow deep in the tank’s engine.”

On the other end of the line, Leo is silent. Or, mostly silent; Donnie can hear him breathing, a little too loud, a little too fast.

Suddenly, he’s on high alert. He sits back from the tank, speaking more urgently into the phone, “Leo?”

There’s another second of breathing, and then, finally, in a voice that is too high and panicked to be his normal joking tone, he says, “Hey, remember when I sent you that meme about siblings who will beat the crap out of each other one minute and hide a body for each other the next, and I said, “us,” and you gave it a heart?”

Donnie blinks. Processes that string of words.

“I think I recall it,” he says.

“Well,” says Leo. “I need to know if that’s really us.”

Donnie stands up and keys in the command to swap battleshells to the jetpack.

“Stay where you are,” he says. “I’m on my way.”

-----

The body is male. Early twenties. About six two or six three. Caucasian. Wearing some ghoulish mask like the serial killer in a bad teen slasher.

Actually, now that Donnie thinks about it, there’s been stuff on the news lately. About a guy who likes to knife up co-eds. And Leo’s wearing his biggest, baggiest hoodie, and jeans, and in a dark alley like this it would be easy to mistake him for a normal, non-mutated human teen.

The puzzle pieces are all laid out for Donnie, but the picture it paints is pretty unbelievable.

Then again, he’s a mutant turtle who grew up in a sewer and recently fended off an alien invasion. His bar for believable is pretty low.

He takes in the body, slashed across the chest, ridiculous getup soaked in blood. Then he turns to look at Leo, curled around his knees against the wall. There’s blood all over him, too, but Donnie feels pretty confident that most of it is not his own. There’s a puddle of vomit nearby, and a dagger, and a katana, cast aside.

Leo raises his eyes to meet Donnie’s. “I didn’t know he was human.”

Donnie looks back at the body, and at the mask. Connects it to the dagger, which definitely isn’t Leo’s.

“Seems like he was a great guy,” Donnie says. 

“He stabbed my arm.”

“I meant it sarcastically.”

Leo laughs, high and reedy. Then he leans over and vomits again.

Donnie can’t help but curl his snout at that one. He looks away and waits for Leo to finish.

There’s a spit, then a sniff, then Leo says, “He stabbed my arm and I turned around and saw the mask.”

Ah yes, that. It’s pink and has a serrated smile. Little rubbery bits of slime and ooze. These things got popular after the invasion - they aren’t anywhere near the real thing, but in a dark alley, under attack, alone, when Leo had…

The puzzle pieces are there. Donnie doesn’t really need an explanation to put it together.

Actually, scratch that: he does need an explanation for one thing.

“Why are you so upset about this?” He looks back at Leo. “You took out a serial killer. Or a wannabe serial killer. At the very least a stabber.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” says Leo immediately. A little pleading. “I didn’t think that would… I didn’t know he was human.”

“He attacked you.”

“I could have disarmed him. I could have trapped him and let the police deal with him.”

“He came up behind you in this creepy mask and stabbed your arm.”

“He didn’t stand a chance against me,” says Leo, and it’s not swaggering and not boastful, but horrified. “It was like tearing paper, Dee. It was so easy.”

Donnie leaves the body to kneel in front of his brother. He puts his hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye to make sure he listens.

“He attacked you, Nardo. He wanted to kill you. He made the wrong choice. Not you.”

Leo looks down, at the blood on his hoodie, and Donnie squeezes his shoulders until they lock eyes again. 

“He made the wrong choice,” Donnie repeats emphatically. 

Leo sighs, like he’s giving in, and a rueful smile grows on his face. “Thanks, hermano. But I don’t think the EPF is gonna see it that way.”

Ah yes, the good old United States government, and their hilariously poorly titled Earth Protection Force. Since the invasion, their existence had become known to the EPF, and they’ve been in an unspoken truce ever since. A “live and let live” holding pattern.

Unfortunately, Donnie has to admit Leo is right on this one: that this man is likely and most probably a serial killer won’t matter to the EPF. Killing any human crosses a line they won’t tolerate.

And so, there is only one solution here. The one Leo proposed when he first called.

Donnie is going to help him hide a body.

…Which means he is going to have to touch it.

Leo frowns at him. “Uh, Dee, what’s the yarf-face for?”

“I just realized how gross this is going to be.”

Leo laughs again, more than a little hysterical, and lets his head fall against Donnie’s plastron, the giggles shaking his shoulders under Donnie’s hands.

“That wasn’t a joke,” Donnie insists. Leo just laughs even harder.

Donnie scowls, even as he pulls Leo closer. “That meme really is us. I want to beat the crap out of you right now.”

Leo howls with laughter. Except it sounds a little more like sobbing now. Donnie gathers him up and holds him until he’s better again.

-----

Across the Hudson, the sky is turning pink. Donnie stands with Leo, watching the water that the body disappeared under.

They’ve already scrubbed the alley clean of any blood traces - his and Leo’s. He also had his drones bring gloves with the cleaning supplies, so they didn’t leave any fingerprints. At least Leo had the sense not to touch anything. And it’s not like the government has their prints on file, anyway. Donnie’s checked.

There wasn’t anything they could really do to hide the massive laceration that led to the body’s death. Short of melting it in acid, but both of them had dismissed that idea as soon as Donnie raised it. Despite what Donnie thinks of himself, he isn’t actually a stone cold disposer of bodies. The idea of melting it was too gross to think about.

Besides, it doesn’t matter if the body gets found, as long as it doesn’t get traced back to them. And Donnie doesn’t see any reason it should.

He’s already hacked any security cameras near the scene and made sure Leo doesn’t show up on any of them. Leo’s a good enough ninja to avoid that sort of thing, anyway, not that Donnie will admit it out loud. The crabs and fish will take care of the flesh and the katana’s mark. Leo destroyed the weapon itself in a bright blue explosion of ninpo.

“It’s kind of a bummer,” says Leo after a minute, “that the murders will go unsolved.”

“No, they won’t.” Donnie pulls out a phone, holding it carefully with his gloves. “He helpfully took trophy photos.”

Leo’s eyes go wide. “Dude, did you fish around in his pockets?”

Donnie can’t help but curl his lips. “Ugh, don’t remind me. It was a very unpleasant experience and I don’t want to repeat it.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Find where he lived and leave it there.” Donnie shrugs. “His body will turn up, or he’ll get reported missing. The cops will find it and everything will be wrapped up in a neat little bow.”

“Huh. Guess that takes care of that.” A pause. Leo shuffles a bit next to him. “You’re… really calm about this.”

Is he? Since the moment he got that phone call, he entered Fix It mode. He hasn’t really thought of anything else since.

“I don’t know if I will be later,” he admits.

“I’ll be there, if you’re not.”

Donnie hums an acknowledgement. There’s a weight against his arm, Leo leaning into him.

“Thanks, Dee,” he says.

“You’d do the same for me,” Donnie replies.

“Yeah,” Leo agrees. Simple as that.

[rahuratna]

Suited up

More fatherly goodness from the gentleman sorcerer, Nanami Kento. This time, featuring Ino!

Ino was excited. Not in the usual sense, when he had a mission with Nanami lined up. Today was different. Today would be the day he nailed that sweet, sweet grade one sorcerer recommendation from his mentor, the sorcerer he admired the most.

Ino had been watching, you see. He couldn't do without his own signature ski mask, as that was completely necessary for the functioning of his unique cursed technique. There were other things he had taken note of, however, that might be worth a change.

For starters, the suit. No matter where the mission, whether in the sparkling heart of Tokyo or in the depths of the most squalid sewer, Nanami would always appear in his impeccable and tasteful suit. Tailored to perfection, sitting perfectly at the wrist and ankles, comfort and flexibility reserved at no expense to the clean, fitted outline on the powerful frame they enclosed, Nanami's suits were a thing of beauty.

Then, the handkerchief. Nanami never went without. There was always a clean square of linen, folded in a perfect square, in one of his pockets. Nanami had used his handkerchief to help Ino mop blood off his face once, and, although the cloth had been ruined, Ino knew that the threadcount on that little square made it more valuable than the entirety of his baggy shirt and trousers.

Of course, there were the shoes. Nanami's sturdy leather brogues, hand sewn and always polished to high shine, saw a lot of wear. Of course they would, considering the speed and power of the sorcerer who wore them. But no matter how soiled and worn they were by the end of the mission, the care invested in their restoration was evident. Nanami would show up the next day with his shoes back in such good condition you could see your reflection in them.

Then, there was the way he wore his tie, the way he combed his hair, the coveted wristwatch. But there would be time enough to speculate on those things later. For now, Ino would be satisfied to see Nanami's reaction to his own get up.

The mission was straightforward. They had been assigned to clear out an old warehouse on the docks near the harbour. A curse infestation had been reported in the area, probably triggered by the recent wage protests the dock workers had engaged in due to cutbacks. Of course, Ino's affinity for crowd control would come in handy, and so, he had been dispatched with Nanami as a two-man team.

As he stood on the sidewalk not far from his apartment, Ino shifted from one foot to the other, still growing accustomed to the outfit he had on. As a grade two sorcerer, he earned a fair salary. He'd saved up for a month or two to splurge out on these clothes.

He had invested in a good tailor and had a dark grey suit made to fit. He wore a black polo shirt beneath and the best leather belt he could find. His socks were polyester, but comfortable enough and wouldn't slip or bunch inside his new black leather shoes. Ino had neatly combed and parted his hair, using a high hold pomade that gave a shine he wasn't sure he liked. It would prevent his hair from going haywire when he had to use his ski mask, though. And he had a handkerchief, of course. Bought cheaply in a pack of five because he'd been in a rush, but who would be looking that closely, anyway?

A dark sedan pulled up to the kerb where he waited and Ino felt a clench of nervous anticipation in his stomach. Would Nanami approve of his new look? Had he gone overboard? Did he look like some kind of copycat freakshow now? Steeling himself, Ino opened the rear door and slid inside, sending a tense greeting to the experienced sorcerer who sat beside him.

Nanami greeted him back and then stopped short. Sweating slightly, Ino kept his gaze straight ahead as Nanami's eyes travelled from his perfectly combed hair down to his new shoes. Ino coughed slightly and fidgeted with his belt.

"So ... any ideas on how we should tackle the warehouse?"

Nanami regarded him in silence for a moment, before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tapping his fingers on his knee, as he sometimes did when he was thinking deeply about something.

"We'll approach as we usually do. I'll go in and guage the strength of the spirits before making a tactical retreat. We perform a second sweep, with you flanking me. Then we use your targeted attacks to hone in on any remaining curses that may be concealing themselves."

"Got it."

There was a short spell of silence.

"That's a fine suit you have on."

"You think so?"

Ino released a breath he had been holding, elation swelling in his chest.

"It is." Nanami paused. "Having said that, there are a few pointers I'd like to give you, as you've chosen to dress in this manner today."

"You will?"

Ino could barely contain his excitement now. Nanami nodded and folded his arms.

"Yes. For starters, have you worn those shoes before today?"

"Uh, no. Didn't want them to ... you know. Get all dusty and stuff before the mission."

"Place your feet against the seat in front of you right now and bend your toes."

"Huh?"

"Like this."

Nanami demonstrated, and Ino followed suit, slower due to his confusion.

"Leather always needs to be broken in. I've been wearing these shoes for close to a year now. And I alternate between pairs, so that I minimize wear and tear and allow the leather to rest, especially if I've been out in wet weather. If you go in as you are, the new leather will not have had time to take on the shape of your feet. You'll be in some discomfort a few hours in."

"For real?"

Balancing in his seat, the younger sorcerer hurriedly began to rock his feet back and forth against the seat in front of him, wondering how he couldn't have noticed how stiff the leather was. He could thank his lucky stars that Nanami had forewarned him.

"There's more, Ino."

"There is?"

"That pomade you have on your hair ... it's going to form stiff peaks as you perspire inside the ski mask. Next time, opt for a softer styling wax."

"Ohhh, damn. I didn't know that."

Nanami now reached across and ran his fingers along the hem of Ino's jacket, then grabbed one of his sleeves and tugged.

"Oh dang, what is it?"

"I'd also advise you to lose the jacket when you go into combat. I ask my tailor to perform a specific type of stitching that allows for more freedom of movement. You're going to need to remove the jacket if you want to move freely and effectively."

Ino's bubble of excitement was rapidly deflating. He'd wanted so badly to impress Nanami today, but all he'd succeeded in doing was showing off his inexperience and making himself look like some kind of desperate wannabe. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture, giving Nanami his signature bright smile and thumbs up. He hoped that he had somehow concealed how embarrassed he was feeling.

"Thanks Nanami. I promise I won't let you down today!"

By the end of the day, Ino was feeling a lot less chipper. Scratch that, he was feeling downright miserable.

The mission had started off promisingly. They'd found the warehouse infested with cursed spirits, some of them rather powerful. After drawing the bulk of the spirits out into the open, Nanami had retreated as planned, so that Ino could use his Reiki to shield himself from attacks and move swiftly between the raging curses.

This was where Ino's problems had started.

Due to the huge amount of cursed energy he burned through, and the highly physical nature of his technique, Ino perspired a lot in combat. His baggy clothing normally allowed ample air circulation around his body, letting him cool down faster, but the polo shirt and the thicker material of his new trousers did no such thing. 

As sweat poured down to sting his eyes, Ino was hyper aware of how the soaking material clung uncomfortably to his chest and back, how his legs felt like they were encased in a damp, restricting vice.

The leather shoes had started out comfortable enough thanks to the stretching Nanami had had him perform, but even they lost elasticity over time. Sore red ridges had been rubbed into his ankles and the area around his toes felt as if it had been chafed raw.

To add insult to injury, a vat of putrid fluid, that had been lying stagnant for God knew how long, had been upended all over Ino by one of the cursed spirits, ruining any chance he'd had of salvaging some dignity and completely ruining his outfit. Somehow, Nanami had dodged the spray of fluid and darted towards the offending spirit, ending it with a deadly, but elegant stroke of his blade. 

Ino had given it his all, of course. He'd fought with every ounce of determination he possessed, and they'd eventually decimated the spirits that infested the warehouse. At great cost to his body and dignity, of course. His muscles were screaming because of the unnatural strain he'd put them through, and his shoulder throbbed where a spirit had grabbed him and damn near dislocated it.

By the time they left the warehouse, Nanami was striding along at his usual pace, suit spotless, collar open, cufflinks gleaming, hair stylishly dishevelled, while something that looked like a veritable swamp monster hobbled along at his side, emitting feeble groans now and then.

"Ino."

"Y - Yeah?"

"Take off those shoes now."

"But - "

"Do as I say."

The shoes came off with a very distinct and soggy noise. Undaunted, Nanami reached for them and scooped them up so that they hung from the fingers of one hand. He then went down on one knee, facing away from Ino.

"Get on."

" ... what?"

"Climb on. Your can't make it all the way to the car in this condition."

"But - but I'm filthy, Nanami! I'll get this smelly shit all over your clothes!"

"Don't worry about that. The dry cleaners I frequent are excellent and ... accustomed to my requests by now."

With a great deal of reluctance, the young sorcerer climbed onto his senior's back, head flopping forward in sudden exhaustion when Nanami lifted him in piggy-back fashion. They made their way back to where the car awaited them.

"Nanami?"

"Yes?"

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How do you manage to look like ... you know. Like you can do anything you put your mind to. And why in a suit, of all things?"

The strong shoulders beneath Ino's chin jerked in a small huff of amusement.

"I'm not sure what you mean, but I suppose experience is the best teacher. I've been on my fair share of missions. I know what to expect and plan accordingly. As to why I wear a suit, well ... "

His voice trailed off, but Ino remained silent, aware that if he stayed like this he might probably hear something that would give him greater insight into the man he admired above all others.

"Hmm. I suppose, it was something I learned when I worked as a salaryman. In society, the clothes you wear define who you are. They speak to others of your personality, your preferences, the way you want to be perceived and your standing in a certain social setting. I chose my clothes so that I would blend in. I wanted ... an ordinary life. A life that would let me pursue ordinary goals and let me retire in comfort."

"But you came back. Back to being a sorcerer, I mean."

"It wasn't that I missed this life. It wasn't that I wanted to be a sorcerer either. But my talent for working efficiently, and working hard, was best put to good use in a manner where I could help others."

"But you still kept the suit?"

"Indeed. The suit reminds me of who I am, at heart. I've never wanted more than a regular life. I never will want more. If I have to exorcise spirits looking like I used to as a salaryman, then so be it. Let the spirits experience my effort, my work ethic, my real and very ordinary self."

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of Nanami's footsteps on the damp paving stones that led to the car park. Ino gave a weak chuckle.

"Ordinary? You know, I think I can get behind that."

"You can?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty much a regular guy too. But you know, Nanami ... "

The younger man's voice trailed off, and for a moment, Nanami thought he had drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Then Ino spoke again.

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit. There's a reason I wanna be like you, more than other sorcerers. If being a run-of-the-mill guy means always choosing to put other people first, if it means choosing to do what you feel is right, and if it means ... that when you're gone, someday in the future, people will always remember the things you taught them and miss you like hell, then you wouldn't call yourself that ordinary, would you?"

Nanami was quiet for a long time after that.

Ino had never felt greater relief than when he was able to shower at Jujutsu Tech later that night, sling on a clean tracksuit and receive some treatment from Ieiri for his bruised and twisted shoulder. Feeling far more human, he made his way down to the foyer, wondering what he could have for a late-night snack.

To his surprise, Nanami was waiting for him.

"You're still here? I thought you'd have left already."

Namami held up a small bag.

"You left your jacket behind in the car."

"Ah." Ino scratched the back of his head. "Thanks. But I don't think I'll be wearing that again."

"Understandable. But, if you like, I can take you to my tailor to make some ... additions to your regular work clothes. You can still look your best, even while comfortable, you know."

Ino brightened considerably at this.

"Oh? I never thought of that."

"And I suppose you're hungry after the mission. We can go and get fried chicken and beer."

Whooping slightly, the younger sorcerer loped happily out the front doors, before stopping and glancing back at Nanami sheepishly.

"Uh, I'm kinda broke right now after splashing out on that suit ... "

"I'm paying."

"Now we're talking!"

[pagepulse]

The Ultimate Guide to Commercial Sewer Line Replacement Services in New Jersey

Sewer line issues at a commercial property are not only inconvenient but can significantly disrupt business operations and even pose health hazards. When facing such challenges, it's crucial to understand the process of sewer line replacements and the best practices to ensure minimal downtime and regulatory compliance. If you're a business owner, property manager, or professional in New Jersey, this comprehensive guide will walk you through everything you need to know about commercial sewer line replacement services in your locality. From signs that your sewer line needs replacing to the steps involved in the replacement process and post-replacement maintenance, we've got you covered.

When is it Time for a Sewer Line Replacement?

Recognizing the signs of a failing sewer line is the first step in averting a full-blown crisis. Watch out for persistent clogs, slow drains, foul odors, and mold growth, which can all indicate a problem with your sewer line. Sinkholes or greener patches in your landscaping and the presence of rodents can also signal an underground issue. Regular inspections by a licensed professional can pinpoint problems before they escalate.

The Replacement Process Unveiled

Inspection and Assessment

The process typically begins with a thorough inspection using state-of-the-art cameras to identify the exact location and nature of the problem. This step is critical for deciding on the best course of action, whether it's a partial or full replacement.

Permitting and Planning

In New Jersey, acquiring the necessary permits for sewer line replacement is mandatory. This often entails detailed plans of the replacement and approval from the local municipality. Engage with an experienced service provider who can navigate this administrative process efficiently.

Excavation and Removal

Once the paperwork is in order, the physical work starts with excavation. The affected area is dug up, and the old pipe is removed, taking care to prevent spills and contamination. Safety measures are paramount during this stage, ensuring the protection of workers and the public.

Line Installation

With the old pipeline out, the new pipe is installed, securing joint connections properly. Depending on the property, technicians may use trenchless methods, minimizing digging and preserving the landscape.

System Connection and Testing

The new pipe is then connected to the existing system with water-tight seals. Rigorous testing is conducted to ensure the integrity of the replacement and that it meets regulatory standards for water flow and waste.

Site Restoration

Finally, the excavation site is restored, leaving your property as it was before the project commenced. Any disrupted surfaces are repaired, and the area is cleaned up, marking the completion of the replacement service.

Maintaining Compliance and Safety

In New Jersey, sewer line replacements must meet strict environmental and safety regulations. Partnering with a reputable service provider guarantees that the replacement adheres to local laws and keeps your business safe from regulatory fines.

Environmental Protection

Sewer line replacements have the potential to affect the local environment, especially in densely populated commercial areas. Compliance with regulations ensures waste disposal and site cleanup are managed responsibly to avoid contamination.

Employee and Customer Safety

A failing sewer line can expose your premises to hazardous waste. During a replacement, extra precautions will be taken to ensure your employees and customers are protected from exposure, and that any health risks are mitigated.

Post-Service Best Practices

Your involvement doesn't end with the final restoration. Post-replacement maintenance is crucial for the longevity and efficiency of your new sewer line.

Schedule Regular Inspections

After a replacement, make it a rule to schedule annual or bi-annual inspections to catch potential issues early. It’s far less costly to address a small problem at the onset than to treat a major plumbing catastrophe.

Implement Safe Disposal Practices

Establish and enforce safe disposal practices to prevent future sewer line issues. Educate your staff on what can and cannot go down the drains to avoid damage to the sewage system.

Document and Maintain Records

Keep detailed records of the replacement service, including permits, inspections, and any maintenance or repairs. This documentation will be invaluable for your records and future property transactions.

The Bottom Line

Commercial sewer line replacement Service NJ is a major undertaking that requires careful planning and execution. By being proactive and staying informed, you can ensure that your business is prepared to handle any sewer line issue. Remember to act quickly at the first sign of trouble, engage with reputable professionals, adhere to local regulations, and maintain diligence in post-replacement upkeep.

For all your commercial sewer line replacement needs in New Jersey, always choose a trusted service provider with a track record of excellence and customer satisfaction. Investing in the right service now can save your business from costly repairs and legal repercussions down the line. With this guide in hand, you're well-equipped to manage sewer line replacements in your commercial facility, ensuring seamless operations and a safe environment for all.