#but not when it comes to the phantom situation

[sam-out-of-energy]

The angst, THE ANGST its consuming me

I had to write something based off this ask because oH MY GODD

This already became too long so its a cliffhanger sorry teehee

______

They'd been ambushed.

Upon trying to retrieve materials for Ratchet the entire base had suddenly sounded the alarm for intruders.

Prowl had quickly scooped Jazz from a pile of metal scrap into his servo and then inside his cockpit. They'd ran, making it to the very end of the hangar before mechas had walled them off.

It was a stand-off- well- emphasis on was, as it had taken about two nano-seconds of Prowl and the others standing there against mechas before Vortex had already began tearing robots apart.

Now chaos reigned as the crew, including Prowl, Jazz, Vortex and First aid, were in the ringer, fighting off an overwhelming amount of mechas.

"It's like they knew we were coming!" First aid comm'd Jazz while the two sat inside cockpits that were trembling from the punches, the mech's visors coated in an unhealthy layer of energon and oil.

"These ain't normal mechas either." Jazz replied.

"Explain?" Prowl's voice was eerily casual considering the situation at hand, wrenching an arm off an opposing mecha before kicking them back.

"They're faster! Stronger too-" First aid noted, watching intensely from Vortex's visor, admittedly a little curious.

"No doubt they used Prowl's parts to rebuild them."

"To hell with 'em! Let's be done with this and go-"

Jazz was caught mid-sentence when Prowl shook.

The inside of the cockpit pulsed, like something had struck him, which confused Jazz because for a short while they'd kept a good distance from the mechas.

Then Prowl just....stood. Very still. Very still.

"Prowl? Prowler?" Jazz scooted forwards and grabbed the controls, pushing them but they didn't budge. Nothing did.

"Prowl?! You're not obeyin' my controls-" Jazz questioned.

"I'm- not- obeying- my own controls either-" Prowl choked out, straining his joints with a loud creak.

["Hello Jazz."]

Both the pilot and mecha stiffened.

Jazz's eyes widened. He recognized the voice that suddenly rang out inside Prowl.

"Shockwave?! Where are you! What've you done t' Prowl?!" Jazz jumped up from the pilot seat (not having been strapped in to begin with)

["I am nowhere you need to concern yourself with. I am simply testing out my new technology."]

Jazz looked around. He could hear a muffled First Aid calling out for Vortex in the distance.

["So, Prowl, was it?. Good to know. Now, let's get well acquainted."]

Prowl shook again, sending Jazz tumbling around as the mech bent over, clutching his helm.

Something flashed. Prowl felt electricity buzzing inside of him, phantom pains in his joints. Like his wing was once again broken, like his optics were busted in and losing vision of reality arround him. His body wasn't his and it wouldn't listen to him.

He tried to keep his expression cool at the face of this new threat but his coolness came crashing down when he looked up.

Quintessons. So. Many. Quintessons. Fire, blazing high like a giant barrier.

The realization struck him like his processor's loud ERROR alarm.

He was on Praxus.

No, he was- no-

Prowl felt like hurling.

He felt something inside him twist and turn, something wicked. Something unnatural, something that was definetly not meant to be inside him.

-

Jazz could do nothing but watch his mech tremble and shake, straining and squirming like something was crawling under his plating.

"J- azz-" Prowl gasped.

"Prowl! I'm here!" Jazz called out, grabbing the controls tigthly despite the fact that they were moving.

"H- elp-"

The plea came out in a stuttered, glitching mess but it was all Prowl needed to say before Jazz began pushing. Pushing, pulling. Whenever the stick moved one way he'd move it back.

"Shockwave, stop! Let him go!" He yelled. He didn't know what sick game the mad scientist was playing but he was not about to let him take Prowl from him.

["It is futile, pilot. Give up."]

Jazz grit his teeth and kept pushing.

Prowl's fight was made easier, so he managed to break free of the illusion for long enough to push with Jazz, taking a step back on his own from the (imaginary) fire surrounding him. (It was all his in his head, surely). Coolant rushed down Prowl's backplates, his motors overexerting themselves to keep control to himself.

["...I see how it must be. Very well, Jazz."]

Prowl was jerked away from his mindscape, straggling, back into the frey, loud echoes of crashing and crumbling of metal plating and concrete. The mechas weren't focusing on him, focusing all their efforts into trying to stop Vortex from tearing down the entire hangar.

Prowl had managed to take two steps forward to go assist before he'd felt more electricity surge through him. Oddly enough, it didn't stop him this time.

What did stop him was the pained scream that carried into Prowl's audials.

Jazz.

"Jazz? Jazz!" Prowl called, stopping and looking down at his chest.

Jazz clutched his head, crying out. Something coursed through him like a painful needle and thread, connecting him to Prowl even more than before, but not in a good way. In a way that hurt, every muscle in his body clenching. It was like he was connecting to a mecha for the first time again, but the feeling of it amplified twicefold.

Then, it was like he saw his own body slump. No, he was slumped. Jazz couldn't move, couldn't speak or scream anymore (In reality he was still screaming).

No, no no no no-

He saw white. A bright light in his eyes. A smell of burning flesh, of ethanol, medical grade liquids in multitudes.

Eyes. He saw faceless masks and he saw so many eyes, shining like the headlights of a car, blinding him into submission, into staying silent despite the aching.

Make it stop, make it stop-

-

"Stop!! Don't hurt him!"

Prowl demanded, the cockpit echoing with his voice, layered over Jazz's screams.

["I will do what is necessary."]

Prowl called for Jazz's name again, opening the cockpit hatch, desperate to reach in and grab the other, until he realized he was still in the middle of a Vortex vs. Vortex's victims skirmish and pulling Jazz out could only risk him accidentally dropping the other or Jazz being hit by something.

Prowl stepped back from the fight, wracking his processor. He had to do something, something to help!

It was easier with him, Jazz could just use the controls to help him fight against this weird virus, but Jazz? Shockwave was most likely inside Jazz's head due to his connection with Prowl, what could Prowl even do to help?! He couldn't forcefully remove or disconnect Jazz. The other was wriggling and twisting in pain, Prowl's servos were way too big to do anything with him without causing further injury.

An anti-virus, a firewall. Something to block Shockwave out. Prowl had to reboot and rewire his systems for that and all of that had to begin with getting Shockwave to release Jazz.

"Please, stop-" Prowl half-blurted out amidst his panicking. He couldn't tell what was happening to Jazz, but he could feel the other. He felt Jazz clutching the arm rest of the pilot's seat, thrashing and kicking on the cold metal of the cockpit floor. He heard Jazz scream and wail, inaudibly begging for release.

["I will stop when you relinquish control to me."]

"So you can use me?" Prowl snapped, his engine revving from the anger, his optic ridge bent down so hard it almost covered his optics.

["As you wish."]

Jazz went silent.

Prowl heard the thump of a body hitting the floor.

[the-scanlation-bin]

Dreaming of a Mickey Mouse movie (part 8/?)

Man, it's been a while. But we still have ideas to share! Let's talk motivations and Casey!

A: I've been trying to think about motivations. Imagine the situation: Mickey just went through the first death trap set up by the Phantom Blot. Mickey didn't know what he was getting into. He didn't expect it to be that dangerous. He was just there to investigate the camera thefts! And now this! Wouldn't he want to just drop everything and go back to his normal, boring, but safe life? Wouldn't the mouse just leave this case to the professionals?

So I had to think, what would make him want to keep going and keep digging after such a shocking event. Then I thought more about Mickey. I need to view it through his eyes after all. And he's a mouse desperate for a chance to do something meaningful and worthwhile, something good. And he's also a mouse yearning for adventure. He's read and watched all these heroes and detectives fight evil and come out victorious. But Mickey never saw himself fit for adventures like these... until now.

Now, when he got out of a dangerous trap, when he did the impossible, when he survived - that's just incredible! He, Mickey Mouse, survived that! And he is suddenly filled with this adrenaline and somehow joy and pride? Because he finally did something cool, like his favorite story protagonists! And that's something Mickey won't let go easily.

But Detective Casey isn't having it. First Chief O'Hara takes this absolute nobody - let alone a journalist! - on the case, then the mouse gets kidnapped and they're forced to drop everything to go find this guy, and THEN he just shows up and keeps acting like he's a detective?! No way! Not only is Casey mad that he gets overlooked because of Mickey, but he also thinks the mouse is way out of his league and only slows them, the real detectives (especially Casey), down. Casey thinks that Mickey will just get himself into danger again, forcing the cops to stop working on this Very Important Case (that Casey's reputation in O'Hara's eyes depends on) and go looking for him. For the mouse that thinks he's some kind of hero who's cut out for this line of work.

Soooo yeah, that's sure to cause tension between these two.

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 26

Inspired by atla

Danny was unable to stop the ghost king from destroying amity in the ghost zone. Pariah declares earth will be his next conquest he needs more skeleton soldiers bound to him.

He rips open a portal Danny rushes to the other side. He freezes the portal and him (not his plan) with ghost ice. Pariah freshly released is unable to open a secondary stable portal.

Rather then a full army. attacks only happen through natural portals. This bringing anger between the two dimensions at a all time high. Time continues. Danny stays frozen. Amity long forgotten.

As the attacks happen more then once technology is made to deal with threats. Nothing lethal more often then not the ghost return to the ghost zone when there attacks fail.

Unstable portals are now opening with more frequency. One day heros get a spike from amity and come investigate. When coming across the iceberg with a glowing green humanoid trapped one hero touched the ice.

It begins to melt. Danny falls out unfrozen. The glowing becomes more intense as the portal becomes visible through the ice. Somehow Danny while panicking manages to stabilize the ice which forces himself into his human half.

So now the justice league has to deal with feral Danny to stop pariah. Nobody is happy with the arrangement. Danny just wants to go off and fight. He doesn’t want to deal with learning how to use his powers.

It’s unfortunately up to the halfa to restore balance between the two dimensions.

They have until the ice melts to help the feral child master all his powers. So hopefully together they can save the world.

[hbdttg]

Eddie, or something that used to be Eddie, wanders the Upside Down in the aftermath of it all.

He may not know where or who he is, but he knows he belongs. His heartbeat syncs with those of the screeching creatures that soar up above. The thrumming in his veins mirrors the pulsing of the vines that cover the ground at his feet. The hunger at his core is shared by the flower-faced beasts that roam the earth on all fours. He belongs, so he must be home.

Weeks after waking—or months, or years; time is unpredictable in this place, moving at whatever speed it so chooses, sometimes not moving at all—Eddie happens upon a gate. It's located on Morehead Street and small enough that he might have walked right past it if not for its peculiar orange glow.

Curious, Eddie digs his clawed fingers into its center, tearing through the viscous membrane until there's enough space for him to crawl through. He drags his scarred body through the tiny opening, dropping onto the other side with practiced grace. He finds himself atop what appears to be a crumbling staircase, overlooking a decrepit landscape that stretches on for miles.

Gone are the blue-gray skies, replaced with hazy red, roiling fog, and flashes of vibrant lightning. Gone is the air damp with rot, replaced with a sticky blanket of humidity and the scent of acrid smoke so thick he can taste it on his tongue.

Eddie descends the staircase, heedless of the wet squelch his shoe makes when he steps through a puddle of black, oily liquid at the bottom. Intrigued, he runs a pale hand lightly over a nearby tower of stalagmite. The place is littered with them, pointed spires made of knotted, dormant vines.

Eddie steps toward one of the larger spires, taking in the figure encased in its vines. It's a human girl, fair-haired and slight in stature, held upright against her tower by large, twisted tendrils. There's no life in her, just the stench of death and decay.

For a fleeting moment, Eddie thinks he might know her. But that's impossible. He knows only his brethren, knows only their chitters in the dark and their shrieks overhead.

He turns away from the girl, staunchly ignoring the deja vu that grips him as he walks away from her. It unsettles him, that niggling feeling he's missing something important here.

Without warning, a bell begins to toll, its ominous knell crashing through the air like thunder. The distant sound of footsteps reaches his ears next, accompanied by heavy, panting breaths and the occasional hissed curse.

Eddie conceals himself behind a partially standing wall, peering through its broken glass windows in search of his interloper. He spies a figure approaching, running through the fog in a zig zag pattern, as though trying to evade something. As the figure gets closer and Eddie can make out more of its features, he realizes it's a boy, carrying a bat embedded with nails and dressed in a brown leather jacket underneath a battered denim vest.

Denim vest?

Eddie doesn't have time to dwell on the vague sense of familiarity that flashes through him at the sight of this boy—of the vest—because the fog and miasma behind him slowly start to clear, revealing a large, gnarled creature walking calmly after him.

"Why do you run from me, Steven?" the creature says, its voice sinister and seductive, a long-stemmed rose laden with thorns. "You asked me to find you. You begged to be mine. Because you know, Steve, that only I can end your suffering."

The boy skids to a halt beside the body of the girl. He whirls around to face the creature, throwing an arm up to point at her remains. "End my suffering like you ended Chrissy's?"

Steve? Chrissy?

The creature laughs, an ugly, croaking sound that sends shivers up Eddie's spine. "She is beautiful now," it croons. "And you will be, too, once you join us."

And that confuses Eddie. Because despite his dirtied appearance, windswept hair, sweat-slicked face, and scarred neck, the boy before him is already beautiful.

"You want me?" the boy—Steve—spits as he brings both hands together, knuckles going white as he tightens them around the handle of his bat. He raises it between him and the creature, widening his stance and shifting his weight between his feet in anticipation of a fight. "Come and get me!"

As soon as the words leave his lips, the vines at his feet spring to life, shooting up and thrusting him back against a nearby spire. The force of it visibly knocks the breath out of Steve, but he was apparently expecting something like this, because he managed to bring one hand up to the level of his eye before he was fully immobilized, trapping his wrist in the hold one of the vines has against his neck.

"Poor, foolish Steve," the creature says, slowly approaching him. It huffs out a derisive laugh as it steps over the fallen nail bat, then reaches out a thrawn, leathery hand, hovering it over Steve's face, clawed fingers curling as if to grasp him, puncture him. "You cannot run from me."

Steve gasps and struggles against his binds, but goes still when something new resounds through the air—the sudden blare of an electric guitar, followed by a series of deep and distorted notes that Eddie can feel in his very bones.

Drums come crashing in, loud and unapologetic, and he revels in the sheer power of it all, letting the music wash over him and set his nerves alight.

"Try and stay very still," the creature murmurs, giving the noise no mind. "It will all be over soon."

Slowly, Steve's brows unfurrow and he actually smiles. "Yes, it will," he manages to choke out, the challenge in his voice apparent despite its compromised state, "but not in the way you think."

As if on cue, a voice rings out, rough and raspy and angry and perfect above the thunderous melody that fills the air. The words are familiar, seared in Eddie's mind like a memory. Without a doubt, he knows this song. If only he could remember how he knows it.

With the voice comes a gate, though it's unlike the one Eddie came in through. Its edges are wispy, like the fog itself cleared to make an opening, and he can see clearly through it to the other side.

The scene features three unconscious bodies. The first is Steve's, wearing a set of headphones and levitating several feet off the ground. The second is a young girl's, floating in a bathtub with a blindfold tied around her head. The third is a boy's, slumped over the side of the tub with his fingers intertwined with the girl's.

A gaggle of children are split between them, some kneeling by the tub and others standing below Steve, jumping and screaming up at him. Their faces are so familiar. Eddie wishes he could place them. But all he has to go on are the frantic pounding of his heart and the bone-deep feeling that these people, these strangers, are important.

There are older kids scattered about, too, one of which has her hands wrapped around Steve's ankle, yelling as she tries to keep him tethered. Her voice is muffled, but Eddie can make out her panicked, "That's enough, dingus, it's time to come back! They've got it from here!"

The song swells, powerful and ferocious, and Eddie feels the chords right in his very heartstrings. He looks down at his hands, watches some muscle memory react viscerally to the song's fury, watches his fingers start to curl as if itching to rest on a fretboard.

"This is for Eddie, you ugly son of a bitch!" Steve yells up at the creature. He manages to leverage a bit of space with his trapped hand, then—at the crest of an absolutely face-melting guitar solo—drops his head to take a huge, violent bite out of the vine wrapped around his neck.

Several things happen at once:

1) The creature—Vecna—rears back, affected enough by Steve's display of unhinged ferality that the vines loosen their grip on him. Steve bursts out of Vecna's hold and starts sprinting toward the gate.

2) Two figures materialize behind Vecna: the girl and the boy from the other side. He must be Will the Wise, in all his bowl-cut glory. And she must be Supergirl, if the way she blasts Vecna straight through a nearby wall is any indication.

3) Eddie fucking remembers.

He remembers Hawkins and the Upside Down. He remembers Vecna, and Chrissy, and nearly every single face on the other side of the gate.

He remembers Dustin sobbing over his dying body; he remembers Max offering up herself up as bait; he remembers Lucas turning on the basketball team to help his true friends; he remembers Erica thrusting a belt made of literal bullets into his hands; he remembers Nancy wielding a felonious shotgun into battle; he remembers Robin's knowing expression at hunt the freak. He remembers Mike Wheeler, and Jonathan Byers, and—well, not the long-haired guy next to Jonathan, but that's probably fine.

And of course, he remembers the boy who'd stripped off his yellow sweater and thrown it in Eddie's slack-jawed face, who'd worn Eddie's battle vest over his still-bleeding battle wounds, who'd walked side-by-side with Eddie in a forest full of danger and decay, who'd blushed so prettily when Eddie called him big boy, who'd held Eddie's gaze and warned him not to play hero.

Eddie remembers Steve.

Later, once they both tumble through the gate and end up on the ground in a pile of limbs, Eddie will groan low in his throat and try to untangle himself from Steve's heavy body. Steve, terrified that he might have brought something dangerous back with him, will twist on top of Eddie and nearly slam his head down into the tiled floor, stopping himself only once he realizes exactly who he has pinned under him.

Later, once the party finally stops screaming in response to Eddie's sudden appearance—to his literal resurrection—Steve will drag him into his chest and clutch desperately at his back, rocking their bodies back and forth in near-catatonic shock. Eddie will clutch him back just as tightly, drenching his shirt with hot, wet tears.

Later, after Vecna is reduced to mere dust and Eddie struggles to heal from his months of being trapped alone in an alternate dimension, he'll dial Steve's phone number in the dead of night just to hear another person's voice. Steve will talk about nothing and everything, hanging up only when he can hear Eddie's breaths slow and finally even out through the line.

Later, Steve will admit he purchased Metallica's record shortly after Eddie's supposed death, wanting to hear the song he played in the Upside Down, the legendary song he used to brand himself as bait before running off to protect Dustin and buy the rest of the party more time. Eddie will hide the pleased little thrill that rushes through him at Steve's admission by throwing an arm around him and insisting they'll make a metalhead of him yet.

Later, Eddie will bring the subject up again, curious to know how the song became Steve's Vecna song. Surely he had other options that he'd cherished for far longer than the several months he'd known Master of Puppets. Steve will quietly confess that the song made him think of Eddie, of a fiery, vibrant life snuffed out too soon. And though Steve made the mistake of not turning from the Creel house and running back to Eddie that night in the Upside Down, he knew if he'd ever have to fight for his life trapped in a Vecna mind prison, he'd do it right. He wouldn't for one second hesitate to run toward the song—to run toward Eddie.

Later, Steve will gently cup Eddie's cheek and press in, close enough that they both have to go slightly cross-eyed to keep eye contact, that they feel each other's nervous, shallow breaths in the space between them. Eddie will grapple with the slew of feelings swirling messily in his ribcage before his stubborn resolve wins out and he presses his lips against Steve's in a long overdue kiss.

Later, Steve and Eddie will fall in love. But now?

Now, Steve runs.

And Eddie, or the something that never truly stopped being Eddie, follows.

[sidesteppostinghours]

pulps law is that whenever i get insane enough about something, i will inevitably attempt to make a persona 5 au, regardless of whether or not i am successful at it.

[triglycercule]

man writing is so silly and fun i cant believe i get to write dust being offered horror paps's human spaghetti while horror is having a grand old time and i DONT have to put in the effort of drawing 😁😁😁😁 this is joy!!

[wonho-ssi]

[reanimatedgh0ul]

i honestly think given the fact that damon told danny in fwd to keep his family's ghost weirdness away from his daughter that i feel like if damon somehow found out that danny was phantom he'd want him to breakup w valerie like yeah it's not ideal but it's understandable

[pa-pa-plasma]

AU where instead of Spectra, it's Dr. Phil with his stupid little studio he just summons Danny into to bully him on live (ghost) television

[bmpmp3]

it is insane to me how often people get so up in arms about "historical accuracy" when it comes to characters of colour in historical fiction and historical inspired fantasy LIKE i know why. i know why. its because of racism. BUT LIKE how is this not super interesting to you. how is a racialized character living in a largely historically ethnically homogeneous area not the most intriguing thing. dont you want to see their experiences as a minority and as an individual and how they navigate this all and how it affects their relationships with friends and foes? plus that usually puts them in an underdog position and dont you want to see an underdog make it? or is an underdog not worth rooting for the second their skin is too dark for you?? come on man

[hermitcraftkinfessions]

Sometimes I wonder what the Watchers were. I've seen people compare them to angels but. I'm not an angel, if anything I was more of a demon (of course I was also something else besides a Watcher but still-). I remember having Watcher powers meant that you could See things. Know things. It was similar to TMA's beholding powers. But I couldn't do anything with minds or memories or stuff, I could look to see something, sure! But there was always a weird disconnection that came with it. I was always aware I just just an invader.

Any other hermits that were Watchers/were in close contact with them? If so what would you compare them to? - Etho/Voidling

(For context I am 95% sure I was a Watcher)

Our scar has watcher DNA from being soul linked with their grian but has never understood what it meant or why their DNA got fused so we can't help you there... Someone else may be able to though!.. -Mod hels

[britishchick09]

if i had a nickel for every time an erik at the end of a long phanfiction blissfully woke up after a night of marital whoo-hooing and realized he was naked while standing by a window and said in a panic that he was naked while his also naked christine wife is highly amused, i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice! (in 'sticky notes and serendipity' and 'angel's fall') ;D

[bloggerspam]

Hi hello it's been a while everyone, thank you for waiting! Here it is, the finale!! hopefully everyone is happy with this one.

===

Danny’s not actually sure what he’s here for. 

After the BatCave debacle—and Danny sternly scolding Grunkle John for being dramatic and seeing things that were clearly not there—he had given his number to all three of the teenage heroes out of pure spite. 

Danny had found himself added to a variety of group chats, one of Gotham Heroes, one of Teenage Heroes, and for some reason one very inactive chat for Justice League Dark. 

He was a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of texts flooding through though, so he decided to do what any self-respecting 17 year old socially awkward half dead boy did: He set the chats to mute, and occasionally lurked. When he had the spoons. 

RR and Superboy had him in a separate group chat (SB had named it A Trois a couple days in, but he’s not sure what that is a reference to, and is too afraid to ask at this point), and that one was way more manageable in his opinion. 

The weirdest part was how often they would reiterate how single Superboy was, and as a result Red Robin being single was brought up in response just as often. 

Danny felt compelled to point out that he knew, and made a joke about single’s club, but he doesn’t think it landed despite the amount of ‘lol’s and ‘haha’s he got in response. The vibes just felt so off. 

But he likes Superboy and Red Robin. They’re fun! 

Kon-El is a frankly phenomenal sparring partner, and Red is astoundingly intelligent. It’s honestly intimidating, but it’s like meeting a more mechanically inclined Tucker in a weird way. It’s honestly like watching an Alternate Universe’s version of him and Tuck. If Danny were an alien instead of a ghost, and if Tucker were more stoic and emotionally closed off. 

And if Danny and Tucker were wholeheartedly and hopelessly into each other. 

Because he’s pretty damn sure that Superboy and Red Robin are like, super into each other. 

And look, he gets it, okay? It’s that whole ‘don’t want to ruin a long-lasting friendship’ thing. The whole ‘what if I lose everything’ thing. The dumb ‘I’d rather suffer a one-sided love than have my feelings out there and ruin the one good thing in my life’ thing. 

Danny reads fanfic. He knows about the tropes. 

The point is: he’s hung out with couples before, without being a third wheel. 

So why is he here, feeling like the biggest wheel to ever third wheel on Kon and Red’s not-date?

When Superboy and Red Robin had asked to spar and hang out to get milkshakes at a local diner after, Danny really wasn’t expecting this. 

Danny sips noisily at his mint chocolate chip milkshake as he watches the two teenage heroes squabble over each other on the other side of the diner booth. 

“Rob, please, as if you actually believe you have no game.” Superboy scoffs, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re the one bringing my ability to ‘game’ in question! I did not bring it up, not once have I brought it up—we were talking about your ability to flirt, not mine! Right Phantom?”

Danny blinks slowly, meeting both their eyes in sheer confusion at how they even got here. 

“I’m not sure I’m at liberty to really answer that question?” Red Robin tilts his head questioningly, and Kon-El leans on the table towards him. 

“What do you mean?” Superboy’s tone is confused, and wary. Danny’s not sure what to make of that.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve actually seen you flirt.” Danny shrugs, finally pushing his drink away. 

There’s a long silence, Red Robin and Superboy meeting each other’s eyes before quickly looking away as if embarrassed. 

Danny sighs. He’s used to mediating fights between Sam and Tucker, in comparison awkward silences were a piece of cake, so he fills in the silence by changing the subject.

Thankfully, the rest of the hang out goes by swimmingly, and he heads home feeling pretty pleased with himself. He even managed to get them laughing so hard they were leaning against each other for support, causing Red to blush a little bit (it was hard to see, but Danny has really good vision) and Superboy to grin widely. 

By the time he gets settled in for the night, he realizes that maybe they need a little nudge. 

He lays in bed, searching for a fic to read himself to bed to and thinks that maybe they’re just testing the waters. Maybe having someone new, someone who didn’t know them as well allowed them to be a little freer with their affection. 

Well. If they needed a buffer, all that had to do was ask. 

He filters the fics to Friends To Lovers and decides yeah. Yeah, he could totally do this!

He falls asleep to single beds and roommates and a wistful little smile on his face.

===

“I’m not talking to you.” Danny says, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow. He turns away from the hand offering a lemon flavored hard candy. 

Grunkle John heaves a heavy sigh, stuffing the candy in his pocket and hunches his shoulders. 

“Look, mate, I’m sorry, okay?” Danny huffs, refusing to respond. 

“Danny, c’mon, they were all sniffin’ around you and beggin’ for any type of scrap from ya!” 

“That’s not true and you know it Grunkle John!” 

“Your Majesty, come on, I know yer Ace and Aro, but yer not blind.” 

Danny sputters, and very maturely sticks his tongue out at the older man and blows a raspberry. 

He steals the lemon hard candy for reparations.

He deserves it.

===

“So, what, you’re gonna get them together?” Tucker says through a mouthful of fries. 

“Yeah, I figure it shouldn’t be that hard, I've done a lot of research on it.” Danny takes a bite of his Nasty Burger Special with relish, savoring the weird flavors that are alarmingly good for an establishment such as this.

“Danny. Danny, that’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had. And you literally ate Dash’s stinky underpants.” Sam presses her face into her palms, trying to smother herself the way she does every time she thinks Danny or Tucker is doing something stupid. 

With that kind of abysmal lack of confidence, he hopes she asphyxiates. (No, he doesn’t, but that’s not the point! It’s the lack of trust! The utter betrayal!)

“What kind of research we talkin’ here? Romance novels? Science papers? What else does he read?” Tucker thinks aloud, before gasping dramatically and pointing a shaky, ketchuppy finger at him.

“Danny. Danny no. Danny, please don’t tell me your research is fanfiction. Did you search up Red Robin/Superboy RPF?” Danny doesn’t answer, which causes Tucker to slam his hands on the table to lean over to him. 

“Danny, shipping real life, actual people is kind of cringe, dude.” Tucker says, sitting back down when Sam pushes his face back. 

“Coming from a furry? You gonna kiss the high horse you’re riding in on too?” Sam snarks, stealing a fry. Tucker immediately lunges for her, and they start a frankly pathetic looking slap fight. 

Sam must be in a forgiving mood.

“With friends like you, who needs ghosts?” Danny mumbles into his next bite, not expecting them to hear over the sounds of skin slapping painfully as they bicker. 

“Butchering a proverb to make it fit your life is not clever. It’s overdone and frankly, below you.” Tucker says primly, dashing his expectations. 

Sam scoffs, “From a guy who regularly drops puns not only in his fights, but in his daily life? I’m not sure there is a below for him to have.”

“Ha. Ha,” Danny rolls his eyes after he swallows his bite. He takes a sip of his drink to wash down the taste of utter and complete lack of faith in his skills.

Hm. No, still bitter. He finished his burger sulkily, instead.

===

John is having a cuppa in his Kitchen, when he hears the House creak and a door slam open. 

The open archway shifts, the room that was previously there (the living room) stretching passed to admit directly to the mudroom with the back door exit. 

His Majesty King Phantom stomps in, dumping what looks like a hastily packed duffle bag and three different backpacks (is one of them spider shaped? John won’t think about it). Danny steps back out before John can make a joke about moving in, but pops back in relatively quickly. 

This time, there’s a whole dresser with the drawers all sloppily taped shut for transport. He blinks as Danny dumps it right in front of the archway, partially blocking the view. John gets up with his coffee to stand in the archway and watch, deciding to wait until Danny stops long enough for him to say something.

The boy king repeats this process, once with a truly ludicrous amount of stacked books and once more to dump what looks like a wicker basket full of Fenton-Tech. B

When Danny pauses to survey his ‘loot,’ John is finally able to say something. 

“Mate, what’s going on? Fumigation happening or somethin’? Usually you leave the furniture…” John’s voice must surprise the lad, considering he jumps into a spectral tail. 

“Grunkle John!” Danny says, despairingly. John is immediately on alert. 

It’s been a couple months since the young king last visited, both of them just missing each other on their various and respective missions. John with Dark, Danny with Clockwork. They just didn’t align, but all missions were simple, if time-sensitive. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong. CW would have told him if it had.

But John is pro at thinking the worst of things, and his mind whirls. 

“Grunkle John, I’ve made many terrible mistakes.” Danny moans, clawing at his face. John awkwardly squeezes over and through the furniture currently in his path to comfort the boy, firmly grabbing the hands causing a bloody mess over soft cheeks. 

Danny whines, the shallow cuts healing instantaneously, and thumps his head against John’s chest. “Danny, you’re going to have to give me more than that, I’m trying hard not to lose it right now—is this a salt and brimstone situation? What are we up against? Is it your parents? You said you would tell me when you would—” 

“Grunkle John! Grunkle John, calm down, I’m sorry I—”John’s mouth clamps shut. John is man enough to admit he’s panicking, and thanks gods he doesn’t believe in that Danny interrupts him before he can pick his kid up and just leave. He watches as Danny breathes a sigh of relief, before freezing abruptly, looking suddenly very shifty and embarrassed. 

They stand there, surrounded by bags and taped up furniture, in loaded silence. The young King fidgets, not looking at John, growing greener and greener as is normal for a Realms being of his coloring. The constellations that make up the markings of his skin are growing more and more pronounced, and the boy seems to grow smaller and  smaller in his apparent shame. 

 What could be bothering him so much that he’s reluctant to share it with John of all people? Danny has never been ashamed or shy about anything other than that time he wanted John to visit more. Did something happen with his parents? 

“Danny?” John tries, unsure and honestly a little scared.

At the sound of his voice, Danny hiccups in surprise, shrinking suddenly into…what looks like a baby naga. A little baby half snake? John instinctively catches the boy in his palms of his hands, despite the fact that Danny could float on his own. 

“Danny…what—” Danny curls into his palms into a little pile, eyes going wide and teary, looking up at John with a bright green blush glowing on his face. “Danny, whatever it is, I’m sure it will be fine. Was it your parents? Did….Did something happen?”

At this, Danny covers his face with his tiny little…paws? And whines. He almost melts into a puddle, hiding his face into his ghostly little tail, and mumbling something in a child-like voice.

“I didn’t catch that, mate. Could you be a little louder?” John asks, bringing Danny up closer to hear better. Danny grumbles a high pitched whine, before finally sticking up straight with his eyes shut tight and an expression like he might die from mortification.

“RED ROBIN IS TRYING TO SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH SUPERBOY!” Danny screams, the House helpfully offering an echo in the ensuing silence. 

“....Come again?” John asks, dumbfounded and left with nothing else to say. Danny peeks open an eye, still with that mortified look, before frowning even, almost on the verge of tears from the embarrassment. 

“Red Robin and Superboy have been asking me to hang out with them every weekend and I thought they just needed someone who wasn’t part of their regular friend group as an excuse to hang out with each other because clearly they have crushes on each other but are too shy or afraid to take the first move—” Danny doesn’t actually need to breathe in this form, but here he takes a deep breath, “---so I thought I could maybe help wingman for them so I researched a lot of fanfiction and was trying to set up a lot of little tropes but it was harder to execute in person than I thought, so then I figured subtlety is out the window and texted them to watch this romantic movie together, and then bailed and told them to watch it without me and tell me all about it—” Another breath, “---but then Red Robin showed up in my throne room in the Realms somehow and told me he was disappointed because hewastryingtosetmeupondatewithSuperboy!!!!!!” 

Danny is panting now, and John is still trying to compute what he’s just heard. 

When it finally hits him, well. The only thing he can really actually say in response is laugh. 

So he does. 

He laughs for so long it’s a genuine fear that he would pass out from the loss of air. 

“It’s not funny!” Danny whines, high pitched and indignant, hitting John on the wrist. John is crouched on the floor now, still holding Danny in his little baby man form aloft in his palms. John is literally shaking. 

“I—” John tries to not laugh, but simply cannot. “I t-told you so m-mate!.” He takes a deep breath, calms himself down more firmly, and straightens up to look around them.

“And? What was the mistake that caused you to try and move entirely to the House?” John asks, on closer inspection he realizes this furniture is from the Keep, and not from FentonWorks. John recognizes the furniture. 

“He told me he was tired of me being obtuse, and didn’t want to third wheel us anymore.” Danny grumbles, pouting. “I told him if anyone was third wheeling, it was me.”

John waits for the rest, because surely that can’t be it. “...Okay? That hardly warrants a move, Your Majesty.” 

“...Red Robin then proceeded to try and tell me that the chemistry between me and Superboy was insanely palpable, and pulled out a tablet to do an entire powerpoint presentation on it.” Danny flicked a glance at John, before resolutely looking away. “I got into a fight with him about it, and made my own powerpoint on the spot. We got a little….heated and I opened a portal to Mount Justice and we ambushed Superboy to talk about his feelings.”

Danny flew up, shoving himself into John’s shirt pocket like that’s a perfectly normal place to be. Somehow, he fit. “Superboy, apparently, took this as an elaborate confession and asked us both to be a polycule.” 

“....and then you told him you’re Ace and Aro, yeah?” John asks, despite knowing the answer. 

“.....I said over my dead body.” Danny hisses. “And Red Robin pointed out I kind of am dead.” 

John snorts, but stays silent. “And then?”

Danny sighs. “And then I grabbed one of Red’s masks, put it on and turned into my human form.” Danny grabs said mask (now strangely miniature and white) out of his chest to wave it around, “And then I told him not to drag me into their weird kinks, and ran away.”

John pauses. He’s….not really sure what to say about that. Except. “Ah.”

Danny phases the mask back into his chest and seems to shrink even further. “They know where I live, Grunkle John. So I’m moving here. This is an order. From your King.” 

The House, ever helpful and playing favorites, decides now is the time to shift everything around. John suddenly finds himself standing in the middle of a room he wasn’t aware existed before, all the bags and furniture neatly arranged with a matching four poster bed and desk included. 

Sticking his head out of the door, he realizes the room is right next to his. Lovely. He walks back in.

“Who am I to deny a Royal Decree?” John says, amused, fishing Danny out and placing him gently on the bed. He mocks a formal bow, before grinning at the Young King sulking on the sheets and trying his damnedest not to laugh. He’s largely unsuccessful, but he still manages to get himself together.

“Welcome to the House of Mysteries, Your Majesty. Mi Casa estas Su Domo and all that.” John says, massively butchering the Spanish and forcing some Esperanto in there into some kind of abomination just for the hell of it.

Danny unshrinks, and throws a pillow at him. 

===

When Ellie and Sam and Tucker find out, they laugh for 30 minutes straight. 

Sam and Tucker almost choke from the lack of air. 

Danny doesn’t lift a finger to help them. 

===

Monday - 11:37AM

RedRobinYUM: Phantom, we apologize if we have given you offense SuperStud: Could we please meet?

Wednesday - 6:13PM

SuperStud: Please? RedRobinYUM: No pressure, if you don’t want to please feel free to say no, if we make you uncomfortable please tell us and we will leave you alone.

Saturday - 12:44PM

SuperStud: Come on Your Majesty, throw us a bone here RedRobinYUM: What Superboy is trying to say, Your Majesty, is that we’re really sorry and didn’t mean to ambush you  SuperStud: Speak for yourself, you totally meant to ambush him SuperStud: And I didn’t ambush ANYBODY.  SuperStud: I was the ambushee!! RedRobinYUM: We also didn’t mean to force you to reveal your human status(?) SuperStud: We were just trying to shoot our shot! RedRobinYUM: We were trying to shoot YOUR shot, SB. Stuperstud: You guys were the ones with full on powerpoints about the chemistry between us.  RedRobinYUM: I was trying to be a good friend, not trying to instigate a polycule! SuperStud: Oh stuff it, you think he’s cute too! RedRobinYUM: just because I have EYES does not mean automatic interest SuperStud: Be honest. You were totally considering it when I suggested it—come on, Rob.  RedRobinYUM: Not the time nor place, Superboy. SuperStud: Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t think his engineering prowess and ability to kill me was hot af. I know you, competence kink a mile wide!  RedRobinYUM: NOT THE TIME NOR PLACE, SUPERBOY. SuperStud: Should I make a powerpoint about the chemistry between you and Phantom? RedRobinYUM: NO. PhanDUMB: Please, stop. Gods, PLEASE. SuperStud: Only if you agree to meet with us. PhanDUMB: FINE. 

===

There is a sullen teenage King draped all over the sofa. 

“Rough day, Your Majesty?” John asks, because he might as well. He was, after all, heading towards the Kitchen from his room only to walk straight into a coffee table. Clearly, the House wants him here. Either the House is playing favorites again, or Danny is in so much of a state it’s getting annoyed by the moping. 

The boy is in his human form, a more common occurrence nowadays, and is mumbling something forlornly. 

“You’re mumbling again, lad.” John crosses the room to sit in the armchair beside the sofa, making himself comfortable. “Did the talk with Red Robin and Superboy not go well?” John might have to inflict a terrible curse on the lads, if so. Bats might kick up a stink about it, but John will pull out the diplomatic immunity card if he’ll have to. Even if he doesn’t have to, he would do it anyway. Nobody messes with his neph–ahem—with the King of the Realms and gets away with it. It simply won’t do. 

“The talk was fine.” Danny huffs, rolling over to contort in a very uncomfortable way in John’s eyes. “Ellie tagged along for moral support.” John snorts, wondering where the lass is now. 

Ever since Danny moved in a couple weeks ago (John was amused to find that Danny has been telling his parents he’s living in dorms, nevermind that he’s going to the Amity Park Community College for his first couple of years) she’s been visiting on and off again. There’s even been some talks about enrolling her into high school, though Jazz has been talking to him regarding the pros and cons of high school vs GED.

“How kind of her.” John drawls. Danny gives him a look.

“Her version of moral support is apparently immediately going up to Red Robin and saying to his face, for someone who works with the World’s Greatest Detective, you sure aren’t detective-ing great.” The lad covers his eyes with an arm, flailing about with the other.

“When Superboy asked what she meant by that, she did the Will Smith pose at me and said he’s Ace and Aro, dummies!” John blinks. 

“...Will Smith pose?” John hesitantly asks. Danny gives him another look, this one almost disappointed.

“For someone who use to be in a band you’re losing a lot of cool points to me right now. It’s an exaggerated jazz-hands pose, Grunkle John. Get with the times.” John coughs, still confused but getting the gist of it.

“Well, at least they know now, right?” Danny groans. 

“Yeah, and now Red Robin keeps sending me gift baskets for the faux pas, I think he’s afraid they started some kind of interdimensional incident. And Superboy is trying to find, and I quote, the exact flavor of aro and ace, because apparently he wouldn’t be opposed to some casual make out sessions if Red Robin is willing. Which apparently, he is.”

“...Do you want me to hex them for you?” Regardless of Danny’s answer, John suddenly feels like pay the Kryptonians a little visit. He contemplates the pros and cons of messing with one of the Bat’s kids, but ultimately comes to the conclusion that even the Big Bat himself wouldn’t blame John. Diplomatic immunity could go a long way, if he plays his cards rights. 

It would only be a little hex. Maybe. Probably. He wonders if that Sam girl that Danny talks about would like to learn some curse magic. She seemed to be of the ilk. 

“Bad Grunkle John. Bad. No hexing!” Danny hisses, transforming and flipping around to float over to John to drape over his shoulders and head, as if to weigh him down and prevent him from moving. As if John would go now whilst Danny was visiting, as if Danny weighed anything in this form. 

John feels fondness flow through him, and pretends to try and get up, which causes Danny to hiss a little more and wrap tighter around him like a toddler having a little tantrum. 

“Fine, fine. Just this once.” John pretends to acquiesce, causing Danny to purr a satisfied rumble. Hexing can wait. What Danny doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. 

Maybe he’ll even call over Clockwork and the girls over for dinner. That’ll be a nice treat.

For now, he sits back, plopping down more securely, with his new nephew scarf. 

Warm.

DPxDC prompt: Danny Phantom is an extremely high-level threat due to his capabilities and experience battling against his ghostly enemies. Batman is creating a contingency plan for him and Constantine's advice, as the one who dances the tango with the Infinite Realms? A bone-weary sigh of "plop him down a telly and put on a NASA documentary or something. It's like you haven't been dealing with teen kids for decades now fer fuck's sake."

[sonrium]

DP X DC: A Minor Drinking Problem

Phantom is a relatively new member of the JLA, but it's been a few months, and things are settling in well. He's shy and polite but is a master of the snark with villains.

Before a big mission, the all hands on deck kind, everyone is talking about scars and the crazy stories behind them to distract from the coming fight. Danny, finally feeling like he can join in the conversation with all these adult heroes, pulls off his right glove to show a pretty gnarly scar on the back of his wrist. “I got this one when I fought a guy from the Revolutionary War a few weeks ago! Didn't think he'd charge me with a bayonet.” He shares a couple more stories and scars, but only the ones that he can easily show off.

Because of stories like that and some historical depictions of Phantom from different time periods, they think he's this ancient and powerful immortal that just looks like a teenager, it wouldnt be the first time. He's powerful enough to go toe to toe with Superman, so there's no way he's actually a kid. He even sometimes has the haunted, world weary eyes that their most hardened members only get after experiencing too much. Danny, being our lovable, obliviously dense idiot, has not realized that they think he's an ancient being.

After the mission concludes -it was a rough one-, the JLA celebrate their victory with a couple drinks back at the watch tower. Danny is understandably uncomfortable with this whole situation and keeps asking, “Are you sure I should be here?” They reassure him it's fine as they pass around beers, which Danny politely declines several times. Danny eventually sees this as the perfect chance to pad his blackmail folders on his inebriated coworkers.

Anyway, as the night goes on, they have a good time, but Phantom still hasn't gotten a drink like the rest of them, and Green Lantern (or hero of your choice) really wants their shy friend to come out of his shell. So, he slams an open beer bottle on the coffee table in front of Phantom. “Come on Phantom! Let loose a little. Celebrate!”

“Dude! What the hell?! I'm 16! That's illegal!” Phantom squeaks in shock.

“We don't care how old you were when you died. It's how long you've been a ghost that counts.” Flash slings an arm around Danny's shoulders from where he’s sat next to him on the couch. Flash can't get drunk, but he also thinks it would be fun to see their uptight new member drunk.

“That's even worse! You'd be giving alcohol to a two year old!” Phantom is horrified that his coworkers are so casually breaking the law.

“But you said you fought in the Revolutionary War this morning!” Green Lantern said with his eyebrows knit in confusion.

“No, I said I fought someone from the Revolutionary War. As in, the ghost of someone from the revolutionary war!”

“You can't pull that on us. There's murals and stuff of you from thousands of years ago.” The Flash waves off with a laugh.

Phantom’s finger presses painfully hard into Flash’s chest. “I do not need to explain time travel to you of all people. My mentor hates you, and I'm STILL sent on missions constantly to clean up your messes.” Phantom's clear and low. Flash liked it better when he was shouting and not staring him down like a predator with narrowed eyes.

(This random idea popped into my head. It made me laugh, so I thought you might, too. Here you go!)

[everybodysaycbx]

.

[der-schweizer]

There's my portal

As i said on @bet-on-me-13 'Where is my portal' post, here is my short about their idea. please enjoy.

Danny sipped his coffee, slowly shuffling towards his lab. It had been a long time since he had a ‘run on two coffees and some ecto’ weekend but here he was, Monday morning, on his way to work.

He really wanted to be in bed but he had bills to pay.

Quietly he shuffled into his lab, which he found oddly drafty and oddly bright, considering he hadn’t turned on the lights yet. After flicking them on he moved on towards his desk, passing a big gaping hole in the wall and—

Danny paused, shuffled backwards a bit and then looked at the place where his portal used to be. For a long moment he just looked, then did a slow blink and took another sip of coffee.

After making sure that his portal, including parts of the wall, were really gone, he let out a sigh and held his face. “Who the fuck stole my door?”

With a sigh he pushed his bangs out of his face and walked to his PC, to check the security footage of his Cameras. For once it wasn’t Vlad who stole his shit, Vlad at least had the courtesy to leave a note that he ‘borrowed’ something. It was safe to say that he was surprised to find the footage gone. There weren't many people that could hack through Tucker's programing.

Danny sat there, looking at the black screen of his PC for a long moment before thinking aloud. “Okay, we have one or more people who can; One, break through Tuckers firewalls. Two, physically move a portal weighing around ten tons and, Three, knows their way around Arcane Runes so as to not cause a mass ghost invasion.”

He thought about it for a minute before throwing his hands up. “Fuck this, I’m just going to use the other side to find it.” He got out of his chair before transforming. 

Danny focused his power into one of his fingers before poking the air in front of him, the tip of it pierced the fabric of space which he then used to rip it open. He quickly flew through the tear before it sealed again. Despite Wulf teaching him how to do it he still sucked at it, which was the main reason he built his portal.

Once in the Zone he looked around for it. He found it after over two hours of searching, which only served to piss him off to the point where he began muttering curses under his breath.

Standing in front of it, he gave it a quick inspection. After inspecting the Runes, Danny had to admit that, whoever had stolen it, knew his way around them. They pretty much locked out anyone not authorized and or approved by the Caster. Too bad for them, Danny had the ‘Masterkey’ and went through anyway.

John Constantine was holding his face, quietly counting to ten. Neither smoking nor drinking would help in this situation. After reaching fifty he ran his hands over his head, looking at the assembled brigade of idiots in front of him.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” He started, “You,” he pointed at Batman, “found an ‘unknown energy signature’ and went to investigate. Then you found a high security lab with had an active portal to ‘who knows where’ and your first decision was to fucking steal it?!?!”

Superman moved forward, opening his mouth to counter but Constantine didn't let him. “AND you moron helped him steal it, not to mention you!” he pointed at flash, “Help install it here, in the watchtower, without telling anyone from JLD about it?”

Flash looked a bit sheepish at him. “Well, in my defense I didn’t know it was stolen.”

Constantine wanted to bash his head against the next closest bulkhead, maybe that would help.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine facepalmed, trying to stop the aneurysm from building up more.

A deep chill suddenly filled the air and sent goosebumps all over his back, “Oh this is just getting better and better.” Constantine reached into his pocket for a warding charm, before turning around and swearing. He stopped swearing when he saw who had come through. “Oh, hey Phantom.”

“Constantine, why the fuck did you steal my portal?” Danny wasn’t even pissed anymore. He knew the English drunktard too well to blame him. Granted he was obnoxious, didn’t pay back his debt and came whenever it suited him, but Danny liked the man. He didn’t exasperate problems and always did what was necessary.

“Look, I didn’t.” He then threw a thumb over his shoulder, “Those morons did.”

“Constantine, do you know this entity?” Batman already looked on high alert.

“Excuse you! I have a name. And that is my Portal. Explain why it isn't where it is supposed to be.”

“The sensors of the Watchtower found an unknown energy signature, upon investigation we found an unsecured pathway to a different dimension, so we secured it.”

Danny stared at Batman for a solid minute, then simply said, “Oh I'm going to sue your ass so hard your grandkids will feel it.”