#fanfic au stuff idk

[neonbrutalism]

miguel being miles' mentor instead of peter has some impacts in surprising ways

(Next part)

[erinwantstowrite]

bear with me here because i'm gonna ramble about something i've been thinking about for a while... and i'm not complaining, i'm just noticing

sometimes i think we've leaned so far into the vigilante side of the batfam that we miss out on what really makes their characters: detective work. we need more mysteries in their lives that don't lead up to some big bad "we already know who's doing it" or an "end of the world" or "yet again: this fucking guy." we need more stuff where spy movie music plays in the background and dumb adventures that don't lead up to some huge grand event with a big name villain. the shock factor stops being shocking or interesting in any capacity if we're like "Gah! the Joker! ... Again!" or whatever

does that even make sense? like "yeah sure they're blowing up a building again and there's hostages. oh look they're gonna poison the water supply." these aren't bad and that's not what i'm getting at because obviously this is a classic for comics. you need to have characters/antagonists that show up more than once and who can make a story better by being in it. and i did say to bear with me- that's because im tired. so like i hope im getting this across the right way? it's just that sometimes i don't wanna see a huge explosion, i want these motherfuckers solving a regular murder or a disappearance or regular corruption in a local office without it being tied to a grand reveal like "actually this person knows you as a long lost relative" or "they were at that circus can you guess which night they went?" that kind of thing? if you get me? like... more of the small time stuff makes the big stuff important, it makes it stand out more. at some point, the format gets repetitive even if you're switching up the villains. you can make these situations/mysteries still fun to solve for the characters and fun to read for the audience if you do it right

the concept of a detective dressed as a bat and having a sidekick in traffic light colors is inherently goofy as hell??? but that is what is so charming about it??? i think we have lost the balance between them being silly while also being intelligent with important conversations that criticize the world as we see it and teach lessons and can go over dark topics. nowadays it's always end of the world problems or just straight up the most gruesome true crime you can think of?? or they can ONLY do the dark stuff and the criticism without offering a balance of the good in the world. or we keep coming back to the FUCKING JOKER-

like yes they are vigilantes and with that comes a different level of their work, but their brand should be a mix between a black and white detective film that can get very nitty gritty and a classic spy movie, that kind of thing. at the end of the day, it's what makes them so different from the superheroes. that's what appeals to me.

seeing them in the big superhero groups is fun, don't get me wrong. it's always funny to see them standing next to people who are so powerful they never really fit in with anyone but each other, who chose to step up and use their powers for good. the Bats' specialty is Gotham and yet here they are stopping a god or whatever. and they do stop the god or whatever, all the while being an important leader and strategist to their teammates. they're important to have in these cases. but if there's a world ending event every time i pick something up, it's not as fun

the fact that they are so very human and not fantastical is why i like reading them. it's what makes the joke of people, even Gotham citizens, theorizing about them being cryptids, funny. they're fucking weird but that's because they're detectives. people who love to solve mysteries usually have a fatal flaw of curiosity. they forget the bounds between social interactions sometimes because they're used to working through problems or being intertwined with partners that understand them. but they're very much human. so human that it hurts them in many ways. and idk i've just been thinking about it lately and idk what point i'm trying to get across actually

it's just that in my eyes that's how it really is for Batman- a black and white movie narrated by a very serious man who took up a job to help people, one that has a deeper commentary on the world and viewed outwardly as pessimistic but actually has a deep hope for his city and who tries to help even the people who have wronged others. He's a stationary man in the belief that him being a constant can serve to soothe others and help them move forward. He stays in the middle of the path so he can tell everyone what is up ahead. he blends into the Gotham rainy night to serve justice but in a way that saves both the victim and the perpetrator. (the way he tucks a Robin into his cape is the same he does for Gotham with his mere presence.) and his background is actually so important to his story and yet people still somehow gloss over the lesson from it? he lost his parents because of a man who was on the opposite end of the spectrum to where he was in life. and yet he chose to help the people like the man that killed his parents. he could have done anything else with his power and money, but he instead is choosing to bring as many people up with him as he can. He's Mr. Serious that no one else can get a read on. and yet he walks into a room and he's already piecing together your life and what you're going through because he thinks it matters. he comforts people who have lost something or someone or themselves. I picture Batman and I don't picture a man trying to save the world, I picture a detective walking around a crime scene and trying to save at least one person every time he puts on the cape. and he put on the cape and became a vigilante because then he could go out of the bounds of what laws have been set up- and specifically, Gotham has other people in power who are corrupt, keeping the system that way. that's why Batman being a billionare and throwing himself into helping people at the risk of his own life is so important. he knows that if you are alive, you have something or someone to lose, no matter who you are. the dude is a bleeding heart but he doesn't know how to express it, in fear that if he gets too close, if he moves down the path with them, he'll be lost again

and then he's met with someone who should be a complete opposite, but isn't at all, because they're two sides of the same coin. his partner in crime, his son, a boy that is nothing like the black and white world that he sees. and that's the point in his life where he first sees that potentially getting lost is worth the risk. Robin is color and passion that needs guidance to move forward, but can not do so unless the stationary man learns to move with him. the kid is loud and reckless and you'd think he's from a different genre from the detective but they aren't so different, really. not when you look close enough. Dick grew up moving from place to place and seeing the world, knowing so many different people from different cultures. He's been learning to fly and jump and embrace the free fall his entire life. He's clever and he's sharp, and he thrives in the action and adventure. it's that perspective that compliments the stationary man. one is steady and the other pushes. he's the same genre but a different generation. and Batman introducing him to the way of life he chose for himself was another way he could save someone. because let's be real for a second? Dick would have gone down a very dark path had he not had Bruce, who understood, who saw not just himself in the kid but also saw who the kid has been his entire life until now. he saw Dick's parents, he saw the family he had in the circus, he saw the joy he had in what his family was doing. he saw the grief and the fire and the color that Dick's world was made of. because to Bruce, it always matters. Dick had to come to terms with Bruce's perspective to help anyone who they come across, to always give more chances, and it kept Dick from losing his color

what gets me is that the man who lives in the black and white world can actually see many different shades of gray (because black and white always needs the medium), whereas the boy in a world of color and light can get so focused on the bright that he can become single minded. and yet the boy sees a world of color and delves deeper into the lives of the peolle they come across and can be much more open minded, and the man in the black and white world sometimes forgets the shades of grey are right there. they are just like each other. they can exist without the other, but do they want to? because the black and white can be built up into the colored image, like the inking and shadows drawn on a comic book page before the colors are added in. they meet in the middle to complete each other. Bruce has been passing the story over to the next generation for a long, long time, even before his story was complete. and just like with the first Robin, it was so for every Robin afterwards. they each color in the lines differently, but that's what makes Robin so special, so unique. they are an art style that branches into their own life, but can not forget where they started: tucked into Batman's cape and the inky black of his world

and so detective work really frames their hunanity to me. the mysteries they get their hands on, the glimpses into the lives of Gotham citizens that they swore to protect, it's fascinating. it's what makes their story stand out compared to the people who can lift trucks or cast spells or run around the world in seconds. so yeah ig that's what i'm trying to say? that i want to read more of that? in both canon and fanon. cause even the small time villains we see can be like. AWFUL people and it takes out the fun of their gimmicks. and if it were any other day this would be a more coherent post but alas, it is not any other day

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[pigeonstab]

Okay so!! This is my first time doing creative writing since middle school basically, I did my best and I had fun so, hope you enjoy! (It's under the cut bc I don't want to have it be too long of a post) Also. English is not my first language, (lmao ik) if some sentences are wack it's because I tried to do something cool and it didn't work.

It's about my college AU and I tried to give enough context for it to be understandable even if you haven't looked through the tags but this is meant to be middle of the story kind of stuff so I do recommend that you check it out before reading..

Also @somegrumpynerd

Killer shivered from the cold in the apartment building. 142, Cross’s door number had been hard to find as the 2 had fallen off, leaving only a lighter imprint on the grimy gray walls.

He probably shouldn’t be here, but when else would he get an opportunity like this? The full moon was the only time he could evade Horror’s suffocating sheltering, the others were suspicious, he knew, and with him being out more and more often Nightmare was getting antsy…

He held his breath, finally finding the courage to knock on the door.

He waited a beat but was met with silence, budding worry tightened around his soul, trying the handle he found it slid open easily and with a strange snap, like the lock had been broken and never replaced.

Peering inside the apartment, Killer was shocked to see how cramped Cross’s living space was, a far cry from his own place, and taking his first steps inside he found it was nearly impracticable, the mess he encountered was more akin to rubble than untidiness and testified of an obvious struggle: kitchen appliances and rags strewn around the floor, broken glass, the counters scratched and one of the cupboards ripped off its hinges, these marks an echo of a wild animal’s rampage. This chaos was so unlike Cross, his uneasiness only grew.

Killer carried on with his exploration, turning his attention to the beat up cupboard, it only took a quick glance for him to recognize a small inconspicuous vial, among the cumin, the parsley and the other insignificant spices; there it was, Wolvesbane.

Killer didn’t get the time to dwell on how or why Cross would even own what was essentially Werewolf poison as a loud thud ripped through the heavy silence.

Killer’s non-existent stomach roiled, he left the cupboard behind, now far from his mind as he set to investigate the noise, following the dried blood trail past the torn couch (he did his best to ignore the smell. Now was not the time. Though he could tell it was Cross’s. A fact which worried him as much as it enticed him)

His shoulders were tense as he got close to yet another door, this one already ajar, he pushed it further, the room must’ve been Cross’s bedroom, it was dark and had he not been a vampire he most likely would not have been able to see, the copper smell was only stronger in here.

Killer froze as he spotted the dark mass near the end of the room. Its breathing rocked its hulking form. It had spotted him. Two white reflections pierced through the darkness and in seconds the wolf lunged.

Killer struggled against it as it clawed and snarled at him with a recklessness Killer did not expect from it. The beast had him pinned under its weight and Killer had to seize its jaws. Pushing the snapping and snarling muzzle away from him, his arms burning with the effort, his soul pounding and adrenaline coursing through him. The fight was constant movement. instinct alone permitted Killer to grab a hold of the thing’s maw and force it shut, pressing from top and bottom while it growled and tried to pull away from him. Killer slammed it onto the floor, to which it stilled with a pained whine.

Killer’s chest was heaving, he kept his hands where they were, unsure if the beast would get back up. When it became obvious it wouldn’t his shoulders dropped and he sighed. His eyes roamed the large wolf’s figure, a flannel Killer instantly recognized as Cross’s was still hanging to it, ripped to hell and back but Cross’s. Killer confirmed his suspicion, turning the wolf’s face to find a jagged scar under its right eye.

“Fucking hell Cross. You couldn’t just tell me these thing could you?”

Killer (despite his semi-serious words and lighthearted remark) felt lost. Why hadn’t Cross told him? He banished the thought from his mind. After all he’d never told Cross about his vampirism either. Why would Cross ever tell him about this?

Focusing on Cross he looked him over, his eyes were hazy and unfocused, a purple tint to them that Killer had never seen in them. Well. He’d unpack that later. For now.. “Up we go” Killer picked up the wolf with a grunt of effort, pulling Cross over his arm and heaving the mass of fur over his shoulder, he got to his feet unsteadily, balancing with the extra weight (a lot of extra weight) and started to long trek back home, starting with getting out of the apartment as inconspicuously as he could with a 120 pound Werewolf on his back…

[ryssbelle]

Poppy for N2 au, it took me so long to make her design cuz I didn't really know what I wanted to do only because I feel like her design is pretty perfect.

But then I just thought about fun outfits to give her or outfits that I would find comfortable if I was wearing them and it all came together.

Poppy here is pretty much the same as here movie counterpart, as nothing really changes on her end of things other than having more insight on Branch through his brothers, and through Lief. Shes also a bit more understanding a bit earlier on because of it but it doesnt do much to change her own character arc I would say.

Bonus

Part of Poppys design was based off a design I had made for previous rulers of Troll Village/Tree

Namely Queen Protea who I designed as Poppys grandmother

Named after the Protea flower which part of her design is based off :D

In the context of this Au Protea was the one who conceptualized the tunnels while her son, King Peppy, was the one to follow through after her death

[iarrelm]

Swap AU Huskerdust <3

I did the sketch for this immediately after getting that ask about what I shipped in this AU. I finally got some time to finish it!!!

Here's some random swap au huskerdust thoughts:

I touched on it a little bit in the last post but because Husk works a lot he doesn't have the time or energy to pick apart Angel's mask and decide he wants to get to know the real him like in canon. So they end up staying in the 'enemies' arc of their enemies to friends to lovers slowburn a lot longer lmao

When they finally become friends it's because both of them slowly and steadily worked toward being kinder to each other.

After a long time of being mostly indifferent to each other after their rocky start, Husk notices that Angel hasn't actually been pushing his boundaries like he used to. During one of Alastor's activities, he sees that Angel actually goes out of his way to make sure he doesn't cross them.

A bit later, when he goes to the bar, instead of barging in and grabbing a bottle or making his own drink, he actually sits down at it. Angel, who had been cleaning glasses, just looks at him in surprise.

"The princess told me you've been practicing. Think you can make a decent drink yet?"

Angel grins. "You offering to be my taste tester?"

The drink Angel puts together is pretty great. A bit too sweet for Husk's taste, but it wasn't bad. He tells Angel as much, and the smile he receives in return is enough to convince him to continue to taste test anything else Angel tries making in the future.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

every day I keep remembering more times that blorbo from my bands has said something blasphemous or heretical (always confuse the difference) or worn a pentagram accessory and it just keeps getting worse. how can something that God has used for so much good in my life (improving my body image, getting me truly interested in writing again, giving me an outlet I have needed and words to relate to, etc) now be something I have to give up?

[gracefireheart]

Made a little fanfic about how Heavy and Medic's first interaction in my TF2 x Beastars AU went down.

If you don't know what Beastars is, I recommend watching at least a little of the anime to get a feel for it (tho' some of the things I mention in the fic will reference certain things that's shown in season 2, so be warned ig). It's on Netflix, but you can also just pirate it if you don't have a subscription. You didn't hear it from me tho' :)

Anyways, onto the fanfic below the keep reading line. It's over 3k words long, and 'cause of that (and how I don't have an a03 account), I'll just use pics instead for what I wrote in order to not go over the character limit :]

[wishchip106]

more ready player one cherik au ideas

erik is pretty much a complete loser irl and online and barely has any friends until he meets charles at the first trial and joins his online friendgroup (aka fc xmen) when he gets the first key

everyones avatars are more based on their comic looks so they all look a bit silly but its the oasis so its okay

thats pretty much it so far my brain is slowly building some kind of a story but it hasn’t gone into details yet

i dont even know if im gonna write this i just gotta dump my ideas here otherwise they’ll be sent to the void

[jouyato]

I have not finished the game yet (a single route takes so long!!!!) but I have brainworms abt these two so have some good old AU fanart

[gracebethartacc]

Might as well repost all the art I’ve done of this chapter while I’m here bc it’s been in the works for literally ages LOL

(the soul praying scene in the second to last one is gonna be next chapter bc I decided to end it off where I was bc I thought it fit as an ending better)

also ft: @wacky-theater-kids bc we both redrew the same Mind meme lol (I don’t have the og image saved tho Womp womp)

[tardis-technician]

Doctor Who Ghost!AU

The absolutely mortifying ordeal of being known (<-- has never written fanfiction before). This is inspired by the talented @g1ngerbeer's wonderful doctor who ghost au, specifically the aquarium comic from this post. Donna and ghost ten going on little outings means the world to me. It’s not actually a full fic, just a drabble that sort of got away from me. Hope you enjoy!

In the past week, Donna had gone to a natural history museum, a science museum, and the zoo. She hadn’t been to any of them since she was a kid, and hadn’t had any desire to go to them since. However, the two of them had recently discovered that the Doctor could leave the house as long as he was tagging along with Donna. Ever since, he’d been begging her to take him to all sorts of places she’d never go on her own. She’d made a fuss about it, but the poor sod was dead (probably) and good company (when he wasn’t getting her into trouble.) It seemed like the least she could do.

She had to admit, it was slightly more interesting than the school trips she’d gone on as a kid. For reasons neither of them knew, the Doctor had a vast and random collection of knowledge, some of which Donna knew to be true, some of which sounded like it was probably true, and some of which was completely bonkers. 

“They don’t mention the witches.”

“What?” replied Donna. 

It was the first museum they’d gone to. The discovery that he had a strange amount of trivia in his brain, and then the information itself, had been interesting at first. However, they were getting close to hour three of walking around (or floating for him.) She’d been zoning out a bit, considering offering to get him something at the gift shop in an effort to get him closer to the exit. 

“Nothing in here,” said the Doctor, gesturing around the Shakespeare exhibit they’d found themselves in, “says anything about the witches.” 

“What do you mean witches?”

“Well they gave him some trouble, didn’t they?” he said, looking perplexed. 

What ensued was a ten minute debate in which the Doctor absolutely insisted that he remembered hearing somewhere or reading somewhere that Shakespeare had a spot of trouble with witches, but that it was all resolved in the end except for the fact he never did get a chance to finish that play. Donna, convinced he was messing with her, allowed the argument to reach a volume at which people started staring. She sometimes got weird looks while she surreptitiously tried to whisper responses to the Doctor, but she’d forgotten herself to the point it looked like she was gesturing angrily at thin air. 

In an effort to avoid getting kicked out, they decided to agree to disagree. Or the Doctor had decided that, and Donna had decided it was a lost cause. She was able to persuade him out of the museum by letting him pick out a snow globe. At that point, he had a working theory that he used to be some sort of historian. But then everywhere they ended up going he seemed to be an expert in some sort of field, barring some outrageous historical claims and his seeming inability to separate whatever sci-fi he’d watched on telly from actual facts. He’d given up the theory, but seemed pleased by the fact that whoever he was had been very clever, and even more pleased about being able to show off. 

A few days later they’d gone to a planetarium, and the Doctor started spouting off facts as soon as they walked in the door. Donna had mostly stopped reading information where they went, just listening to the Doctor ramble instead. He went on about the formation of the moon and the planets, relative ages of things and what compounds they were made of. They’d made their way to the theater, where you could sit back and they’d put on a projector to make it look like you were in space. Donna had actually been the one to suggest the idea for their latest outing. Her grandad loved stargazing, and he’d taken her to the planetarium all the time as a kid. It’d been a while, and it looked like the technology had gotten a bit of an upgrade since the 70s.

The Doctor had been grinning madly, still going on about supernovas, but when the projector turned on he stopped mid-sentence. Donna looked over to see him unnaturally still, gazing at the stars. 

He looked absolutely lost. 

She tried to whisper his name, get his attention, but it was like he was somewhere else. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be able to reach out and hold his hand. When the lights finally came back on, he flinched like someone had hit him, but still didn’t break his gaze from the ceiling. She waited for the theater to clear out before trying to talk to him.

“Doctor?” she asked. “Are you ok?” 

“I don’t know, I-”

He still wasn’t looking at her, just staring up at where the stars had disappeared. Eventually, he turned to face her again. She couldn’t be sure with the soft glow coming off of him, but she thought there might’ve been tears in his eyes. 

“Donna,” he said quietly. “I think I lost something.”

[djbluefire]

Me overthinking things and then catching myself overthinking things and then overthinking how I should stop overthinking things

[new-revenant]

Have an unfinished fic! It was supposed to be a monster au thing, but whatever. I don’t know what I was thinking anymore. I don’t really like this that much, but it isn’t terrible. Putting it under the cut so I think about it less lol. It’s 2,372 words, not that bad.

“Day 3, July 13, 2004. I have been…dead for three days, hence the ‘Day 3,’ you know?” Danny solemnly chuckled, sadness seeping through his voice. Why was even doing this? For the sake of his sanity? Must be something like that. For his sanity, he continues.

“Us Fenton-Nightingales have monster-hunting in our blood. Although, my parents only believe in ghosts, not all those other magical creatures. But my parents also thought that ghost were monsters from another realm, so guess what-they know jack SHIT!

“Heh heh, ‘jack,’ that’s my dad’s name,” He paused, closing his eyes before inhaling sharply, continuing his meaningless spiel. For his sanity, he speaks into the recorder.

“I died, I died…three days ago, and now I’ve somehow fled to a town FULL of MONSTERS. And they were so nice, so nice because they think I’m one of them. They’ve let me live-live, ha-in a house that they couldn’t find a buyer for since I guess there aren’t too many of them living in the damned town!”

“So now I’m staying here. A not-quite-living not-quite-ghost boy with monsters. A monster hunter living with monsters.”

“My name is Daniel,” -he paused, he sighed, he continued- “Daniel Vladimir Fenton-Nightingale. And I’m half ghost, half human, and full on confused about just about everything I guess. Signing off!“

        ☁︎Two Days Earlier☁︎

Danny knew he was about to be doing something stupid. It would not be the first time he’d do something stupid. But this time, this time he was prepared. He had looked over the blueprints and notes for his parents’ machine thousands of times, he knew what it was supposed to do, and he knew that his parents failed.

A portal to the realm of ghosts, right in their basement. Their life goal, their lives’ work. And it failed. Jazz, his sister, took them both out to get some fresh air and groceries once it did. Danny engraved the looks of despair they bore as they dragged themselves out of the house into his mind.

Danny was smart. He had mostly straight As in school, getting only Cs in math. God he hated math. The Fenton-Nightingales-or just the Fentons-were a family of hunters, of geniuses, and he was no exception. Two heads were better than one, so three heads were even better. He could-no, he should help. He was going to make them happy.

Danny noticed the flaws in the wiring, in the circuits, in the paneling. They were minor, barely noticeable even to him, but even small holes can sink a ship. So he put on a hazmat suit-and took off the giant sticker of his dad’s face on it-and set out to work. It didn’t take too long, and Danny managed to fix every single thing he could find. He had worked with machines with his parents as soon as he learned how to solve those putting-the-right-shape-in-the-right-hole puzzles. He had worked with his parents with hunting ghosts, he knew how they worked, how they acted, how they faked human emotions to gain sympathy. He was born for helping his parents with this machine. And he would fix it no matter what it took.

So Danny turned on the portal again, waiting for something to happen. Seconds passed, nothing did. He sighed, and sat down on the floor. But he did something, and he would help even more when his parents came back. It could be one of those fun bonding moments between them all. He was sure even Jazz would love to help them, wanting to make their parents happier as much as Danny did.

Taking his hazmat suit off, he carefully and neatly put it back into the storage he got it from. Danny didn’t know what to do now, his parents wouldn’t be back for another hour at the very least.

So Danny was going to do something even more stupid-going inside of the portal. Since it didn’t work, maybe Danny missed something that he could fix later. The portal was spacious, going back several yards and being more than twice his height. He was awestruck at it all, loving every moment of scouting around the machine.

Then he saw it. A lone wire sticking out of the paneling. Without any thoughts in his head that weren’t focused on helping his parents, he took the panel off, and with his left arm he grabbed the wire and connected it to another.

He never turned the portal off.

The next thing that Danny remembered after moving the wire was his senses being invaded by an agonizingly bright green, by the smell of his own burning flesh, and by his own pained screams. Then he was on the ground, that green light pooling at his feet.

Danny could only blink. Danny tried to breathe, before quickly realizing a stomach churning fact-he didn’t need to breathe. He always had a feeling that his parents’ theory that ghosts were actually monsters from another world were a bit…off. And now he could see the truth.

Danny Fenton, the son of two ghost hunters, was now a ghost. He had an idea of what this meant. He could be next. No, he would be next. His parents wouldn’t even think he was their son, wouldn’t even think twice about ripping him apart. He tried to scramble to his feat, but instead ended up hovering a few feat above the ground. He was upright though, so that was a plus. A small, small plus.

A second plus was that the portal was on. It worked, his parents’ machine worked and Danny made it work. It only costed him his life. Danny started to laugh, laugh at how he was now the very thing that his parents hated. It was a crazed, depressed laugh. A laugh that echoed throughout the basement. It quickly turned into a scream, a shriek, more like. He barely registered the tears coming down his face as he mourned his own horrifically ironic fate.

But Danny had to move on, move on for his own twisted survival. Wading through the air, Danny went over to flip the switch for the portal, attempting to turn it off, failing to not pass through it multiple times before the green, swirling mess of the portal disappeared. He heaved out a sigh of relief. His parents would come home, and they would try to turn on the portal again, and then they be happy. He looked in the portal, a ghost of a smile on his face. He saw the panel he took off on the floor, and put it back without a second thought. Only after a lot of spinning around in the air and failing multiple times to even pick the stupid thing up.

Then Danny thought about something-where was his body? His body wasn’t there, not even any ashes. Oh god, it probably fell through the portal. But if it fell through the portal, why was the panel still there? Suddenly, outside of his control, Danny gasped, a breath of air coming out of his mouth, like he was out on a cold winter day. But it was mid-July and he was dead. Danny looked around and saw something-blob ghosts, many of them surrounding an ectopuss. That’s when he learned that ghosts can have adrenaline.

Danny zipped to one of the tables in the basement, grabbing the Fenton Thermos on it. Turns out, it was much easier to move as a ghost when you ignored your legs. The thermos was a ghost catching device that his parents were working on, that they were almost done with. Danny pointed it at the ectopuss, which now noticed him, shrieking at him. Danny pressed the capture button, half expecting it not to work. And it didn’t. He passed it to his left hand to examine it further, before seeing that his fingers were charred, with lightning-shaped scaring starting from his palm that went up his arm, probably going even further across his body. A lightbulb went off in Danny’s head, and he pointed the thermos back at the ectopuss as it scuttled closer to him. Danny pressed down the capture button yet again.

His scar lit up green, and he could feel it from the left side of his face, his chest, and back down to his arm. A beam of circulating blue light erupted from the thermos, sucking in both the ectopuss and all of the ghost blobs. Then the cap closed with a snap, leaving Danny alone in the basement lab. He hovered there for a moment, stunned.

Danny quickly came to a conclusion as to what to do now. He obviously had to leave. His parents couldn’t know that he was a ghost-that he was dead. Danny flew up the stairs, flew up all the stairs to his room. He grabbed a travel bag, focusing on making himself more solid as he did so. It worked, and he was able to shove a bunch of clothes in it. He didn’t think he would actually need any of it, but he’d rather have his parents think he had ran away.

Actually, that was a great idea, he should do that. He grabbed another bag and put some miscellaneous items in it, like toiletries, a headband, a voice recorder, and an unopened bag of glow-in-the-dark stars. He was going to put them all around his room eventually, but now that was never going to happen. Danny even put one of his goggles in there, the lens being the same pale blue his eyes were. But were his eyes still blue now? 

Usually ghosts didn’t look much like humans, typically having green, blue, or blueish-green skin. But as Danny looked at his hands, they looked...more human-like. His skin did look a bit tanned, a bit burnt, but it didn’t have any green or blue coloring to it as far as he could see. Maybe a very, very slight green tint if he stared hard enough.

Maybe he could try phasing through the wall to get to the bathroom. His parents probably would’ve put up something in the walls to make sure ghosts don’t-and holy fuck they didn’t Danny just went straight through it. Why didn’t they have anything to stop ghosts from phasing through the walls?! Wait, was that even possible? Danny didn’t dwell on that for too long, trying to just focus on looking at his reflection. His black hair was now a snowy white, his once white shirt with red accents now black with blueish-green accents, and his blue eyes now a bright green. His lighting scars were glowing the same green, albeit very faintly, reaching all the way up his face to just below his left eye. Danny himself was emanating a very faint white glow, which was the most normal ghost thing that was going on, but it’s not like he even knows what’s normal anymore.

Danny groaned, dragging his hands over his face, scowling into the mirror. His eyes and face were stained with his tears, and while looking at his reflection just a bit more, he noticed that his hair was longer. He had a bit of a mullet now, and his bangs almost completely covered his face, even though he could see through it perfectly fine. Another lightbulb went off in his head, remembering something. He went back to his room, picking up a book. It was an encyclopedia about ghosts that his parents did not write but he loved anyways. Flipping through the pages, he found quickly found what he was looking for.

“‘The Banshee,’” Danny read the passage aloud, “‘an Irish spirit that foretells the death of a family member by wailing, screaming, shrieking, or keening.’ What is keening? Whatever. ‘They are typically perceived as a young woman or an old hag, with pale skin, long hair, and a long dress, ’” Danny skimmed the rest of the page until he found something else that caught his eye.

“‘In some Irish mythology stories, the Banshee is the ghost of a young girl that suffered a brutal death,’“ Danny muttered. Would he…would he count as a Banshee? He was definitely similar in some aspects, especially with that brutal death part. Would dying in the portal count as a brutal death? Probably. 

Danny groaned, he was going to think about this later. Him being a banshee or not wasn’t  as important as booking it out of here. He stuffed the book and the working Fenton Thermos he used into his bag and closed it. He needed to go now, before his parents came back. Before then, he grabbed a spare piece of paper and a pencil, racking his brain for what to write. Soon enough, he figured out what to do.

Dear mom, dad, and Jazz,

I can’t stay here any longer. I hope you’ll understand one day. I hope I’ll be able to come back.

But I need to leave. I’m so sorry. I fixed the portal and I’ve seen things no one should ever see. I love you all and I’m so sorry.

With love, Danny

Danny sighed. Maybe he should just come clean and tell the truth. But that would be risky, and Danny could barely write without his hand slipping through the pencil. He’ll come back one day. He had to. And he had to leave.

Danny phased though the walls, carrying his bag with him. Now he knew that he could make objects intangible along with himself. But where would he go? Then, he remembered an old folk tale that his parents told him.

Amity Forest, a place where once someone goes in, they are never seen again. Monsters were said to eat those inside, or that the trees came alive and feasted on your flesh. Jazz had told him that those stories were just that-stories, used to prevent kids from getting lost in there. She was always a sceptic, but there was definitely a chance the stories could’ve been true. So that’s where he’ll go. It was nearby, so it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. With that in mind, he took off towards Amity Forest, clueless and hopeless as to what to do next.

[spoiledskullz]

I'm so sorry more of them

[unfinishedficideas]

tommy the ex secretary

tommy is dreams super competent secretary who was hired underage because the hero's could just not pass up having someone with the ability to see the future as backup for the number one hero

so tommy gets dragged around behind the scenes by dream as a kid, most his life does alot of dirty work for dream and does it really well, but eventually gets to the age 17 and realizes dream's morals suck in comparison to his villain counterparts,

the sbi, whos goal is to make hero's commision have a forced reform by make all their dirt public.

tommy knows alot bc he can see the future and is dreams secretary and he gets in contact with the sbi and using all that knowledge gives them all they'll need to complete their goal in return that they hide him away from the hero commission, and dream, who is his abuser

so like obvi this is where sbi are like okay obvi we'll help you hide from the people you're betraying we wouldnt want them to kill you

sbi give tommy an apartment to stay in, kinda shabby but perfect for someone hiding from heros

anyways this is where sbi turns into dark sbi and then even after the hero reform they keep in touch with

on the surface and from tommys perspective, theyre using tommy as like an informant on other villain groups in return for that he gets to stay in the apartment

but actually thats just an excuse to keep tommy around and hang out with him,

i have it scriped that they fight over taking turns when hanging out with tommy bc they still have villain busness

after they start hanging at his place alot they like buy him new furniture cause they dont think the stuff they gave him originally was good enough anymore

and then like because this is dark sbi eventually wilbur and techno start calling tommy brother and phil starts calling tommy son

and like tommy is dense about the extra friendliness for a while but when he realizes theyre for real about considering him family he is still kinda just apathic and impassive about it bc he doesnt really consider them family back but he also doesnt care that they think he's family

untilllll

like eventually tommy is kidnapped or somthing and drugged up by his kidnappers

(i think i was thinking it would be goerge or dream kidnapping tommy in revenge but i wrote this without saying who would be doing the kidnapping???)

and the sbi get there all freaked out and angy and tommy is all woozy and cuddly and stuff

idk what happens after this i think the implied ending is that they go home and like snuggle, tommy realizes he considered them family the whole time or somthing

but i did not write more after this so i have no clue,