#fenton tides
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My immediate thought was, Power rangers Jungle fury Shark Spirit ranger as a Miraculous.
My friend drew this amazing design of Riptide for my story âFenton Tidesâ (Danny Phantom x Miraculous ladybug crossover.)
This is his character design! Thank you so much!
#Danny Phantom#Fenton tides#miraclous ladybug#shark#miraclous#finn the shark kwami#shark miraclous#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir#danny fenton#digital art#crossover fanfiction#DP x MLB#chat noir#ladybug#shark kwami#fenton tides au#ao3#Character Design
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Danny: *Runs into room, straight through the door*
Danny: I CRACKED IT
Tim: Cracked what?
Danny: WE CAN'T EAT TIDE PODS. YOU HAVE TO DRINK THEM
Tim: What do you-
Dick: OH MY GOD WAIT HE MIGHT BE ONTO SOMETHING
Danny: I'LL GRAB THE SCISSORS
Dick: I'LL GRAB THE BLENDER
Bruce: NO- *Runs after them*
Alfred: *already grabbing the first aid kit*
#this was a conversation I had with my friend#don't worry it was /j#for us#maybe not for them though#disclaimer#do not consume tide pods in any way#dp x dc crossover#batfam incorrect quotes#danny fenton#batfam and danny phantom incorrect quotes
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âI ate paint once,â Danny nonchalantly threw out in the middle of game night.
The entire table stopped. Heads whipped towards Danny.
âYeah, me too. Cardamom yellow was my favorite. Ugly as hell but the chemicals just tasted right.â Tim replied, using the distraction to nab some of Bruceâs money. Monopoly money, that is. Everyoneâs heads snapped towards Tim, only Cass and Danny (who was part of the scheme) caught him cheating.
âReally? I think mine was those spray can blue cosmos paint. But that might have been more my thing for space than the actual taste.â
âWHY WERE YOU EATING PAINT?!â Dick asked, looking like he wanted to lunge over the table and shake Danny until he puked out paint. Bruce looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
âYeah, what the fuck, Tim?â Jason snickered.
âIn my defense,â Danny grinned. âI was left unsupervised. Also, Steph, you owe me $24 in rent.â
âUgh! Iâm almost out of money! Canât you loan me some, Alfred?â
âI am sorry, Miss Stephanie, you are not qualified for another loan. In fact, one of your properties is about to be confiscated as per the collateral agreement.â
âNoooo!â Stephanie made dramatic dying noises.
âWhat was your excuse, Timothy?â Damian asked, eyes glued to the board and determined to win the game.
âHey, I was probably less supervised than Danny was.â
âYeah,â Danny perked up. âMy parents brought us down to their lab all of the time. Taught us a lot of stuff.â
âReally? Like what?â Duke asked, casually slapping away Timâs sneaky hands.
âOh, like what a rocket launcher sounded like up close! And how to build a laser gun! Oh! And what human organs looked like when theyâre fresh!â Danny chirped, collecting his money from a stunned Stephanieâs hands. He looked up.
âOh, donât worry! I at least learned what not to do when it comes to lab safety. And we wore hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the radiation.â Danny smiled in a ditzy fashion as the table fell silent in a horrified manner. Cass tapped his arm amusedly, but allowed his bullshit to stand. After all, itâs not like he lied.
âRadiation?â Duckâs voice raised a couple of octaves. Oh yeah, Dannyâs going to laugh about that pitch for a long while.
âOrgans?!â Jasonâs hands closed around the plastic house he was holding rather forcefully.
âDo you even know what basic lab safety practices are, Danny?â Damian demanded, finally looking up with brows furrowed. He rolled the dice and grabbed a mystery card. He gets $100 from Alfred.
âHow old were you??â Duke asked.
âLike⊠8, when they first brought me in?â
âEight.â Bruce rumbled, slipping into a more Batman like persona. When Danny sent him a confused look, Bruce straightened back into his Bruce persona. âWow, they must have trusted you a lot!â
âSure?â
âWhat were their names again?â Stephanie asked sweetly, Cass nodding at him.
âJack and Maddie Fenton.â Not that theyâll find them here, considering his parents are dead and in another universe.
âCool, cool, cool!â Stephanie blinked, beaming as her hands formed lethal fists underneath the table.
Danny blinked and tilted his head in an unassuming way, pretending like he had no idea what Stephanie was thinking of. He sneakily handed over $600 to Cass in order to complete his monopoly on his side of the board.
Danny stood up and spread his hands out, one hand clutching his new found victory.
"Well, lady and gents, you've all been floundering against the inevitable tide of capitalism. I am here, as a reminder that you can never win against the hopelessness that will be your financial ruin! I, Danny Fenton, have obtained a quarter of the board and therefore have won against even your best efforts!" He cackled, holding up his fan of properties triumphantly. He shot a mischievous grin at Cass, who held up a solemn thumbs up in support for his monetary takeover.
"... Danny, are you... planning on a career in villainy?" Bruce asked, after a brief and total wave of shocked silence. Damian looked like he was having a conniption at having been bested, unknowingly. Yeah, Danny was disarming like that.
"Yeah, that was concerning." Tim piped up, nabbing a ten from a shell-shocked Damian.
"Hey! The Riddler gives surprisingly good monologues! And he's really loud, so it's hard not to pick up on things. Duke, your turn." Danny sat back down, pouting. The villainy comment was a little too close to his fears.
"Damn it." Duke, who had rolled, landed smack middle of Danny's territory. He handed over a sheaf of bills to a grinning Danny.
"Wait a minute! You have cheated!" Damian bolted upwards from his seat, finally done running through the purchases he remembered Danny making. "You acquired that property not within the games' rules!"
"Okay, first of all, the rule book is a suggestion, like lab safety rules," Danny saw the others open their mouths to protest, but he quickly shut it down. "Second, there's totally no rules about selling and buying places from a private owner so suck on it. And thirdly? Cass sold it to me, so you all can take it up with her."
"Diabolical!" Damian muttered indignantly.
"... Dammit." Dick sighed, falling back into the chair and balancing on its two legs. He couldn't say anything, considering his current of bankruptcy.
"Danny. Danny, I'll buy a property from you." Jason said, eyeing one of Danny's other properties near his own cluster.
"What do you have that would interest me?" Danny asked, falling back into his Vlad-like imitation.
"Ew, don't do that," Steph reached over to jab him in the arm.
"Yeah, Jason, what do you have?" Duke said, the lovely subtle instigator that he is.
"Red Hood's signature."
The others blue-screen, gaping at the actual audacity Jason had to offer up something that would take him no effort. Danny, prepared with a poker face that came with lying straight to Jazz's ever perceptive eyes about whether he nabbed the last of her ice cream or not, was prepared.
"Red Hood? The condom guy working out of the... um. Upper East Side?" Danny asked, pretending to hesitate. He knows where Jason operated. That doesn't mean he couldn't simply pretend otherwise. For science, of course.
...
...
...
The table howled with laughter, Jason's indignant spluttering unable to say anything against Danny's wide eyed look of innocence. Cass leaned against the table, chuckles falling out of her mouth and eyes crinkled in mirth. Dick had fallen out of his chair, helplessly wheezing on the floor. Duke is hiding his face in his hands, mirroring Bruce's pose as they both shake from silent laughter. Damian is smirking, wicked and sharp as he smugly stared at Jason. Stephanie and Tim are leaning against each other, repeating "the CONDOM GUY" in alternating and increasingly louder voices. Alfred had a smile on his face and a tight grip on the bills in front of him that betrayed his amusement.
"He's a crime lord!" Jason exclaimed, indignant.
"Uh, okay. Well, I mean, why would I want a crime lord's signature? I don't want to be on his radar. Or echolocation or whatever. He's... a Bat, right? That's what you guys call that group, yeah?"
"How do you know the Rogues better than the vigilantes?!" Jason glared at his unhelpful family. Those assholes better prepare for a load of rubber bullets the next time they're on patrol near Crime Alley.
"Hey, it's not my fault the vigilantes here are unsociable. Maybe if they monologued more, I'd know who they are."
"Wouldn't- wouldn't that make them more villain like?" Tim asked, stuttering from his laughter.
"I dunno?" Danny replied, enjoying his the family's unabashed joy. "I mean, they're pretty legit and they help people already so I guess they don't need to be sociable... but still I swear I haven't heard anything about Batman other than that he grunts and is mean towards criminals."
Is mean towards criminals, Duke mouthed at a recovering Dick who was in the process of heaving himself back up. It sent him careening back down to the floor with restrained giggles. Cass tapped Danny, reminding him to eat some food.
"Tt. Of course not. They're efficient at their jobs and have no need to be seen as welcoming to criminals." Damian puffed up.
"Yeah, but they've gotta feel safe, right?" Danny shrugged as he plucked a cookie from the cookie platter. "The... one with the sword, what was it?"
"Robin." Damian supplied, eyes narrowed and trained on him.
"Yeah, the baby bird. The kids think his swords are cool so they trust him. But like, the others? The flippy blue one? Not so much."
"Wait," Dick said from the floor. "They don't trust Nightwing?"
"Nah, they trust him to protect them, but he has a history of bringing the kids to the police, you know?"
"What's wrong with that?"
Danny shrugged. "ACAB. But also because everybody knows that half the guys in the GCPD and CPS are child traffickers."
"Wait, what?" Jason and Tim straightened.
Bruce piped in, the emotional whiplash of amusement to concern to amusement to concern visibly making itself known on the man's baffled face. "I thought Batman and Commissioner Gordon took care of that?"
"Sure, the obvious ones." Danny hesitated. Well, he's pretty sure they think he's a meta so... "There's... a meta trafficking ring that they're a part of. That's. That's kind of what I was running from."
Danny looked up pleadingly. Cass placed a hand on his arm in comfort, not knowing that he was fibbing about running from them.
Danny was on the streets helping his own Alley metas to run from them.
Danny is as feral as she was, and that meant he could hide just as much as she could read off of him. Cass was the best and he felt kind of bad about lying to her, successfully or not.
"Uh. Some people said you know Batman, Bruce. I know- uh, that might not be the case but if you do, could you ask him to look into it?" Danny made his eyes tear up. "And maybe he wouldn't care about me much, I mean, I know he doesn't really like metas but if he helps out, I could totally like, leave the city once the kids are safe, promise."
Ooh, Danny put a little too much sincerity into that. He could practically hear the hearts breaking in the game room as everyone glared at Bruce.
"You won't have to leave."
"... Promise?" And Danny's voice was a little too desperate, too hopeful, because Bruce's eyes tugged down in sadness.
"Promise." He rumbled, all Bruce Wayne and all Batman. Danny's core warmed. Danny also saw the rest of the family's faces darken in pure agreement. And partial wrath.
"Yeah! We'll kick Batman's ass if he even thought about kicking you out!" Stephanie proclaimed.
"He's far more proficient in combat than you are, Brown." Damian immediately leapt to Batman's defense and that was that.
Well, later, as Danny was "sleeping" and Phantom was hovering in the cave, invisible and intangible, he got confirmation that his Alley meta kids were going to be safe, soon.
After all, the entire Batclan was suiting up and baying for blood, with Oracle's all encompassing presence behind them, fingers reaching for their enemies' weak points.
#batman#danny phantom#dc x dp#jason todd#bruce wayne#tim drake#dick grayson#red hood#nightwing#red robin#duke thomas#the signal#damian wayne#robin#stephanie brown#the spoiler#cassandra cain#black bat#oracle#barbara gordon#bamf danny phantom#danny phantom playing victim but he's an unreliable narrator#and was totally marked for trafficking before brucie wayne picked him up#danny trauma dumping on family game night#lab safety? danny doesn't know her#danny experiencing familial affection: who me??#danny winning monopoly like a capitalist villain that Sam unknowingly told him how to be via her rants#danny ate paint as an experiment#I'd like it to go on record that've I have never eaten paint
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DP Blurbo: Ice Age
They're not sure exactly what starts it, it wasn't a ghost, but suddenly everything goes to shit. Nature starts taking back the world and then seems to implode inward on itself. There was a warning, unrecognized as one, and it was ignored. Ice is rapidly covering the world and there is very little anyone can do in the northernmost sections of the world and Amity Park is smack dab in the middle of it. There's not enough time to see it coming, not enough time to get any people into the portal and out of the incoming tide. If there was, they could have saved the whole town. They could have gotten a single person through those doors.
Instead, ice starts creeping up the windows and walls of the Mr. Lancer's classroom and Danny's breath is misting for an entirely different reason. Students freak out immediately and Mr. Lancer tries to control them, to gain order. Dash tries for the door of the classroom only for it to be stuck fast. Even ramming against it does nothing. Ice is starting to cover the door on the inside. Danny realizes he needs to do something and instinctually, a green dome surrounds the classroom and warmth instantly is brought to the students. They have no idea what's going on at first until they turn to see Fenton, hands in the air and eyes glowing wildly. Green fire is covering him and the students and Lancer are confused.
Fire, heat, is such an opposite to Danny's core that it takes all of his focus to hold the dome while Sam and Tucker try to explain the sudden endless questions. But they never say Danny is Phantom and even still he stays in his human form. Danny never changes to Phantom. It's an instinctual point of self preservation, though he doesn't know it. No one knows where the sudden cold came from and of course their first instinct is going to be a ghost. But a ghost never announces itself. Minutes turn into hours, hours into days, and it becomes clearer and clearer that Danny is struggling to keep them all protected. The students theorize, share lunches in lunchboxes sparingly, call for help, and attempt anything they can in the mean time. Maybe Phantom will save them? Sam and Tucker exchange worried glances. Danny starts to loose his grip. His human form starts failing. Though the area stays warm inside the dome, the students and Lancer can only watch as the fire dulls and ice starts forming over Danny's body over time. Ever so slowly they have no choice but to watch it creep up on him. So slowly, in fact, that they never notice when he goes completely still. Yet the dome continues on.
Its days in that a portal suddenly opens in the middle of the room and yeti spill out, grabbing students and bundling them into the much safer, much warmer in comparison, Ghost Zone. They beg for them to save Danny, he's freezing, he's the only thing that kept them alive. They don't see Frostbite's sad gaze at the frozen statue behind them as they're pulled through the portal. It turns out that the only thing that kept Danny going for so long was the minimal protection that his human form gave against using powers opposite to his core. It would slowly crack and destroy it. So in an attempt to save itself, his cold core activated and slowly started to take over his body, ending in his soul.
Sorry to do that to y'all. I had the idea when watching "The Day After Tomorrow" and wondered what could happen with Danny in that situation. It turned into angst. Want a full fic on it? If I have time I may write one. Throw some theories my way and feel free to add more or use it.
#danny phantom#dp fanfic#dp prompt#fic prompt#angst#danny phantom fanfic#danny fenton#ghost core biology#ghost core#theories
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Imagine Danny on the run from his parents and accidentally coming across his other distant family that's on their own hunt. Queue the instant suspicion on both sides, growing respect on both sides as they deal with said hunt and notice the other wasn't what they were expecting at all, and the inevitable reintroduction into the Nightingale hunting family for the Fenton children. Cause Jack only took the Fenton name because he was disowned. (At least I HC that. Makes sense to me.) The Fenton's eventually catch wind of that and cause trouble along with the GIW, but the Nightingale family is badass and powerful, and so curbstomps them both before dealing with those BS ecto laws.
(I personally HC the family having quite the assortment of supernaturally inclined people in it, so Danny isn't quite the odd person out.)
Jack is not an outlier. His whole side of the family are paranormal investigators.
#The Fenton's are crazy#Mad scientists#Halfway into the Zone already with how obsessive and violent they are#Danny finally had enough and left#Or got found out and had to disappear before he became their next project#Vlad getting redemption cause he definitely isn't dumb and saw the tides turning#He also gets to kill Jack here#But also likely ends up killing Maddie as well#Would be ironic if the Fenton's turned into ghosts themselves#They'd be as popular as Walker in the Zone#That is to say#NOT AT ALL
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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 13
I hope you all enjoy! please comment and reblog and tell me what u enjoyed <3
MASTAPOST
The reality hit Maddie like a truck, once theyâd ferried the kids home, and returned to Fentonworks. Bruce Wayne had excused himself, and went back to his hotel after bidding farewell to them.
That left her and Jack alone on the couch. Jazz was upstairs, probably studying psychology and sciences, on her way to be a genius just like her family.
Just like Danny.
Tears wracked Madeline. Jack was openly sobbing at the couch. Not the silly way he would sometimes cry at small things that he would get over quickly. Maddie could feel the bone-deep anger and grief seeping through her and her husband.
She needed to tell Jazz. Tell her what had happened. But she dreaded the thought of talking to her daughter in this state. It wouldnât do to give her the news and then break down underneath Jazzâs feet.
That thought didnât do much to stem the tide. Maddie idly reached for the tea, cold from where theyâd left it in the afternoon. The realization that this was happening again, again in the family, rocked her to her bones. Maddieâs mind conjured up images of blood over wooden floors, and red hair spilling out and covering still, dead eyes. Claw marks over a bruised throat.
She had trusted Danny. Loved him more than anything. What mother couldnât trust their child? That sweet boy whose eyes sparkled with kindness and who jumped up and down on dreams of seeing the stars. His kindness meant he gave anything a chance. She had thought sheâd lost him. She had raged and tore through everything and everyone and suddenly, through no result of her actions, he came.
And now he was gone again. Taken, just like her great-great-grandpappy. Just like so many others across the world. Just like Aliciaâs son. Never to be seen again.
There had to be a way, an answer. There had to be some kind of inconsistency in the data. Something that could show the path forward, a path where her baby boy could still be out there and able to returned home safe.
Maddie descended the stairs into the labs, ready to look over dusty notebooks, and old journals. Jack followed her soon after, not a word exchanged between them.
To say Bruce Wayne was shaken was an understatement. That girl, Samantha, had no idea what she was talking about. All Bruce was interested in was the safety of his son and Daniel Fenton, and the pursuit of justice.
That didnât mean she wouldâve had a point, once upon a time. How Jason came back, but it wasnât a joyous celebration, but the beginning of more pain, more misunderstanding and accusation. How Damian first came to them. He had a son who had finally returned home, but there was no celebration then either.
They had just started to get along again. They were this close to being happy.
Bruce held his head in his hands. He needed to review the facts again. The facts, the players, the unknowns and mysteries. Damian just had to be out there, he just had to.
Sirens, the GiW, the Fentons⊠Where to begin?
A message pinged on his comm. It was from Tim. Had he finished sifting through the files?
Bruce opened his laptop, seeing an email with attached analysis and files. Good work, Tim. He knows how hard it must be for him, to dedicate this effort into saving a brother with whom he had a very rocky start.
The email confirmed many of his suspicions. Tim was able to recover the majority of the files that Tucker Foley had attempted to destroy. Damning evidence showed Samantha and Tucker engaging directly against various sirens, using magic and technology respectively. Daniel Fenton was nowhere near such attacks, but his role as supplier to Phantom was clear. At several points over the last few months, the boy could be seen sneaking into secluded areas with experimental weapons and gadgets stuffed into his pockets, that would later be seen in the webbed hands of Phantom.
Daniel was hardly ever seen in the same vicinity as Phantom, or any other siren. That was not surprising. The kid wasnât athletic in any way like Samantha, nor did he have her talent for the mystical arts. He didnât have Tuckerâs affinity for technology, either. That, combined with the obvious discomfort around his parentsâ grudge against sirens meant that it was reasonable heâd avoid being seen around sirens at all costs, while silently supporting them from the background.
The kid had his convictions, was for sure. But what kind of motive would cause the boy to do such a thing? Going against his parents was normal, almost ubiquitous at that age range. Did this trio harbour desires of becoming a hero, like Dick and Jason and all others that followed?
Tucker Foley kept Tim and the Batcomputer out for half an hour with nothing but a laptop. Sam Manson had an incredible drive to do right, and a less impressive sense of restraint (it pained him how much of his children that reminded him).
It was clear they had the hearts of heroes, and the potential too. But those desires landed his children in immense pain over the years, failures Bruce would regret for the rest of his days, and now those same failures repeated once more.
He needed to do this, for them.
The GiW were suspect. He would need to direct the Batcave into cracking their secrets open. Those men could not be trusted one bit. Not their DNA test, not their documents, not their badges. And certainly not for their CSI skills. They didnât even report whether there were signs of a struggle on the island where Damianâs blood was found!
And for what motives did the sirens even abduct people in the first place? The more he considered, the more the GiWâs explanation of Damian being devoured seemed like utter bullshit. He hoped that was not denial speaking.
Bruce began to plan.
His phone rang. He ignored it. He formed a list of contacts to call upon for advice and consultation.
His phone rang again. He made a web of connections to the Fentons.
His phong rang, rang, rang again. A collage of every unsolved missing personsâ case âfrom the last twenty years.
The phone answered itself on speaker. It jolted Bruce from his work. Alfredâs stern voice sounded out. âMaster Bruce, you are spiraling again, sir.â
Bruce hummed. âIâm working, Alfred.â
âYes, I know. However, in your pursuit to discover Master Damianâs whereabouts, I must remind you that your other children still need their father. Master Timothy is on his eighth cup of coffee, and Master Richard has sent twelve common crooks to the emergency room. Master Jason had to calm him down, sir. They need you, sir.â Alfred stressed.
Bruce stood up, his back cricking from the strain of hunching over documents and files. He stared at the growing pile of papers on his desk and tabs on his laptop, before sweeping them all to the side.
âYouâre right, Alfred. Thank you for reminding me.â
Why? Why? Why, why, why, why why? That was the question running through the Fenton parentsâ heads as they combed over observations, data, charts, and historical records. The documents and files sprawled out over the floor of the lab. They had to find the connection, if there was one out there.
Why did the sirens abduct humans?
Despite what the goons in white thought, the biologist in Maddie found herself doubting it was all for food. Considering their latest population estimates, the amount of humans required to sustain siren numbers was completely impractical.
Ok, maybe they donât have to eat humans, but do it as a luxury?
Such a hypothesis would have seemed more plausible, had there not been a plethora of new data counteracting that point. The Amity Island sirens pursued a number of different goals, very few of which overlapped, very few of which involved eating humans in any way. If there was an incentive to eat humans or even just abduct, then far, far more people wouldâve been grabbed off the piers and beaches, even if Phantom could stop them all.
That lead to another question. Why would the sirens of Amity not even bother with abductions for the most part, when the majority of sightings and suspected siren incidents were brought to light because of the missing people?
Maddie kicked the wall. The impact resounded and echoed through the room.
Jack wrapped his arms around her waist tenderly, a calm presence. Maddieâs heart relaxed a little, the scent of chocolate bringing her back to warm nights with the kids. âYou know this reminds me of a story grandpa Fenton told me about when he was a kid back during the war.â Jack said quietly. âHis grandpa used to be a surveyor or analyst or some kind of smart guy at some big factory, makinâ planes to fight the Japanese. One morning he was banging his head on the desk.â
Maddie wasnât sure where Jack was going with this, but she nodded for him to continue.
âAnd so Grandpa Fenton asked him, âGramps, whatâs the big deal?â and great great grandpa showed him these pictures. They showed where bullet holes would appear, said it was to design better armour for âem. But the strangest thing was that none of the bullet holes were in the engines or near the tail. Gramps was seriously worked up about it! Spent all day pacinâ back and forth.â
Maddie gasped. Jack continued, although trailing off. âAnyway when Grandpa Fenton told me about it, all I could think of was how nice that they had planes cominâ back anyway. Have you seen the casualty rates for those things? Gave me the stuff of nightmares!â
Information whirled through Maddieâs head.
âAnd thatâs how I gave up my dreams of being a fighter pilot!â
âJack, youâre a genius!â She shouted. Jack blinked.
âHuh? What for?â
Maddie jumped up and kissed her amazing husband. This was a breakthrough.
It was survivorship bias. The reason none of the planes returning had bullet holes in the engines and lower fuselage was because the planes that had taken hits there were too damaged to return in the first place!
They were too busy looking at what they could see and not spending enough time looking for what they couldnât. Jackâs great, great grandpa needed to look at the situation holistically, and from there it would all make sense.
What did that mean?
Sirens were crafty. And as they learnt from the attacks on Amity, they were petty, ambitious, power-hungry, lustful, and vengeful, among many other insidious attributes.
She and Jack had been fixating on the missing people cases, but what if those cases were only a small number of the illicit criminal dealings these monsters had been unknowably perpetrating in the human world? And if sirens can commit many, many other crimes than mindlessly violence and murder, then that means there could be any number of other reasons they could abduct a human.
If they wanted revenge or to satisfy their bloodlust, would they not have left a body somewhere? But no such body of either Damian Wayne or Danny was found. If they ate the boys, then the blood wouldâve attracted sharks, but no sharks were to be found either.
Terrifying scenarios passed through Maddieâs mind. Slavery, trafficking, arena fighting. Any number of horrendous crimes that would not require any spilt blood. Horrors unimaginable for a woman to see her child suffer through. But a tiny, faint light shone through all of them: hope.
Because she had reason now to believe Danny and Damian Wayne were alive, out there somewhere, praying for their parents to come save them from the nightmare.
Jack blinked, expression blank. âYou know I donât mind staring at your beautiful face for hours, but I feel like thereâs something youâve figured out.â
Maddieâs eyes turned steely and determined. âJack, get the SAV ready. Weâre going on a hunt.â
The only one who knew where the boys were was Phantom, and Maddie would extract every secret that menace kept, even if it meant tearing him apart. Molecule. By. Molecule.
#dpxdc#danny fenton#merman#damian wayne#dcxdp#merboy#angst#mermaid au#maddie fenton#jack fenton#good parents jack and maddie#bruce wayne#good parent bruce wayne
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Hey guys
I have present for you
Not sure if there will be a WIP Wednesday this week since Iâm con crunching and we leave on Thursday, soooo⊠this will tide you over Iâm sure! The completed chapter 15!
Previous Chapter:
First chapter and AO3 link:
ââââ-
Iâll Take The Highway
Time was almost slipping away too quickly in the milkshake bar, and Danny wished he didnât have to keep an eye on it.
(Well. Seriously hoped. Even in the privacy of his head, he couldnât make it a wish.)
He had to get Tucker back to MIT though, and back to Gotham in a reasonable time frame to get to bed before class tomorrow.
If he got to bed before midnight, there might be a chance for he and Jason to run to the Far Frozen in the morning. Or after, Dannyâs classes didnât run late. OrâŠ
He was missing out on the fun today, trying to plan tomorrow. Much as Jazz would love him being more organised, he pushed it to the back of his mind.
Theyâd visit Frostbite soon. And find out how Jasonâs core was, though Danny was beginning to think he knew. Here, when Jason was happy and relaxed? Not tensed, shut down, or angry?
Danny could definitely feel something he hadnât before. Not exactly the same as another ghost, or any of the other halfas, not yet.
But it was almost like Box Lunchâs fresh core seen through a house of mirrors.
Maybe that was what had him so close to the edge today? It was taking some pretty serious effort not to react to even the mention of an old threat to Jason.
Jason, the sweet baby ghost.
And if his smile was a little sappy at that thought, well, that was no oneâs business but his own. At least he had something to sit on for when his rogues started embarrassing baby stories.
Finally he couldnât put it off anymore. Too much to do, friends to fly across country, and he still hadnât found a good way to ask Waylon his question. He just⊠well.
Heâd given Jason all the server info, the stuff about who his rogues were, how he beat them, the things theyâd learned about the Infinite Realms. Theyâd even shared some stories around different bits.
That didnât exactly explain what he wanted to ask Waylon about. And it really wasnât something he was comfortable sharing just yet, even if he already knew it was dumb.
Jason was a good guy. Who hung out with Batman, who was apparently an asshole. He wouldnât judge Danny for having some dark and fucked up stories in all the zany ones.
Fuck, maybe Waylon could tell him how Jason would react. It was gonna come up, itâd have to, and Danny really would feel better having someone elseâs opinion.
He was reluctant to interrupt their good time, another story devolving into laughter, but it was getting into the afternoon and⊠well, he also had no idea how long this would take.
âHey, uh, by the way. Iâve gotta head out in a bit, dropping Tuck back off in Massachusetts, I just wanted to talk to Waylon for a minute first? In private?â Because if Danny had learned one thing?
Direct worked best.
It worked now, Harley nodding along and hopping up, cartwheeling her way along the table and out of the booth.
âSay no more, Danno! Câmon, Jayjay, I wanted ta catch up with you on somethinâ too, so this works perfectly!â She declared cheerfully, giving Jason a fond tug to his fluffy white streak of hair.
Jason shot Danny a look that was half commiserating, half curious as he slid out of the both after her, but Danny was too busy staring into an imagined hellscape where Harley met Jack Fenton.
Fuck Dan, the world couldnât handle that.
By the time he came back to himself, he and Waylon were alone in the booth, the big man watching him curiously.
âSo, whatâs on yer mind, kid?â He asked in a low voice, folding his arms on the edge of the table and leaning in.
Secret villain hideaway or not, this wasnât something Danny wanted just anyone overhearing, so he beckoned Waylon closer to his end of the booth first, tucked into the wall.
The big guy slid his way surprisingly delicately down the seat, then leaned in again, watching Danny expectantly.
Which was when Danny realised he shoulda probably thought about a good way to put this.
Blunt it was gonna have to be.
âSo⊠you⊠Harley said people called you Killer Croc before you ever hurt anyone?â He said in a rush, flinching at how bad it actually sounded said aloud.
Waylon⊠did not have eyebrows to raise, and it was really fucking weird that he was noticing that now, but it was definitely what heâd been doing, and Danny was distracting himself again.
âThey did,â Waylon agreed a moment later, his voice low and even. Guard up, but not defensive. Not closing the topic off.
Danny huffed out a sigh, and found he couldnât quite meet the manâs eyes. Found himself intently examining the diamond pattern on the formica tables. His own hands, twisting in front of him over that pattern.
âYou⊠you became what they said you were. A monster.â The words caught in his throat, hard to spit out and shit he thought he was past this.
It had been years.
A scaled green hand covered his, and Danny found himself surprised by how smooth the scales were. Far from soft, but not rough. Almost smoother than the table.
âWho called you a monster, kid?â Waylon asked softly, his voice gruff with something too close to understanding.
Dannyâs head snapped up and he shook it quickly, sucking in a deep breath.
âOh, no one. Not for like, a really long time now. And they said sorry and everything, itâs not that. Itâs⊠you gave into it. Let them make you something wrong and dangerous, and you stopped. How did you stop?â He asked quietly, finally finding it easier to look at Waylonâs face.
He looked surprised.
**
Finding Jason had been harder than usual. Heâd never turned his phone back on after last night, and Bruce was still wrestling with one of his least favourite (and most common) side effect of a concussion; light sensitive headaches.
Even with the screen brightness all the way down, it was hard to even look at the batcomputer while he waited for Constantine to arrive.
None of his usual tricks were helping, spikes of pain jabbing behind his eyes every time he tried to scan the cameras for Jasonâs presence.
It was Babs who found him in the end, taking her lunch at the library late to help him out. She had whole programs to scan the security cameras of Gotham for her, trained to recognise any bat or rogue from any angle.
False positives happened, but usually didnât take more than a look to confirm or deny. They were extremely accurate.
Bruce would know.
He had copies of the same programs.
They just werenât running properly.
He was probably still tired. Heâd been pushing himself while injured, as usual, and as usual Alfred would be eager to tell him heâd been overtaxing himself too hard to work efficiently.
And then Constantine was late.
By the time the magician arrived, Bruce was regretting having taken a break to sleep at all. He should have sorted this out last night, before ever calling Jason.
They could have picked a time to meet, and while Bruce was fully aware Jason might have just told him to fuck off, he might not have. Especially if Bruce had promised to leave him alone.
He knew better than to ask Jason to introduce Danny to Constantine.
Barbara had generously kept an eye on Jason in the interim, and by the time Batman and Constantine were ready to go he seemed to have settled in Freezeâs place.
The Frozen Fields. Named for his wife, who Bruceâs top scientists still wouldnât be able to save.
Along with Harley, Waylon Jones, and Danny.
Of course he was with Danny.
Half the city seemed to be intent on frustrating him today. Theyâd taken the Batmobile, and while he tended to only drive it in emergencies (and after dark), it still barely sped the journey through the city traffic.
It always felt wrong, sitting and waiting with the rest of the cars in the Batmobile. Didnât match the âlurking justice in the shadowsâ. Which Constantine was quick to remind him.
Bruce just gripped the steering wheel tighter, sucked in a deep breath, and nearly bit his tongue when they finally edged up to an intersection only for the light to turn red.
**
Waylon sat back in his seat, back scraping against the wall of the booth as he surveyed the kid in front of him.
Little squirt was tougher ân he looked, that much was definitely true. Harley had given him the short run down on their way to the milkshake bar, all the powers she knew he had.
And that heâd been hunted by his folks for a while. Waylon knew how that kinda shit could mess ya up.
He appreciated the heads up too, cuz this kinda shit coming up outta nowhere? Also pretty damn rough. Heâd wondered if the kid just wanted to come along for another fight.
If he just wanted another chance to say heâd looked Killer Croc in the eye.
But there was no real bravado there, not even when he challenged Waylon to a rematch. Shit, the kid treated him more normal than most of his henchmen had ever managed to.
Made sense, knowing he was part a ghost anâ fought ghost rogues, but it left Waylon wondering. Apparently he was getting his answer.
Same damn question heâd asked himself a thousand times, âspecially around the kind of young vigilantes whoâd taken a turn to the bad.
Didnât mean he had a good answer.
He regarded the kid for a long minute, watching the fidgeting, the sudden shyness from a boy whoâd literally tackled him from behind on a whim.
This wasnât just an idle question. Something made him sure of that, and heâd never been involved in all that much of the really weird shit. You heard stories, especially in Arkham.
So he decided to give the kid the best answer he had.
âCuz I was the worst version of myself. I let myself be the monster they thought I was, got pretty good at it. But it never made me happy.â He paused, mulling it over.
Chuckled softly and looked down into his half drunk milkshake. It was kinda funny how obvious it seemed, in hindsight.
âShit, there was never even anythinâ I wanted. Not like Penguin, Freeze, or the others. People treated me like a monster so I tried to be one, cuz why the hell not? Couldnât be worse, could it?â
His gaze shifted back to Dannyâs face, watching the kidâs expression. No judgement, which was nice. But he did look confused.
âSo you just⊠got sick of it?â Danny asked, his brows furrowed as he played with his fingers.
Waylon chuckled and shook his head.
âKinda. Spent a while thinkinâ if people couldnât treat me with respect, fearâd do. But it ainât the same. Anâ I never had the drive or creative cruelty to stand out in Gotham.â
Danny looked a little incredulous at that, eyebrows rising, but he caught himself before commenting. Snickered and shook his head.
âYeah, I guess being in a city thatâs used to people like Scarecrow and the Joker puts âbig and greenâ into perspective,â he agreed dryly, and Waylon laughed.
It felt good to laugh.
âOh yeah. Cityâs got more than its share of low level thugs anyway. I spent a while as extra muscle for the big boys, but I ainât the takinâ orders sort,â he explained with a modest shrug.
Danny grinned, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward.
âWhat, a shy and retiring guy like you?â He asked, clearly teasing, and Waylon waved a hand dismissively.
âIâm lucky it was Gotham,â he added after a moment, reflection sobering his mood. âGot sent tâ Arkham. Met Harley. Anâ the Batâs not all that bad. He tried gettinâ me outta the life a couple times.â
Danny cocked his head, a slight frown returning to his face. Following Waylonâs lead.
âHow did Batman try and get you out?â There was a little too much intensity for it to be a casual question, and Waylon noted it. Not that heâd figure it out on his own.
Just tryinâ to make sure he didnât damage the kid.
âOh, there were a couple ways. Got me moved down to Florida once. Out in the green, away from people. I figured beinâ a wild animal might be more my speed, but it wasnât. Anâ it got messy when I left. Like that whatever he tried, really. Thereâs lines you canât uncross.â
Lines like being a cannibal.
Not that he was sobbinâ on a preacherâs shoulder about it. Most of the people heâd eaten were assholes whoâd deserved it, and itâd been a preference, not a need.
For all people loved to go on about him eatinâ kids and babies, heâd never actually done it. A guy had to have standards.
Made it easy to stop, once he was in a better head space. He and Harley had talked a lotta old shit out.
Kid didnât need to know those grisly details though, at least not from his own mouth. Watching Danny a moment longer, Waylon came to a decision.
âLook, kid. Thereâs a lotta reasons people go bad. Some of âem canât be helped. But if theyâre not gettinâ anything out of it, if thereâs no goal? The appeal runs out. And sometimes all it takes is someone willinâ to reach down anâ haul yer back up to the light.â
He wouldnât ask if that was the case with whoever the kid wanted to help. Everyone heard stories, âspecially about heroes meeting their evil selves.
The fear looked personal, but the asking coulda been for anyone. Waylon was in no rush to judge.
Danny mulled over his words for a while, lips moving soundlessly as he frowned down at the table. This time when he looked up, there was a peace in his eyes.
Heâd come to a decision. Good for him.
âThanks, Waylon. You seem like a pretty great guy to me,â he said simply, and Waylon definitely did not feel a lump in his throat.
âThis is after years oâ Harley workinâ on me,â he grumbled gruffly. Shaking his head, he slurped down the last of his milkshake quickly.
Nothing like brain freeze to explain being a little misty eyed.
**
Jason didnât exactly object to being led out of the bar by Harley; Danny wanted to talk to Waylon in private.
Jason had figured Danny had something to ask the guy about. He hadnât exactly expected not to be part of the conversation, but that was fine.
Heâd know if Danny got into trouble. Fuck, Danny could handle any trouble Gotham could dish out, probably. And the rogues had some basic manners; not starting shit in Freezeâs place was one of them.
Penguin might put the squeeze on and make your life uncomfortable if you lit up the Iceberg Lounge. Dr Freezeâs cold shoulder was a lot more literal, and he didnât do âproportional responseâ.
So yeah, he could be cool and give Danny some space.
It wasnât exactly a surprise that Harley wanted to talk to him either, although he still didnât see the point. But he let her guide him around the side of the building to a back alley anyway.
âStill fine, Harley,â he said before she could get started, both hands raised in front of him.
She gave him an all too knowing look and hopped up to sit on the dumpster. Put her about a head taller than him. Not that he cared.
âSure, kid. Youâve been goinâ through a lot though, so I gotta ask; is there anythinâ ya wanna talk to Auntie Harley about?â She asked in her sweetest voice, interlacing her fingers under her chin and batting her lashes.
Jason snickered and leaned against the other side of the alley.
Shit, he wasnât even annoyed with her play acting. The pit was a happy little puddle in his chest, all sunshine and roses.
A week ago heâd have walked away. Been pissed at wasting his time, getting in his way. How much of that had been because of the Lazarus pits, the problems with the ectoplasm heâd apparently been supposed to be solving?
Was that why nothing had ever been enough? Why he always had to keep pushing? Carve himself a patch of Gotham, keep going. Cut the crime out of Crime Alley, not enough.
Take up with the Outsiders, keep himself busy, rushed off his feet so that when he fell into bed for a couple hours a day he didnât even dream?
When was the last time heâd taken a breath and just⊠relaxed? It all felt so long ago, but it had barely been a week.
It just. His whole life had unclenched, like it was a muscle heâd finally stopped using.
Fuck, maybe he should talk to Harley about it.
He got the feeling she knew though, those eagle eyes tracking his every move. Theyâd never really hung out, but he was uncomfortably aware of how well sheâd known him.
How much of him was still the boy sheâd known?
She was waiting for an answer, and all of a sudden Jason wasnât sure what heâd say. Knew that if anyone in the world understood, it just might be Dr Harleen Quinzel.
He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to meet her eyes. Fuck, he was getting as bad as Bruce.
And if that thought didnât kick him up the assâŠ
âYou ever wake up one day and realise your whole lifeâs been going wrong?â He finally asked, glancing up from the corner of his eye.
Sheâd dropped the cutesy act, leaning forward with her arms braced on the edge of the dumpster, her face professionally calm. Open. Sympathetic.
âThink I might know just a lil about what thatâs like,â she agreed softly, and Jason snorted.
âYeah. Well. Turns out ever since I came back from the dead Iâve been haunted. Literally. And no one ever noticed.â
He hadnât even come all the way back, but he couldnât say that. Not yet. But maybe he could share some of the rest.
Harley nodded slowly, giving him her full attention. Just waiting for him to go on.
It kinda felt like being under a microscope, but not in the cold, analytical way Bruce did that always pissed him off. Like she really cared, and was looking for all his broken parts so she could help him fit them back together.
Fuck, if his kid self had ever known heâd one day trust Harley Quinn over the whole Justice LeagueâŠ
Shit, he didnât even know how much she already knew.
âThe pit rage⊠itâs a psychosis people get, coming out of the Lazarus pit. Makes you angry, violent, stronger, like a blind rage. For most people it goes away. Mine didnât.â
He almost wanted to laugh, bitter and sharp.
âBecause it wasnât just the psychosis. Iâm not fucking weak, Iâm not fucking broken, thereâs something else living inside me and it made me so fucking angry all the timeâŠâ
The frustration was building again, but this time it was his. All his, not a bubble, not a stir, and part of Jason thrilled with it. He could feel however he wanted, just him.
He cut it off though, forcing himself to relax before Danny could notice. Could worry about whatever he was projecting in his aura.
He could kinda still feel Dannyâs, which was new. Not brushing against his, not touching like they were close, but he was aware in a way he hadnât been before.
Like if he shut his eyes he could point in exactly the direction Danny was standing.
âDannyâs the only one who noticed. Well, really, heâs the only one who could. Itâs a ghost thing, and he⊠he got me help. I feel like myself for the first time since⊠since I came back.â
He hadnât even noticed how much the background rage burnt through him until it stopped. Until he could look at his family and see their prodding for what it was; concern.
It was still surprising him, and maybe would for a while. Kinda hoped not though. It wasnât the most cheerful train of thought.
Seeing that heâd run out of words, Harley gave him a moment to find more, then reached over and ruffled his hair. It was barely a strain in the cramped alley.
âKid, anyone with two eyeballs tâ rub together can see Dannyâs real good for ya. So whyâs Bruce tryinâ so hard to keep ya apart?â She asked gently, and Jason snorted.
Rolled his eyes and folded his arms, caught himself doing it, and forced them back to his sides.
âNot rubbing his eyeballs together?â He asked dryly. Harley just snickered.
âPlease, if we could get âim ta stop overanalysing everything thatâd be the miracle. So whatâs got âim on edge?â
Jason hesitated for a long moment, thinking about it. Finally he shrugged; as always, Bruce was a mystery to him. The man whoâd taught him all the tricks to pick apart any mystery. Except himself.
âNo idea. We played a prank on him and the Mansons at the gala like we told you last night?â He offered, already aware it wasnât likely to be the answer.
Harley shook her head in agreement, which almost threw him off.
âNah, youâre right. The whole making-out-in-a-closet shtick is classic, even if he didnât see through it yet heâs never cared about you boys smoochinâ before,â she agreed, then sighed and tugged him in to press a kiss to his forehead.
âWhatever his problem is though, it is his problem Jason, anâ what he pulled at the gala has nothinâ tâ do with you or Danny. I already told âim off about not talkinâ to ya and Iâm gonna do it again when I catch him. Right now I just wanna hear you say you know it ainât your fault,â she told him firmly, cheeks held between both hands.
Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes. And the rising lump in his throat.
âI know Bruceâs bullshit isnât my fault, Harley,â he grumbled through smushed lips. Harley squeezed his cheeks a little tighter.
âThen say it anyway. It ainât your fault Brucie has a bug in his ass, and ya ainât done anything wrong to deserve it.â She was firm as the wall behind him, utterly unrelenting.
And she could go on for hours, if memory served. Long enough for Danny to come out and see. That was why Jason told himself he gave in.
Nothing at all to do with the way her words ached and bled a gentle warmth into the icy void in his gut where the anger still roiled.
âItâs not my fault Bâs got the emotional capacity of a wet newspaper. I donât deserve his helicopter bullshit any more than anyone else,â he told her obediently, doing his best not to be too sarcastic.
Harley placed a kiss on his nose and released him.
âThatâs my good boy. Now, more about this haunted thing. You boys got a plan?â She asked sharply, head cocked as she watched his face.
Cheeks red, Jason leaned back against his wall and pretended it made him out of reach.
âWe do,â he said curtly, looking down at the trash strewn ground. Trying to explain it now would take too long, Danny would be out soon.
Of course Harley noticed, nodding thoughtfully and leaning back, kicking her legs.
âWell, if ya ever want to tell me more, youâve got my number. Anâ Iâll get Brucie off ya back for a while, even if Iâve gotta call in the Boy Scout. Whatever you arenât tellinâ âim, donât let âim rush ya,â she told him firmly. Jason had to smile.
âArenât you the one always telling us to communicate?â He asked half rhetorically. Harley grinned and hopped off her dumpster, making her way to the front of the alley.
âIt only works if ya wait til youâre ready. Pushinâ anâ rushinâ only makes it worse,â she explained airily, stepping out into the street.
Turning, and freezing like a hound on a scent. Eyes narrowed, she patted Jason on the chest as he stepped out after her, not turning her head.
âJason darlinâ, be a dear anâ run get Auntie Harley her bat. The bikeâs parked âround the back,â she said ever so sweetly, and that tone combined with the narrow eyed glare meant Jason knew exactly who she was looking at before he turned.
He did it anyway, eyes widening as he caught sight of Batman, in full gear, coming down the street towards them. Accompanied by John Fucking Constantine.
Had he seriously come to chase him away from Danny in person? In fucking costume?
The anger surged, his and the pitâs, held back only by the small woman in front of him. The dainty hand on her chest, thatâd turn into an iron bar if he pushed it.
Sure, she couldnât actually hold him back, but she didnât need to. Whatever Jason wanted to say or do to Bruce, Harley could do a whole lot worse.
Anger melding into a vicious satisfaction, he turned straight back down the alley with a spring in his step.
**
Bruce was a little relieved to arrive outside the bar and see Jason already there. Batman walking in wouldnât have been out of the question, but heâd rather avoid the theatrics.
Danny not being in sight didnât come into the decision one bit.
But then Harley said something to Jason and he turned away, leaving immediately. Bruce sped up, planning to follow Jason down the alley-
âHold ya horses, Batsy,â Harley snapped, stepping directly into his path. He could have gone around her, certainly, but he stopped.
If there was even a chance he could get her on side, that would help immensely.
âI just need to talk to Jason,â he said in Batmanâs low growl. Constantine had stopped too, well back of whatever was going to happen.
At least he wasnât a complete fool.
Harley folded her arms, giving him her very least impressed look.
âAnâ if the words youâre sayinâ ainât âIâm so sorry please forgive me Iâll never do it againïżœïżœïżœ, ya donât actually need to. Ya need ta speak to me.â
Bruce almost frowned at her words. Why now? Theyâd spoken before, but sheâd seemed satisfied. What had changed between now and their last conversation?
Batmanâs face remained impassive as ever.
âHarley. Itâs important.â
âHe wants me to give the kid a magic checkup,â Constantine put in from behind him, still well back. He waved at Harley when she glanced his way.
Harleyâs eyes narrowed for a moment and then Jason was jogging back down the alley, holding her bat.
What the hell had changed since their last conversation?
Pinning Constantine with a piercing glare, she held it for a minute before turning her attention back to Bruce. Snapping her fingers in front of his mask before he could even open his mouth.
âUh uh! Johnny needs ta talk to him fer that, not you. YOU need to come talk ta me. Now.â She held out her other hand without looking, and Jason slipped the bat into it.
Had he really upset Jason that much at the gala? Heâd thought he understood about the public apology, but this felt⊠well, worse than heâd expected.
More urgent. More vehement. She was more angry than she had been.
Heâd gone wrong again, some time between now and then, and he had a Justice League meeting in an hour. Less, counting in the travel time back to the nearest zeta terminal.
Did he have time for this?
Jason was glaring at him, flat and unfriendly, but with a decided undercurrent of anticipation. Bruceâs presence would only make Constantineâs job harder.
Ignoring the part of him that thought the magician deserved to have it a lot harder, he nodded and refocused his attention on Harley.
âFine. Here?â Better to get this over with. He could put aside all of his personal thoughts and feelings for the meeting, but at least heâd have answers.
Harley gave the surrounding street another sharp look, then shook her head, crooked her fingers, and led him into the alleyway.
âWeâll go âround the back. Youâre bad for business,â she told him archly, and Bruce followed without a word.
He didnât tell Jason to stay and speak to Constantine; he was self aware enough to know that would have the opposite effect. The magician would just have to sort himself out.
Part of him almost hoped she would actually use the bat this time. It served its purpose as a visual symbol, but everything made much more sense when people just wanted to beat him up.
Navigating their emotions and separate interior lives and expectations was⊠messy.
**
Constantine and Jason stared at each other for a long moment after Harley and the Bat disappeared down the alley.
Then Constantine sighed and nodded after them.
âIf theyâre goinâ round back, we can take this off the main street. If you donât mind?â Not that the boy had much choice.
Theyâd caught him unmasked, which raised again the fuckinâ question of why Batt-o was so intent on being masked up for this one.
Maybe he just didnât want to change. It looked like a lot of kohl on under that mask. Probably took a while to switch in and out.
Jason narrowed his eyes back for a moment, then shrugged. His whole posture still screamed annoyance and aggression, but moved back into the side alley anyway.
âWhatever. Not too far though. I need to hear if my friends leave.â There was something about the agreement that didnât quite sit right for John.
Too easy. He didnât have much (any) experience with the kid, never having willingly gotten near a revenant, but⊠well, this? This was weirdly passive.
When heâd seen the kid coming back with a weapon, that had made sense. Heâd half expected Jason to take a swing personally; the dead-or-dead-aligned tended to have a different understanding of acceptable violence.
Handing it off to Harley was basically trading a gun for a nuke, but he didnât seem at all upset that it hadnât been used. Hadnât gone for Batmanâs throat, no matter how much Harley seemed to think heâd be justified.
What the hell did the Bat do now?
Something was off with Jason, something that made Constantine almost rethink his earlier guess.
Kid dies, shows back up a couple years later in a storm of blood and violence, demanding revenge? Yeah, that was classic revenant. Physical body, jacked beyond anything the kid shoulda grown into? Ditto.
Even the rage the Leaguers reported checked the boxes, but a revenant shouldnât be this calm. Not in the face of any kind of threat.
Good news, really; he probably wouldnât go for Constantineâs throat. John was more than happy with that, though he did regret getting the Bat all worked up.
Not that there was another version of the story Batman might take better, mind. Whatever the hell Jason Todd was, the kid wasnât human anymore, and for olâ Batsy the rest of the details didnât much matter.
They got out of sight of the main thoroughfare, Jason leaning back against a wall with his arms folded and a smirk on his face that was just all challenge.
Constantine didnât rise to it, brows furrowing as he raised a hand and murmured the beginnings of a spell.
Felt it instantly crash around him, smacked down by a power so titanic heâd have fallen if the side of a dumpster hadnât caught him. A power so old, so wrought with death, so fucking familiar that it blacked out every sense.
No way in fucking hell any kind of fucking revenant, wraith, zombie, ghost, anything could leave that taste in his mouth. No, that? That was a personal signature.
And not something that could be done lightly either. A power like that⊠no, this power, Constantine knew exactly whose it was.
This kind of power, reacting this strongly? This instantly, even here on Earth? That was the full force of the Infinite Realms, which had to meanâŠ
Eyes wide and shaken, John scrabbled at the lid for support, staring at Jason. Who actually looked more than a little surprised himself.
It took him a moment to find the words, longer to steady the shake in his voice.
âYou⊠you⊠holy fucking hells, Jason, do you have any idea what youâve done? Youâve bound your fuckinâ soul to-â
âThe same guy you sold yours to?â Jason drawled, raising an eyebrow.
And alright, fair, that was a pretty good fuckinâ point, but Constantine was well aware he was a dire warning, not a good example.
Damn hard to argue that to a smugly reclining something-or-other that had bound himself so tightly to that same king that John couldnât even do a gentle magical probe.
Heâd been planning on being polite and everything. Noninvasive, Jason wouldnât even feel it.
Shit, had he felt the spell shut down too? Constantine was about to ask, but Jason wasnât done talking. Or smirking, looking distinctly amused that heâd shut the mouthy magician up.
âDid you know he owns your soul eleven times by now? That seems a little low to me, surely youâre down to hocking scraps,â Jason noted with a dry chuckle.
Constantine shrugged defensively, well aware that his battered soul was nothing to write home about. Still mostly trying to work out what the fuck was going on.
What use would the Ghost King have for a bat? A use important enough to fold Jason, whoâd only be risen six years, into the high court?
Sure, the kid was good, heâd proved that in Gothamâs underworld, but to the Realms? He was barely an infant, and cuttinâ off heads would not impress there.
âNo one buys just a piece of a soul. Every dealâs for the whole thing, which is why they keep me alive ratherân letting me kick it and tearinâ up the bits,â he explained distractedly, giving Jason another slow once over.
The good news was, nothing about the guy smelled like a revenant. There was power there, sure, a hint of a magical signature just on the borders of recognizable, but he couldnât quite pin it down.
Jason hummed in acknowledgement, or maybe interest, but Constantine needed him to keep talking. Needed more clues to work out what the fuck this guy was.
âPretty sure I havenât had anyone make the same deal eleven times though,â he commented cautiously, trying to appear as casual as Jason while watching him closely, wishing heâd accepted some bat-training, âmost people only make that mistake once.â
âYeah, I asked about that,â Jason agreed with a dry chuckle, and the bottom fell out of Constantineâs stomach.
A position that let him backtalk the king of the Infinite Realms? Triple not good, not least because that lot were volatile and fuckinâ possessive, but not more so than goddamn Batman.
âApparently people handed you over for some kind of tax season. Youâre a low value trading card over there at this point.â
And that knocked every other thought out of Constantineâs head as he straightened, unreasonably affronted.
Itâd be fucking nice to be low value. People might ignore him.
And since when did the Infinite Realms collect taxes?
âLow value? Princes of Hell are fightinâ over my damn soul, itâs the only thing keeping me kickinâ,â he protested, and Jason snickered.
Gave John a smug, superior smile.
âAnd ten entities gave your soul up for tax breaks. Letâs face it, itâs not like you have rarity on your side,â he pointed out smugly.
âItâs still only one soul,â Constantine pouted idly, his mind suddenly spinning mile a minute with the implications.
The kid couldnât have had this much presence last night, whatever else was true. John would have noticed.
It might just have been now that he knew to look for it, but Jason practically glowed with the essence of the Realms. Heâd also somehow not just gotten himself bound to the Ghost King, he had a position where he could question them.
And have his questions answered, if not hugely coherently. Maybe that was just the translation through Jason, though.
That could be a good thing. A good sign at least, for the temperament of the new king. Pariah Dark never listened to questions by all accounts; people never got the opportunity to ask. He just conquered.
Of course, John knew enough magical entities to know that âwilling to talkâ did not mean, friendly, helpful, safe, or even ânot prone to constant and complex liesâ.
Thing was, he could handle liars. Tricksters. Anything of the sort, usually, cuz if nothing else? Being willing to talk before shooting meant Constantine had a chance to confuse them.
He was bloody good at that, all else notwithstanding. Almost his most useful talent.
It might be worth trying to find a little more about the Ghost King. Doubly if Jason was willing to help, but thatâd have to be careful. No way to know what the kid had accidentally sworn to on that soul bond.
Hell, how was he gonna work out what the kid even was with magic off the table? Itâd be back to the fuckinâ books and Undead 101.
At least he was still in his own body. That put a limit on the possibilities, but there were still a lot of options. Bats was going to be unbearable.
Because worse yet⊠the one thing John did know, with absolute certainty, was that the kid was getting stronger. If he hadnât manifested any powers yet, it was just a matter of time.
Whatever Jason was, whatever deal heâd managed to pull, the damn halfa wasnât even the tip of the iceberg. Something was feeding the power in him, whatever had yanked him back to the land of the living to start with.
Plus side? Batty could get off his ass about the kids hanging out. Jason had already taken a fuckinâ jet across whatever influence hanging out with a ghost could do, and pushed right the way to the other side.
He might as well be fuckinâ drinking ectoplasm at this point. Kid could carry Danny around on his back and not make a lick of difference.
Course, if it was the halfa who got the kid to make his deal⊠well, Batman would have another reason to worry about them hanginâ out together, but the damage was already done.
It wasnât a soul buy, not to Johnâs experienced eye. Not a leash around the kidâs neck, not a claim stamped into his being. If anything, this was worse.
Somehow Jason had gotten himself so tightly wrapped to the Ghost King that the otherâs power all but flowed in his veins. Even from here, far from the Realms, Constantine didnât even finish the spell before it was smacked down.
That⊠that was new. Nothing heâd ever seen before, and he was well used to possessive metaphysical assholes who didnât like anyone else touchinâ their shit.
Fuck, did Jason even know?
Constantine sucked in a breath and gave damn near instantly on even trying to form a tactful question a bat would understand. Kid was playing in his kiddy pool now, like it or not, and John had to know how deep heâd gone.
âSo what deal did you make?â He asked bluntly. Not that Jason apparently minded in the least, still smirking as he gave the magician a cool once over.
âYâknow, Iâm pretty sure itâs rude to ask. Not discussing paychecks and all that,â he drawled casually, eyes still dark with that barely covered aggression.
Constantine rolled his eyes.
âI had three princes of Hell gettinâ a little too cozy and a cursed rock lookinâ to turn the world to pink tourmaline. The Ghost King was big enough to shut âem up and let me push the rock to a different dimension where itâs never gonna be our problem again. Now quit beinâ an ass, I know a lot more about this kinda shit and I can tell ya if they hid any clauses.â
That did shut Jason up, the kidâs eyes widening for a moment like he hadnât expected Constantine to share.
Tough titties for him, John already knew Batman was gonna be a bitch about this so doing the due diligence early? Pretty much their only hope.
He considered it longer than John thought was justified, since it was inarguable. John Constantine, soul selling expert. He should have business cards made.
Finally the kid shrugged. He still looked prickly, defensive, but he was listening.
âWell I didnât sell him my fucking soul.â Which.
John stared at him, mouth agape. Snapped shut and narrowed his eyes.
âKid, you could not be more marked if you wore a neon sign. You signed something over, the Ghost King ainât the sort to give prizes for free.â
A Ghost King Jason seemed to think was a he, so that was a useful little piece of intel. Heâd definitely know better than John if they were already on ask-questions stage.
Jason scowled and shrugged, arms still crossed.
âLucky me. Protection from big scary human wizards, for the low low price of my service. And some help with my Lazarus problem,â he added, as if the last was the only part he though worth mentioning.
Constantine sagged back against the wall, sinking down to sit on the alley floor. Bracing his elbows on his knees he ran both hands through his hair, holding his head up.
âGreat⊠just fucking great,â he muttered, voice muffled by his new position. Part of him wanted to laugh, but he was pretty sure itâd come out a sob.
Hysteria beckoned.
Jason made another noise that might almost have been concern, and Constantine forced himself to suck in a breath. To keep it together.
Forced his head up so he could glare at the kid who now looked just way too confused.
âYou get that thatâs worse, right?â He snapped, eyes narrowing. âYou get that selling yourself into service is fucking worse?â
Jason glared back down at him, drawing himself up like size and muscle was gonna impress a magician.
(It might have if Jason was a decade or two older, but not the way the kid intended.)
âWhat the fuck dâyou think will happen when he takes your soul?â He snapped back, aggression rising fast enough that Constantine forced himself to stop again.
Deep breath in. Hold. Out.
One more in. Hold. Out.
He got to ten, the kid watching him with visible confusion, deflating the longer John went without pushing back. Yippee for him.
When he thought he had his voice under control again, John forced himself to his feet.
âI sell my soul, and if anyone ever actually claims the damn thing they can do whatever they want to it for eternity. Itâll fuckinâ suck, kid, but the one thing they canât do, no matter who it is?â
He just sounded tired now, which only wrong footed Jason even more. Why had he even gotten out of bed at all?
Maybe if he left now he could just go back. Tuck himself up in the House of Mystery, feed his League communicator to something pandimensional, and just hide for a while.
The Bat would probably come after him.
Taking another bolstering breath, John did his best to sound calm. Not patronising. Because the kid damn near definitely had no idea.
Which was why people should leave magic to the fuckinâ professionals.
Catching Jasonâs eye, he held it, hoping to impress the seriousness of what he was about to say into the kidâs soul.
âThey cannot compel me to action. They can try all sorts of force, all sorts of fucked up shit, but I get the last say. They say jump, I say fuck off, no jump. But selling service?â
Jasonâs eyes had widened now, and John could just see all those little wheels turning. Well, set the little fuckers spinninâ faster.
âThey say jump, youâre on the way up before you can ask âhow high?â. I dunno what you think you signed up for, kid, I dunno what deals with the new king are like cuz I didnât fuckinâ ask. But you get a copy of the damn contract and bring it back to me. Iâll see if thereâs anything we can do about it.â
It was the only logical option, especially with an entity this powerful. Constantine was betting the kidâs hatred of being used, being controlled, would make him agree even if he hated it.
He probably could have been nicer, though.
Jasonâs eyes flashed, actually flashed a bright, ecto green as he shot John a glare that promised bloody dismemberment.
There was something else too, something that definitely wasnât there a second ago but filled the alley now. Something hot and angry and powerfully vicious, something that wanted his blood.
If there were space to back up, he would have. As it was, he let his hand slip behind his back, ready to teleport. He had no doubt that any kind of binding would meet exactly the same fate his inquiry had.
Even in civvies, Jason Todd cut a menacing figure as he stalked the two steps across the alley to put himself directly in Constantineâs face.
âFor fuckâs sake, I am not a fucking child! I donât need you to hold my hand, I donât need your fucking help, and I donât need your fucking permission to live my fucking life!â
Constantine actually leaned back, his head brushing the wall behind him as Jason shoved a finger into his face, his every muscle taut with barely restrained violence.
âLike you just fucking said, you donât know shit! So maybe, just fucking once, the whole fucking lot of you sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and stay out of my fucking way!â
This close, Constantine could feel Jasonâs hot breath on his face. This close⊠something clicked.
He could feel Jasonâs anger, projecting out of him in a way that definitely wasnât human. Choking and visceral and absolutely nothing like the pulsating bloody rage that forced itself down his throat.
There was something fucking else inside Jason. Something that tasted of the Infinite Realms and wanted his head on a stick.
Something that wasnât the Ghost King. Didnât carry the touch of his claim.
John was about to teleport away, fuck Batman and all of Gotham, when Jason turned around sharply and marched out of the alley. Almost like the kid was running.
Slumping back against the wall, John Constantine closed his eyes and breathed in the city smogs, only happy that none of it actively wanted his blood.
**
Harley let Batman precede her around the milkshake bar to the parking lot at the back, a quick glance confirming that they were alone.
For the best, really; anyone present might get entirely the wrong idea.
Taking a casual roll of the wrist for added momentum, Harley took a quick shot at the back of Battyâs knee, stepping up quickly beside him to use the return swing to catch him in the gut.
Caught off guard, he crumpled, landing on one knee and glaring up at her.
âHarleyâŠâ he growled, and her eyes narrowed.
Sheâd done this the nice way last night. He hadnât listened, so now they were doing it his way.
âBatsy,â she shot back, cutting him off quick and direct. Tapped her bedazzled bat gently off her other hand. âWe had us a talk already this week.â
No specific times; not in an unsecured location. Heâd know anyway.
From his silence, he wasnât quite ready to admit it. But he didnât try to rise. Conflicted, then.
Like that was new.
Harley pressed the bat gently under his chin, tipping his head up to face her.
âAnd yet somehow, despite you assurinâ me youâd listened real close, a mister Jason Todd is out here tellinâ me you tried to ban him from hanginâ out with his new boyfriend?â She asked sugar-sweet, her expression all danger.
She could just about see the moment it sank into his head. Even with his actual eyes covered, that cowl was still plenty expressive.
Kinda freakishly expressive. Not ideal for the crime fighting to her mind, but what would she know? She much preferred committing the crimes.
He tried to argue, frown so deep heâd have wrinkles within the day.
âThis has nothing to do with that, the Fenton boy is dangerous to his condition-â
Harley cut him off by poking the end of her bat almost into his mouth, her eyes narrowed. And sure, she was beinâ delicate with his head outta concern for that concussion, but there were limits.
âAnâ what dâyou think ya know about Jasonâs condition that a half dead kid donât?â She asked sceptically.
Batman hesitated. If he pushed the bat away, theyâd have an actual fight on their hands. One he might let her win, if he just needed the tussle.
Sheâd never known a man so eager to have someone put him on his ass, and so incapable of ever lettinâ it actually happen. Well, other than Jason.
Musta run in the family.
Bruce sagged back, sat on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot.
âConstantine believes that Dannyâs energy may strengthen something inside Jason. Something dangerous,â he explained, still in Batmanâs rough growl.
She was gonna get him a vocoder. Just for shits and giggles.
Fuck, was that why Jason wore the whole helmet for Hoody? Now that she thought of it, there was a voice changer in there.
Two cranky little peas in matching muscly pods.
She dropped to sit cross legged on the ground across from him, bat laying in front of her. Talkinâ again, take two. Time to make it stick.
âHave you actually talked to Jason about this?â She asked sceptically.
The eye slits in the cowl narrowed. Harley was not impressed.
âHave you talked to him at all, since he anâ Danny have been hanginâ out?â
Bruce glared at her for a moment longer. Did not fold his arms or pout, but she could tell he wanted to.
âI spoke with him last night. Heâs irrational, angry, unwilling to listen to reasonâŠâ
âHeâs sick of ya tellinâ him you know whatâs best and not listeninâ ta whatâs wrong,â Harley corrected flatly.
Watched his shoulders sink just a little. As much as he could deflate in the suit. Even his growl lost most of its sandpaper.
âHe said Danny was taking him to a doctor. More exposure to the realms could make things worse. Kill him, or give the pit another chance to take over. I canâtâŠâ he cut himself off, voice tight and garbled around the forced gravel.
Harley watched him for a long moment.
Heâd come out in the suit. It had to be for a reason.
She couldnât ask the questions that would break him apart in the suit. Couldnât guide him through the revelations and the grief. Not if there was somethinâ else he had ta be doing.
Another damn time then. Sheâd get âim here again.
âBatsy.â Her voice was gentler this time, and drew his face back to hers. She made sure to catch his eye. âHe already died. Seems ta me somethinâ in there never really let him go.â
She didnât know much about the Infinite Realms⊠or anything at all, really. All this magic and mayhem and ghosts was fun anâ all, and she always liked to play, but it wasnât her wheelhouse.
Didnât have ta be. She knew how to listen to the professionals.
Bruce had stiffened, the mask of Batman pulling back, and she cut him off with a raised hand.
âAnâ you only have ta look at Danny ta know that whatever all that is? Jason ainât the first. Wonât be the last. Someoneâs gonna know what went wrong, and Jason believes theyâre helping him. You need to believe Jason.â
âBut he could be wrong.â It was barely more than a whisper. Low and grinding and completely devoid of Batman growl, like itâd been pulled right out of his soul.
Harley gave him a gentle bop on the head with her bat.
âThen we deal with that then. But all ya doinâ by bossinâ him around anâ not listeninâ is pissing him off and makinâ him more likely ta run right off to these Realms. Heâs not the sweet kid followinâ ya shadow anymore, Batsy. Heâs a man, and he gets to make choices. And mistakes.â
This sure as hell wasnât one of âem, but Bruce had never been good at taking that on faith. He had to be shown, and heâd never stop waiting for the tables to turn.
Which was how he usually made things worse. But he did at least know that.
He still looked mutinous, scowling across at her, so she gave him a slightly harder bop on the shoulder.
âBatman, listen ta me. I know you mean well, but Danny makes him happy. All Jasonâs seeinâ right now is that heâs happy, anâ you wanna take it away.â
That hit harder than any of her blows, though she wouldnât have noticed if she hadnât known him so long. His whole body stiffened, sudden hesitation in even his breathing.
Harley stared him down through it, then nodded in satisfaction as his shoulders lowered, just a fraction.
âI canât lose him again, Harley,â he whispered, barely audible even less than a foot away.
She gave him an even harder bop on the other shoulder.
âThen stop driving him away. You ainât even said sorry for the other night yet anâ now you owe him another apology. Thereâs always that things might go wrong; he might get hit by a car crossing the street. The only sure thing is that if you keep treating him like this?â
She leaned forwards, grabbing his chin and forcing him to face her. To look at her, and see how serious she was.
He was reluctant to meet her eyes, but even under the white outs Harley knew when she had someoneâs attention. Good. He probably knew what came next.
âYou will lose him, Batsy. And itâll be no oneâs fault but your own.â
**
Danny couldnât have missed Constantine making his way up the street blindfolded and with his ears plugged. It might have been the whole âowned his soulâ thing.
It also might have been the vortex of swirling magical attention that followed him like a cloud. The guy clearly wasnât trying to advertise his presence, but to something like DannyâŠ
Well, trying to hide that hard always caught his attention. A magical ânothing to see hereâ tasted like liquorice in the back of his throat.
Maybe the trench coat was actually cursed, in more than just the unfortunate fashion sense.
Part of him wondered if this had anything to do with them. The rest, well aware what his luck was like, wondered if heâd come barging into the restaurant.
It wasnât like he shouldnât be getting ready to go anyway, but he just⊠well, he was having a surprising amount of fun just hanging out with Waylon.
The guy was old enough to be his dad, but he was a great listener. Really encouraging, and heâd told Danny another couple of stories too, some from his darker times but all with happy endings.
He was probably trying to make Danny feel better after their talk, and it was definitely working. It just⊠well, he didnât even really like thinking about Dan.
Heâd asked Nocturn to put him to sleep not long after becoming king, to give the guy something to do other than stew in a thermos and plot vengeance.
Part of him still kinda expected that to bite him in the ass, but even if Dan broke out of Nocturnâs dreams, he couldnât break out of Soup Time. For whatever reason heâd never learned Dannyâs portal trick.
All the people who kept souping Danny were dead in Danâs timeline.
Danny had almost been ready to wrap things up with Waylon (as little as he wanted to; theyâd already exchanged numbers) when he felt Jasonâs rage bubble.
He didnât realise heâd blanked out until Waylon tapped the table in front of him with a claw, concern on his scaly face.
âSomethinâ thâ matter, kid?â He asked in a low growl.
Danny shook his head, staring down at the mostly empty milkshake and chugging the rest.
âProbably nothing⊠just got a bad feeling about Jason,â he explained with a shrug.
Reached out just a little, extending his senses but not aura. If Jason was already mad, that might send him over the edge.
Just as he reached out a sudden flare of fury made his hand clench, the glass he was still grasping shattering. Great, he had a hand full of milkshake and shards.
Shaking both free, Danny shoved his way out of the booth at the same time as Waylon, the big man going from concerned to battle ready in an instant.
For the first time, he almost looked dangerous. Danny was glad to have him at his back for the visual component at least; anyone who didnât think twice about pissing off a tank like Jason wouldnât even blink at Danny.
Killer Croc though? He got that name on his looks alone, long before he earned it.
They didnât even make it across the bar, wait staff scattering to what were clearly well established positions in case trouble came in.
Trouble didnât; barely.
Jason Todd did, all but vibrating with rage and steaming green with Pittyâs contribution.
Wait; steaming? Jason had mentioned the Lazarus pits did that, but Danny had never seen ectoplasm steam before. Could everyone see it?
Whether Waylon could or not, it didnât stop him from hurrying forward, attention fully focused behind Jason for anyone following.
It was maybe the teeniest bit cute that even so angry he had a personal heat haze, Jason didnât even think Waylon was going for him. His attention was fixed somewhere else; somewhere internal and probably bloody.
Instinct pulled Danny forward, Jason slipping easily into his aura and for a moment Danny felt like heâd drown in Jasonâs rage. Answered it himself a moment later, stroking across the anger with worry-protect-safe now.
Jason twitched just a little as the aura washed around him, looking around on automatic until he faced Danny.
The rage softened just a little as he caught Dannyâs eye, shoulders sagging. His jaw unclenched enough to talk; visibly enough that it must have been painful.
âJust fucking B again, treating me like a fucking child,â he spat, fists still clenched tight at his sides.
The effort it was clearly taking not to go out and start swinging kept Danny on edge, even as Waylon relaxed.
âYer a long way from that, kid,â the big guy agreed with a low chuckle, still between Jason and the door, and rested a large hand lightly on Jasonâs shoulder. âWant me to go have a word?â
Jason shook his head sharply, the smallest of smiles flicking across his face before the anger replaced it. Yeah, definitely cute.
âNo thanks. Youâve only just got out, you donât need bat trouble again already,â he said through gritted teeth, then nodded to Danny. âI just wanna get out of here.â
Danny nodded immediately, going from maybe-fight to flight. Which was kinda literally an option. Ghosts knew how to make an exit.
âDo you wanna take your bike or just disappear?â He asked simply.
Jason gave him a tight smile, barely layered over anger he was still struggling to control. Fuck, if this was what heâd been dealing with every day before Danny came alongâŠ
âHarleyâs out back with Batman. I just want to fucking go,â he growled, shaking his head.
Danny nodded again, turning and crouching a little for Jason to hop onto his back.
âPhantom Express it is then.â
And yeah, he knew it looked stupid without Waylonâs confirming snort of laughter.
So did Jason, and the tinge of mirth that coloured his rage-burning-break in his head was more than worth looking silly.
Seemed like Jason was finally starting to trust his strength too as he hopped up without question, Danny not reacting in the slightest to his added weight.
And definitely not the way Jason now towered over him, or having those thighs wrapped around his waist. Nope. No horny in the aura today.
Giving a last nod to Waylon, he turned them both invisible and flew up through the roof, intangibility phasing them through at the last second.
Once they were high enough to be beyond any eavesdropping, he slowed to a stop, not quite looking back at his passenger.
âSo, where do you wanna go?â
As Danny had kinda hoped, the sudden exhilaration of flight had tamped Jasonâs anger back down until it was less a physical presence. It still seethed and boiled inside him, but it was losing steam.
About half of what he could feel from Jason now was just tired, and honestly? Couldnât blame him.
Danny had been told how bad his pit rages had been, a visceral wrath that almost possessed Jason and made him lash out in all directions. And by all accounts? He still hadnât seen the half of it.
It made his core ache just thinking about living with that much rage stuck inside. Feeling like that all the time⊠Danny had always respected Jason, but this? This demanded a whole new level.
And a little bit made him want to put Jason in a nice ectoplasm hamster ball so he could roll around the streets and nothing would ever hurt him again.
Gonna have to keep that under wraps too, since apparently Danny was losing his fucking mind all up in Gotham.
(Not that heâd never hamster balled anyone before. It was just usually a punishment for Tucker, or Wes if they were being assholes. Derogatory hamster balls were totally fine and not evidence of losing anything at all.)
The man himself was quiet for a long moment, struggling with just everything that was going on inside him.
Danny waited, turning them both intangible again just in case Jason could still be affected by the cold. At this height, it wasnât exactly pleasant.
Made him side eye all those pictures of witches in dresses and long socks on broomsticks. Good way for the living to get pneumonia, in Dannyâs opinion.
Jason didnât even seem to notice, letting out a frustrated huff of air.
âWeâve gotta get Tucker home. If B is off being an asshole we can at least go to the manor,â he grumbled.
Danny paused for a long moment himself, considering another solution. After all, for ghosts it was simply unthinkable that they hadnât even had an introductory brawl yet.
Whenever he got that pissed, getting the shit kicked out of him had always helped burn off the energy. But maybe Jasonâs was different.
Danny was pretty sure heâd never been that pissed, not even at Pariah. Not even at Agent K.
Danny wouldnât judge. For now, he nodded, turning to head towards the manor.
âWe can go to Frostbite after weâve dropped Tuck off. Itâs been long enough, and you definitely feel stronger?â He offered, kinda hoping it might help Jason feel better.
The grunt he got in return didnât sound convinced, but Jason also didnât argue.
Neither of them were expecting to run into traffic in the Gotham airways though, at least not below airline level. Or to be interrupted.
With a sudden loud gust of wind, another black haired young man in a black leather jacket pulled up in front of them, looking around with a frown.
âHey, I heard someone up here? Jason? Where are you?â He asked loudly, brows furrowing like he was still listening.
Dannyâs confusion was better than words as Jason gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.
âSuperboy the first. Timâs boyfriend,â he explained quietly, and Konâs head whipped around to follow the sound.
âOkay Jason, I know youâre up here, what the fuck?â He asked impatiently, which was when Danny remembered.
Still invisible. Hiding from the Bat and also concerned citizens. He popped them back into visibility with a sheepish grin, waving at⊠Connor? Or Con? No, kinda sharper. Kon.
It might have been a secret third level of alias, but Danny was pretty sure the bats had called him by a couple names over the various stories.
âHey⊠sorry, forgot we were invisible,â he explained, trying not to laugh. Mostly at himself, but best not give the wrong impression.
Superboyâs eyes locked on them for a moment, narrowed briefly, and then his face broke into a grin.
âSo, Iâm gonna guess youâre Danny, Tuckerâs friend that Tim has been gushing about?â He asked eagerly, reclining comfortably in the air. Then paused. âWell, gushing about Tucker. You were mentioned, though.â
That sounded about right.
Danny snickered and nodded, giving Jason a careful reshuffle. If they werenât gonna be travelling for the moment, they could get a little more comfortable.
Thick thighs tightened around his hips and Danny very specifically did not melt into a puddle of goo. Not even a little bit.
âYeah, we were just gonna go get Tucker and head out. Are you coming to see Tim?â He asked, kinda half wanting to wait around long enough and see what Tucker and Connor made of each other.
Kon if he was here in official capacity? But he wasnât exactly wearing a super uniform, or logo. But Jason hadnât mentioned a name, because Jason wasnât a helper.
There was one easy way around that though. Bouncing Jason just a little more roughly than strictly necessary, Danny stuck out his hand.
âDanny Fenton, by the way. Since we havenât been fully introduced.â He gave his best cheerful-but-totally-human grin. No point unnerving the first official alien he met, even if he was only half alien.
The boy reached out easily, giving him a firm handshake back.
âKon El. Connor when weâre on street level. And yeah, I was just heading the same way when I heard you guys. Tim asked if Iâd bring Tucker home though, he wasnât sure what you guysâ plans were so if you had anything else to do?â He glanced from one to the other, so clearly not asking that he might as well have.
Could Kryptonians see the heat haze of Jasonâs anger too? Or did he just know the family well enough, know Jason well enough, to know the signs?
Danny hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the other halfa. He could almost taste Jasonâs indecision, holding each other this close. Bitter and tight in the back of his throat.
How much did he want to deal with his family, with that rage still burning inside him? Hell, they hadnât even worked out what Jason would do while Danny took Tucker home.
Danny kept quiet though, leaving the choice up to Jason.
It didnât take long.
Sucking in a deep breath, Jason let out a heavy sigh, a wave of pure relief washing over him.
The anger was still there, a hot little coal right between the dual cores, but it couldnât drown out the gratitude-sorry-safe. Barely tempered it anymore.
His voice was still gruff when he spoke, still stiff with emotion, but Kon seemed to understand.
âYeah, thatâd be great. Thanks Kon.â
The younger man tipped them both a sarcastic salute, straightening in the air and turning towards Wayne manor.
âYouâve probably got like, a text from Tim about the change of plan, if he even bothered to mention it, but Iâll let him know I saw you. Seems like youâre sticking around, so Iâll probably run into you again, Danny.â He gave them both a cheery nod and flew away.
A tiny part of Danny was sorry that they wouldnât be around to watch Tucker spiral when confronted with Timâs boyfriend.
Tim Drake Wayne was a hottie, no point denying it, and he was easily Tuckerâs second biggest tech crush beside the mysterious Oracle. With all that hero worship though?
Tucker probably hadnât actually noticed he was also hot yet. Heâd have been in love with him if heâd looked like a snail.
Kon El though? Kon El had exactly the kind of leather jacket, too cool for school, sculpted good looks that Tucker fell head over heels for on any gender.
(Danny absolutely was not a hypocrite, heâd be the very first to admit that he and Tucker had very similar taste in partners, at least as far as appearances. Tucker just preferred a little more âstep on meâ energy.)
In all the reminders that Tim had a boyfriend, no one had said his boyfriend was hot.
Danny didnât mention it. It wasnât like heâd have been able to fully enjoy things anyway; the night before had proved that, and Jasonâs mood had been rosy by comparison.
He did offer just one comment though, watching Kon fly away thoughtfully.
âShould we have warned him that Tucker is going to spontaneously combust if Kon tells him to ride him?â He asked mostly hypothetically, fading them out of visibility and tangibility again.
It startled Jason into letting out a snort of laughter which became a cough with his last rasp of thinner air.
âYou just did, with Konâs hearing,â he managed once he could talk normally again, and Danny considered feeling bad about it.
That sizzling coal of rage was almost buried under amused-anticipation-relief.
Nah. No matter what form Tuckerâs next wave of vengeance took, this was worth it.
âSo, where to next?â He asked, again⊠kinda hypothetically. From Jasonâs sigh the older man was just as aware of what the answer had to be.
âLetâs just fucking go see Frostbite. If I keep looking at the city somethingâs gonna piss me off again.â He sounded reluctant, resigned, but a slow creeping glow of amazement spread through his aura.
About to pop open another portal, Danny tipped his head up as far as he could and made them visible again, looking for his face.
âWhatâs up?â He asked, willing to put dimensional travel on hold if there was anything they might be able to do to actually help.
Jason shook his head to focus himself, glancing down at Danny and quickly looking away. Was Danny imagining that sweet pink blush in his cheeks?
âItâs nothing.â
Danny waited, secure in the actual empathic sensation of Jason warring with himself on his back. Finally he won (and also lost, as all civil wars end) and sighed.
âJust. Iâve never come out of the pit rage this fast before,â he admitted gruffly, glaring down at the sparkling lights of the city below. Like this wasnât something to celebrate.
Danny let them fade back to invisibility, since Jason pretty clearly didnât want to be looked at.
âHey, thatâs great news! Weâll just have to short circuit Tuckerâs gay ass every time you need a boost,â he chirped brightly, and popped the portal open to Jasonâs laughter.
**
In his heart of hearts, Bruce knew why Harley was taking him to the parking lot.
If there was any chance of witnesses, any possibility of being overheard, he couldnât listen to her. Not in the suit. Couldnât show what any of his rogues (who hadnât met Harley) might misconstrue as weakness.
If there was a single place in the city which could be trusted to be unsurveiled, it was the parking lots to his roguesâ side businesses. They had their own professional courtesies.
He appreciated it, in his own way. The closest thing to privacy they could have outside the Batmobile at the moment (and even then his children could listen in).
The baseball bat had been⊠well, not a total surprise, sheâd had Jason fetch it in front of him and it wasnât likely to be an empty prop twice in a row.
Still, he wasnât as prepared as he could have been, and the first two blows hurt. His fold to the ground was mostly genuine, though part of him was definitely leaning in.
Concussion be damned, heâd been taking an emotional beating this week. At least exterior bruises would show him when they were healing.
But he hadnât had time after her warning to do anything but head to the meeting.
Had he?
All he remembered was the seriousness of her face, the weight of absolute certainty in her words.
He would lose Jason, because he himself had pushed him away. Because Jason didnât think Bruce trusted him. Thought Bruce would take away his chance at happiness.
Maybe Danny had been right. Maybe Jason didnât even know Bruce loved him.
Things were so much worse than heâd made himself believe.
He knew heâd risen when his alarm went off, giving him ten minutes to head to the zeta tubes. Found Constantine again in the alley, since the man was with him now.
Couldnât remember talking to him. But that wasnât unlike himself anyway.
There was a hidden zeta tube downtown, only just far enough to justify the Batmobile, but Bruce would rather not leave it to drive home from Freezeâs place anyway.
He set it to return to the cave as he climbed out, at the end of another dark alley. The sun was already beginning to sink, painting the city in yellow and gold.
Constantine tapped carefully on the hood of the Batmobile between them, then jumped back as the car drove itself away, swearing. By the time he finished dusting himself off, Bruce was watching him again.
âAre yer back in there?â The magician asked cautiously, his own voice rough.
Bruce took a moment to assess his colleague. Never exactly tidy, Constantine looked more dishevelled than he had before Bruce and Harley left him.
Jasonâs checkup likely hadnât gone well.
Of course it hadnât. Not if Jason felt the way Harley said⊠no. The way heâd told Harley he felt. Because Harley asked.
Something deep and weary in him tried to pull his shoulders down to sag, but he ignored it with the aid of long practice. Just gave Constantine a stiff jerk of the head.
âHn.â
The man rolled his eyes, turning and heading for the defunct phone booth disguising the zeta tube.
âGreat, monosyllables. Well, since yer back, listen up.â
The results of his examination, if Jason even let him perform it. Still, maybe the man would have something? It wasnât like he couldnât have cast a few spells without Jason knowing.
âFirst of all, yer boy ainât a revenant.â
That jerked Bruce to a stop, his brows furrowing as he turned to face Constantine head on again. The magician had pulled a cigarette from somewhere, likely because they were heading for the Watchtower.
Bruce didnât bother trying to stop him. He was too busy trying to process.
Constantine didnât look happy either, so this probably wasnât actually good news?
âWhat do you mean?â He growled, stepping closer and lowering his voice to avoid eavesdroppers.
Constantine rolled his eyes, waved his free hand, and the smoke from his cigarette crackled briefly in the air.
âNone oâ that cloak and dagger shit, Bats. No oneâs gonna hear us. But the kid, Jason? Heâs not a revenant. Not sure what he is, actually, anâ not too keen on lookinâ deeper.â
It might have been the longest Bruce had heard him speak without saying âfuckâ since the Amity Park question came up. The fact that he looked distinctly uneasy made that less reassuring.
âWhy not?â Bruce growled, a little grateful to be able to step back and away from the smoke. Harley had left his head be for the most part, but it was already pounding again.
Constantine fixed him with a slow, speculative look.
âSee, hereâs my issue,â he began, raising a hand to cut off a growled protest and pointing directly at Bruce. âYou? Youâre Mr Worst Case Scenario. Canât stop pokinâ at shit til it gives you an answer, or bites yer head off.â
That was certainly true. It was something that Alfred⊠Selina⊠Clark⊠Dick⊠Diana⊠almost everyone close to him had complained of.
Bruce wasnât convinced it was a shortcoming, but he knew it about himself. It had been an underlying theme this whole investigation; Constantine telling him things because otherwise heâd go poking.
So what changed?
âYouâre not gonna like whatever I tell you. Anâ I could try anâ temper that by lyinâ, or I could treat you like a fuckinâ adult on yer promise the you donât go punchinâ inter shit yer donât understand.â
Constantine stared expectantly at him, taking another long drag on his cigarette.
Ah. Waiting for Bruce to choose an option. As if there was any doubt?
âI swore your oath,â Bruce reminded him gruffly, and Constantine rolled his eyes again.
âAnâ Iâm fully aware youâre a tricky piece of shit thatâll try and work around it the second it comes up. Thatâs why itâs generic. You hear about the Ghost King, you back the fuck off, shut the fuck up, and run. Thatâll include any of yer precious reports.â
He took another slow drag of his cigarette, watching Bruce the whole while. Bruce stared back, unsure what he was looking for but determined that heâd find nothing.
Shit. So much for having Red Robin and Oracle prod around for him. Though he had been planning to warn them to be delicate.
It barely occurred to him that showing nothing might tell Constantine more than anything else before the magician sighed and shook his head.
âListen, B. The shit you need to know? Actually, really need to know? Jasonâs⊠safe. Thereâs not a damn thing in the Infinite Realms that can hurt him now, whatever he is. Iâd even put money on him beinâ demon proof, with the wards on him now.â
And wouldnât it be so, so nice to believe that Constantine had put those wards on him? Bruce could feel the wish for it, a flight of fancy he rarely allowed himself.
Bruce let himself indulge in the want to believe for about the same length of time as that ominous pause.
âWhat wards?â He asked flatly, the low rumble not exactly hiding how he felt about the situation, but since heâd almost rather yell, he considered it fair.
Constantine, again, was not impressed. He folded his arms and prodded at Bruce with his still smoking cigarette.
âSee, thereâs that prodding. Iâm trying to do this the nice way, B. Give you answers instead of just shutting you down, but you arenât gonna know everything without a couple decades of practice, and you need to get over that.â
The magician took another drag, closing his eyes tightly for a second. When he opened them again, he looked entirely uncompromising.
The stern professional Bruce had only seen previously in life and death situations, and ones getting worse at that. Was this situation that dire?
âI could speak a word and make you forget this whole damn thing. Four more, and youâd have no choice about droppinâ it,â Constantine growled, clearly bitterly regretting not choosing that option. Bruceâs eyes narrowed in response.
Heâd clearly ruled it out, but he hadnât wanted to. Whatever he didnât want to tell Bruce, Constantine expected him to have a powerful response.
Which meant that is was very bad, but also that Bruceâs natural response would make things worse. He could work around that.
He chose not to address the remark at all, just waiting for Constantine to continue. The man stayed silent just long enough that Bruce wondered if he was changing his mind on trying to make him forget.
This was why he hated magic. But heâd broken through it before. No spell could stand up to intense, detailed scrutiny, and he would surely have plenty of clues to remind himself when the problem was with his own son.
Finally Constantine sighed, flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under one heel. He seemed to have come to a decision, new purpose under the fear heâd been hiding since he first arrived.
âLetâs just get this over with,â he sighed, heading for the zeta tube. There was just a little more spring in his step.
Bruce frowned and moved to block him.
âThe wards,â he pressed, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. This conversation was important.
Constantine looked surprisingly chipper actually, raising his chin to give Bruce a sudden and almost startling smirk.
âOh no, big guy. You had your chance to promise to behave like an adult, so weâre going with option three.â
Heâd noticed Bruceâs lack of comment. Obviously, but Bruce hadnât really thought heâd need to say anything.
Investigating was what Batman did. He knew how to do it tactfully, and without stepping on toes. He just wouldnât promise not to do it.
None of which explained Constantineâs suddenly improved mood. It was almost the same satisfaction heâd show when heâd worked out how to pawn an unpleasant job off on someone else.
âAnd that is?â Bruce asked warily, suspecting he wouldnât like whatever made this not Constantineâs problem. Constantine waggled a finger at him, like he was nothing more than a naughty child.
âI let you ask questions, after Wonder Woman promises to keep yer in line.â He said it with the finality of a lead weight, and it dropped through Bruceâs chest like one.
Shit.
Diana⊠Diana knew him far too well. If Constantine convinced her of whatever gave him this level of caution, she would camp in the bat cave to stop him if necessary.
Diana didnât tolerate what she considered risk. If Bruce could convince her he was right instead⊠she could be a very useful ally. And she had always liked Jason.
Jason adored her. Wonder Woman had always been his favourite hero, even as a child. If Diana asked him, he might even agree to a consultation.
Bruce still didnât know what had happened with todayâs consultation, and apparently he wouldnât even find out until they spoke to Wonder Woman.
He could extrapolate from that alone, frankly, even if Constantine wasnât visibly rattled.
Bruce stepped aside somewhat reluctantly, letting Constantine step into the zeta tube first. They could technically fit in together, but he wasnât exactly in the mood to play sardines.
The magicianâs vehemence was troubling him, as was his conviction that Wonder Woman would be the answer. It was possible that Bruce had miscalculated the scale of the threat they were facing.
Whatever had warded Jason must be touchy enough to dislike any form of questions, and powerful enough to have its displeasure matter. And if it would be able to detect the questions being askedâŠ
Contrary to popular opinions, Bruce did know how to temper his investigative instincts when called for. People only had to ask.
And.
Impress on him. A few times. That they meant it.
Honestly if they just told him why and what to expect, set some limitations and boundaries, it wasnât like he was unreasonable. He just liked to verify data through his own sources.
Justice League Dark were a perfectly reputable source when he had to involve himself with magic. He could cross reference things between other members if he needed to check Constantineâs intel.
The unfortunate fact of the matter seemed to be that however little Bruce liked it, he did now need to learn more about magic. Heâd been content to leave it to the experts for as long as he could, butâŠ
But it now concerned one of his children. His second son, the one heâd lost.
At the very least, he needed to understand enough about the Infinite Realms to know how to keep Jason safe. What he would need, if there was anything they should be doing for him.
Not that the JL Dark had bothered to let him know when they thought Jason was a revenant. That might have been nice, even if apparently he wasnât.
Heâd already planned to start with Constantineâs attached reading on the Infinite Realms, and the Ghost King in particular for his new researches.
(Just the thought sent a shiver down his spine, and Bruce stepped into the zeta tube a little faster than necessary. Was that his oath? On just the thought?)
He could get information on these specific wards too. Cross reference with Zatanna when she was available. Perhaps contact Dr Fate.
The Justice League Dark had their own sections of both reference materials and secured artefacts in various bases around the world.
Studying those should be a sufficient compromise; he wouldnât reach out to the Infinite Realms directly, not until the Anti-Ecto Acts had been dealt with.
Then they could get in touch with Jasonâs mysterious doctor, provided he was willing. Have the dismantling of the acts as a show of good faith.
Heâd have to ask Constantine about a sufficient apology too. And mention the acts themselves; somehow there just hadnât been time today.
Stepping out into the Watchtower, Bruce was maybe just possibly anticipating the magicianâs reaction, in a dark way. Let someone else have a bad day for a change.
The poor man had been so upset with the idea that Bruce might ask questions about the realms. The fact that the United States had declared a kill order on all its occupants was not going to go over well.
And all that sass and defensive aggression could be pointed at someone other than Bruce for a while.
Actually? He should wait until Constantine was sitting down. He could add it to his meeting notes, bring it up to the whole League at once.
There would be someone on site if the magician actually fainted.
Or if Bruceâs head actually exploded.
Bruce made a mental note to check their medical supplies and defences, in case there were any unpredictable reactions. He could swing by the infirmary before they got started.
Giving Constantine a quick parting nod, he turned away from the hall and walked quickly towards the infirmary. Just to check in.
Todayâs meeting was just the Justice League, with Constantine as the sole representative of JL Dark; Darkâs members all seemed to know about the Infinite Realms and Amity Park already. They didnât need the briefing.
Theyâd have to read Bruceâs meeting notes now though. The same ones he was fully aware most members of the League just ignored, considered wasteful paperwork.
They expected to be told directly if something was important. As if he had all the time in the world, and they had no personal responsibility.
The lights thrummed softly as he walked, all the little noises of the satelliteâs systems ticking over in perfect order helping Bruce settle into his purpose.
Jasonâs report had been thorough, and though Bruce could easily see the bias around his sonâs words⊠in this case it was more than justified.
The wording used to describe Jason and others like him in the acts contained less expletives, but were no better. The veneer of detachment only made the disdain shine through more clearly.
As if his son were beneath contempt. If Jason were to be believed (and Bruce would confirm with Constantine and Shazam) then most of his family were ecto-contaminated.
It was almost nice to have a tangible problem to solve. An enemy he could face and defeat in simple, easy manoeuvres. It was unlikely to be a physical fight, but that hardly mattered.
The delicate machinations of politics were better left to Wonder Woman, Aquaman, damn near anyone but Batman. No, Bruce Wayne was far more influential in that arena.
A little money in the right places, press coverage, a big âhimbo with a heart of goldâ performance. They werenât his preferred weapons, but he knew they were effective.
And for Jason, there was nothing at all he wouldnât do.
Purpose and the time limit combined hastened his step, his cloak billowing around him as he stalked the halls of the Watchtower. The infirmary was empty; always good.
Their stocks were full, and there were three nurses on duty that Bruce had personally selected. He trusted all of them, and none looked worried at his visit.
Batman was well known for overpreparing. It always came in useful.
He was just making his way back towards the meeting hall, feeling markedly better himself with a firm goal in mind, when Superman rounded the corner ahead of him.
The man of steel was heading his way, worry writ large on his face. If heâd heard Bruceâs talk with Harley⊠actually, if heâd been able to overhear Constantineâs talk with Jason, that would be very useful.
Bruce prepared a few brief words to reassure his friend as succinctly as possible, and get them both moving back towards the meeting. They could actually talk afterwards.
He never got to say them. Superman ignored his little nod of greeting and hurried up to him, standing close enough that they couldnât be overheard. Blocking Bruceâs path.
A thrum of dread wormed its way back into Bruceâs heart as he looked up into his friendâs earnest, deep blue eyes.
Clark kept his voice low, urgent and concerned as he whispered five words that shattered the world.
âBruce? I canât hear Jasonâs heart.â
âââââââââ
đ
Now quick, for extra bonus points, who can name what was supposed to happen at some point in the last two chapters and didnât? This is your chance for a treat from the beginning of the next chapter
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Next chapter!
#danny fenton dead and loving it#dp x dc#dead on main ship#danny x jason#chapter 15#iâll take the highway#the highway to heeeeeeeeeell/The Ghost Zone#anyway rip to bruce wayne but i would simply not tell my son he canât have nice things#iâm just built different#so is harley#and she has a bat#and a bat-shaped problem#fuck iâm so looking forward to the start of the next chapter itâs a joke iâve been waiting on for months#hint: sam#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp
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My love is like the sea: returning, as the tide...
Archives of American Art
Title from first line of poem. Poem is inscribed: To my friend B. F. [Beatrice Fenton]; May 1915; Marjorie D. Martenet
Marjorie D. Martinet. My love is like the sea: returning, as the tide, 1915 May. Beatrice Fenton papers, 1836-1984. Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.
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Found out there's a thing called OC-tober and I want to participate! I'm not really going to be following any prompts or post on any sort of schedule (especially since I didn't have time to prepare anything), but I've got more than enough OCs, so I figured I'd throw my hat into the ring.
First up: one of my Danny Phantom OCs, Ramona Sanchez
Ramona is Paulina's paternal cousin and roughly the same age (only a few months apart). She's very outdoorsy, loves hiking and exploring tide pools, is a geek and loves going to conventions and renaissance fairs.
After her mother died, her father moved Ramona and her younger twin brothers from the Bay Area to Amity Park to be closer to the rest of his family once the school year was over.
It's been an... adjustment for them all, and Ramona suffers from some parentification, being expected to take care of the home and her brothers while her dad worked. Her dad had hoped to take some of the pressure off of her by moving closer to his brother and family, but not much has changed.
It was one hell of an adjustment for Paulina, too. While she got to move into a bigger house (which was awesome), it's gone from just her and her dad to her, she also has to share with her tĂo and three cousins.
Because of this, Ramona and Paulina fight constantly. It's not uncommon to find the two of them screaming at each other in spanish behind the bleachers at lunch. Ramona because she's sick of Paulina trying to change her, and Paulina because Ramona is a geek and ruining her reputation.
But no one else is allowed to talk bad about the other. No one. Anyone who dares to talk bad about her cousin will find themselves facing down their full fury. Paulina lit into Dash when he called Ramona a "freak" and Ramona has blown up at Sam multiple times over comments made about Paulina.
Having a fresh, outside perspective, Ramona clocks Danny Fenton as Danny Phantom pretty quickly and joins the team as the "underground medic" since she's had the most first aid experience (bandaging up brothers after pee wee football, and her dad is a doctor).
This pisses Paulina off because it now means the biggest losers at Casper High keep coming over to her house. It also causes an insane amount of jealousy after she walked in on Ramona stitching up a shirtless Phantom in their bathroom.
Random Facts in no particular order:
Gets along the best with Tucker since they're both cosplaying comic book geeks
As much as Paulina insults her lack of fashion, she comes in to steal Ramona's "hobo clothes" (extra large sweats) all the time because they're super comfy
Ramona and Paulina are nearly identical, so Ramona does her best Paulina impression to tease Danny a lot. He does not appreciate it
She has the biggest crush on Fright Knight. He's a literal knight in shining armor! Paulina teases her, but supports her
Paulina and Ramona get along a lot better behind closed doors and have a much better relationship than most would guess
Ramona is still in charge of getting her little brothers to and from pee wee football
Ramona's cosplay makeup has gotten much better since moving to Amity Park... because Paulina does it
Fun Fact: Ramona started out as a self insert before I fleshed her out, and her relationship with Paulina's was inspired by an IRL relationship with one my cousins.
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thinking of danny phantom aus and just headcanon stuff
pomegranate rules: eat enough ectoplasm/become contaminated enough and you will be stuck in the ghost zone(yall come get your Persephone hades au)
frozen au: Elsa! Danny and Anna!Jaz, Danny at his coronation as ghost king accidentally does some stuff that jeopardizes the kingdom out of pure anxious nerves
what if clockwork had a human alter ego and his sole income would be from predicting lottery numbers and stock prices making him practically the god of wall street, no one wants to play poker with him and he does palm reading on the side just for fun as a treat (only he can't read palms but as a time ghost he literally is omnipotent barring time stream altering events, now if only he would give clear advice and not cryptic sestinas)
pirate and merman au: mermaid shifter Danny, his parents are still scientists and want to study 'the humanoid fish monsters' only this is like the eighteenth century so their tools are just nominal torture devices and to escape he stows away on a ship, but it sinks, but he turns into a mermaid and lives! there he meets other mermaids and deep sea creatures but they don't like him for being only half a mermaid. it takes a while and meeting both jerks and nice people in equal measure but eventually he learns to embrace a piece of his identity fully. skip forward to 'x' amount of time later and he finds out that his sister set sail to find him but somehow became a pirate along the way. they meet and they talk there's feelings everywhere and Danny after so long just being a mermaid finds balance as a mermaid shifter with a foot on the sand and one in the tide but never far from either
coffee shop au: dan must do community service as a means to make up for his crimes, it's in the form of a coffee shop (somehow)(don't question it). but apparently he gets a little too into it and when someone asks why he's still there his response is 'what do you mean I've completed my community service years ago?' so in the end he's just some ghost with a magic coffee shop that shows up everywhere(maybe across dimensions even cough cough dcxdp crossover nudge nudge cough cough)
funny summons scenarios: one book said the summoner needed two hundred cursed idols arranged in a circle, they use Furbys and it works. Danny is terrified when he sees where he is and as a consequence his eldritch powers affect the electronics within the dolls and sets them on fire which terrifies him even more. it's a vicious cycle that only ends until he's burned them down into slag
dcxdp de-aged Danny: somehow Danny is de-aged maybe it was some accident from when Danny was helping clockwork clean his house or something, or maybe the Fenton parents made an ectoplasmic vacuum and sucked away some of Danny's ectoplasm causing his body to use its remaining mass to stabilize itself by making him a kid again. and it will be too hard to explain so cue jazz running away to Gotham with Lil Danny so their parents don't dissect him because this kid can't hide his powers for the half-life of him. and somehow she bumps into Talia or Bruce (take your pick) they hit it off while talking about kids and somehow it ends up as a scheduled playdate while Jaz also somehow becomes eligible for more programs (totally not through the good-hearted intentions of a super-secret assassin or gothic detective.)
dpxdc childhood rivalries: the Fentons went to college with this guy named bruce it was a shame he left so soon into the school year but they got on really well and even stayed in touch on and off through the years which led to lots of playdates between their families. but in dicks case he was a circus kid he could do a heckabunch of stuff and jazz even when being much younger had a competitive streak a mile wide it was a lighthearted competition but they both knew there could only be one victor. only Danny at the time just thought it was regular fighting, he and Jason had a sword fight only they used the antiques off the wall (Alfred was very displeased). by the time Tim came around the Fentons had fallen out of contact for a bit but eventually they go introduced to Tim hew as nice but between college student Jaz fourteen and a half Danny that still had to come to terms with half dying it wasn't great but it was a fun summer eventually. it's a Fenton Wayne family rivalry at this point and when Damian comes along and hears about it trust me when I say that it has been on site ever since. Danny drinking his coffee? stabbed. only for his opponent to either bend out of the way or just walk away just before he stabs Danny and Danny just says 'nice swing'. Danny sitting on the couch in the library reading a book? he's dropping down from the curtains only to be snatched up like a kitten and shown memes on Danny's phone instead. and when Bernard comes into the picture just witnessing all these feats of skill and ingenuity, and this is it. this is what makes him think that 'oh god these guys could be the batclan but wait whos this guy then?' Bernard searches but gets nothing and at the point where he just asks Danny to his face about which vigilante he is, and the response? "oh that was like three or four years ago, I'm retired don't tell anyone though my secrets is so illegal and dangerous you don't even want to know' and best of all is the Fentons, they are all clueless. they have no idea that the Wayne family is the batclan. it's a surprise to Danny but the thing is that he can't even consider it after all dick screamed at finding a caterpillar in his hair, Jason sneezes like a kitten and sure he might have the rage to put ten heads in a duffel bag but that dude? no, he gets sympathy pain from the tiniest things, it was like he was the one getting stitches rather than Danny after their failed sword fight. and Tim Tim? the guy that drowns in his oatmeal and once he gets to his eighth red bull starts speaking in ones and zeros? no none of these people could be vigilantes at all. and don't even think about saying bruce is batman the 'butts match' was a shitpost eight years ago and no one wanted to talk about bruce's butt, especially after the incident of '98 there was so much blood, also Danny remembers bruces thirty-second birthday, it was an escape room and the only way they all got out was through complete dumbassery and somehow abandoning their left socks, not. a single brain cell was used that day
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Some amazing art from @cheesekatze for my story âFenton Tidesâ a Danny Phantom MLB crossover!
This is art of Danny and Finn and Riptide in his suit! I love it so much itâs so adorable đ©”đŠđ©”
#dannyfenton#danny phantom art#fanart#ao3#danny fenton gets a miraculous#shark miraclous#oc miraculous#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir#fanfiction fanart#fanfiction crossover#thank you so much
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And the pairings are here!
These pairings are random (because that's what's winning the poll right now and I'm impatient)
Please respectfully tell me if I got any names wrong or anything of that sort, I'm not familiar with all of these characters.
Day 1
(Dropping shortly!)
Wall-E and Eve VS Rainbow Dash and Applejack Inkling Girl and Inkling Boy VS Swiper Haruka and Minori VS Tigger and Eeyore Aroace Flag VS Naruto and Sasuke Kageyama and Hinata VS Tony the Tiger and Captain Crunch Handy and Petunia VS Fireboy and Watergirl Popuko and Pipimi VS Filbo and Journalist Leo and Mikey VS Rei and Asuka Sans and Papyrus VS Madeline Fire VS Ahsoka Tano Firestar and Bluestar VS Wheatley and Chell Heat Miser and Snow Miser VS Sailor Venus Lichen Bag Moth VS Donald and Goofy Tide Pod VS Mordecai and Rigby Gumbal and Darwin VS Bluey and Bingo Aang and Katara VS Bandana Waddle Dee
Day 2
Inky and Clyde VS Cyndaquil Finn and Jake VS Garfield and Jon Crash Bandicoot VS Jane and Dirk Dory and Marlin VS Tsunami and Clay Octodad VS Tyrone Benrey and Gordon VS Earth and Sun Childe VS Lapis and Jasper One Specific Part of Colors of the Sky VS Maddie and Jack Fenton Goku VS Rotom Blue Portal and Orange Portal VS Abby Bominable and Heath Burns Orange Crewmate and Cyan Crewmate VS Deoxys Dorian Storm VS Atlas and P-Body Sonic and Tails VS Vriska and Tavros Perry the Platypus VS Glamrock Freddy Mudkip VS Orange Juice and Toothpaste Orange Crewmate and Blue Crewmate VS Wander and Sylvia
#blueandorangebracket#blue and orange#wall-e and eve#Rainbow Dash and Applejack#inklings#Swiper#Haruka and Minori#Tigger and Eeyore#Aroace Flag#naruto and sasuke#kageyama and hinata#tony the tiger and cap'n crunch#handy and petunia#fireboy and watergirl#popuko and pipimi#filbo and Journalist#leo and mikey#rei and asuka#sans and papyrus#madeline#fire#ahsoka tano#firestar and bluestar#wheatley and chell#heat miser and snow miser#sailor venus#lichen bag moth#donald and goofy#tide pod#mordecai and rigby
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The What Tournament?!
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gK6ia3E by Whymustwedolife Every 100,000 years, the Infinite Realms under the aegis of the Ghost King conducts a multiverse level tournament. The strongest of the strong compete in a vicious competition for a chance at the grand prize, a wish from The Majesty as well as the one time use of the Zeroth Hour, a deus ex machina that can turn the tide of any Event, Time, Space and even certain Death. No one can refuse such a glorious reward, not even their greatest foe, as the Justice League soon learns. Words: 1099, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 5 of DP X DC Fandoms: Danny Phantom, DCU (Comics), DCU Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Darkseid (DCU), Steppenwolf(Implied presence), Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman), Clark Kent, Arthur Curry (DCU), Barry Allen, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), J'onn J'onzz, Billy Batson, John Constantine Relationships: Justice League members and Justice League Dark Members, Justice League and Darkseid Additional Tags: Inspired by Yu Yu Hakusho, Ghost KIng conducts a tournament and the rewards are incredible, Darkseid immediately dips from battle cos he's better places to be, and prizes to win, Justice League is flabbergasted, thats it, thats the fic, go home, Ghost King Danny Fenton, can't believe i almost forgot that tag read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gK6ia3E
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excerpt from the next chapter of "my resistance was once much stronger (i can't go on like this much longer)"
haven't posted ghost light in a while, so here's an excerpt to tide people over! i'm making slow but steady progress
****
Jazz frowned, watching Danny intently from over the rim of her mug. He shouldâve been ecstatic that Mateo was here. They had been inseparable during Thanksgiving, attached at the hip, hands never very far from each other.
Now, though. Now, he was standing by the coffee maker, staring intently at the quietly spitting pot while Mateo chatted animatedly with Ellie at the table. Her frown deepened. He should be leaning over Mateo, hands crossed across his chest as he teased their little sister about whatever topic it was today. But he wasnât, and it was starting to bother Jazz. He wasnât even making love-sick eyes at him like he usually did.
Jazz looked up from her intense study of her brother as Maddie walked into the kitchen. Mateo tilted his head back to greet her with a warm smile, and Ellie chirped a greeting in Ghost. Danny didn't move from where he was staring off into space in the vague direction of the coffee maker. Jazz pressed her lips into a thin line.
âSweetie?â Maddie made her way over to Danny, the same small frown Jazz wore crossing her face. âYou okay?â
She placed her hand at the top of his shoulder, rubbing from one side to the other slowly.
It was like Danny unpaused. He straightened up and blinked, taking in a deep breath. He turned to face Maddie and forced a smile onto his face. It didnât reach his eyes. Jazz took a delicate sip from her mug.
âIâm fine, Mom.â
âAht!â Mateo cried from the table, scrambling up. The three other Fentons stared at each other in confusion, while Danny just looked resigned. He grabbed a jar from his backpack hanging off the chair and then held it out to Danny as he came to stand in front of him. Her little brother glared at his boyfriend.Â
A silent conversation played out between them. Mateo was grinning, a mischievous spark in his eyes. He wiggled the jar in Dannyâs direction, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
âCome on, you agreed to it. You know the rules,â he said, which did not clear up the mystery for the other three individuals in the room.
âTeoâŠâ he whined, wrinkling his nose. âIâm not even lying this time!â
Mateo fixed him with a flat, unimpressed look and stepped closer. Jazz quickly averted her gaze, locking eyes with Ellie as she did. Maddie drifted away, headed towards the lab. She could talk to her kids later. There was obviously something going on between those two, and she did not need to be apprised of the details.
Jazz made her way over to the kitchen table to shoo Ellie out, so as to give her brother and his boyfriend space in the very public kitchen. Ellie pouted, but Jazz held onto her shoulder, firmly, and pushed her out of the kitchen in front of her. They didnât need to be a part of whatever conversation was about to happen, and she intended on keeping ghostly little sister out of it.
Neither of the boys had noticed everyoneâs quiet, subtle departure. Mateo closed the distance between them until only the jar separated them, his eyes never wavering from Dannyâs.
âYou said the words, you pay the fine.â He tapped the jar against Dannyâs chest, grinning at the weak pun. Dannyâs lip twitched up at it, but the smile didnât stay or reach his eyes. It hurt Mateoâs heart to see him so morose.
âAlright, alright,â Danny finally relented. He leaned into Mateo as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, though Mateo knew for a fact that he hadnât put it in there before coming downstairs. He pulled a dollar out of it and folded it into the jar. âThere, better?â
âNo,â Mateo said, his grin widening. âYou still have to pay the rest of the fine.â
Danny scoffed, ignoring the way his heart soared at seeing Mateo so happy and light. âWhat?! Teo, the rules were, you say the words, you pay the dollar fine! There is nothing else.â
âNuh-uh,â Mateo insisted as he set the jar aside. âYou owe me a kiss.â
Even with all of the sadness and grief hanging on him, Danny couldnât help the smile that broke through.
âIs that so?â He curled his arms around Mateo to close the distance between them completely. âDoes this apply to anyone who has to pay the fine or just me?â
âJust you.â Mateo tilted his head back, sliding his hands up to lock his fingers behind Dannyâs neck, ignoring the way his left arm tugged weird in his cast.
Danny couldnât think of anything else clever to say, so he just kissed him. He knew he had been too distant from Mateo, distant enough people had started to notice (Jazz had never been subtle). But how was he supposed to leave him when every touch, every kiss drew him back and made it harder to remember why he had to leave in the first place?
Mateo pushed up onto his toes, deepening the kiss when it felt like Danny was going to pull away.Â
âNo,â he murmured, stroking his fingers through Dannyâs hair before using his grip to tug him forward. âYouâre not paid up yet.â
Another fleeting smile against his lips, and Danny finally let himself wrap his arms around Mateo. He slumped forward into him, the weight that had been hanging around his neck dissipating for the briefest of seconds.
Mateo pulled away then, shifting until he was rubbing his thumbs along the sides of Dannyâs neck. âAre you sure youâre okay?â He didnât want this to turn into an argument, but something twinged in his chest at Dannyâs silence. âYouâve just been really quiet lately, Danny. And youâre never quiet.â
Dannyâs brief smile twisted to the side in a grimace. He dropped his forehead until it rested against Mateoâs, closing his eyes for a moment. He didnât want to talk about it, and he didn't want Mateo to tell that something was wrong. He always read Danny like an open book, which was so not fair.
âIâm trying, Teo,â is all he said. âIâm trying to-- to-- Iâm just trying, okay?â
It wasnât an answer, not really, but it was the best he could do. Mateoâs lips thinned as he stared at Dannyâs face. His Core itched at not knowing what was wrong, and it demanded he learn what it was making Danny so sad, but he couldnât. Not without pushing too far. He sighed and leaned harder into Danny.
âLet me help you, please.â He pressed his forehead harder against Dannyâs. âYou donât have to do this alone.â
Danny brought one of his hands up to cradle the back of Mateoâs head, holding him tight against himself. He wanted to tell him everything, tell him every single thing that had been weighing him down since Dan had broken free from the Thermos. Tell him about all of the guilt that stole his breath and made him feel heavier than he ever did as a human.
But he couldnât. He couldnât, not now, not ever. Not if he wanted Mateo safe. His hand spasmed on the back of his neck, and he swallowed a rather ghostly whine. He needed Mateo safe more than anything else.
âI know,â he whispered into the infinitesimal space between them. âI know, stellumo.â All of the other words he wanted to say were clogged in his throat. Ash laced his tongue with all of the lies he knew he was telling, just by pretending everything was okay. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
âI promise, Iâll be fine.â
Mateo scoffed at the intentional distraction, but decided to let the redirection slide. There was no way he was going to get an answer out of Danny right now. Whatever it was that was bothering him, he was going to double down on it, it seemed.Â
Instead, he just whispered, âThatâs another dollar, mister.â
Danny laughed, if only to hide his tears, and kissed Mateoâs nose. âWhat, no kiss this time?â
âOh no, you have to pay double for that one.â A grin warmed his words and a slow smile grew on Dannyâs face. This time, it stayed.
âI think I can manage thatâŠâ
#ghost light#the world is having more fun than me tonight series#danny phantom#ecto writes#ecto fics#my au#theyre so bad at communicating
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Cam Ward Carries His Team, Trust Issues With Oregon & Georgia Ranked Above Alabama?
0 Caroline Fenton, Jason Fitz and Adam Breneman conclude Week 6 of college football with Miamiâs comeback on the road against Cal in what could be the decisive game so far for Cam Wardâs Heisman campaign. The latest AP poll ranks Georgia ahead of Alabama even though the Bulldogs lost in a painful loss to the Crimson Tide less than 10 days ago. Both teams are 4-1 but one lost to the other, so howâŠ
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