#no beta we die like Danny

[flamingpudding]

Jail Buddies

Once a month, Jason makes an effort to meet Dick on purpose. Sometimes even more. After all, he was a good little brother checking in with his brother. Though he had a rather uncontroversial way of doing so. One that involved getting led into a jail cell of your local police department and loudly demanding to speak to Officer Grayson.

Okay, maybe it wasn't like that it was an effort to check on his brother and just one of his many listed dumb moments of recklessness he got caught for. And he was maybe using his brother to get out without having to call Cass, Steph, Duke, Tim, Damian, Alfred or Bruce, in that order depending who was willing to bail him out every time Dick had his 'Little Wing you won't learn if I keep bailing you out.'-Phases again. Or if Dick was being petty because of a recent prank war.

Either way, while Jason was waiting for Dick to make his entrance in his cell he noticed the teen boy sharing the cell with him staring at him wide eyed. He arched an eyebrow, and decided on a whim to make friendly conversation.

"So what got you here kid?"

The teen blinked as if just realizing Jason had addressed him before grinning a bit feral, his blue eyes having an unnatural glow. "Vandalism."

Jason's eyebrow rose again, but the teen continued.

"Trashed mu place and gave my guardian's car a pretty paint job and some other stuff."

"You vandalized your own place? And got arrested."

"Fruitloop decided an overnight stay was a better punishment then leaving me unattended."

The teen shrugged and Jason couldn't help but feel like he just had heard a red flag. He opened his mouth to question the kid more but than his brother finally made his entrance.

"Little Wing! What did you do this time!?" Jason could see that Dick was out to start a rant but changed tunes when he noticed the teen.

"Danny or Dan? You are here again? When did they bring you in? Trouble at home?" Dick asked, and Jason clearly saw the telltale signs of information fishing bat style.

"Danny and the usual." Danny, as Jason now learned the kid's name was, shrugged nonchalantly like this wasn't the first time he and Dick had had that exchange.

"Seriously buddy? I had a rebellious phase as teen too but to regularly trash your home to the point that someone calls the police or vandalize your guardian's cars, buildings, advertisements or anything that has to do with him is not a solution kid." Jason arched an eyebrow at Dicks tone, feeling slightly reminded of whenever Dick lectured one of them.

"Oh I know. But it's a nice stress reliever, plus you guys are nice here. I get pizza as dinner whenever I stay the night." The kid grinned and Jason couldn't help the snort that earned him a little glare from Dick.

Instead of arguing further his brother let out a suffering sigh and let Jason out of the cell, waving him towards the exit and following him shortly after giving the kid one more look that looked like a mix between stern and pleading to stop being a rebellious teen.

Once out of earshot, Jason then chose to ask. "So what's the kid's deal?"

"Nothing, just a rebellious teen reminds me of Damian when he first appeared. He has a twin and a little sister as far as I know, both of them also known here. Their guardian is an upstanding man, though." Jason heard the hidden but.

"Did someone look into it?" He hummed more as a cover.

"Higher ups don't know, but i am running an investigation." Translation Bruce is unaware, but Dick was using Bat resources for looking into the kid's residence.

"Nice kid, didn't think he was a regular." He only commented.

"Nice and polite, you wouldn't think he did some of the things he was brought in for. Distrustful though, despite his friendly nature."

Jason nodded as Dick went through the papers to bail him out, a thought popping up in his head. Clearly, something was up with the kid that had his brother worried, and it looked like he was stuck on just doing his investigation. So, being the thoughtful little brother he was, Jason decided to help his brother.

In his uncontroversial ways, of course.

"Yo Danny, also here?" Jason grinned as he was led into the same cell the teen was in a week later.

[starsintheskyandtheeye]

Respect for the Dead

By Lois Lane and Clark Kent

1,436 words

By now most of the world has been shaken by the news.

Ghosts are real! And ghosts are in danger! The original publication written by Lois Lane can be found here but we are not here to follow that well trodden avenue of discussion.

Here at the Daily Planet we have elected to focus on speaking to the ghosts themselves, rather than debate their existence alongside our fellow papers. During the hunt for the new source of Kryptonite that sparked this discovery Lois Lane made contact with one Danny Phantom. Originally he chose to anonymous but since the outpouring of support from much of the world he has since chosen to come forward publicly.

Given that the ghostly teenager is operating as a hero similar to our own Superman much of his personal history could not be shared. What was safe to share however was very different from what this reporting team had been expecting.

We had gone in prepared to hear the story of what caused a ghost that looks like a schoolboy to lead a life of ghostly vigilantism.

What we got was sweetly sarcastic individual giving us amusing anecdotes of his start as a hero, descriptions of the stranger habits he's gained since his death, and many many tips on how to politely interact with a ghost. At our confusion (who knew there were so many different types of ghost!) Phantom went on to explain and correct several common misconceptions about ghosts. So without further ado; here are the highlights of that discussion.

We begin with what was given to us as the number one rule of human/ghost etiquette. Never ask the individual, be they glowing werewolf, ghostly lunch-lady, or undead rock star, about the circumstances of their death.

It seems simple does it not? A matter of everyday politeness, and yet that is the number one reason for communication breakdowns between ectoplasmic entities and still living humans. Fortunately for the health of the interview this reporting team did not make that mistake. Phantom did not explain the nature of the offense but did not need to. It was clear that the, until then, friendly conversation would have ended abruptly if we had gone any farther down that path.

What we were encouraged (and warned) to talk to a ghost about was their obsession. As Phantom explained, "It's what drives a ghost, why we are still here, or why we formed at all."

When asked about his own obsession Phantom laughed a bit and said, "I'm a bit young for a ghost, so I don't really have one yet, I bounce around a lot. My doctor, he's a yeti, says it's normal for me though! The options are all over the place though. I know one ghost that haunts the high school to prevent bullying, a really nice guy. Another just wants to have her music heard by the world. Unfortunately her music brainwashes people to love her so we aren't super close. Or another that is all about granting wishes, but not in a singing blue genie way, in a fairy tale way, it's a mess whenever she gets over here."

That seems to be a common theme in ghostly/human interaction. Ghosts largely mean no harm but the pursuit of their own obsessions can have devastating effects on any that stand between them and their goal. Something to keep in mind if you're ordering pizza when the Box Ghost is at large.

Hoping it wouldn't cross into the realm of ghostly faux pas we went on to ask how old Phantom is. Once again Phantom seemed somewhat awkward although no more than what seemed to be his baseline when talking to (self claimed) famous reporters, saying only, "Time works differently in the realms. It can be really weird sometimes, you'll be talking to someone that looks like a toddler only to learn that they were last in a human world during the 1400s or something."

As Phantom continued to share however, the everlasting aspect seemed to be the least interesting part of the Infinite Realms, or the Ghost Zone as the Doctors Fenton, previously mentioned as ghostly experts here, call the place where the vast majority of ghosts dwell.

Ghostly yetis practicing medicine, while certainly not the least of the inhabitants were just the start. Phantom went on to share with us a sampling of the being he has encountered in his travels, medieval women moonlighting as temperamental dragons, the very concept of time, a warden of any ghosts that cross his path, and of course the ubiquitous creepy toddler so often featured on the silver screen.

According to Phantom up until extremely recently (whether by ghostly or human terms we were unable to determine) the Infinite Realms was closed off from our own home except for the occasional haunting. Which was explained to us by the telling of what was, to Phantom, a very funny joke about pop culture influencing ghost culture as people died and brought it over with them. From this we can glean several things. That the realms of the living and the dead have never been so far apart as it would have seemed to the living. That the near future will hold many changes as major religions, governments, and the common people hear what the dead have to say as they weigh in on what respect for the dead really means. And that while many things do translate, ghostly humor is not one of them.

Although of course that may be that, despite his real age being possibly many times our own - combined, Phantom is still eternally a teenager. And a teenagers jokes are often incomprehensible to any who do not share that state.

When asked about the sudden ghostly interest in our own living Earth Phantom had this to say, "Lots of ghosts want to go to the lands of the living. Especially anyone that used to be alive themselves. And anyone that didn't is curious what the fuss is about. Earth is so different from the ghost zone but it's still where a lot of us came from. If someone gets a chance to hop through the portal they'll go, to see how things have changed, or to keep things from changing, or just to stretch their obsessions. Really it's a chance to go home, just for a little while," he said, reminding us that for all they look like aliens ghosts are just as human as you or I.

With a few caveats.

The portal Phantom spoke of is an invention by the Doctors Fenton, Ectobiologists. Up until recently Jack and Maddie Fenton had been the worlds foremost ghostly experts, building a portal to the "Ghost Zone" in order to study what up until recently had been considered to be a non-sentient classification of emotional ectoplasmic imprintation.

We spoke to the researchers after our interview with Phantom, at his request. Despite the recent evidence come to light the couple remain the foremost (living) human scientists in the field. When asked about the setback to their work they had this to say, "We were devastated of course. To learn that we won't be able to study spooks -" Jack Fenton broke off there, at an extremely well executed elbow jab from Maddie Fenton who then said. "We got an extreme tunnel vision, a hazard of obsessive science. We were told we were wrong about the existence of ghosts for so long that we forgot to check that we were correct about their nature. We look forward to pivoting to ghostly anthropology and human/ghost interaction technology."

Ultimately we did not learn any groundbreaking secrets, but then if a ghost willing to go on record ( a written record at least, our recorded transcript of the conversation was near unusable due to static) you sit down and listen. We can never anticipate what a reader will take from an article but if we could make a suggestion? In this reporting teams opinion, the balance of ghost and human realms is not unlike the inversion of a mirror. We are reflections of one another. Opposite, yes, and dangerous to one another for it, but ultimately we are all the same. After all what is a ghost but emotion and ectoplasm (according to current science)? And for all that we try to rise above it, what is a human but emotion and flesh?

Fin.

Coming Soon!

Keep an eye out for top ten tips on ghostly interaction and interviews with the Justice League on diplomatic efforts with GHOSTLY ROYALTY!!

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 5

Part 4

After collecting their bags from the library lockers Jazz led him down the hallway until she found a small, unlocked, empty classroom. The room was barren except for desks and a whiteboard. I guess they don’t bother locking it if there’s nothing worth stealing.

Jazz sat her messenger bag down on the teacher’s desk and pulled a whiteboard marker out of a side pocket.

“Right,” Jazz began, “I don’t know how much you know about ecto-entities and since, as you said, the reports on them tend to be pretty biased, I’m just going to start from scratch. Sounds good?” she rambled.

Tim hopped up onto the front row desk and tried his best to look like an attentive teacher’s pet.

“Yes, Ms Fenton,” he said cheekily.

Jazz gave him an amused look.

“Careful Mr Taylor, or you’ll end up in detention,” she said lightly. She turned to the whiteboard and gathered her thoughts for a moment, then wrote ECTO-ENTITIES in large block letters, “Many people refer to all ecto-entities as ghosts, but this is actually a misnomer. Ghosts as most people think of them, i.e. the restless spirits of the dead, are only a small subset of the ectoplasmic population. There’s plenty of them that were never human to begin with,” higher up on the board, she wrote INFINITE REALMS, “Ecto-entities originate from a parallel dimension to ours, which is called the Infinite Realms by its inhabitants. Though my parents refer to it as the Ghost Zone, that name is woefully inadequate.” Jazz paused and glanced at him.

“Kinda like foreigners renaming places instead of using the one in the native language, gotcha,” Tim nodded. They had dealt with alternate realities before, so this wasn’t completely out of left field. He would go along with it for now. Jazz gave him a small smile.

“That’s right!” she said and tapped the whiteboard, “Now, the Infinite Realms and our dimension are closely interconnected, like two sides of the same coin. Large scale damage to one would cause similar devastation on the opposite side and vice versa,” she gave him a serious look.

“Which makes the hostile attitude of the paranormal research community rather worrying,” Tim mused, “If someone did something stupid the blowback would hit us too,” If he wasn’t trained to read people he would have missed the slight tightening around Jazz’s eyes.

“That’s the theory anyway. And it’s not like the US government ever dropped bombs on people just to see what would happen,” she chirped with false cheeriness.

There’s a story there, Tim thought, and not the kind you would find in a history book. What the hell has been going on?

“I’m guessing getting access to the Infinite Realms isn’t as easy as calling an Uber though,” he joked.

“You’d be surprised,” Jazz said wryly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response, “there are places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin, allowing temporary rifts to form more easily, but they can pop up pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s what allows ecto-entities to enter our dimension. It’s also not unheard of for humans to stumble into the Realms either, though they’re lucky to return at all,” she twirled the marker between her fingers, “Time doesn’t seem to work the same way in the Realms as it does here. Just in case you ever come across one, make sure to leave through the same portal you entered. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded in the Middle Ages, or far in the future with everyone you know and love long dead.”

Tim had to fight to keep down a wince. The whole Bruce Lost In Time Debacle was still an emotional scar for the family, they really didn’t need a repeat performance.

“Duly noted.”

“Some entities are able to open and close rifts at will,” Jazz continued, unfazed by Tim’s dry tone, ”though that ability seems to be pretty rare. It probably requires an unusual level of power or incursions would be much more common.”

“That would explain the little disappearing trick Damian’s delivery guy pulled,” Jason murmured through Tim’s earpiece, “But does that mean we’re dealing with a fucking super ghost?”

Tim gave a thoughtful hum and drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk.

“Do you think humans could open a portal to the Realms?”

Jazz gave him a wry smile.

“You just summed up the bulk of my parents’ research over the last two decades. They managed to build a functioning portal about two years ago.”

Tim choked. Jason swore.

“What?! But that’s-! How is that not all over the news?!” Tim sputtered. Jazz just sighed.

“My parents have been ranting about ghosts since they were in college,” she said wearily, ”Most of the scientific community had written them off as crackpots years ago. It doesn’t help that large concentrations of ectoplasm generate some kind of interference that messes with recording equipment. Short of kidnapping the naysayers and shoving them bodily through the Fenton Ghost Portal it’s hard to prove anything. And thankfully even my parents aren’t that crazy,” she finished with an eye roll.

Tim buried his face in his hands. An interdimensional portal. What the fuck. He thought back on everything Jazz had told him so far.

“What’s ectoplasm?”

“You’ve been paying attention!” she smiled and added some notes to the whiteboard, “Ectoplasm is the basic building block of everything in the Infinite Realms, and by extension ecto-entities. Hence the name. It’s the equivalent of matter in our dimension; atoms, protons, quarks, etcetera. I’m not a physicist, so I can’t tell you exactly how it works, but that’s why ecto-entities are able to interact with our physical world in such fascinating ways. Flight, intangibility and invisibility are all common abilities for them.”

“Wow, what a fucking security nightmare. B is gonna freak,” Jason groused. Tim tuned him out to focus on Jazz’s continued explanation.

“My parents have been experimenting with using ectoplasm for power generation, but it’s proven extremely volatile. It seems like it’s affected by things like belief and emotion which is absolutely fascinating,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not to mention its effects on organic tissue. Have you ever had your dinner come to life and try to eat you?”

Tim had a sudden, horrible suspicion.

“Can’t say that I have,” he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, “Um… Jazz, what does ectoplasm look like?”

“Well that depends on what it’s been affected and shaped by but in its raw form it looks like a bright green, glowing liquid,” she tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”

Over the comms, Jason made a sound like someone had kicked him in the crotch.

“Lazarus water?! Is she talking about the fucking pits?!” he choked out.

Tim made a valiant effort to keep his own reaction in check.

“Oh, just wondering how I’ll recognize a ghost- er, ecto-entity when I see one,” he lied with fake casualness, “You mentioned something about powers?”

“Yes! All the entities we’ve encountered so far have exhibited powers which are common to their species, as well as additional powers that seem to depend on the individual core. I’ve theorized that powers develop as a response to stress related to either their Obsession or death trauma…” Jazz trailed off, “aaaaaand I’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I know I have a tendency to ramble,” she said sheepishly and considered the bullet points she had written so far, “Let me backtrack a bit. Not all ecto-entities are ghosts. There’s personifications of concepts, which I theorize are formed through the collective consciousness of living beings. They are entities which represent Hope or Justice or-”

“Time?” Tim interjected. Jazz gave him a calculating look.

“...sure. They are among the most powerful entities and have powers related to what they represent. I suspect they may have even been worshipped as gods at some point. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them,” at Tim’s nod, she continued, “There’s also the Neverborn, which are formed when ecto-entities choose to reproduce. They are entirely of the Infinite Realms, and thus were never ‘born’ into our world.”

“Ghosts can have children?” he said, surprised.

“Yes, although I’ve never been able to get the details on how it works. They don’t like to discuss it with outsiders. And considering they can look like dragons or disembodied floating eyeballs I’m not sure I’d want to know the exact mechanics,” she joked.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d disagree with you on that,” Tim muttered, then paused. “Wait, dragons?”

Jazz waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that there’s way more to the other side than most people realize. There’s probably lots of things I’ve never even heard of. It’s quite exciting, really!”

Tim worried about it. A lot. Jason had also gone suspiciously quiet.

“So, ghosts are just the tip of the iceberg?” Tim hedged.

“Exactly. What sets them apart from other ecto-entities is that they are usually created upon the death of someone or something from our dimension, which gives them motivation to come back here,” Jazz added more notes and arrows to the whiteboard. “All entities have something they call a core; think of it as their central organ or brain. It houses their consciousness, and its nature affects what powers they get. There’s all kinds of elemental cores like fire and water, but also more esoteric ones like shadow or technology. An ecto-entity’s body is composed of ectoplasm and moulded by their core. Their physical form is malleable and heavily based on their self-perception. With experience they can change shape to suit their needs.”

Tim mentally added shapeshifting to the growing list of powers to worry about. So far it sounded a lot like a Martian’s.

“So can ecto-entities grow and age?”

“It depends. The Neverborn usually do, but a lot of ghosts have a bit of a Peter Pan thing going on where they don’t want to. They are often ‘stuck’ at the age they were when they died, physically and mentally. Though there’s always exceptions.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. Something had been bothering him since ghosts had first entered the equation.

“Jazz, if ghosts don’t age or die, why aren’t they all over the place? Even if rifts are rare, shouldn’t there be hundreds of thousands of years worth of dead folks wandering the Earth?”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I never said ghosts couldn’t die, Adam,” she said carefully, ”And not everyone who dies comes back as a ghost. The ones who do typically have some unfinished business holding them back. Like an obsession they never got to fulfill, or a loved one they are watching over. Once they are done, they are free to move on to whatever Afterlife awaits them,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “It also takes a lot of energy for a ghost to do anything in our world. I think a majority of them never hit that level, or can’t keep it up for any significant amount of time. It’s also part of the reason my parents are so biased against them.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Think about it. Most ecto-entities are just like regular people, going about their business and keeping their heads down. The ones who are both motivated to cross into our world, powerful enough to manifest and tend to make themselves known are the troublemakers. It would be like an alien looking at the population of Belle Reve and concluding that the majority of humans must be super villains! It’s sample bias.”

Tim bit his lip. This all sounded worryingly plausible, which would mean a literal world of trouble about to come down on their heads. Fuck, just what we needed.

“You mentioned that ghosts can die. I assume you don’t mean from old age, right?” he queried. Jazz looked at him wearily.

“You’d be right. If an ecto-entity’s core is too badly damaged, they will cease to exist,” she said cautiously, “It doesn’t help that ghosts tend to maintain a strength based social hierarchy and are fiercely protective of their territory. Ecto-entities usually have a lair within the Infinite Realms, and those who cross over to our dimension often establish a haunt to call their own. Any intruders would be met with violence,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “My parents have also been developing weapons to fight ghosts with… varying degrees of success. A lot of their tech runs on ectoplasm which makes it pretty temperamental.”

Seeing Jazz’s obvious discomfort with the topic, Tim decided to switch tracks.

“Is there any way to tell for sure if my brother came back as a ghost?”

Relieved at the change, Jazz made a see-sawing motion with her hand.

“Kind of? My parents tried for ages to build a ghost detector but they never got it to work quite right. Too much ambient ectoplasm in Amity I guess,” she shrugged as if that statement wasn’t extremely worrying. “You could always grab a ouija board or something and try asking. Just… don’t ask a ghost about their death. It’s a major trauma for most of them and there’s no better way to send them into a frothing rage. If they volunteer the information that’s one thing, but to ask about it is like the social faux pas among ecto-entities.”

Tim nodded and made a mental note to get his hands on some Fenton tech. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week for him.

Jason and Tim didn’t speak until they were safely back in the car. Tim was mentally composing the report they would have to make to Bruce. He was not looking forward to his reaction.

“So,” Jason began with fake casualness, “an interdimensional portal in Illinois.”

“Yep.”

“Creatures made of fucking Lazarus Water.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And we still don’t know if our mystery meta is Bruce’s dead kid or not.”

Tim groaned.

“It all adds up though, doesn’t it? The camera glitching, the powers, the portal…”

“And that damned prophecy. The personification of Time, huh?”

Tim pinched his nose to stave off the growing headache. They contemplated the fucked up situation they had stumbled into in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jason sighed and started up the engine.

“Rock-paper-scissors for who has to tell B?”

Part 6

[escelia]

DP x DC PROMPT/FIC

Gotham Portal

(If you get the notif for this post like 2 days ago, no you didn't! I wasn't done yet! You were imagining things!)

Where the story takes place in Gotham instead of Amity Park, the Fentons having moved before the construction and testing of the Ghost portal due to the high saturation of ectoplasm in Gotham. So, Danny's accident ALSO happens in Gotham, except he has no support system at all.

Enter the Bats stage left!

Danny couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. His parents had uprooted their whole life to move to Gotham. They said they'd need all the ambient ectoplasm there for when they built their portal. Jazz had been thrilled! After all, Arkham was a shining beacon of mentally ill people, and Jazz was like a psychology moth to a flame; it would be the perfect place for her internship after college.

His parents had wasted no time assembling the portal from their blueprints in the basement of the run-down apartment building they'd bought outright just on the edge of Crime Alley, complete with the Ops Center parked right on top. They'd gutted the place and completely redone it before they moved in. (Danny had no idea when they accomplished that. Maybe they'd been planning it for a while and only thought to tell their children two weeks before moving day.) He was genuinely surprised the local vigilantes hadn't stopped by yet to ask questions.

But anyway, back to how he was royally screwed! He'd just wanted a cool picture for Sam and Tucker now that he'd moved away. His parents weren't home (they'd gone back to the hardware store after their last test), Jazz had stayed after school to try and butter up her new teachers by running a study group, and he'd been alone. He'd even followed all the safety precautions his parents had told him about! He'd put on the hazmat suit and tried not to touch anything. But he'd tripped.

Through the whirling of green and the static buzzing in his ears, he remembered screaming, though he hadn't recognized it as his own. Every nerve in his body was on fire, and he just wanted it to stop. Stop, please stop, why won't someone save me, please!

He woke up to the smell of burning flesh, but he woke up. He was okay! Disoriented, a little disgusted by the smell and throat a little raw, but okay!

At least he'd thought so at first.

He'd begun to... change colors? And float, he floated sometimes, too. But the most irritating of all was that he would go through things. Forks and glasses slipping, quite literally, right through his fingers.

He hadn't told his parents. He'd been fine, after all. A little shaken up, but they'd been so excited he'd gotten the portal to work, who was he to put a damper on the mood when he was fine?

That brought him to now, staring at the mirror in the school bathroom in horror. He'd fought his first real ghost that morning around breakfast. He'd kept it together fairly well, in his opinion. Got through three whole classes before making an excuse to the teacher, slipping off into the blessedly empty restroom.

He'd been getting better and better at controlling his form, and he transformed in front of the mirror, taking stock of his appearance.

Odd colored hair: check.

Bright glowing eyes: check.

Floaty hair: check.

Could walk through walls, disappear, and fly: check.

He raised his finger to his pulse point and felt... nothing.

"I died," he whispered to himself in shock. "I... died," he repeated, this time in despair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian Wayne was not usually one to keep tabs on his classmates. They weren't his friends, therefore he saw no point. However, the new kid, Daniel Fenton, had begun to act strange.

When Daniel Fenton enrolled in Gotham Academy it hadn't been anything special. He'd started the year a little last due to his family moving, but families moved for all sorts of reasons. He hadn't tried to immediately make friends with Damian like so many others had, much to his relief. But he hadn't tried to make friends with anyone else, either. Maybe he liked to be alone? It really wasn't his business.

But then the boy started getting skittish and clumsy. Clumsier than he had been when he started school. He'd developed a miniscule tremor in his left hand, so he'd probably sustained an injury. He began dropping things in Chemistry. So often, in fact, that he'd been banned from doing practical labs and was instead assigned extra book work.

If Damian had been anyone else, if he hadn't been raised by assassins or had his night work as Robin, he wouldn't have noticed. He wouldn't have followed Fenton to the bathroom under the guise of needing to see the school nurse for a headache. Perhaps if he were anyone else, Fenton might have noticed him following.

There was an alarming flash of light as Damian peered carefully around the corner. Fenton had changed forms. Something had happened to him.

"I died," he heard him say. Damian thought he was being dramatic until he watched him raise his fingers to his pulse point. His glowing eyes dilated in panic, and he repeated himself. He watched as his classmate, looking fragile and lost, curled in on himself floating in the air, and sobbed.

Damian didn't confront him that day. He watched, waited, and researched. He found the research of Dr's Fenton on ghosts and ectoplasm, most of which he was skeptical of up until actual ghosts started to torment them during patrols.

Ghosts were real, it appeared.

He also concluded that their findings on ectoplasmic entities being non-sentient and inherently malevolent was incorrect, having met the ghost of a little girl caught up in a rouge attack that killed her and her family.

Damian watched Daniel Fenton for about a week while he ditched class in a poorly hidden effort to fight and contain the ghosts that he and his family were having such a hard time dealing with. His father was even nearly considering contacting John Constantine, which was never his ideal solution. Damian had been rolling an idea around in his head for a while and he decided now would be the time to bring it up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner at the manor was more of a full table than Damian had expected. Not everyone was there, Jason's relationship with them was still a bit strained, so he was not in attendance, and neither was Stephanie. But Duke was home, and Dick was actually there early for patrol later. Tim was there, and so was Cass, so almost everyone.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat politely. "Father, I wish to recruit a new member."

The chatter around the room came to a halt, the clatter of silverware ceasing.

"What exactly do you mean, chum?" Bruce asked carefully.

"I have a classmate I believe would be a valuable asset in light of our trouble with ghosts recently. However, he has no training or support, so I'm asking for your assistance."

"Did... demon brat make a friend?" Tim asked bewildered and a little bit terrified.

"Tt. No, I've never even spoken to him." Damian rolled his eyes. "My classmate, Daniel Fenton, transferred to Gotham Academy about a month ago and started acting strange soon after. He came to school with a tremor and a Lichtenberg figure you can just barely see starting on his left hand and traveling up his arm. I believed he'd been in an accident, and my suspicions were proven when I saw him use meta abilities to ditch class and fight a ghost in the courtyard of the school. From my observations, they are newly acquired, but he has decent instincts and an inclination toward heroism. I believe it would be safer for everyone involved if we approached him first."

"What?" Tim muttered. Dick was smiling gently at him, though, as if he were doing something he was proud of.

"Do his parents know?" Duke asked. Damian scoffed.

"I highly doubt it."

"Wait, Fenton as in the ectobiologists?" Bruce asked. The ex-assassin nodded.

"And considering their research is not reflected in our own interactions with ghosts thus far, I do not believe we should tell them."

"Not safe?" Cass signed. Her brother shook his head.

"The abilities I've observed resemble that of a ghost. He even has an alternate ghostly form."

The implication that they'd be endangering him hung heavy in the air. They'd all seen the Fentons' research. It mostly consisted of theoretical analysis and blatant biases with a long list of proposed experiments they'd run if they ever caught one. They'd all agreed that the Fenton ghost hunters were not a viable option for their ghost problem, especially after seeing how they drove, which in itself nearly put them on the Bat's rogue list.

"We've been meaning to investigate the Fentons properly anyways," Dick pointed out.

Bruce attempted to massage a headache out of his temples. The stuff his kids stumbled into, really. But Damian was right. If his classmate was a new meta with no support, it was only a matter of time before the rogues zeroed in on him, and since his family lived there, he couldn't tell the kid to leave.

"I'm not saying yes just yet, but talk to him. Find out any more that you can."

"Of course, Father."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny finally felt like he was getting the hang of his ghost powers. He was pleasantly surprised, and also mildly horrified, that his parents' inventions actually worked on the ghosts he was now beginning to fight regularly. His favorite was by far the thermos, which did no ghost mutilating whatsoever.

He discovered he had a ghost sense and enhanced hearing and vision, which was cool and all, but now he could hear all the shitty things his classmates said about him behind his back. Which, rude! He didn't even talk to them, what did they have to be shitty about?

He also noticed that one of them, Damian Wayne, had been watching him. From what Danny had heard, Damian was the richest kid in school, a Wayne. Son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, to be exact. And his attitude reflected that. His standoffish, holier than thou rich guy attitude made Dash and Paulina look like they lived below the poverty line. Apparently, he generally didn't talk to anyone at school unless it pertained to class, so Danny saw no point in introducing himself.

That made it extra weird that Damian was following him.

It was right after lunch when a hiccup had a cold breath tumbling from his lips. He raised his hand and asked his teacher if he could use the restroom. He made his way to the bathroom on the other side of the building this time, hoping it would be too out of the way for Damian to follow. But soft rustling of his classmate's school uniform gave him away, no matter how imperceptible his footsteps were.

When he entered the restroom, he made his way to the sink instead, splashing some cold water on his face as Damian walked in behind him loudly as if announcing his presence.

"I know what you've been doing," he said confidently, crossing his arms and standing in front of the door so Danny couldn't leave.

"Oh, hey! Damian, right? I'm in most of your classes, but I don't think I've ever introduced myself. I'm-"

"Daniel Fenton, I know. You've been fighting ghosts." Damian had to give him at least a little credit; he'd become a great actor over the last week. Though, that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he probably didn't feel safe at home anymore.

"My parents are ghost hunters, but I don't think shooting a ghost in the face with a lipstick laser then running for my life counts as 'fighting ghosts'."

"Tt. You are lying."

"Dude, what are-?" Danny cut himself off when his words came with another misty breath. Crap! He'd taken too long!

The ghost of the day, an ugly, mutated, bird looking thing with claws at the ends of its wings and a full set of dangerous, pointed teeth, phased through the door behind Damian, poised to strike.

Without warning, Danny grabbed Damian's wrist and whipped him out of the way, throwing himself between the two. A green shield formed in front of him just as the bird slashed at them with one of its wings.

"Well, that's new," he said startled as the bird geared up for another attack.

Danny groaned at his miserable luck before throwing caution to the wind and transforming. He'd just have to force friendship upon one Damian Wayne in an attempt to keep him from telling anyone about his whole magical girl transformation. He tried to activate his shield again, but when nothing happened, he was flung across the room into the wall. God, this was embarrassing.

The next time the ghost tried to attack him, Damian yanked him aside in a dodge and bolted out of the bathroom with Danny in tow. He was dragged through the winding halls to one of the side exits of the school. In costume or not, Damian's priority was luring the ghost away from the other students.

"Hey, so uh, you won't say anything about this," he gestured wildly to himself, "will you?"

"Tt. Of course not, but I believe you have more important concerns at the moment."

“Right!” Danny patted at the sides of his hazmat suit. “Crap, I left my thermos in my locker!” He dodged another attack and retaliated with an ectoblast, trying to keep the ghost's attention off of Damian as much as possible.

"Your lunch? Really?" Damian shouted. Dang, Danny must have been doing a decent job if Damian had the spare time and attention to be exasperated with him.

"No! It's a containment device! Besides, ghosts are basically soup anyway!"

"Distract it," Damian instructed, "I'll retrieve the device." The boy took off. Danny had to wonder how he even knew where his locker was. The ghost tried to follow him, but Danny shot another blast at it.

"Hey ugly, auditioning to be one of Gotham's Birds? Sorry, but you don't really look the part." He had no idea if the creature could even understand him, but the way it turned to him and lunged again suggested it had done the trick. This time, his shield did work!

Danny could have cried tears of joy at finally having some consistency with it. The next few minutes of the fight felt like an eternity while he dodged and shot ectoblasts at it. The creature wasn't really that strong, and it didn't seem to have super dangerous abilities like some of the other ghosts he'd fought like Skulker or Technus. It ended up being a great opportunity to practice his new shield ability, actually. But he knew the longer he took, the more danger his classmates would be in.

The bird ghost slammed into his shield with a particularly vicious strike, slamming him into the ground and creating a small crater.

"Note to self, remember intangibility," Danny groaned.

In that moment he noticed a door opening on the school building. It was Damian! He was finally back with thermos in hand! Unfortunately, the other ghost noticed too.

"Oh no you don't!" Danny yelled, latching onto one of its feet as it tried to fly toward his classmate. He dug his fingers in hard and sunk into the ground partway to anchor himself.

"Big green button by the lid then the button immediately below it!"

Damian wasted no time popping the lid open and sucking the ghost into the device, the lid closing with a quiet pop. He had to admit, though the design was questionable, it was sturdy, light, and very clearly effective. He wondered if he could get away with sneaking off with this one to have drake examine later.

"That was some incredible timing, thanks." The ghostly form of his classmate floated over to him, taking the thermos from his hand. Damian did not pout.

"We should probably get out of here before the Fenton's show up." He could already hear the screech of tires and his dad's voice over the megaphone tearing through the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't worry honey, we'll catch that nasty ghost boy next time," Jack Fenton comforted his wife. True to form, the Fenton's had arrived to the scene late, and most of the damage to the school yard had been from their vehicle crashing into things upon their arrival. Parents had been called and classes ended for the day, which was how one Bruce Wayne found himself at Gotham Academy trying to help the teachers talk the two down from storming and searching the school.

His son was standing off to the side with one of his classmates. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, lanky frame; Bruce could have mistaken the child for one of his own, but looking between the hulking man in front of him and the kid standing next to Damian, the resemblance was obvious. That had to be Daniel Fenton, the meta his son had told him about. Which meant he'd been the one to deal with the ghost before anyone else had gotten there. The classmate Damian had suggested they recruit for his safety.

"Danno, did you see where that spook went? When I get my hands on him, I'll rip him apart molecule by molecule for even thinking of attacking your school!" Bruce saw Daniel's breath hitch with fear.

"Sorry, no. I was coming back from the bathroom when I saw him fighting another ghost through the window. I was scared so I hid," he lied, gripping his left wrist while he spoke.

Bruce was impressed. The boy's fear was real, and he used that to his advantage to really sell the lie to his parents. His heart ached for him. He couldn't imagine seeing any of his boys looking at him like that, with such fear and distrust.

"That's okay sweetie, we'll get him next time. We're just happy you're alright. Let's get you home," his mother comforted, though Bruce knew it wasn't very comforting at all.

"Yeah, we'll teach you to use the Fenton Bazooka," well that was horrifying, "that way next time you can just blast him!" Danny wanted literally anything else.

"Actually," Damian interrupted politely. "We were assigned a project in class earlier on the history of Gotham. As Daniel is relatively new to town, I offered to assist him with the assignment. Father, would it be acceptable for him to join us for dinner?"

Bruce would have been incredibly surprised his son was inviting someone over for dinner if he didn't see exactly what he was doing. Daniel wasn't safe at home. And he clearly wasn't comfortable with the way his parents spoke of the 'ghost boy'. If his defeated expression was anything to go by, it hadn't been the first time they'd said something like that, nor would it be the last.

"What do you think, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton? We'd love if Daniel could join us for dinner."

"Please, call us Maddie and Jack. That sounds wonderful Mr..."

"Wayne. Bruce Wayne, I'm Damian's father," he introduced. If the two recognized the name, they didn't show it. It worked out rather well in his favor.

"Mr. Wayne. If its not too much trouble, that would be wonderful. It's about time he made a new friend, he's been sulking since the move. Now, we have a ghost to catch!" Maddie planted a kiss on Danny's forehead, leaning her blaster on her shoulder as her and her husband made their way back to the homemade assault vehicle parked haphazardly on the lawn of the school.

"Be sure to call us if you plan on staying the night! We'll let Jazz know she doesn't have to worry about dinner for you! We love you, have fun sweetie!"

"Are they always like that?" Damian asked after the two had pulled away. How had those two even gotten their driver's license? It was truly abysmal, he dreaded the thought of anyone getting into a vehicle with them. And then there was the speed in which they'd dumped their son into their laps, even suggesting they'd be okay with him not coming home that night.

"They mean well, but yeah," Danny replied, heaving a sad and defeated sigh. "Thank you, by the way. For inviting me over, even if you didn't mean it. They can be a bit much."

"Clearly," Damian mused back.

Bruce watched the two interact and felt pride well up in his chest. Meeting the Fenton parents just once was enough to convince him that their son needed help, maybe even their daughter too. That Damian had taken the initiative to bring this to his attention, that he had stood up for Danny and offered his home as a sanctuary for him, made him so incredibly proud as a father. He wasn't as prickly with Danny the way he was with other people, even his own siblings. That was a very good thing indeed, considering it was looking more and more likely this would end with another adoption.

Maybe Clark was right, he did have an adoption problem.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 4

The living room and kitchen were deserted, neither Danny nor Jazz expected anyone as it was normal for their parents to essentially live in the basement only coming up for meals once or twice a month to ‘eat as a family’, these would consist mostly of fast food as no one trusted anything cooked in their kitchen.

They shared a glance as they opened the basement door and headed down. The dimly lit basement held the giant hole in the wall, the so-called portal, a massive metal spectacle with wires and interconnected circuitry met together to create an unholy abomination of science. Or at least that’s what Jazz called it once when they were in her room venting about the situation. 

“JAZZ!! DANNY!!” their overzealous father yelled as he bounded over.

Their mom walked over too, seeming to be happy for their return, “your father and I could barely contain our excitement all day!! Go on put on your hazmat suits.” their mom gestured over to the lockers that held the suits. Both of their parents' lockers tended to be quite empty since they practically lived in them, to the point where they had several copies of the same suits that they’d wash and reuse. Danny and Jazz only had the ones, Jazz had a nice dark violet color with black gloves and boots. Danny had black gloves and boots too but his was white to make it look like he was an astronaut, something that he had mixed feelings on. Both of these used to have a giant picture of Jack’s head on it but it was quickly removed by both siblings. 

They quickly put the suits on over their uniforms and joined their parents behind some glass near the portal. It wasn’t closed off or anything and Danny didn’t think it would be able to prevent something like an explosion from charing all of them but it’s hard to have faith in parents who've missed so much because of the stupid portal, or at least that’s how Danny felt. 

Jazz and Danny huddled together behind their parents as their mom did some final checks on a clipboard, “alrighty we should be all good, Hun you ready to throw the switch?” their mom asked their dad. “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Jack yelled as he threw down the switch.

…

A few sparks erupted from the portal but other than that nothing happened. 

Their dad, frustrated at this angrily tried turning it off and on again but nothing but another smaller spark and then truly nothing. 

Another low frustrated growl left their dad as he and mom walked back up the steps, “alright I’m taking a break.” Jack said, almost defeated, sounding, “I’m sorry but I really thought we had it this time.”

“Oh come on, Jack, let’s go out, I’m sure the kids were probably going over to the Wayne’s again anyways. Let’s go out and have a fun night then sleep on it.” their mom said, patting dad on the shoulder. They shared a fond look and then went upstairs probably to get ready. 

Danny and Jazz stood at the bottom of the stairs and shared a look.

“They gave up too fast again…” Jazz noted.

“I guess, what do we do now?” Danny asked.

“I’m still a little curious about the portal but I don’t want to keep Damian, Tim or Alfred waiting,” Jazz said with a hand on her cheek.

“We could invite them in, I know we haven’t before but maybe Tim would know how to get it working, he is pretty good with technology.” Danny reasoned. Neither of them really wanted to involve the Wayne’s in their family’s shenanigans but at this point they were all friends and Damian and Tim were bound to find out how weird their family was at some point anyways.

Jazz stood there seeming to think things over before she nodded, “alright I trust your judgment but we’ll have to be careful okay?” 

Danny smiled at her, “of course, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

This is what led to the four of them standing at the bottom of the stairs. Their parents had left about an hour ago. Danny and Jazz were still in their suits with Tim without one and made to sit with Jazz behind the glass and Damian and Danny planning to explore the actual tube.

“I don’t want to chance you getting hurt,” he said to her as he made her stand next to Tim.

Damian and Danny shared a look and nodded before heading into the tube. 

They looked around for a while but didn’t see much besides the interconnected wires on the floor of the lab. Damian took the right side while Danny took the left. They worked their way up and down the tube. Damian was a little ahead of Danny on their way out. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

When they were almost out Danny lost his footing, his hand flying out in front of him. A soft click was heard and time seemed to crawl to a stand still.

Danny couldn’t stand the thought of his friend getting hurt because of him and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He ran as he felt a swirl of energy and electricity surround his body. 

“DANNY!! DAMIAN!!” he heard both Tim and Jazz shout as he reached Damian who was at the mouth of the portal.

A quick shove was all it took to get Damian, who had turned towards him at the sound of the shout, out of the portal. 

“DANIEL!!” he heard Damian shout as the portal activated on top of him, surrounding his body with swirling green.

Blinding pain shot through Danny, feeling as if he was being torn apart and put back together again and again.

He figured he was dying but at least he could protect those he cared about. He was able to shove Damian out of the portal in time, and Tim and Jazz were safely behind the blast glass.

He wouldn’t ever be able to fly among the stars as an astronaut but he was able to protect. His family and friends were safe and that’s all that mattered. 

He could allow himself to succumb to the darkness as the electricity and pain consumed him whole.

[little-pondhead]

[inspired roughly by this post. My brain snails started going nuts so I thought it'd be easier to post this separately :)]

…

It was a lovely day in Gotham. Well, as lovely as it could be. The sun was up, peeking through the overhead cloud cover and making the buildings gleam in the rare sunlight. The air was fresher than usual, and faucets ran clear of strange and unusual toxins.

Somewhere in the Upper East Side, in a little neighborhood tucked away from the rest of the city, marched around the new boss of the area. She was a young girl, just barely in high school. But despite it being the middle of a work day, she wandered around her chosen streets, content to do whatever she wanted. Above her, a pair of siblings watched on and discussed the unique situation.

"So let me get this straight: that fourteen-year-old goth girl is a crime boss?"

Mia smiled at Leon, her older brother, and his dumbfounded expression as they rested on her balcony. "She's fifteen, actually. Her birthday just passed. We all got together and threw a block party for her!"

"You know how insane that sounds, right?" Leon turned to her, a bit miffed that she dared to say those words to his face. "She's a kid. Why do you all listen to her?"

Mia shrugged and sipped her beer. "She does good work. Holds her own pretty well, and the kid has connections. Good ones, too. That can be the difference between life and death in Gotham."

Leon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I just don't get it. How did she end up in this line of work? Do child labor laws even apply here?? Why aren't the Bats doing anything?"

"Don't think about it too much, dipshit." Mia crushed her now-empty beer can in her hand and tucked it into a paper garbage bag hanging off of a hook on the balcony rail. A familiar set of green arrows was printed on the side.

"And now you're recycling?!" Leon realized. "When did you start doing that, Mia??"

The woman shrugged and got up, stretching. "Probably around the time Brambles absolutely reamed out Mrs. Zalinski for littering at the park."

"Wait, who's Brambles?" Leon scrambled upright and followed his sister inside.

Mia laughed. "Brambles is our fifteen-year-old crime boss!"

...

"I can't believe you got a cool name right off the bat," Danny grumbled, flopping onto Sam's bed face-first. Sam smirked and shoved him off with her foot. Danny just squawked and let himself ragdoll to the ground.

"It's your fault for not having a better gimmick." She said to his prone body. "Besides, it could've been worse."

"I think Inviso-Bill is the worst possible nickname for anyone." Danny groaned. "But you got something cool immediately. Who even thought up 'Brambles'? That's such a unique name!"

"Well the kids call you Grim; that's pretty cool."

Danny flopped over, twisting himself much farther than any human was supposed to just so he could glare at her face. "They only call me that cause one of the is obsessed with Harry Potter." He grumbled, pouting.

Sam just rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through piles of papers scattered all across her duvet. Since moving to Gotham several months ago, Sam had taken it upon herself to turn the experience into something useful rather than just moping all the time, as she originally wanted to. That 'something useful' had landed her as the newest crime boss in Gotham, with about a third of the Upper East Side as her current territory.

So many problems had popped up in the last year, and the group had decided that taking it on alone would never work. The GIW had been trying to close Amity's borders, Danny's parents had a scientific breakthrough, tensions in the Realms were high, etc. There was a lot on their plate! Sam's solution was to create a foothold in Gotham City. She would lay the foundations for Jazz to work in Arkham and forge a safer environment for the residents of Amity Park to sneak off to if the GIW went too far. She was essentially weaving a cushion for everyone to fall back on.

Danny, using the power of duplication, was splitting his focus between foiling his parent's plans and resolving issues with his rouges to create a united front. He was the main distraction, and Sam's own heavy hitter when she needed help establishing dominance.

Tucker planned to gather intel with the help of Technus and Jazz. They were trying to gather as much evidence as possible so they'd be in the clear when the whistle blew. The GIW would crash and burn, legally speaking. They were the bugs of the operation, spreading themselves thin and hoarding information like it was candy.

Dani was their wild card, their jester. She was keeping the JLD's attention focused solely on her and all the supernatural hijinks she was stirring up. When the time was right, she'd point them in the direction needed and let them loose. After winding them up so much, the hope was that the Justice League Dark would descend upon the GIW like hellfire.

But those were their future plans. Right now, Sam was in possession of specific files from Arkham Asylum and the GCPD. She was looking for anything to give her an edge in the upcoming meeting with a few other crime bosses. Some annual thing they host to renew Goonion contracts, see who's still alive, and examine how much the territory lines have changed. Stuff like that. Red Hood was supposed to be there, and she knew she needed an ironclad defense against him and his nosy colony of Bats.

Danny untwisted himself all of a sudden, making a weird face. "Sorry, got to go." He apologized. "Vlad just showed up to my house."

Sam waved him off. "Go, I'll be fine for today. Just be on time for the meeting on Friday. And I want you, not a double."

"You got it!" Danny did finger guns at her and promptly melted into a pile of green goo. Right on her bedroom floor!

Sam sighed and got up to throw a towel over the puddle. The ectoplasm would evaporate eventually, returning to the original Danny little by little. But for now, this would keep anyone from asking about it until it was all gone.

Sometimes she really hated living in student dorms. People always felt the need to burst into her room for no reason.

Who even made dorm rooms for high schoolers in the first place??

...

Jason couldn't help but stare at the new recruit.

Well, 'new recruit' wasn't exactly accurate. 'Potential to be the most headache-inducing supervillain' was more like it. Standing at a solid 5'10" with platform boots, Brambles, the newest crime lord who had taken over half of the Upper East Side in under four months, was almost tall enough to look him in the eye straight on. Which she tried to do anyways, tilting her chin up oh-so-slightly (in that stupid way aristocrats do when they want to look down at you) and glaring at him with open hostility.

Brambles was young, way too young to be in this line of business. At the start of the annual underground crime meeting (yes, they couldn't come up with a better name), she had announced that she was fifteen, went by she/her, and would snap the dick off of anyone who looked at her funny. Most everyone laughed at her, thinking it was an empty threat. Brambles proved it wasn't by sucker-punching a younger lieutenant who tried to get handsy with her five minutes into the meeting.

When the lieutenant's boss protested and threatened a gang war, Brambles had snapped her fingers and summoned what could only be a fucking pit demon from the depths of hell to threaten the man back. The creature looked like a teenager, just like Brambles, at first. But it was...off. The longer you looked, the worse it got.

It wore a draping black cloak that covered most of its body, with the ends turning to mist when it reached the floor. It had a pale, young face and white hair. Its eyes glowed just like Brambles', except they were a toxic green that made Jason's heart skip a beat in fear. The creature was snarling, with a fucking muzzle on it to keep its sharp teeth away from wandering fingers.

With a nod from Brambles, the creature bounded forward and knocked the guy to the floor, its arm elbow-deep into the guy's chest. The dude looked terrified, and a little sick "Would you rather lose a lieutenant or your life?" She had snarled, sounding almost a bit demonic herself. The other boss had backed down without another word, writing off his subordinate as dead and gone.

Instead of killing the guy, however, Brambles simply banished her little guard dog to a corner of the warehouse to play with its new toy in peace.

"Is she allowed to do that?" Someone whispered.

"They weren't unionized, so the Goonion won't say anything." Another answered.

It was the most awkward meeting in the history of the criminal underworld. No one even died since they were all focused on the newcomer.

Jason could feel a headache forming as the meeting came to an end. Brambles was still sitting in her chair. The creature had grown bored of its toy and was leaning against her, sprawled out lazily and barely flicking an ear at the onlookers in acknowledgment. A few people were idling around her, mostly women, trying to talk some big game and get on the kid's good side. Brambles was humoring them, taking tight control of the conversation when they got too prying.

Jason sighed. He knew he'd have to go over and have a talk with the kid, even if it was just for Bruce's files. He hauled himself upwards and stalked over. "Pardon me, ladies and gents, but I'm going to borrow the kiddo here for a moment."

The creature hissed at him, tensed at his approach. Brambles kept a tight grip on the back of its muzzle, keeping it grounded. The other criminals scattered like flies. They were the only two (three?) left in the warehouse within minutes.

Bramble rose to glare at him. "What." She spat. "If you're here to convince me not to get involved with anything, I will set Grim on your ass after lighting it on fire."

The creature, Grim, growled in agreement. The sound echoed strangely like he was hearing it from underwater.

"Relax, I'm not here to do any of that." Jason raised his hands in surrender, immediately abandoning that possible line of thought. "I'm just here to talk business. You're young, and while you don't want to admit it, inexperienced."

"Stop the fancy words, Red Hood." Brambles' eyes glowed again, and she released her hold on Grim's muzzle. "If you want to make a deal, say it to my face. If you're here to dig for information, either ask me or hit the road. I prefer honesty over flower talk, so tell me what you want before I take over your area, too."

Jason bristled. His vision was tinted green as he snapped, "What the fuck is your problem, kid?! I just wanted to make sure you were safe and not being forced to do this. I was even going to offer my support and protection if it was too much! I know you aren't going to stop, but that doesn't mean I want a kid to die just because they got into something they shouldn't and they think their fancy guard dog will always be there to protect them!"

Brambles' eyes stopped glowing, and her stare softened a bit. Grim went deadly still, just floating there, staring at Jason. His heart beat like crazy in his chest. What was he saying? It was all true, but he could've been nicer about it. Dick would've found a way to be nicer.

-krrrk- "Ibis, reporting in. I think you can trust him, guys. Even if he's a Bat, his connections and experience would be useful in our plans. Ibis out." -krrrk-

Jason flinched from the sudden noise, looking around to find the source. It sounded like it had come from everywhere, even inside his own helmet. Brambles immediately switched out her hostile look for an annoyed one, tapping an earpiece he hadn't noticed before.

"Ibis, you really have to stop opening up our comm lines to the public." She snapped, but there was no real heat to it. "And I thought I told you to stop eavesdropping!"

-krrrk- "Sorry, can't help it. I'm everywhere now! You shouldn't have given me this power." -krrrk-

Grim hissed.

-krrrk- "Don't hiss at me, young man! You were the one who suggested this!" -krrrk-

"I'm sorry, time out!" Jason made a T with his hands. The green from his vision had completely disappeared now. "What the FUCK is going on now?"

Brambles sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know what? Fine. We'll trust you. My name is Sam. Nice to meet you, Jason Todd."

Jason stepped back, immediately reaching for his gun. Grim darted forward and promptly flew through him, stealing all his weapons in one go. "I'm Danny!" Grim-Danny?-chirped in a human voice, giving him a shit-eating smile. "Sorry for the act, Mr. Hood. And sorry about the name drop, I'm the one that told them."

-krrrk- "I'm Tucker! There are more of us, but they're busy. I have literally so many questions for you, Mr. Hood." -krrrk-

"Now that introductions are over-Danny don't eat his smoke bombs, you're not gonna look like Dorathea-we'd like your help."

Jason squinted at them. "You understand this is all suspicious as fuck, right? And how did a pit demon find out who I am?"

-krrrk- "Yeah, we know. But lives are on the line here, and I think you'd really be a help!" -krrrk-

Brambles-Sam-sighed and pulled out a flash drive. "I was going to use this as leverage, but I guess it'll have to be useful in other ways." She tossed it to Jason, who numbly caught it. "Look over it if you want. If you don't, then just burn it. Do not try to plug it into the Batcomputer. Don't try to send it to the Batcomputer, either. A virus will target that specific IP address as soon as it makes contact. Any other computer is fine."

"Look it over, and we can go from there," Danny added, spinning in midair while chomping on one of Jason's knives. (His good one, too!) "And I'm not a pit demon, but I am dead. That's how I knew about you. Whatever brought you back to life gave the Realms a real headache for a while. It wasn't hard to look you up in the records."

"This is so much information. Lives are on the line? And two, three kids are dealing with it? By becoming crime bosses?"

-krrrk- "Technically, Sam's the only crime boss here. And that was kind of an accident. She was supposed to create a safe foothold in Gotham in case we needed to evacuate our town. But we all got cool nicknames out of it! And you're the only adult we've told this stuff to!" -krrrk-

"I'm what?"

"The only adult." Sam's unwavering gaze seemed to pierce his soul. "There are quite literally no other adults that can help, Red Hood. None that we trust, not really. Any adult intervention needs to be planned carefully so it doesn't backfire on us. We're trusting you here, Jason. Not only are you like us, which technically puts you in danger too, but you have power and connections to support a whole town of people the government wants to eradicate."

Jason looked at the little green flash drive in his hand. He didn't want to ask. "And this...?"

"A fruit basket," Sam said simply. "Originally, it was supposed to be blackmail. But instead, this is a present to show our goodwill and faith. To show you our skills. That drive contains information on other gangs, upcoming rogue attacks, chemical breakdowns of Joker Venom and Fear Gas, unfinished antidote formulas, etc. Tucker and his team scoured the underbelly of Gotham and gathered dirt on every single prominent figurehead. Including Bruce Wayne, should you choose to use it."

"I would never-"

"But you've thought about it." Danny cut in and scratched his neck. Jason's hands shook. "It's not a bad thing. It's just the nature of the dead. Wanting to right the wrongs left over from their time with the living. Even if you walk and breathe now, that doesn't mean desire disappears."

"The point is, we need help. Even if I'm loathe to admit it." Sam rolled her eyes, and suddenly, Jason didn't see a potential supervillain in the making. He saw a teenager trying her best, shouldering the responsibility of hundreds of people, both in Gotham and her hometown. Danny looked the same, no matter how other-worldly he was. What battles were they facing? Why weren't there any adults to turn to? What kind of lives were they leading if they immediately trusted a known crime lord with their lives upon the first meeting?

"I'll think about it." Jason finally said. Danny trilled in excitement, and some tension bled out of Sam's shoulders. "If the situation is bad enough, however, I'm calling in someone else for help."

Danny shrugged. "As long as it ain't Batman! I don't think he'll appreciate us smuggling a town of liminals into his city."

Sam poked Danny's shoulder, prompting him to look at her. "Let's go, before you break his brain with more info-dumping. Bye Red Hood!"

"Uh, yeah. Goodbye!" Jason stuttered. He watched the two kids walk towards the exit door, before shimmering out of sight before they even touched the handle.

What the fuck.

[twelfthgnome]

Beggin’

(Broadchurch) Alec Hardy x Reader

Synopsis: Alec has no concept of time and barges in Y/N’s house to investigate. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, face riding/sitting, oral sex (f receiving), slight praise, no beta we die like his heart

She'd just come out of the shower, hair up in a half hearted bun. Y/N was exhausted, the current case was on her mind. A murder, that was evident. The victim was an old woman in her home, a single gunshot to the chest and her house ransacked. But it didn't look right.

As she changed into some comfy short shorts and an oversized Elvis Presley t-shirt, she visualized the scene in her head. It just wasn't right. She remembered a little purple jewelry box up near the dresser, and it didn't appear to be opened. She made a mental note to check that out, along with the neighbors alibi and how sound could transfer in a duplex.

Of course she knew when she agreed to be a Detective Sergeant that it was going to be time consuming, that this career would become you to an extent. And she wanted that. After she accidentally stumbled into this career and saw her first scene, she knew that was what she wanted with her life. But she hadn't realized that that would mean when she does even the most basic functions, her brain would be so wholly preoccupied. She took her hair out, brushed her teeth, pulled the covers down then went to turn out the lights before climbing into them. And all throughout it, she was speculating about silencers and times of death.

Her head had barely hit the pillow before she heard a banging at her front door. She laid there for a moment, contemplating her options. It was either some tragedy has happened or some idiot come to hurt her. And quite frankly she knew she could hold her own. Y/N wasn't a fool, she wasn't going to go answer it without precaution. She quickly went and retrieved a bread knife from the kitchen before going to the door.

The knife was in position when she opened it. Instead of finding some craved criminal, or even some sobbing family member, she found her boyfriend/boss with a box of papers.

"Alec? It's one in the morning."

His eyes narrowed at the sight of her. He looked tired, but he did always look just a little tired. His hair was messed up and his beard just a touch scruffy.

"I don't trust Anderson."

"What?" She asked. He didn't answer as he walked into her house and deposited the box of files on her kitchen table. She didn't mind Alec coming over, hell she loved the chance to see him, but this was all a little unprompted for her.

"Y/N, didya get anything on Imogen Walker? I don't like her. I also don't like this bloke, who does he think he is? Fucking hell," Alec started pulling stuff out to work on.

Y/N wanted to protest, but she also knew that she wasn't going to get much sleep even if she tried. This was at least productive and she got to spend time with him. She grabbed a blanket from the living room, wrapped it around herself, and sat down at the table.

"Imogen has a few misdemeanors but nothing of this caliber, nothing that would suggest murder." She said, "As for Gary, he did have a stay in the hospital back in his twenties for mental illness. I requested the documents for the diagnosis and behavior during the stay but they probably won't come in until later today or tomorrow. I think you need to focus on her niece, her alibi is shaky at best."

If Y/N focused on DI Alec Hardy's face, she might have seen the shadow of a smile on his lips that he quickly hid with other possible motives and questions. He'd never say so, but he loved these moments. The times when he could share what he was truly passionate about with someone that he truly loved ... Those moments were the best. All he would need was Daisy cracking jokes in the corner for this moment to be complete.

It was long after the sun came up before Y/N finally decided to make some tea for the two of them. She told Alec who grumbled a one worded response she didn't bother to try and understand. Maybe it was Alec or the case, but she strangely wasn't tired. Her mind kept whirling with all the possibilities and she enjoyed the time with Alec.

"Y/N! Do you have the SOCO reports from the car in there?" Hardy called to her. "I need to call -"

He stopped, looking at her from above his glasses, his lips still perched out from his words that fell forgotten. She gave him a strange look, placing the two cuppas down on the table then passing him the SOCO report he'd wanted. Yet he still stared, didn't even bother to say a word. "Hardy?"

DI Alec Hardy was not a man of many words, but when he needed to use words he always had the right thing to say. Or at least he believed it to be the right thing to say. But now, in a moment when words would definitely be helpful, he had nothing. He just stared like a man gone wild. Y/N didn't even know what he was staring at, and she shifted awkwardly on her feet. Which drew extra attention.

"Alec? What're you looking at?"

He seemed to snap out of it, shoving his glasses up his nose and glancing back down at the paper. Y/N didn't know what to make of it, but thought perhaps he was exhausted. She pulled the kitchen chair to her, putting a leg on either side so she could rest her chest on the back of it while she read. And yet again, she looked up to see his warm brown eyes trapped on her and her body.

"Alec?" He didn't answer. "Alec! What's going on?"

Alec adjusted in his seat and said calmly, "nothing."

"Bull."

"Nothing is wrong. Can we continue?"

She felt silly for a moment, maybe she was exaggerating. Then she propped a leg on the chair and she saw his eyes wander again. Okay enough was enough. "Alec, what the hell?"

"Y/N-"

"Oh ho, don't Y/N me to try and get out of answering my question. What's got you looking at me at all weird?"

A pink started to spread on his cheeks and ears, but he looked away. No way, she thought. There's no way 'shitface' just blushed. Yes they'd been dating and she knew he was more than that nickname, but sometimes the occasion calling for it. Like when was blushing early in the morning for no reason, and she'd never seen him blush unless they were making love. Oh. Oh. Her eyes widened, and she felt a little smile on her lips. She stood up slowly, watching the way he tried to fight his gaze from following after.

"Alec, anything you want to tell me?" Y/N went and sat down on the edge of the table in front of him. He swallowed.

"Don't laugh."

"Darling, I would never laugh."

He rolled his eyes and looked away, not having the strength to say it while looking at her. He swiped his glasses off and groaned. "I... those shorts. I really like those shorts."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. That was not quite the answer she was expecting. "The shorts?"

"Your thighs, they... I like seeing them."

Her mouth fell open in a little o, adjusting her legs slightly as though thinking about them meant she had to move them. He likes her thighs, enough to distract him from work. Alec saw this reaction and immediately flushed darker, "you think I'm stupid."

"Gosh, no, no, no not at all," she said, "I just didn't know."

He still seemed embarrassed. Alec grabbed his glasses and shoved them back on his face, going to grab his work again. But Y/N felt bad, she certainly hadn't meant it like that, she would never shame him for something in the bedroom. She just wanted to know. And she found it very sweet that he found her so attractive. It made her feel sexy.

With a gentle touch she made him set his paper down. He looked with wide eyes. Y/N moved with slow, deliberate movements so Alec could take the time to digest it all. She carefully climbed onto his chair until her thighs were straddling him in his seat, though she hovered above him. She could see his adam's apple bob up and down as she placed her weight on him, leaning forward to take his glasses off. They were so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. She smiled, "hi."

His large hands came to rest on her thighs almost instinctively, squeezing the flesh there. From under her, she could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against his pants. It made her rock her hips just slightly to meet it. He let out a hiss, grip tightening. She quite liked him holding her there, the way he ran his hands down the length of her thighs with a tight grip. He cherished them.

"Y/N..." he murmured, eyes half shut as he lifted a hand to cup her jaw. She leaned in and captured his lips with her own, exploring the kiss and grinding against his hips as he branded her with his touch. She always loved the feeling of his kisses, the way he fell into her touch like it was instinctual. His jaw was always delightfully scratchy and she loved to run her fingers along his beard.

When they broke and their foreheads fell against each other, each gasping for breath, he spoke softly. "Darling.. I have a request."

Alec didn't often ask for much in the bedroom. Y/N certainly wasn't trying to prevent him, he just tended to stay quiet. So she pressed a soft kiss to his scratchy beard and nodded for him to continue. He swallowed nervously before continuing, "I've this fantasy. I've only had it for you."

Alec got embarrassed sometimes when talking about sex. Oh sure, he was great during the act. But he always treated any fantasies or ideas as something stupid and silly. But Y/N didn't think that, she wanted to make it pleasurable for the both of them. If he was willing to do things for her, then she would be willing to do things for him. In a voice that came out far huskier than she intended, she said, "I want to hear it."

"I, I want you to sit on my face."

Her eyebrows shot up and she pulled away to look at him, to check that was what he wanted. His flush got darker and he tried to turn away, but she grabbed his face before he could. The corner of her mouth quirked up, "Alec Hardy, even in your fantasies you want to go down on me. Are you sure that's what you want?"

He nodded vigorously, his gaze intense. She nodded an affirmation and got off, offering a hand for him to take as she guided him into the bedroom. "Tell me where you want us."

Alec nodded. He began to take off his clothing, tossing them on the chair in the corner. Then he got onto the bed near the headboard and told you to strip as well. Here came the part he got excited about, even if excited for Alec meant a pair of wild eyebrows lifted high.

Now naked, Y/N went from the edge of the bed and crawled up to him, showing off her assets. He took a deep shaking breath. She situated herself so her cunt was right above Alec's head, thighs already shaking slightly but she was determined to stay above. Then she felt his hands grab at the back of her thighs, pulling her down.

"Alec!" She squealed, "I can't! What if I hurt you?"

"Hurt you?" He asked in an incredulous way, as though the thought was the furthest thing from his mind. "How could you hurt me?"

"My weight on you.."

He answered what he believed to be a silly question with a silly answer, and dragged her down squarely on his mouth. She laughed a little as she settled, but his hot tongue on her clit was enough to distract her to silence. Well, not silence, but certainly not laughter.

This was a sensation unlike any she'd had. Alec had gone down on her before and it was bloody fantastic, she always left panting and delirious with pleasure. But this seemed to open a whole new wave of sensations. He came into it with a crazed intensity, yearning to taste every part of her he could. His touch was everywhere, hot as it skimmed over her skin and seared her. His lips were plush as they parted to let his tongue slide along her folds, tasting her. That delightful beard was going to cause a rash tomorrow morning but she didn't care as she rocked her hips to meet his tongue's ministrations.

She tasted like sweat and sex and everything good in the world, if he could bottle it up he would. Though in the back of his mind he knew Y/N worried about crushing him with her weight, it was that sensation of being fully engulfed by her that he was so attracted to. Those burning thighs were right by his head, holding him there and clenching with each stroke of pleasure. He held onto them tightly, letting her know just how much he enjoyed it. It was better than just regular oral, it was deeper and intimate. One look up at her was enough to make him shudder and hold her tighter. She looked like a goddess, head thrown back with those raspy little moans pouring from her. Her breasts heaved on her chest, begging to be touched. If he died then and there, with the image of her above him, he'd die a very happy man.

Y/N gasped his name over and over, rolling her hips and meeting his expert tongue. He was everywhere, scorching all of her. Alec’s touch was making her dizzy with pleasure and if she wasn’t careful she’d never leave her spot here. That coil inside of her started to tighten, twisting as tingles were sent all throughout her body. She could feel her orgasm coming, tightening and tightening until with a sobbing gasp she came on Alec Hardy’s tongue.

He never stopped for one second, just lapping at her oversensitive clit until he could feel her coming down from her high. Then he adjusted, helping guide her down his body so he was sitting and she was straddling him. She melted against his chest, head in the crook between his shoulder and neck, breaths uneven.

“Oh my god,” she said finally.

Alec kissed her forehead and rubbed her back, “thank you, darling.”

She gave him a thumbs up, “you tell me all your fantasies, love, because holy fuck.”

Alec nodded, “duly noted.”

“Shut up,” she said, burying her face deeper into him with a smile.

[gildedphoenix]

SuperPhantom - White Crow

Posting this now because I'm not sure I'll ever finish it.

Feel free to contribute.

White Crow SuperPhantom

(965 words)

--+--

Dean answered his ringing flip phone. And NO Sam, he doesn't need a smart phone. The battery on this thing lasts 5 days and it survives being in Dean's pocket when he's thrown against a wall by the bad guy of the week.

"Hi Bobby. Whatcha got for us?"

"I hope you've got gas in the take because this one is going to be a bit of a chase." Bobby opened. "I've got reports coming in from all over about a white crow being linked to dozens of deaths. None of the hunters who've looked into it so far have been able to track the creature or find any connections between the victims. The issue is that some of the crimes aren't fresh. The last victim, a Tim Stillion, had been dead for weeks. Can't figure out the cause because the animals had been at his body. And unless this bird can teleport, he was on the other side the country when Stillion was kill't."

Sam, who was already clickity clacking on his laptop, spoke up. "It sounds like the crow isn't a portent of death then, but just a reporter. But how is it finding the bodies?"

"Yeah," Bobby drawled "I figured you'd come to that conclusion. That's why I called you boys. Every other hunter is out here trying to end this bird when it's solved more cold cases then all of them combined. Bunch of idgits."

Dean grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and started towards the garage. "So where are we headed Bobby? Any word on the last sighting?"

"Last couple time it was seen, it was around central Illinois."

"Let's roll"

-=-=-=-=-

Sam Manson revved her vespa and continued chasing the white crow down ST-54. They'd been at this for weeks now. And despite it all, Sam was just happy that she'd found Danny at all.

/three weeks ago/

"There's no way!" leopard print blouse said. "You look like one of my son's friends."

Danny had a tendency to drop whatever he was holding if he got summoned but for once, he kept hold of his cell phone. So when he ended up disappearing in the middle of a Doom speed run, Tucker was able to track him down. And after a few minutes (and way too few reasonable security measures) Sam and Tucker were able to watch a live stream from a web connected Nanny cam.

The room was all white, leather couches pushed back against the walls. Marble and brass coffee table set with white taper candles. Starbucks cups sitting on the ledge of the kitchen counter. And in the middle of the room, Phantom. Desperately trying to convince 6 PTA, HOA, Basic Witches that he was indeed the Ghost King that they were trying to summon.

A woman in a white gauze blouse and white wash jeans stepped forward. It must be her house, because she matched the decor. "How did you highjack the summoning?!" It was the same tone every teen has heard from their parents. The tone that said they'd already decided what had happened and were just waiting for you to admit fault.

"Hey, you summoned me. What did you even want, anyway? Pumpkin spice to be available year round? For the grocery store to accept your expired coupons? How about-"

"Now you listen to me young man," A third woman, dressed in sunny yellow and a high pony tail that did nothing to help her look younger. "You need to learn manners and your parents clearly didn't care to teach you"

("Ouch" danny mumbled, "accurate, but ouch" )

Yellow started chanting and the others quickly caught on and joined in. Danny, realizing that he was running out of time to gas light, gatekeep, or girlboss his way out of a solution, tried the old reliable Plan Z. Run away.

So he turned ghostly tail to the nearest window and - BONK! - was stopped by the shielding on the summoning circle. Which was a first. People usually forgot about that. Danny was now both impressed and worried as be felt both pressure and dread building around him as the chanting volume and speed.

Danny clutched his head as the pressure grew to a screeching point until everything released with a pop. The pressure was gone. The chanting was gone. Danny felt lighter, which was saying something given how gravity was typically just a suggestion while he was in ghost mode. Opening his eyes -and when had he closed them? - he noticed one more difference. Everyone had gotten bigger. And the furniture had gotten bigger. And the room had gotten…. uh oh. He had gotten smaller.

Danny was trying to orient himself and identify where an deep thudding was coming from when he was hit from the side. Foot steps. That's what the thudding was. They were just drastically louder when he was only tall enough to stare people in the shins. And the sidelong assault? A broom. Which connected a second time before he thought to go intangible. (Why did he always forget intangibility?)

The woman in white had gotten a broom and was swatting him towards the open patio door, her strappy white sandals stopping behind him and he frantically tried to coordinate his limbs in that same direction. His limbs did not want to coordinate but he eventually got himself out the door and the broom stopped swatting at him.

Once he cleared the threshold, the door rolled closed with a slam and the lock snicked shut.

"And don't come back unless you've learned respect!" was shouted at him from a nearby window before it, too was slammed shut.

======================================

Looking back into the house, he was met by his own reflection in the sliding glass door.

"SQUAAAAAAK!"

In which Danny and Sam are traveling the US 90's road trip style to absorb the ecto of recent (or semi-recent) murders so Danny can get enough power to break the spell and transform back.

The general hunter community is chasing a white crow and a witch to stop them from committing all these murders.

And Sam and Dean and Bobby are trying to just figure out what's going on.

[gilly-moon]

For Vlad and Danny, or pompep if you're interested, night I ask for:

29, 92, or 97?

~harley

I am realizing I have NO confidence in writing these two together so this really felt like a practice piece?? Tried to throw in some hints of Pompep though, I hope it's any good!

-

29 : “You’ll end up dead if you keep that up and it won’t even be at my hands.”

Danny had the final boss of Doomed 2 down to a sliver of its health bar when Vlad Plasmius came skidding out of the Ghost Portal.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he groaned, yanking off his headset and mourning the hours of progress lost as ‘Game Over’ appeared in bold letters across the computer monitor.

Phasing into his ghost form, he turned with an ectoblast already gathering in his palms. Across the room, a cart of spare gadget parts had been knocked over, several glass beakers shattered across the floor beside it. Vlad was pulling himself up against the far counter of the lab, fangs bared and red eyes glowing.

“It’s three in the morning, asshole,” Danny grumbled. “Let’s make this quick.”

Danny thrust his hands out, the blast of energy narrowly missing Vlad as he lurched sideways. The movement was sluggish - a far cry from Vlad’s typical ease and grace in battle. He almost seemed tired, though the arc of energy he released with a sweep of his arm was just as intense as usual. Danny dove down to avoid it, the heat of the blast singeing a few of his hairs.

“How wonderful,” the older halfa sneered. “We actually agree on something!”

Danny phased into the floor to avoid a barrage of pink blasts. When he emerged from the wall behind Vlad, it was easier than anticipated to land a blow between his shoulderblades, knocking him forward onto his knees. Vlad cried out from the impact, clutching at his stomach.

His stomach?

“Feeling a little off your game tonight, fruit loop? Need some tums for your tummy ache?”

When Vlad didn’t respond or stand up immediately, Danny moved cautiously around him, still on guard in case this was another of Vlad’s stupid schemes to catch him by surprise. His fists dropped as soon as he saw the pink ectoplasm dripping onto the floor.

“What the hell, Vlad?”

“Shut up, Daniel,” Vlad growled, his hand still pressed over the wound on his abdomen.

It must've been deep, considering the sizeable stain on Vlad’s front and the growing pool between his knees. Their fight must’ve reopened it, or maybe Danny just hadn’t been looking close enough to notice it until now.

Studying its vibrant color, Danny realized he’d never even considered whether Plasmius could bleed. He’d never landed a blow on the halfa that would cause anything more serious than some scratches and bruises.

Someone must’ve been really determined to kill Vlad.

“You pissed off another ghost in the Zone, didn’t you?” Danny accused, unsure if this new development was hilarious or annoying. “Who the hell did you piss off? Was it Dora? I’ll have to thank her later.”

Vlad scoffed, eyes narrowing. “I would not be maimed by an emotionally unstable dragon.”

“But you did piss someone off. And you really thought it was the best idea to come here and pick another fight?”

Vlad didn’t reply, gritting his teeth as he slumped back against the counter. Now that Danny had a moment to really look, he could see Vlad’s outfit was covered in rips and burns, scratches torn through his cape and across his shoulder. One of his cheeks looked heavily bruised, the skin already darkening beneath his eye.

“You’ll end up dead all over again if you keep that up,” Danny said, phasing back into a human. “And it won’t even be at my hands.”

Grabbing a clean work rag from one of the cabinets beside Vlad, he knelt down and held it out, a metaphorical olive branch. Vlad eyed the cloth, but didn’t reach for it despite the ghostly plasma oozing between his fingers.

“I don’t need any lectures from a C-average teenager who failed his English midterm last week.”

“God, you’re such a creep.”

Danny sighed, scooting closer and forcibly lifting Vlad’s arm so he could press the cloth over the nasty-looking laceration - definitely made by a set of well-sharpened claws. He was met with little resistance, though it was hardly a surprise considering the tremor in Vlad’s hands and the choked-off yelp when his stomach was exposed.

Thankfully the wound was already healing, but if Vlad returned to his human form too soon they’d been in a far stickier situation. Danny tried to convince himself he was just helping so his parents and Jazz wouldn’t find out when he had to call an ambulance for the wounded billionaire in their basement, and not because he was actually worried.

What was he getting himself into?

“You attacked me,” Vlad said, his voice somewhat strained.

“What?”

Danny looked up, his hands shifting slightly where they pressed over Vlad’s stomach. The older halfa tensed, fangs bared and fingers scraping over the floor. If Danny’s eyes lingered on the muscles flexing along his neck for a moment too long, neither of them mentioned it.

“I didn’t come here for a fight.” Red eyes peeled slowly open, staring at the ceiling. “Have I ever come into your home just to fight you?”

“Does it matter?” Danny pressed his hands down a little more, definitely not just to see Vlad squirm again. “You’ve come here before just to threaten me. Close enough.”

The short breath Vlad exhaled might’ve been a laugh.

“Touché,” he conceded. “But my initial point still stands - you threw the first blow this time.”

Danny caught his lip between his teeth, retracing the last several minutes and realizing that the stupid vampire was right.

“So, what?”

“So, dear boy…” Vlad’s hand found his bicep, wrapping around it completely as the other curved over the back of his neck, keeping him in place. “I’d say that means you owe me a favor.”

“I’m already trying to save your life here,” Danny said, trying not to think about the heat spreading up his arm and across his shoulders. His gaze flicked up and got stuck on the sight of Vlad’s hooded eyes aimed at his neck.

“Your father still hides bottles of alcohol behind the kitchen cleaners upstairs, yes?”

Danny’s brow furrowed quizzically, some of the heat in his body dissipating.

“Y-yeah, but -”

“Be a dear and grab me the darkest bottle of red wine you can find, hm? To help take the edge off.”

The gloved hands release him, leaving something warm and sticky behind. Danny stood, hesitating with a barely-formed protest on his lips. He swallowed it in defeat, turning on his heel and marching up the stairs.

Only when he reached the top did he remember it was still three in the fucking morning and Vlad Plasmius was in his basement. He considered calling on Tucker, who was bound to be awake, or sneaking upstairs to wake Jazz. It only took a moment to decide against either. There was something unappealing about the idea of letting anyone else see Vlad in such a vulnerable state.

That in itself was a thought that made him pause as he squatted in front of the cabinet storing various cleaners and a few crusty pairs of rubber gloves.

Why hadn’t he finished what he started? Vlad was weak. Danny could’ve taken him down with one more blast and shoved him right back into the ghost zone. It would’ve been quicker, easier, and far more simple than whatever he was doing now.

The memory of a hand wrapped thumb-to-fingers around his bicep sent blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Shut up,” he grumbled at his own mind, snatching the first bottle of red wine he spotted.

His dad sure thought he was clever with his hiding places. Though he certainly wasn’t clever enough to notice the handful of times Danny had taken sips from any of the already open bottles. Surely he wouldn’t notice one missing thing of wine, either.

“Just get him his booze and get out,” Danny muttered to himself as he crept back down the stairs. Better to end this interaction soon, before something really weird happened.

Apparently Vlad had thought so, too.

The lab was empty when Danny emerged from the stairwell. It was only him, the faint eerie wail of the ghost portal, and a smeared pool of pink ectoplasm.

Heaving a sigh, Danny ripped the foil off the wine bottle, phasing the cork out from the neck and taking one long swig. He frowned when the rich taste and the burn of alcohol reminded him of one deeply annoying, vampiric halfa.

Slamming the bottle down on the nearest surface and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Danny glared at the ghost blood streaked across the floor.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

[flamingpudding]

(Un)fortunate Courting (Request)

Requested by @silverblueglitter

Original Prompt Post this is based on by @diabolichare

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this will not disappoint. I am slowly getting back into the grove of writing and out of my block. Also on a side note I am not posting / writing as much right now because work is currently keeping me busy.

Danny was very sure he was doing everything right in regards to ghost culture. Clockwork and Pandora had been educating him very well on that. Sure they did it with some ominous explanation in regards to his future but Danny had shrugged that off. Clockwork had always had a way with words that didn't make sense but somehow did too. Now as he had learned if a ghost wants to cross through another ghosts haunt an offering needs to be made. Ideally the offering is in regards to something the other ghosts likes.

So if he would need, for example, cross through Embers haunt, he would offer her something like guitar strings or something other music related stuff that could be useful to her obsession. With that logic, Danny knew that if he wanted to use the short cut to his collage through Red Hoods haunt he would need to offer the other something. Like he had offered something to Lady Gotham for his stay in Gotham for his collage education. The thing was he would have to offer Red Hood something every time he needed to go through the others haunt, unlike with Lady Gotham who had just accepted a single offer since he wasn't constantly going in and out of her haunt.

But that also left him with what to get the other Halfa as offering.

He had contemplated offering something Red Hood might need for his duty. You know? Maybe some self engineered bullets he could use against ghosts, though Danny knew that was probably unnecessary considering Gotham's protector spirit, Lady Gotham, had a pretty good handle on everything here. Which good, because that meant Danny could fully focused on his studies for once.

That was until Danny realized how much the core of that other Halfa was malnourished. Which gave Danny the perfect chance to catch two ghosts with one thermos, okay bad joke. But seriously, that gave Danny an idea of what to offer for his right of passage through the others haunt. So he made simple care packages that would help the other Halfa. He had thought about supplying some Ecto-Dejecto directly but that felt a little to on the nose and someone who didn't know his family would probably think Danny insane, as if there weren't enough people in his collage thinking that already. Besides he was in Gotham and with villains like Scarecrow and Joker he didn't think a syringe with glowing green contents would be a trustworthy offering.

Anyway, Danny decided to be a bit more discreet, infusing ectoplasm into simple foods, that most importantly, COULD NOT COME ALIVE. So Danny's care packaged ended up consisting of chocolates, snacks and other sweets that would NOT start fighting back. He also figured out how to mix ectoplasm into drinks so it wouldn't taste to overwhelming.

Danny did not anticipate the side effect offerings like that would have or realise what his offerings looked like to someone who did not know about ghost culture.

Jason was torn as he found the n-ed little present box during his patrol route with a little card stating it was for him. He eyed the box having gotten familiar with these boxes over the past month. He lifted the lid and yep.... chocolates.

"Again?" his distorted voice came through his voice modulator as he eyed the chocolates suspiciously. Either he had a very insistent admirer or one of his enemies cooked up a new idea to make him paranoid. Not like his brothers didn't joke about him getting Bruce's paranoia when he had run the sixth box of chocolates through the substance tester to figure out if someone was trying to poison him.

Turned out poison was not in the chocolates but something else. An unknown substance but in small dosages. Jason was currently allowing Tim to run wild in figuring out what was mixed into the chocolates. Also the seasoned vigilante had to admit, that there was something tempting about these sweets. Like something inside him really urged him to eat them. It was only his self-restraint and discipline that helped him resist the urge to taste test some of these chocolates.

Also sometimes there were drink in these packages too. Yes, Jason had run them through the tester too and got the same results like with the sweets and chocolates. No poison but that other strange substance. At first Jason didn't really want to bother with it but these boxes appeared every damn night when he was on patrol, but strangle not on weekend or holidays.

"Oh got another little present, Little Wing!" Jason barely turned around as his older brother dropped onto the roof next to him. "Chocolates this time! How cute! They must really love you!"

Sometimes Jason wished his helmet could portray emotions better as he gave Dick a deadpan stare. "More like wanting to poison me." He muttered his voice changer doing nothing to support the sarcasm in his voice.

"You have to admit it is kind of cute! You have a little fan or admirer! And look these chocolates are even heart shaped! Oh and pralines are in there too!" Dick gushed on about Jason's admirer, while Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet. It would be cute if there wasn't an unknown substance mixed into the stuff left for him. Though he had to admit, whoever left that stuff was getting creative. From what Jason saw they rarely used the same brand of chocolates or sweets to give to him twice. Like they were trying to figure out what he liked. For a brief moment that made Jason wonder, if he actually ate one of these for once, would his admirer present him with the same brand again the next night?

He shock that thought off, no way was he going to eat something with an unknown substance in it. So instead he shoved the box at Dick. "Take that to the cave Dickibird. Gives Pretender more materials to test with."

Dick, to his credit stopped gushing for at that and chuckled. "Can do, but seriously though, what did Oracle say. Did she catch your little admirer on the security cameras at least."

Shaking his head Jason let out a sigh. "No, its like these boxes appear out of nowhere."

"Well at least they are harmless."

"For now." He grunted in response. While they didn't pose a danger, Jason didn't like the implications behind their appearances. For one no matter how much he changed up his patrol routes, these boxes would still appear. There is no video proof of someone placing the boxes. They just appear out of thin air or roofs or his path right when he comes by. If he could believe that the videos that Barbara had showed him weren't manipulated then they just appeared like a couple of seconds before he would find them.

It was suspicious and Jason was determined to find out who leaves them.

Danny hummed his latest earworm song, which happed to be Embers newest hit in the Ghost Zone, as he prepared his next offering to Red Hood. He had thought about leaving these boxes by Red Hoods Safe house during the day on his way to collage but he figured with his own history of being a hero. Secret identities were important and should not be revealed against the others wish.

This time he had gotten the expensive brand of pralines. He hoped Hood would actually like them and eat them hopefully. Danny threaded the moment he would have to try infusing ectoplasm into something other than safe sweets, chocolates and snacks that won't come alive if he didn't find something Hood would eat soon.

The Halfa was so focused on his task of infusing the pralines with ectoplasm that he did not notice the arrival of three of his old ghost rogues, until he got grapped by the collar and throw across his own appartment.

"OW! What the...?!"

"Long Time not seen Pelt." Danny blinked as Skulker stood over him, Ember and Wulf a bit further behind. Wulfs presence explained how the other two managed to show up in his place.

"What are you guys doing here?" He was so not up for a round of ghost body that could potentially destroy his flat.

"Fixing your love life." Ember grinned down at him with Wulf nodding.

"My love life...." Something was definitely wrong. Danny does not remember currently dating anyone. He also didn't have crush, well not a obvious one he thought at least. He was distinctively pushing way that fleeting image of Red Hood out of his mind.

"Yeas your love life Baby Boop." Ember reaffirmed. "Didn't the old ghosts teach you anything. You don't use the human of giving presents when you court a ghost!"

"I... what?" Danny's brain currently really had trouble catching up with what was going on.

"Pelt you need to assert yourself, fight your damn object of attention to proof your worth." Skulker added arms crossed.

"Don't worry we will help you! So you wont fail!" Ember added.

Before Danny could answer or ask what the hell they were going on about though Skulker grabbed him by the back of his collar again and promptly dragged Danny long with him flying out of his flat to who knows where. Distinctive Danny swore he heard laughing that sounded suspiciously like Lady Gotham.

"WAIT SKULKER!" The shout escaped him as his brain finally caught up but before he could go ghost and actually do something he was thrown against someone. Whoever he landed on let out a deep 'oof' that sounded distorted and Danny had a sinking feeling as he hurriedly sat up and came face to face with Red Hood.

"Aw shit...." Danny muttered instantly choosing to turn invisible and hoping that Red Hood had nod seen him long enough to get recognised, worst of all Skulker had dragged him all the way to Hoods haunt when Danny didn't even have an offering! Now he owned Hood two offerings!

"What are you doing Pelt! You are supposed to challenge for the right of courtship first! The courtship presents come later!" Skulker shouted at Danny to which while still invisible Danny choose to flip the other ghost off. Something he would have never done as teen but now that he had come to some sort of understanding with his former rogues was not rare happening, as long as Jazz wasn't there to witness it.

Meanwhile Jason was sitting utterly confused on the roof now, just a moment ago a twig of a man had landed on him and he had seen the other guy for a brief moment before he had disappeared out of nowhere again. He grumbled muttered curses and knew he would have to go though the video footage of his helmet to get a clearer picture of what or rather who had knocked him over.

But he had a feeling it was related to the boxes of sweets and chocolates.

[is-this-even-relatable]

MY FIRST AO3 WORK

A very short one-shot inspired by “Chains of the King” by Marsalias on AO3.

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 6

Part 5

Most of the time, being the son of Batman was a point of pride for Damian. Today, it was an exercise in frustration. Not only had Father deemed him too emotionally compromised to participate in the investigation of his so-called brother. Not only was he benched from patrol until Batman returned from abroad. He also had to continue attending school as if nothing had happened! He could probably teach most of the classes better than the adults! Oh, but ‘socializing with his peers’ was deemed too important to miss out on.

No wonder Damian was in a foul mood when he returned home. It had been the last school day before fall break, and a week ago he had been looking forward to the opportunity to patrol without having to worry about getting up early in the morning. Then that damned apparition had dropped the bombshell that had upended all of Damian’s carefully laid plans. Now half of the family was off chasing leads and he was stuck at home cooling his heels. It wasn’t fair!

After doing his customary check on his pets, he had changed into training gear as soon as possible and was now in the process of running through the latest combat program Father had designed. The flow of dodge-weave-counter-strike was helping him vent his frustration and clear his head. And if the training bots ended up more damaged than usual, well that just served Father right. He wasn’t some hapless child to be grounded!

Spin. Strike. Jump. Slash. He was moving on instinct, letting his training take over. A symphony of violence the background track to his churning thoughts, the questions that had been plaguing him all week.

Brother of blood. What did that mean? A full brother? A half brother? The result of some ill-advised dalliance of his Father? Unlikely. The letter had been addressed to Damian Al Ghul, not Damian Wayne. A deliberate choice of words, most likely. A child of his Mother then. He couldn’t imagine Mother would sully herself with another man’s touch. Even after everything, she still loved Father in her own twisted way. Unless Grandfather had ordered her… Stop it!

Stab. Crouch. Roll. Slice.

Never buried but already mourned. Not a lab grown creation then, to be discarded casually. Mourning meant caring. Love. Did Father know something? The haunted look that had appeared in his eyes spoke of old grief. The same grief that still plagued him when memories of Todd or Damian’s death were close to the surface. But he had never spoken of another child. Would he even bother to tell them?

Strike. Throw. Close distance. Disarm.

Lightning and ice. Defibrillation? Some horror movie style reanimation? Cryofreeze? The entity had meta abilities, could it harness lightning and ice as well? A better son, a more powerful Demon’s Heir… No!

Side-step. Kick. Twist. Leg-sweep.

Strike down the Demon’s Head. Did that mean Grandfather? Or Damian himself if the old man died first? It would be just like Grandfather to arrange for Damian to be killed and replaced by a brother. To get revenge for Damian choosing Batman’s legacy over the League’s while hurting their family in the most intimate way possible. Killed by a brother he should have loved, who should have loved him… Fool!

Damian stopped as the gong sounded to mark the end of the program. Around him, the training bots returned to their starting positions, now significantly worse for wear. A few of them were disabled to the point of uselessness.

Damian sheathed his weapons and forced his breathing to slow as he started his cool down stretches. It wouldn’t do to be careless because of some emotional episode. He was more disciplined than that.

What could Death earn anyway? Death brought nothing but nightmares and pain and torment.

Damian shivered. He didn’t like thinking about his Death.

Shoving the memories firmly aside, he returned his training weapons to their respective places before heading over to the Batcomputer. He needed a distraction. Maybe he should call up Jon and see if he had any plans for fall break. Since Damian was benched he would need something constructive to do with his time. Surely with the two of them working together they would find some kind of criminal enterprise to topple in a Kansas cornfield.

Damian compiled the search strings for any unusual activity in the area and set it to run. Now it was a waiting game to see if anything of note turned up. Leaning back, he idly kicked the console, sending his chair into a lazy spin. If nothing turned up in Kansas, maybe he would widen his search to the surrounding states. If they flew Air Superboy, distance would hardly be an issue. Hell, if Jon was busy maybe he could go visit Richard. Bludhaven was never lacking in crime, and Father wouldn’t be able to complain about a lack of appropriate supervision during patrol. With Drake and Todd having left on a ‘roadtrip’ for at least a day…

Damian stopped his spinning and frowned. Now that he thought about it, it was highly unusual for his two older brothers to have left Gotham together and in their civilian identities. Especially with the Bats already shorthanded due to Father’s absence and Robin’s benching. He had been too distracted by the upcoming school day to make the connection when his brothers had mentioned their plans at breakfast that morning. And Drake had been investigating League activity… Damian’s fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing Drake’s security protocols with ease. If his brother had uncovered a League connection he had a right to know!

What he found among Drake’s recent search history was not what he expected. Some crackpot scientists from Illinois? That’s what had drawn his attention? Certainly, the older Robin had flagged some suspicious transactions and marked the Fentons as potential threats based on their inventions, but there were heroes closer to Amity Park that they could have foisted the investigation off on.

Damian drummed his fingers against his armrest. Something wasn’t adding up here. Pulling up everything he could find about the Fenton parents, he started looking through medical records, school records, articles… Suddenly, Damian’s heart slammed against his ribs. There, on the cover of a two year old magazine, was the face that had haunted him all week. With trembling fingers, he zoomed in on the image. It only took a few minutes to alter the hair and eye colour. It was unmistakably him. The boy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Damian himself, if slightly older and paler.

Swallowing hard, Damian scrolled through the magazine’s online archive to find the article mentioned on the title page. An almost extinct gorilla species. A chance discovery by then fourteen year old Daniel Fenton.

“Daniel,” Damian rolled the name around his mouth. A fairly common Western name. “Daniel. Danyal?” If he was Talia’s son, surely she would have used the Arabic version… no! He was jumping to conclusions!

Now having a name to go on, Damian dug deeper than Drake had bothered to. The birth certificate named a small town in Utah, but there were no records of a hospital admission. A home birth? There were no records of the Fentons having a residence in that state. No medical records of prenatal care either, though there were for the birth of the older sibling. Had the pregnancy gone unnoticed? Possible, if unlikely. There had been a vehicle registration for a motorhome during that time period though. Had the Fentons been living on the road when their son was born? Or had they acquired the child some other way? If he was an Al Ghul who would have spirited him away to the USA?

The Fentons had settled down in Amity Park about six months after Daniel’s birth, purchasing the residence they apparently used to this day. From there, his records were fairly standard and unremarkable, though there were a higher than average number of doctor’s visits for minor household accidents. Not enough to get flagged by CPS, but certainly worrying if potential mad science was involved. Daniel’s school records showed average grades, with higher scores in Maths and Science. At age fourteen however, his academic performance took a sharp dip, with an uneven performance on tests and numerous unexcused absences. His teachers noted frequent inattentiveness in class or Daniel outright falling asleep. Someone had submitted reports of bullying and suspicious bruises, but the case was dropped and never followed up on. His grades had evened out since then, but the unexcused absences persisted.

Damian knew enough about the trials and tribulations of teenage superheroics to recognize a pattern. And it certainly looked like Daniel fit the bill. If he had acquired meta abilities two years ago it probably took some time to get a handle on them and find a balance between his legal and illegal activities.

Damian steepled his fingers together. There was only so much his digital investigation could reveal. It was time for some fieldwork.

Part 7

[moonfoxgazer]

My first fic for @ecto-implosion based on artwork by @ovytia-art

I hope ya'll enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

-

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

-

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

-

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

-

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

-

[phantom-angst-obsession]

Guys I made a fic about my earlier post if anyone's interested, the first chapter is short because I like where it ends but I'll try to get more words and longer chapters

[charcoalhawk]

And they’ve all got the same heartbeat (but hers is falling behind)

With Casper high behind them, students from Amity park are finding out the the world around them is much different from the one they grew up in.

First Phic for Phic Phight 2023!

Prompt was from @mr-lancers-english-class: Amity Park residents often forget what feats of human ability are considered "normal" and what are considered "superhuman does not even begin to cover it oh dear god where in the world did you learn to do that?!?" This leads to some... interesting situations when Danny's graduating class steps out into the rest of the world for college.

had, a lot of fun with this. It was really fun breaking out a bunch of OC’ s and letting them just all run wild all over this.

Warning for reference to SA, Transphobia, injuries, and vomiting.

Title comes from Ecosmith, Cool Kids.

Paulina

Paulina hadn’t realized, at first, just how soft the world was outside of Amity Park. While her father had never let her attend the same self-defense classes Valerie went to, she had still learned how to protect herself from those who might wish her ill.

But, in retrospect, most people didn’t spend their high school years fighting the undead. So maybe her sense of fight of flight was just a tad bit skewed.

This wasn’t Paulina’s first time waking home slightly too drunk, during junior year at Casper she and Star spent every night during spring break bar hopping, and there had definitely been times during her senior year where entire week’s had felt like a dream.

But that had been at Casper, where all the teachers knew that students had bad weeks in which even showing up to school was a Herculean effort. On those weeks Mr. Lancer would offer you a quiet room after school to make up work in, and everyone knew to tread carefully.

But now she was in college, states away from Casper’s familiar haunted halls, and she, and Star, were starting to realize that the other girls around them maybe had slightly different experiences growing up.

Case in point, Paulina had mastered walking in heels when she was thirteen running away from an ancient dragon that had wanted her head on a spike, so even slightly drunk her steps didn’t waiver. Jessica was holding her heels in one hand while the other clutched her phone and lanyard like a lifeline, and Monica had shown up in flats and was now happily devouring a huge tub of pretzels she had borrowed from the frat house.

The party had taken place in the farthest house from freshman housing, off the campus itself. It had been free admission, a feature most freshmen all thought was amazing, but all the sophomores and juniors knew was a scam to get rid of all the old beer from the last several years that no one else wanted to drink.

It was close to three in the morning according to the last time Jessica had loudly announced from checking her phone, so there was little other foot traffic as the three of them slowly made their way back to the dorm. Paulina had noticed someone following them almost immediately after they had left the party, but had hoped it was just another freshman making the walk of shame back onto campus.

But as they near the first campus building, the figure that had been following from a distance rapidly gained on them, revealing itself to be at four gangly boys, who all swaggered towards them like they had a hive of bees up their asses. Paulina distinctly remembers turning the leading boy, Ben, down when he had insisted she give him a shot earlier that week.

They’re stopped at a traffic light where Jessica starts to rather urgently press the crosswalk button, but the light has just turned green and it’ll be at least two or so minutes before the light will cycle.

“Hey there, pretty thing,” Ben drawls, “what’s someone like you doing out past your bedtime?”

Oh, he’s one of those assholes. Paulina knows she had made it abundantly clear she had no interest in him, and if he was the kind of guy who stalked drunk girls after a party, she had definitely made the right choice.

Jessica and Monica are giving her some very concerned glances, and out of the corner of her eye Paulina sees Jessica fumbling for her phone while trying to not drop her heels.

There’s just too much traffic for them to safely cross, and even then the boys would just follow them, and there is no way Paulina is playing a demented version of hide and seek with these losers.

Paulina understands the other girl's concern, but she’s met beings who would truly wish her harm, these empty headed cardboard cutouts with overinflated egos just needed to be firmly taught a lesson.

With large steps Ben’s in her space in moments, hand reaching down to posessively stroke her cheek down her neck. His hand is larger than her’s, smooth from lack of work and well manicured. She can smell his cologne, it’s something cheap, he’s practically doused himself in it so entering his personal space means all you can smell is him.

His hand travels didn further and- nope! Paulina has dealt with a lot of disgusting men in her life, but most of them are too cowardly to get too close. Over the years she’s learned to ignore most demeaning language, as in most cases speaking up about it will get her a telling off from her parents for acting unladylike.

Her hands snap up to grab his wrist while she shifts slightly so none of him is touching her. Before he can make any comment, she yanks harshly down and hears the tell-tale pop of a dislocating shoulder. She remembers Valerie teaching her that the summer before freshman year, her then friend had been worried and had wanted to give Paulina a way to deter anyone from trying to touch her more then once when she didn’t want them too.

It had come in handy a few times over the years, but she hadn’t always been able to actually get the shoulder dislocated on the first try. It had still been surprising enough that it had gotten her out of one bad situation, but after that she had asked and both Kwan and Dash had volunteered to help get her technique down and now she knew the exact right angle and amount of abrupt force needed to get the desired result.

There’s a startled gasp from the girls, and one of the looming guys let’s out a strangled “what the fuck,” but Paulina isn’t done. Quickly she yanks, pulling Ben’s now limp arm down so she can wedge her elbow with his, before snapping it as hard as she can at a perpendicular.

This time it’s the satisfying crunch of bone and with that he crumbles to the floor, wailing.

The smallest guy darts in to help his friend up but the other two seem frozen in shock. Going from their horrified faces no one has ever been bold enough to stand up to them when they traveled in a pack like this.

“Move along boys,” Paulina gives them a smile that is all teeth, something she had learned from Manson, “next time you think about harassing someone just stay in your room with some tissues, it’ll be more productive.”

The last two guys lunge at her then, but their movements grow awkward as they both aim for the same target. One does land a half decent punch to her nose and one tries to get behind her and definitely pulls out some hair with his harsh grip, but neither of them have had to fight in close quarters with others before. it’s easy to catch her palm hard on one guy’s throat and send him down hacking.

The one behind her has the unfortunate fate of getting her nails in his eye, and really now she’s going to have to get them redone because already she can feel two of them catching in flesh and ripping off.

He screams, high and long as his hands yank harshly at hers. She allows herself the brief satisfaction of digging them in deeper for a few more moments before allowing him to push her away.

And with the last guy releasing her to clutch at his face, it’s all over. The other two have already disappeared, and all it takes is one loud step with her heel to send the other two running.

A quick glance shows that Monica and Jessica are still standing near the light, Monica’s pretzels scattered on the floor as she’s holding one of Jessica’s heels like a weapon.

Something in Paulina’s heart warms. It’s nice to know her new friends are willing to protect her, maybe during the summer she’ll invite them to Amity and Valerie can show them how to properly snap someone’s wrist.

“It’s all fine now girls. Oh Monica, you dropped your pretzels! Let's stop by the college store on the way and pick up some new ones. The girl who works the night shift always keeps the best ones in the back of the shelves so there should still be some left.”

“What the fuck?” Jessica whispered.

——————

Dash

This year’s group of freshmen is pretty promising.

Don had been coaching the football team at Ohio State university for almost eleven years now. Most of the boys that he coached had been playing since middle school, and had a decent grasp on the game, if sometimes a little arrogant about their status as ‘college football future all stars’.

Some were always more bone-headed than others, and every year Don could always predict a few of them leaving the program within the year due to an injury from being too reckless.

For all the love he has for his boys, the first proper practice was always one of Don’s least favorites. All the kids want to do is gossip instead of practice, and all the new freshmen try way too hard to make a good impression with the upperclassmen. By the end of the day, every year, he always has to make everyone run suicide’s because the boys were either being too rough or goofing off when they shouldn’t.

Over the years Don has found sprinting to be one of the best punishments for over talkative players, as it has a unique way of getting kids out of breath in a way where they would finally stop yammering on for a few minutes so he could talk to them without dealing with interruptions.

After the third time a freshman decides to describe his summer flings loudly and in graphic detail, Don has had it up to here with these kids. Bragging was for the locker room, not the field.

“Alright! I’ve had enough! Line up at the zero mark, we’re doing suicides for the last ten minutes of practice.”

There’s the usual amount of groaning and whining as everyone slowly makes their way over to the zero mark, and one of two even tries to sneak off to the bathroom, but one stern look has them stomping back with the rest of the pack.

“Alright! Everyone here should know what suicides are, but just in case any of you left your brains in the summer heat for too long here’s what your going to do- we sprint to the twenty five mark, then back, then the fifty and back, then the seventy five and back, and finally the opposite goal post and back. You will repeat until my whistle.”

Once everyone is in position Don gives a shrill signal with his little metal whistle, and they’re off.

The first five minutes go by and everything is going as it should, some kids are already slowing down, a clear sign they were not keeping in shape over the summer, and thus ones Don is going to have to push harder to get them back with the rest of the pack.

At the eight minute mark even his juniors and seniors are starting to slow a bit, but the last two minutes of sprints are almost always the hardest, even for the boys he’s been working with since their freshman year.

But, as he looks there’s one kid who isn’t slowing down. He had initially seen the kid’s slightly more sedate pace and internally marked him as a kid who would need a firmer hand, but now it’s obvious he was simply setting a pace for himself, as now almost ten minutes in his sprinting has not slowed beyond what it started as.

In Don’s experience freshman tended to put everything they had into the first three minutes of sprinting, and were almost always the first to sprint to the other side of the field and back, but also meant that they usually didn’t have the stamina to stay sprinting for ten minutes straight.

But this kid is still going. It takes him a minute to place the kid, but after a moment he realizes it’s Baxter, the kid from Amity park.

In most other cases the small town would mean nothing to him, but in this case Amity had enough of a reputation that he had been warned when one of its alumni decided to join his team.

The most haunted town in America. Sounded like a bunch of bullshit in Don’s professional opinion, but enough weird shit had happened the last five or so years that Casper high had gotten in the habit of sending, not warning letters, but an informational packet to schools so they would know what behaviors to watch out for.

Don still remembers three years ago the story of a freshman at Colorado Tech publishing a paper on the effects of being haunted by ghosts and how it affects the perception of mortality for an entire town. The young woman had been a graduate of Casper high, and when invested further it was revealed that this wasn’t some kid trying to be as ridiculous as they could, but an actual, legitimate thing that was still happening in the town.

Hell, he remembers trading emails with Baxter’s English teacher the last few months of the kid's senior year. In most cases it would have been a school counselor that he discussed a kid’s schooling and grades with, but apparently Amity had had a very bad experience in the last few years with ghostly interference and currently didn’t have a dedicated counseling team at all.

Which, Don definitely had opinions about, but the school was doing all it could to help the kids where they could. So Don would at least give them that.

Apparently Baxter had been a pretty big asshole and a bully his first two years of high school, something the school had let slide more than it should have, and had initially been excused or ignored because of his prowess in physical sports. Towards the end of his sophomore year and leading into his junior Baxter has seemed to finally learn and grow from his bullying ways.

Many teachers had observed him becoming, if not kind then neutral to those he had been harassing, and by his senior year was genuinely well liked by most acquaintances and not feared.

Don remembers the report from the recruiter that had gone down to Amity to observe the team, and nothing they had observed had even hinted that Baxter or any of his teammates acted in any way different or better then any other team they observed in that period.

At the twelve minute mark everyone else has collapsed near the post, but this kid is still going. After fifteen minutes the kid looks at him intently when he turns back towards him, his seventh time reaching the opposite end of the field, but his pace still hasn’t slowed, and he doesn’t look like he’s in any extreme pain, so Don motions for him to continue, and the kid does so without complaint.

It’s odd, in almost any other situation Don would say the kid had just switched to running, but the motions, the sharp turns and the slightly hunched posture, he's still sprinting.

Don finally calls it at the thirty minute mark, and by now the soccer team has shown up, but everyone seems just a bit too mesmerized by the sight to comment on Don holding the field almost twenty minutes late.

Baxter jogs right over to where everyone is standing slack jawed and casually reaches to drink some of his water. He definitely looks like he just exercised, his whole face is flushed red and his hair has become a solid mass lying flat on his head, but his legs are holding him up and his breathing isn’t the rapid mess he expects from someone having sprinted for half an hour straight.

After Baxter finishes his drink he looks expectedly at him, and after a moment Don shakes himself out of his stupor and motions for the soccer team to take the field.

After they’ve left the football team is still hovering around the bleachers, likely wanting to get the first chance to hound the kid for answers or beg him to spill his secrets. Don’s at least a little more subtle than that.

After checking that everyone else is ready he releases them and with some reluctance the rest of the kids leave for the locker room.

Baxter hasn’t moved, likely sensing that Don has questions.

“Kid, I say this as kindly and as without judgment as I can- but how the hell did you do that!”

“Oh, well,” Baxter doesn’t look nervous, but he does seem a bit self conscious, a small sign he has hopefully matured from the pompous bully he was said to be. “Coach Tellestaff back home was pretty insistent that we learn how to sprint for long periods of time in case something was chasing after us that wouldn’t grow easily tired, so we usually did sprints at least every other day.”

“That’s an… interesting motive. Did you often find yourself in situations running from things like that? Back home?”

“Uh well it wasn’t an every day kinda thing, but at least once every other week a ghost would attack the school, and in situations like that you wanted to be as far away from the fighting as possible.”

“Well, I just want you to know it was extremely impressive, you must have worked hard to be able to do what we just saw now.”

“Ha, that’s nothing! Two of my best friends, Paulina and Star, could sprint half way across town in heels. They offered to teach me and Kwan, but to be honest we were a little worried that we’d break our necks falling or somehow impaling ourselves with those five inch torture devises.”

——————

Tucker

There are many things Tucker enjoys about college. Not having to wake up before ten am most days? Amazing, let’s him get so much more work don’t and he can tinker into the night without worrying about his parents having to barge into his room the next morning because he overslept.

Not having to be ready to fight ghosts 24/7? A goddamn lifesaver. After four years the ghosts who frequented Amity had calmed down enough that they weren't all chomping at the bit to cause as much mayhem as possible. Danny had also gotten Wulf to show him how to make dimensional portals, so he could fight ghosts in the Zone without destroying the town. It helped that Danny had set it up so he visited Amity at least every third week for a few days, both to check in with the more peaceful ghosts who called Amity home, and to make sure his parents hadn’t caused any more trouble than they could handle themselves.

One thing Tucker really enjoyed about college was the extracurriculars. Casper high had band, football, and a few small after school clubs, but no big organized programs beyond that that could compete in competitions.

But now, at Tech, Tucker had found his people in the robotics team. Ever since that first freshman orientation where they were introduced to all the clubs Tech has to offer, where Tucker found a group showing off a robot they built that poured drinks without overflowing or knocking them over.

He had signed up then and there, and from that point forward every Monday and Thursday night were for Robotics, and Thursday and Saturdays were fuck around nights where they had almost unrestricted access to the lab and were able to test out personal projects or ideas that they might not want to hand over to the team.

Official work nights were also fun, and definitely a bit more informative with their teacher around to help them expand upon their ideas. they would share and explore code together, and discuss what they could build for the numerous robotics competitions held throughout the year.

Tucker loved participating in these events, but this upcoming one was promising to be his favorite. This competition has a very special individual event that offered a huge cash prize, and Tucker was determined to get it. A few of his friends were also competing, but most had wanted to focus solely on their big team project.

Now, Tucker loved his team, but they did tend to get a bit squeamish when he pulled parts from non-standard scraps. Having a friend like Sam meant that he had access to what was considered modern material that had already lived its course, like recently released phone models, for example. Like now, where he was cannibalizing a few very new devices for their cameras to make a drone with a multi-directional camera.

“Dude, is that an iPhone 14?” Roberto looked absolutely appalled from where he was hovering over Tucker’s workstation.

“Oh yeah, a lot of their components are shit, meant to be obsolete in like two years so you’ll have to buy another one, but I’ve found the cameras aren’t half bad once you put them on something that isn’t meant to shit itself in a year.”

“Well yeah, everyone knows most super modern phones are kinda garbage, but this hasn’t even been released onto the general market yet!”

“Oh, well my friend Sam gave some of her family’s old versions, apparently they don’t fare well after possession.”

“Possession?” Now Cassius has floated over from their project in trying to make better AI detection software, “Dude, are you still keeping up that joke about Amity and how haunted it is? I thought we had convinced you that you didn’t need to tell these crazy stories for us to want to hang out with you?”

Well, that’s rather rude of them, but as Tucker winds up and is about to begin his by now long rehearsed speech on how Amity is absolutely fucking haunted there’s a buzz from his pocket, and when he checks it’s Jazz, who in his long experience never calls without reason.

“Well.. hold on, I gotta take a call real fast.” Tucker pulled out his trusty pda, which over the years he had tinkered with enough that its internal workings barely resembled the device he had gotten his first week in high school. He had kept the outer shell mostly unchanged because after seven years, turns out he had gotten pretty fond of it.

“Hey ya! Everything ok?”

Turns out Maddie and Jack had accidentally created a small anti-matter gun when trying to find a way to make a portable portal, and Jazz was hoping he could stop by with Danny in the next ten minutes to find out how it worked in the first place and maybe accidentally destroy it or make it unusable so they would think the first success was a fluke.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Tucker glanced at his teammates who were looking at his pda like it had personality offended them, “tell Danny to hop right over.”

“Oh my god, don’t you still use a pda?” Roberto whispered in horrified awe after Tucker had ended the call, “There’s no way it can hold up, it can’t be compatible with other phone providers. It could barely be considered functional when it was first released!”

“Oh jokes on them,” Tucker checked that everything was off at his station and that there was no exposed wiring that someone could get hurt by, “like hell I’m paying for something that already exists and should be free to access.”

There’s a ripping pop behind them, and he turns around with a grin to see Danny holding the dimensions open for him.

“Well, we can argue the amazingness of my darling at a later date, I should be back in less than an hour, if not make sure you get at least one meat-lovers for me tonight, I’ll Venmo you the cost when I get back!”

“Well,” his teacher grumbles, “At least he turned his project off this time, the fire was hell to deal with last year”, is the last thing he hears before the portal closes around them.

——————

Kwan

Julius hadn’t really wanted to work at their college’s discount coffee shop during their junior year, but over the summer their parents had helped them track down the perfect car for them, and after some haggling their parents had bought it for them at a steal. But now Julius had to pay for their own gas, and having their own car meant more temptations, like 3am Nasty Burger on the other side of town, which they could finally drive to on their own without having to bully one of their friends to come over and drive them.

Luckily it wasn't too hard to get the position, they had applied early enough that most other kids were still enjoying their summers, so a month before school Julius officially had their first job.

All of Julius’ coworkers were very nice, and even after they had finished training no one hesitated to help if they were confused about how to make a drink or about a certain procedure.

Winston and Bella both came from New York, and enjoyed trying to gross the other out with increasingly outrageous drink combinations. Zack was from Washington state, and seemed to genuinely enjoy the intricacies of coffee itself. Darius, Kassidy, and Shaun were all locals who loved to recommend places nearby to eat and hang out. Victor came from the same area as Julius, and was in the process of illustrating his first book.

Kwan came from a small town in the Midwest, and was one of the most genuinely friendly people Julius had ever met.

When Julius’ car had refused to start one morning Kwan was the first person they called, and had shown up without complaint at seven in the morning to drive them to work, then afterwards helped them set up an appointment with a friend of a friend's mechanic who helped fix their car for an absurdly reasonable price.

On most days things were pretty slow until ten or so in the morning. The store itself was very small, with only a cafe area and no drive through, and the owners still refused to sign any deals with third party companies so no doordash or Uber eats. It means that a three man team could comfortably work the store at any one time, and maybe on holidays they would bring an extra person in to help the midday shift when all the college kids decided to study in packs and take up every available seat they had.

Today, however, looked like it was going to be a shitshow.

Victor had called out at the last minute, she had fallen in the shower and heavenly twisted their ankle, and given that it was spring break there was no way anyone who hadn’t already been scheduled was going to come in to cover.

Spring break also meant they were staying busy much later into the afternoon than usual. On a normal Thursday by 4pm the ravenous packs of college kids would have mostly cleared out to go to afternoon classes, and all that was left were local working adults looking for overpriced coffee and free WiFi, and kids who didn’t have classes that day.

But now at almost seven pm the store is still packed. There were two groups taking up most of the more lounge-y seating, an older man having a very heated debate on his phone, and a kid hanging by the bathrooms watching YouTube without headphones. Overall it was much louder then Julius was usually comfortable with for an extended period of time.

But the current source of conflict was a younger woman looming over the counter that separated the customer area from where drinks were made.

Her drink had taken a bit because she had ordered right after the two rowdy groups of kids, and Julius had been taught to make drinks in order of who placed their order first, not on whose order it would be easier to do.

Well, technically.

In practice people did orders out of order all the time, but the woman had pissed Julius off with her attitude and her visible sneer when she had noticed the pronoun pins everyone was wearing.

So, they would follow protocols exactly, just for her.

Her drink itself wasn’t too difficult, and in situations like these Julius always wished they could just tell customers they were better off buying the ingredients and making it for themselves at home, not spending almost ten dollars on lackluster taste.

Julius handed the coffee over to the glowering woman, and was just getting ready to signal to Shaun that they were going to go to the back to work on dishes when there was a very pointed cough and an aggravated sigh from across the counter.

“This doesn’t taste right.”

The woman’s bright purple lipstick has already stained the lid of the cup, so at least they know she actually tried it, but still. It was a regular old white chocolate coffee, with no special addendums or bells and whistles to it. And while they haven’t been working here for the years that others may have, Julius has over six months of working here to know that they made that drink correctly.

But, deep sigh, assume the best.

“Oh, I’m sorry, could you tell me what was wrong about it so we can remake it for you?”

“It just tastes wrong! I have ordered this drink every day for the last three months, I know what it should look and taste like, and this is wrong!”

The commotion had caught Kwan’s attention from where he was restocking their cups and espresso beans, and he moved over to draw the woman’s attention from Julius to himself.

Thank god, Kwan was the best with asshole customers. Julius thought if they had to deal with this woman for too much longer they might make their disdain too obvious, and then they would have a whole ‘nother problem in the woman saying they were being unkind to them.

Julius still remembers Kwan warning them about unsavory customers their first week.

Julius had been nervous because all their work in high school had been volunteer, and not in situations where people generally would complain to them about something being miss made, or just the general shit they knew true customer service often involved dealing with.

“How do you really deal with bad customers?” It’s slow right now, but just twenty minutes ago there had been a literal crowd of people in their cafe, and some had been very irate that their drinks were not magically appearing before them. Julius had been keeping their head down, attempting to make drinks as quick as they could without drawing attention, while Kwan and Bella helped dole out food and placate everyone.

“Well, that kind of depends,” Kwan makes a seesaw motion with his hand, “sometimes there’s a genuine mistake in the making of the drink or when it was ordered, and the customer is respectful in politely asking for a remake. In those cases you just simply make it again for them, and everything moves on.”

“But that’s not always the case.” Even if social media wasn’t what it was, Julius remembers the horror stories various friends had told them over the years. They’ve seen it first hand plenty of time already, but there’s always been someone nearby to help deal with it.

“Ah, no,” Kwan glances out towards the now calm cafe, “I know when the owners hired you they must have made a big stink about always being approachable and how the goal is for customers to feel welcome and comfortable here. But in practice it’s-“

“A load of horse shit?”

“-unrealistic. Sometimes people think something is wrong with the drink and demand it be made again, but they won’t tell you why. Or it’ll be wrong in some unhelpful way, like it tastes wrong or they can’t taste a flavor even though you know you added exactly as much as they asked for. In those situations you kinda just have to make it again, and hopefully this time they’ll be satisfied. If they want it remade more than twice, that’s generally the point where you politely tell them that it seems we can’t reach their standards, and that they might want to try another location.”

“What about people who just want a free drink?”

“We make it for them, if they’ve already touched it we can’t take it back anyway, so just make them another.”

“Jeez, you're definitely nicer than me about this.”

“Oh I know they’re not all in the right, but sometimes all you can do is smile and hope they leave quickly after you’ve fixed their drink for them.”

Even now, It’s almost supernatural how calm Kwan is in the face of others' anger.

“Yes ma’am, I completely understand,” and oh Kwan is giving her an absolutely dazzling smile, “we will absolutely get that drink remade for you right away.”

He’s speaking perfectly calmly, not an ounce of annoyance or anger in his tone, but all the same Julius sees the woman almost shrink back.

Julius knows part of the whole customer service shtick was to always appear pleasant and to never show anger towards a customer. But what Kwan is doing now goes way past that.

He’s kept direct eye contact with the woman since she started complaining, and his smile sits on his face like it was branded there, never wavering. He continues to hold eye contact as he remakes the drink, which a small part of Julius finds super impressive, and by the end of it the woman snatches her new drink out of Kwan’s hand and swiftly exits the store like she was being chased.

“Well, I hope she was satisfied this time, you go ahead and head back to do those dishes I saw you eying, I can hold the fort down for now.”

——————

Star

It’s almost four in the morning and Star is maybe just starting to get a little worried. She knows Paulina can take care of herself! She’s seen it! But, she still holds the right as best and oldest friend to worry about her when she goes off to three am frat parties.

Just as Star is about to call Paulina in the hopes that her phone isn’t sitting forgotten on a table somewhere, there’s the sound of locks clicking before Paulina and their two other roommates step into their little common room.

Paulina walks in with Jessica and Monica practically on her heels, and once all three were in the room Jessica turned and swiftly re-locked all the locks, and even grabbed the door jammer Monica’s mom had brought over and swiftly put it in place, making the door about as secure as it could be.

The space is a little bit cramped, four girls who all brought probably more stuff to college then they probably needed meant that most everything was an organized mess and there was not too much of the floor actually visible at any given moment.

Suitcases were still sitting unpacked by the door. Star and Paulina had visited Amity just last week to see their parents and pick up their winter clothing that they hadn’t brought with them initially because they had needed the room for all their fall clothes.

The first smell to meet her is obviously alcohol, but after that initial overwhelming moment the iron-y tinge of blood starts to permeate the room.There’s no growing puddle on the floor, and no one’s screaming for an ambulance, so it’s hopefully nothing life threatening.

As the three stand in the middle of the room Star instinctively scans them for visible injuries.

Monica and Jessica look very shaken up, but there’s no forming bruises and there’s no obviously ripped clothing.

Paulina on the other hand looks quite disheveled. A quick glance shows a growing bruise around her nose, and a finger missing a nail is already swelling.

“Oh no, what happened!” Paulina didn’t usually let things escalate to physical harm, not unless she felt seriously threatened.

“We’re fine, Star,” Paulina finally moved to take off her heels, a sign she at least wasn’t getting ready to head out again, “it was nothing, some boys with overinflated egos thought they could have their way with us on the way back from Brad’s party. Brad’s? Thad’s? The senior who told all the freshmen that his party would have free beer and all the freshmen didn’t think twice about the quality.”

“Was it at least good beer?”

“Hell no, I wouldn't even use it to disinfect my wounds, not even as an ice pack.”

They both laugh at that. Back home, everyone knows which beers are worth drinking to numb pain, and which are better used to try and soothe sore muscles.

“That is, not what I think we should be focusing on right now.” Monica sounds out of breath, clutching a large container of pretzels like it’d a shield. Star recognizes the brand from the school store, and Paulina must feel particularly close to these two if she let them in on how to get the good pretzels.

There’s another long moment of silence, before Jessica suddenly bolts towards the bathroom she shares with Monica.

“Oh, poor dear,” Paulina looks sadly to where her friend disappeared to, “I was worried that would happen, Monica at least had food to help her keep anything down, but the last thing Jessica ate was that nasty burger at lunch today, I think everything just finally caught up to the poor girl.”

“Well at least it’s just cheap beer, Jessica would have a conniption if she found out she threw up wine more expensive than her whole dorm room.”

With the metaphorical ice broken Star beckons Paulina over to the couch while she grabs the kitchen medical kit. Not as big as the one at home, but it at least has the necessities to treat small injuries.

Returning to the living room sees Paulina relaxing into the couch, with Monica hovering nearby. After a moment of hesitation the other girl collapses onto their smaller couch, still holding onto the pretzels.

With a closer look the bruise seems to be the only injury Paulina sustained, but her hair seems frazzled from possibly being pulled, and two of her fingers on the right hand are missing their nail extensions. There’s starting to be some serious discoloration at the joints of the fingers, a sign they’re probably out of their sockets.

“Well at least it isn’t too bad, I can grab an ice pack for your face and nose, but we’re going to have to pop your fingers back into their joints.”

“Wait wait wait,” Monica speaks up from the couch, “wouldn’t it be better to go to a hospital for something like this, you can seriously mess up your body if you pop a bone back in place wrong.”

“Oh that’s so sweet, but don’t worry, I have plenty of experience with sprained and broken bones.”

“Even better, didn’t you sew up Manson that one time with the helicopter?” Paulina looks up from where she was inspecting her intact nails, “that has to be at least thirty stitches, and you did it without even flinching!”

“What?”

Oh dear, what Paulina had clearly meant to be encouraging only seems to have made Monica more unnerved and horrified. Which, Star kind of understood, it was scary when your friend got hurt, but Star knew what she was doing, so Monica had no reason to fret.

“Shouldn’t we, um, go to the campus police with this?” Jessica’s voice is scratchy from where she’s leaning out from the bathroom, clutching the doorway.

Monica nods enthusiastically, but Star thinks it is a rather silly idea.

“Ha!” Paulina’s laugh is sharp, “the most that would happen would be that we get told off for being ‘young ladies out drinking late at night without thinking about the consequences’, worst case, I did much more damage to them than they did to me, so if anything I would get charged with assault.”

“But! He was harassing you! Everyone who’s anyone knows Ben has been trying to get into your pants for the last two weeks, it’s obvious he was trying to-“

“Oh like any officer would take my side in that situation. It would be all ‘oh but you didn’t give him a chance’, ‘oh she dresses like that and is surprised when young men take an interest in her’, 'oh but the young man is so nice usually’…”

While Paulina is giving her impassioned speech Star quickly pops the two fingers back into place, each making a satisfying snap pop sound as it’s put back into alignment.

It’s almost enough to cover the sudden sound of violent retching from Jessica and Monica’s bathroom.

———————

+ Danny

Jerome’s Dad is going to be so disappointed with him. Another quick glance at his phone screen reveals that it’s almost eleven pm, and that Jerome has less than an hour to file his taxes.

His Dad had been texting him every day for the past three weeks to remind him that he needed to do them ASAP, but every time he sat down in front of his computer something had come up.

A test to study for, a party he absolutely couldn’t miss, Hillary from calculus asked him to go to the movies with her and from there he might have spent the next three days at her apartment.

He just, he had never found the time. And all those hours sitting on his phone switching between Twitter and Instagram didn’t count, that was his daily time for doom-scrolling and making himself feel bad by seeing how perfect some people’s lives seemed to be.

And now it was tax day, and he hadn’t even bought the filing software until this morning. The poor cashier ringing him out that morning had wished him luck, which he definitely needed.

He needed the job. Getting scholarships had helped, but with his Dad’s single income it was still a very tight fit. Jerome had tried to get jobs as a teen in high school, but every place he had applied to wanted you to already have experience or demanded more hours than he could give with a high school schedule.

Next year Jerome was going to have to pay for at least his own room and board, and part of the tuition based on what was estimated his scholarships could cover. His Dad had emphasized that if he didn’t feel comfortable he could always come home, but so much of their savings was going towards his degree, Jerome couldn’t waste it. And Jerome liked the idea of having some spending money that he had earned himself, having his own pocket change meant he could buy books or replacement parts for his guitar without feeling guilty about using his rather limited personal savings.

At this point smacking his forehead into the desk might not be productive, but it does feel deserved.

“What’s up? Did you finally get a computer virus from all those sketching anime-watching sites?” His roommate Danny had been quietly enjoying his misery for the past half hour. The other boy had just recently gotten back from one of his late night classes, and was hunkered down under his lofted bed, playing Zelda from the sound of it.

“No, it’s- hey! You weren’t complaining when I got us the original Trigun and the Japanese sub for Ghost Stories.”

“Yeah yeah, but really, what’s got you so freaked?”

“It’s just- Oh my god, why did I ever want a job,” he questions the room and the universe at large.

“Uhh money?”

“No no no, don’t be logical with me, let me wallow in my misery for this last hour. God why didn’t I let my Dad help me when he was over for spring break?”

He scrolls through the file once again, but he still cannot make heads or tails about what he is supposed to do. All his frantic googling will tell him is that there’s some form he needs to fill out somewhere, but nothing gives him a straight answer on how filling out this form will help!

“It’s these Tax forms. I bought one of those ‘tax help’ programs but it keeps asking about all these accounts and different bits of personal information that I have no idea if they need to know.”

“Ouch, you waited this long to start?”

“Yes yes, laugh at me later, I think at this point I’m just going to have to call it quits and call my dad tomorrow and pay the late fee.”

“Maybe I could help?”

“At this point I’ll take anything,” Jerome stretched as Danny got up from his fort under his bed and walked the two feet to Jerome’s desk, “I mean you can’t make it any worse than it already is.”

“I mean,” Danny gives a grin that flashes in the low light of the room, “if I filed these horribly wrong you could get a very passive aggressive email from the IRS that you really fucked up and need to re-do your taxes again.”

Jerome has mostly come to appreciate Danny’s humor, bad puns and all, but sometimes the guy can get just a little too deadpan in his delivery. But two can play at that game.

“Maybe I’ll just suffer then-“ Jerome makes a show of trying to shove Danny away from his computer, and the laugh it brings out of Danny makes Jerome feel light.

“No no, kidding,” Danny huffs as he leans in and inspects the mess that is Jeromes’s laptop. “Ok, so what I think you need to do first is find this form here…”

Less than half an hour later Jerome is pressing the file button. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders, enough that he plops down to their slightly Cheeto dust infested carpet in relief.

(Maybe he had been neglecting other things along with doing his taxes.)

“Oh my god you’re a lifesaver!”

Danny grins down at him and offers a hand up, and once he gets to his feet Jerome’s stomach lets out an unhappy gurgle that reminds him he hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Wanna go down to the common room and see if Gus left any leftovers from his family’s visit last night? I think he said as long as it was in a blue container any of us could have as much as we wanted.”

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely down!”

They leave the room and arrive in the common area with little fanfare, and within minutes are enjoying some very late night home cooked chicken and rice.

“So, how’d you know how to do taxes?” Jerome asks one his stomach has stopped rumbling about mutiny. “As far as I know that’s not why you stay up until three am watching YouTube, and you said you weren’t going to get a job until next semester when you didn’t have to deal with night classs.”

“Oh yeah, my Mom showed me how to do them for the past few years, she said no one had ever helped her growing up and so she wanted to make sure me and my sister knew how to do them correctly so we wouldn’t stress.”

“Man, that's awesome. I know my dad tried to show me last year, but he already had most stuff auto-completed because of the service he used. So I kinda blew it off and just assumed I would know what to do when the time came.”

“Yeah, most of it is pretty easy, although I know my parents have to file quarterly because they’re self employed and mostly do work with an independent income and not through an established company. My dad showed me some of the forms they had to fill out once, absolutely nightmare inducing. I couldn’t imagine trying to work independently and having that much pressure from the IRS about all those different forms.”

“Why did your parents need to do that?”

“Oh because they’re independent paranormal investigators, they hunt ghosts.”