#so ghost is actually sharing a part of himself

[spidori]

I'm hoping it's ok for me to toss my two cents into the ring, because this is the Tumblr Phandom and all, and this kinda gave me a vision vis-a-vis Danny (not) finding out he's the new Ghost King for the first time.

Imagine, if you will, some new rogue shows up specifically to fight Danny. We're talking after Reign Storm and The Ultimate Enemy, but well before the rest of the Phamily has come into their own and started helping the Justice League.

During the brawl the new Rogue makes some comment about how they'll defeat Danny and then claim their place as rightful king of the Realms. Danny probably doesn't think much of it during the fight- too focussed on being concussed and finding a way to beat this annoyingly powerful new enemy- but he remembers the comment later and something clicks about right of conquest and him having defeated the previous king and etc.

Cue Danny screaming off to Clockwork (in regards to how fast he's flying, you can't prove the ghost who flew by at nearly the speed of sound yelling for Clockwork was him! Totally a coincidence!) in his Tower.

Clockwork, the gremlin he is, reassures Danny that claiming the throne of The Ghost King of The Infinite Realms is not so simple as who can punch hardest. The people of the Realms themselves select their rulers, through their own sets of trials and laws yes, but also subconsciously because of how Ectoplasm responds to feelings. Extending from that- and even more important really- the saturation of the Infinite Realms with Ectoplasm actually provides the substrate for a group subconscious arising from all the partially shared emotional resonances bouncing around amongst and between all Ectoplasmic Entities. In other words, The Realms itself is actually conscious and sentient on a scale only perceptible to some of the very strongest and longest-extant Ancients, and that consciousness is what really conveys the Title of King of The Infinite Realms to the one it deems most worthy.

And Clockwork reassures Danny that he needn't worry, Pariah actually lost the Realms' approval long before Danny was even born (true) and a new king was selected by it as well (also true) and Danny didn't receive the title upon decking Dark in his not-so-kingly nose (also also technically true...) and the new King even has Clockworks full approval for the reign of peace and prosperity he will bring with his just, fair, and above all caring rulings.

What he's leaving out is that there was an extended period where no one was deemed worthy to rule by The Realms, a period which ended when Danny showed he was worthy, not by fighting Pariah, or even by showing the strength and humility to overcome his own worst self, but by the way he handled and immediately relinquished the absolute power of the Reality Gauntlet with zero hesitation.

So Danny leaves the Tower reassured that The Realms have tagged some ghost wise and powerful enough to be the actual new Ghost King, completely unaware that he's it.

Clockwork waits until he's back through the portal to laugh his non-existent ass off.

And Danny's an even better mediator for not knowing his position. The way I see it, the most important parts of any successful mediation are the parties feeling like their concerns were actually Heard and taken into account, and there being some means of enforcing the parts of the ruling that one or more parties don't want to cooperate with. Danny has the title and the power to enforce whatever he wants, but since he sees himself as just some guy he approaches every argument with a level of humility and openness that means everyone actually gets their full say. And he's actually trying to help while not thinking he has any skin in the game since he doesn't even know they're technically his subjects, which only helps to make his rulings all the more fair to all parties.

Clockwork probably slowly but surely brought others in on his little prank. I bet Dan was actually first, what with his apprenticeship and all, and that it was the first step to him actually starting to like the old coot. At this point, Danny's just about the only being- living, dead, or otherwise- who is both regularly involved with his existence and doesn't know he's King. It's not like anyone would tell him; they're either way too scared of angering Clockwork, think the joke is far too funny (and getting funnier the longer it goes), or want Danny to be able to half-live his half-life without the stress of knowingly carrying what is quite possibly the single heaviest crown in existence.

Then there's Clockwork, who has one other reason he's hiding this from Danny beyond the latter two of the above. Clockwork can see how this is the perfect training for Danny. I mean, thunk about it, Danny doesn't think his words actually carry any weight, which means he's getting the perfect chance to practice the hardest part of the job (making decisions which will impact his subjects in all kinds of ways unforeseeable to anyone but Clockwork) without any of the stress which would make him second guess himself. By the time he learns the truth there will be an extensive record of his fantastic judgement and conflict resolution skills to drop in front of anyone who would question Danny's capability as Ghost King, including (especially) Danny himself.

Everything is exactly as it should be, indeed!

I've seen a lot of people writing Danny as a space ancient and Dan and Dani as ghosts with moon and sun cores, being sort of parts, versions of Danny and therefore weaker. Now, consider: Dan and Dani are both powerful ghosts with really cool cores and stuff but Danny is just some guy™

Dan, who came from an alternate timeline and is kind of from the future but also not, is Clockwork's apprentice and will eventually become an ancient of time. He probably only agreed to have some lessons with Clockwork to understand better what happened to him, but he enjoys his apprenticeship now.

Dani, with her love of travelling, loves seeing all the different places the world offers to her, and that includes space and different planets and maybe even parallel universes, and she accidentally ends up being an apprentice of the space ancient. For now she's probably a baby ancient of freedom or something like that, but she might become an ancient of space in the future.

We can also have something like Dan having a core of destruction or Dani being the Speed Force if you want it to be dcxdp, or any headcanon of yours about their cool powers.

And then there's Danny. And yeah, everyone knows that he's super powerful, but also he's just some guy.

It can go different routes. Does everyone know that Danny is just Danny? Or do they think that with siblings (well, technically a clone and an alternate version, but whatever) so powerful, he must be even stronger? Is Danny actually something terrifyingly eldritch and ancient and strong, almost a god, but he just doesn't know himself? Or is he just really some guy?

Now, because it's obvious that I have a dcxdp brainrot, have a regular "JL summons/meets a powerful ghost" but its Dan and Dani, and they keep mentioning their original/brother who won a fight against them at some point. The JL is very concerned about Dan and Dani's godlike powers, and they can't imagine what Danny is like. And then they meet him (in his human form), and it's just a young adult in casual clothes, very friendly and helpful, with no evident powers. Imagine the confusion. Imagine Dan and Dani, radiating power, in their eldritch ghost forms, admitting that fighting Danny for real is the dumbest thing to do and not even they would succeed... And then there's Danny is jeans and silly t-shirt, waving shyly.

[naehja]

Beefleaf prompt Au where the real Ming Yi manages to escape from Black Water Manor and returns to Heaven. He's terribly weak but he goes directly to the most importants officials to tell that the one they thought to be the Earth Master since years is actually Black Water.

He Xuan is discovered and must escape from Heaven after have been revealed.

He escaped a trap set by the most experimented gods, who even put Qingxuan in danger in this trap (Shi Wudu was pissed when he realized that his brother was in danger in the trap and that it's Black Water who saved him).

Shi Wudu realizes who is Black Water after a short confrontation between them. He quickly erases all the proofs who could reveals he exchanged the fate of He Xuan with the fate of Qingxuan. Nobody know what he did and Black Water can't proove it. And who would believe a supreme ghost who has pretended to be a god for years?

The Heaven investigate and destroy Black Water manor. He Xuan manages to go away with the funeral urns of his family.

Qingxuan is confused. He didn't live the trauma of Black Wter Arc, the betrayal, the death of his brother by the hands of the one he thought to be his best friend…his heart has not be crushed. But he doesn't understand. He feel a little betrayed because he can't stop wonder if he didn't have been used.

If Black Water is so bad, why did he spend all this time with him? He wasn't forced to be his friend, to share so much things with him so why did he do it? Why did he save him from the trap set by those gods?

Why his brother forbid him to search him for answer.

"He's dangerous Qingxuan"

"He'll kill you if you go to meet him"

"Yes he didn't hurt you before but he has no reason to wear a mask now."

Shi Qingxuan didn't understand "But Ge, he saved me"

Shi Wudu tries to convince him like "It's not because he has some morals that he really cares. Don't forget he pretended to be a god for years, pretened to be someone else. The Real Earth Master could have died in this manor, alone and forgotten by everyone since nobody would have knew his fate. He probably used you to make his cover better."

Qingxuan also realize that the real Ming Yi is very different of Black Water when he was pretending to be him. Somewhere it's relieving him because he think "he was himself with me, right?

Shi Wudu doesn't let him get out of Heaven alone anymore. Which annoy him a lot. like A LOT. But he manages to do it. And arrives on a beach. He doesn't know how contact Black Water. A little part of him is afraid.

But he decides to use their private spiritual array. The one between both of them. That only them could use to speak with each other. They had created him years ago. Ming Yi (or rather Black Water) was annoyed but still used it.

"Ming…Black Water? I want to speak with you, i want to see you. Please? I…we spend so much time together. not everything was a lie, right?"

At his big surprise…Black Water answers.

"Qingxuan?'

He doesn't have the time to say anything that he feel a presence behind him and two arms catching him.

"you brother didn't tell you to not leave Heaven alone?" say a cold voice at his ear. "Didn't he tell you i'm dangerous?" He's tall, taller that when he was Ming Yi. He was sharp teeths. His hands, his skin, are so cold. But his breath burn Qingxuan's skin. He shivers to feel this body against him.

"Yes he forbid me to leave Heaven alone. but i wanted to speak with you"

"ho didn't he tell you WHY i was dangerous for YOU?"

"What do you mean?"

Black Water starts to laugh, bitterly "of course he didn't tell you. He's probably not very proud, and he knows how much you'll be pissed if you knew"

"What….do you mean. What Ge did to you? Why i have something to do with that?"

Black Water bites her earlobe, before purring "why don't you come to my new home so i can explain that to you" He smiles "well it sound just like a proposition, but it's not. You don't have the choice."

"Black Water, what….what do you want?" His cheeks are burning, his heart was beating faster.

"Your brother took my most importants persons of my life. I'll take his most important person from him." He catches Qingxuan's wrist, stopping him to use his fan "I planned to kill him but taking you away of him is a lot better, right?" A laugh "And for answers to your question. Not everything was a lie Qingxuan. That's why i want to keep you."

All the events of TGCF form Xie Lian's third ascension to the final fight happens while Qingxuan is He Xuan's prisonier guest. He Xuan let him do his god's job but under his surveillance, so no god would know where he is. Xie Lian meets him to Ghost City and all the gods lost it when they know. Especially Shi Wudu.

They probably got married shortly near of the end or after.

At a point Shi Wudu has to face the consequence of what he did to He Xuan, except that He Xuan will not kill him.

(prompt free for adoption)

[cherryatombomb]

ghost who doesnt really know how to fix things when people are sad but hes very practical so when soap is sad he just whips out a mug and makes him tea. soap is upset over something? tea. soap is crying over a movie? tea. soap is sick? tea. it gets to the point where he has a specific Sad Mug for him (it's a mug in the shape of a ghost. soap bought it bc he thought it was funny. its now the designated sad mug)

soaps a little bewildered to begin with when hes a little irritated after training because of his shoulder acting up, or something, and ghost just. appears with tea. gives it to him. then backs off. hes just???

and then it simply continues. soap doesnt even know how ghost knows hes sad he just appears every time somehow. he begins to pavlov himself into feelin a little relief every time he sees the Sad Mug bc it reminds him of ghost... doesnt use it outside of sad time bc it just feels sacred

simply. ghost who doesnt really know how to help when sad, but hes so practical he does his best to fix it for soap anyway

[quietwingsinthesky]

the last unicorn post from earlier has me thinking about the master. that yana is still in there, you know? is still someone he was, if even for a brief flash across the life of a time lord. there’s no way to unlive that life. there are ways to twist it later, sure, to make utopia into hell on earth. but the life was lived. in much the same way that the doctor can remember, can feel, the love he held onto as john smith even as that life is ripped out of his hands. the doctor choose denial and then grief and then to shutter it all away. and so john smith died, and so professor yana died, and the doctor and the master live on. the doctor has done this before, and he lives in orbit around humanity, trying to keep the best parts of them and hold them deep enough to take root (which he can pretend he gets to choose, as a time lord. as a human, it all floods in and can’t be dug back out.) but what about the master, right?

to borrow a turn of phrase: i think there are two time lords left in the universe, and they both learned how to regret.

[othercrossee]

Btw yes I am making kamado sorta a villain in the au, in the game he was so pathetic about protecting the village he rather sent out a 15yo child out in the wilderness after using them for his own gains, left to die and rot if volo didn't help them

[starry-bi-sky]

@bianca-hooks123

YOU ARE VERY SWEET TY FOR THE COMPLIMENTS (I always love seeing you in my activity feeds btw)

ignore how long it took me to reply i had a hectic week and weekend and replying to posts takes a lot of mental effort compared to reblogging them jhladsf

ALSO YES I WILL NEVER PASS UP AN OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE DANNY A LONG-HAIRED PUNK AND GIVE HIM PIERCINGS. It is law. I must do it. In some way or another he wILL have long hair or an alternative style.

He swept Kon off his feet with a cock-eyed smile, a pair of blue eyes that could swallow you whole, and some very, very well-timed humor. For the following week that Danny is in Metropolis, he's consistently texting Kon, and vice-versa, or walking around the city with him.

Lil Damian is maybe just a taaad angry about his brother's attention being elsewhere, but he's (steadily developing into) a clingy six-year old and Danny makes it up to him for it by showing him the new places that Kon brought him to, going to places Damian wants, and spending extra long time with him during their Arabic-English learning sessions.

On another note, I have less written thoughts and moreso doodles I did yesterday inspired by this au. THat's. Literally just how I imagine Phantom's ghost form (in this specific thread) looks (post-clone revelation) and Danny.

Never not gonna pass up the opportunity to give Danny a scarf if I can. They're cool :] and it adds a little flare. It leaves a little particle trail of stars behind him when the scarf moves, and when he's stagnant they kinda just float around him. It's also got a hood, but I hate drawing hoods so by the powers vested in me, I've decided that he can just summon the hood out of existence whenever he wants with a single flick of his hand when he motions pulling it up.

It does the batkid shadow blob thing where it casts his entire face in shadows, other than his eyes and, sometimes, his mouth whenever he smiles. Creepy mfer. As he deserves :]

He does indeed, have a forked tongue. It's green. I was this 👌 close to giving him a tongue piercing for the extra flare. Kill Kon a little bit more while I was at it. His ears are a little longer/sharper as Phantom and tend to move/pin back/prick up/swivel around when he's listening to things. As Danny, his ears are shorter and have the same range of movement as a human.

I like to think he eventually has this little travel-sized satchel thing strapped to his other thigh or his waist, close to his thermos, and it's basically just a small portal into his lair. He can reach into it and pull anything out so long as its in his lair. Bottomless pit bag-lite.

I also like to imagine he develops a habit of frosting over/hiding mirrors after finding out he's a clone when his identity issues get especially bad. But that's neither here nor there.

Danny, meeting Batman as Phantom: *spiderman point* THANKS FOR THE ANXIETY DISORDER, YOU FUCK. Batman: ????? what Danny, refusing to elaborate: *disappears*

Danny's a total teaser though. Btw. Like he can't handle being flirted with but goddamn is he one mean flirter. Even if it's sometimes unintentional. He takes his natural witty banter, amps it up by eleven, and watches Kon's face turn pink like a lion watching a gazelle limp across the savanna.

One of the times Kon makes a comment on his eyes, it's to say, through a stammering voice: "Jesus-- you have eyes that could swallow a man whole." after Danny said something vaguely flirty and then watched him intently.

Which, it's not the first time someone's commented on his eyes -- even before his accident, strangers and teachers used to say that he had the brightest blue eyes they'd ever seen. They were creepy; pretty; unsettling; boring into you. A random fortune teller at the mall who was somehow even crazier than his parents, who reeked of burned wood and cheap incense, pointed at his face and ominously slurred that he had the eyes of a ghost.

(He was six at the time, and never forgot about it.)

-- it's one of the few times it's said with an uncontrollable, flustered smile and a dark blush on the commenter's face. It's one of the few times it's said as a compliment, and it's so different and so bizarre compared to the usual things he hears, that Danny tumbles straight into loud, belly-laughter. He catches his breath long enough to stumble out a confused; "Th- thank you?" that flushes Kon's face an even darker shade of red, and tilts him into more laughter.

Which, Kon is one to talk, Danny could say the same about him.

Kon knowing about the ghost stuff in Amity Park. If only for the interaction of him visiting Danny for the first time, watching a fight break out from across the street in the local tech store (Technus got out) and after the fight ends, Kon goes, mostly to himself; "I didn't know Amity had a villain problem."

Danny appears beside him suddenly, his hair even messier than usual, holding a venti-sized cup of expresso (he terrifies the newbie baristas at the nearby starbucks, they all know him by name), and sporting a brand new shiner around his eye that, when questioned, says he "forgot to duck" and then doesn't elaborate on, and blandly states: "Most don't."

Whenever he's on call with Kon, Danny complains about the ghosts like one complains about the weather. Which isn't out of the norm for cities with villains and heroes, Kon's heard all about it from Tim (and he's done it himself), but it's a little different hearing it from a 'civilian' perspective.

Kon: how long has this been going on?? Danny, sprawled over his beanbag chair and painting his nails, Damian is Elsewhere: going on about threeee--? Yeah -- wait-- yeah, no, three years now. Almost four. Danny: Ghosts began popping up at the start of my freshman year, and they've become a constant ever since. Danny: It's a pretty big shock for newcomers since Amity does a fantastic job of keeping it on the downlow so we don't tank tourist sales, and most people usually keep touch on places like Metropolis, Central City, Star City, etcetera... since that's where the more legacy heroes are. Kon: huh Danny: yeah, I would've warned you beforehand had I known you were going to visit, *half-hearted glare* but late is better than never I suppose. Danny: take your time processing. Dames needed a minute too when he moved in with us, but he's been acclimating really well to... well, everything. So if a six year old can process the reality of ghosts, I'm sure you can too. Kon, sarcastically: wow, thanks.

Also Kon asks about Phantom, and Danny is thrown for a loop for a minute. Not because Kon's asking about Phantom -- it quickly rings for him that ofc Kon would ask him about the guy fighting off all the ghosts -- but because he is abruptly made aware of the fact, that talking about himself is fucking weird.

People don't ask Danny Fenton about the Phantom. Nobody is going to ask the ghost hunter's kid who runs away at the first sight of a ghost about the ghost kid. Especially when his parents explicitly state every chance they get how much they despise the ghost kid.

So the first time Kon asks about Phantom, Danny opens his mouth to respond, and then goes "oh what the fuck". Because trying to describe himself without being too descriptive or all-knowing about it is hard, and also just weird in general.

He rubs his neck and makes an uncertain noise, and goes; "Hhn, I'm not really the person to ask about that, Connor. I don't stick around ghost fights long enough to see him that much, and my parents would ground me until I died if they found out I was hanging around him at all."

(which is actually sorta based in canon! when the GIW were investigating the area during the Gregor episode, they went to the Fentons and told the parents they had reason to believe that their son was friends with the ghost kid. Maddie and Jack looked visibly upset by this, and when Jack called for Danny, he used the all-too-well-known parental tone of "you are in SO much trouble, young man")

Then he shrugs, and settles back into his chair, "Phantom doesn't really stick around after ghost fights anyways, from what I've heard. He's pretty shy; doesn't really talk to the living."

I am thinking about these two SO much

Over 900 prompt

Okay I love the Danny is a clone of Batman aus but I've never seen this done.

Danny and Kon dating and Then Danny learning his parents cloned Batman thinking he is a ghost only to find out he isn't and kept Danny as their kid.

Just think of the hilarious reactions

Caue this immediately popped into my head.

Kon: *muffled screaming into Tim's couch*

Tim: ....you good?

Kon: danny is the clone of Batman

Tim: ...

Kon: I'm the clone of Superman

Tim:...

Kon: AND WE ARE DATING!

[sweetnans]

"I just hope that one day, we both can laugh about it, when it's not in our face, won't have to dance around it. Don't drive yourself insane. It won't always be this way" - Skin. Sabrina Carpenter (quote inspo)

Bakugo knew nothing about love. Well, that's what you thought when you first met him.

At the tender age of six years old, he had this habit of pulling you by your arm to drag you around when he wanted to show you something, his little fingers leaving marks in your skin.

When you were ten years old, he started putting his feet in your way so you would stumble and sometimes kiss the floor while he parted himself from laughter.

In the beginning of teenagers' age, thirteen, he used to put his arm on top of your head to make fun of you because he was actually getting tall while you were stuck in your pre-adolescence height.

At sixteen, he ghosted you.

Yep, that's what you read. He ghosted you because he felt this funny feeling growing in his tummy every time he saw you.

Katsuki never knew about love. You thought crying in your dorm because your best friend wasn't acting like your best friend anymore.

You actually believed it.

It all began when you two got into UA. He was excited, having someone to actually compete with? You learned a lot from him (almost against your own will), but after a few years, he considered you a fair opponent.

The feeling inside his guts happened instantly. One day, both of you were returning home from classes, in the train he was behind you, protecting you from all the people that were squeezing into their spots. A baby caught your attention immediately. She was smiling at you, and you couldn't help but make her faces, smile, and bat your eyes at that little baby, gaining a few giggles in return.

Katsuki found that amusing.

He started to see you with other eyes. Helpless eyes. That feeling that woke up one day to another got him desperate, pacing around, fighting with his own thoughts in a manic state.

He had never felt that before. He knew nothing about love.

So he did what he knew best. Ignore.

But we all know him, he isn't the kind of guy who can just let something (someone in this case) go...

He watches you from afar. He has studied your antics, your movements, how you express yourself with other people, with your classmates, with the teachers. He learned about you just by observing, and now he could easily read you. That was something that kept his mind at ease. Without talking to you, at least he could know what happened in your mind by just looking at you.

A few days later, you came down from your dorm with puffy eyes. He knew something was off. No one noticed because you made a pretty good job hiding it behind makeup, but he could tell, and he was about to figure out what happened.

You were preparing your breakfast. Something quiet shitty, Bakugo thought, but it wasn't his priority in that moment.

"What's wrong?" He asked directly.

He hasn't talked to you in months, so you were impressed that he decided to share space and air with you, let alone ask something so private.

"What do you care?" No one could blame you for your response. The bastard has ignored you after spending every day with you since you both were six years old. You didn't need his sympathy.

"I care," he said, leaning in the kitchen table, looking at your eyes. They were red and swollen but beautiful too. He had forgotten how you looked like up close. The butterflies in his stomach woke up instantly, but he didn't fight them this time.

"I'm not having a good week, that's all" you explained pouring some artificial cereal on your bowl.

He took that from you and exchanged for granola and oatmeal.

"I hate seeing your face like that. After class, I'm taking you to that ice cream shop you like, " he said nonchalantly like it wasn't one of the biggest gestures that he had done since you came to UA.

You couldn't help but smile. Maybe you could fix your relationship after all.

"It's winter, Katsuki," you stated, testing boundaries.

"Yeah, as if that had stopped you before" he rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead.

In the end, after he grabbed you by the arm and tossed you all the way to the ice cream shop, you came with the conclusion that Bakugo Katsuki knew about love in his own way and you were more than ready to explore that path alongside him.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[majinbangus]

I love guard dog Simon so much 😖

thank you anon, you make me feel better about sharing about my incoherent thoughts about him <3 -> more here

》 18+

You know what gets him going? Pulling on his collar.

Except you don't actually know that until you wake up to him sleeping on top of you and you unsuccessfully try pushing him off.

"Simon." You push at his shoulder, wiggling your hips. He's a heavy man—or dog, it's what Soap usually refers to him as—and you lack the strength to extricate yourself from underneath him. You'd have a better shot at trying to wake him up. You raise your voice, "Simon."

There's a sound of complaint rumbling from within his chest. A warning growl that means nothing when directed towards you (usually). He's almost as cute as an actual dog like this. You still need to get up, though.

"Simon, c'mon." You bring your hand up behind his neck to thoughtlessly loop a finger around his collar, oblivious to the sudden rigidness above you. "We need to pick Johnny up from the airport." You make the mistake when you begin to gently tug. Once. Twice. Three times. You pull a little harder on the last tug. "Simon—"

You're wholly unprepared for what comes next.

His eyes shoot open, half snarling as he looks at you with something wild in his eyes. His mask is off, but somehow he looks more like the dog Soap always refers to him as. Feral. Raw. Unbridled. He lacks the usual composure he has when he's playing the part of your guard dog.

Your finger slips from his collar.

"We'll be late," You meekly whisper, hand resting on the base of his neck, careful not to touch the collar again. "Johnny will be waiting for us."

It does nothing. He grabs your hand and curls your fingers into his collar again, gripping your wrist to make you pull him closer. You gulp when he leans in to growl slowly, "Johnny can wait."

-

"So this is why I had to order an Uber?"

Soap comes home to find you still in your predicament: writhing and whining underneath Ghost; however, unlike earlier, you're squirming for much different reasons.

"Ah—mm!" You're holding on tight to Ghost's collar as if to ground yourself. "S-sorry, we..."

You can't finish your sentence, throwing your head back, muffling a moan. Soap doesn't fault you for it.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I know you have to take care of your dog." He smirks when Ghost switches up his rhythm and you cry, legs shuddering in that way he's intimately familiar with. He slips a hand into his pants and takes himself out, pumping his cock lightly. "You can make it up to me once you're done and give me a proper welcome home. Alright with you?"

You answer back with a warbling sob.

He'll take that as a yes.

(Note to self: if you ever want Ghost to keep you trapped underneath him and fuck his weight into you, pull on his collar. Otherwise, leave it alone. The command 'down, boy' can only do so much. Lesson learned.)

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so, crisis averted. Both of them, really. Red Robin had not asked or attempted to get any more of Danny's drink and the World Ending Crisis was less World Ending and more World Threatening. Either way, no one is hyped up in lethal amounts of caffeine and the world is in no more pieces than it had been before.

That brings attention to a new problem, though. It's uniquely Danny's problem and Constantine and Zatanna and Deadman won't stop laughing at him. He's also pretty sure that Raven is laughing at him in the privacy of her mind, so that's making him feel worse.

The problem is that every single hero that had been at the meeting a week ago that was not a part of the JLD has been overly concerned about him.

So what if he half died when he was fourteen and therefore will never look over either fourteen or eighteen? So what if he consumes enough caffeine to kill an elephant within a few minutes? What is he gonna do, die? That's not a real threat as long as he only fights as Phantom.

Ignoring the fact that he can, in fact, get hurt to the point of near death as Phantom. It's not like anyone knows that, though! Besides, ghosts run on god rules. They can't die, only fade when forgotten. People aren't likely to forget about most ghosts, though, even if they can't remember their names.

He's not gonna share that, though. Let Batman keep his contingency that won't work because the only contingency that will work for Phantom is the one he made himself. Tried and tested! He's marked it off of his Bingo Card.

Anyway. Heros and their kids/proteges have been trying to track him down for the entire week. He can't risk even leaving the House of Mysteries because the Supers are all probably listening out for him and they can't hear him through magic. It sucks. He just wants to go get a cup of coffee as Danny. The second he leaves, though, the Supers will be on him like bloodhounds. He'd leave as Danny, but the rest of the JLD don't know what he looks like as Danny and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Being stuck as Phantom was going to start causing issues to his human half if he doesn't get to leave soon.

Should he risk it? Is coffee that won't kill him really worth risking the Supers finding out his civilian identity? Sure, they wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to pick him out of a crowd when all he wanted to do was blend in. It's why he avoided Gotham and Bludhaven, actually, but that's both self explanatory and another story for another time.

"You're still here?" Zatanna sat on the couch beside him. "You're normally gone by now. You can't not be tired of us yet."

He sighed and sunk down into the couch slightly. "Believe me, I'm tired of being stuck here, but I can't leave. I can't leave as a human because you guys don't know what I look like and, no offense, but I'd like to keep it that way. I can't leave as I am now because Superman will be on my ass quicker than I can blink!" He whined this time, "I just want a cup of coffee."

"What about your special brew?" Raven asked, coming into the room.

"I want to drink coffee as a human. That stuff will kill me if I drink it as a human."

"At least you know your limits."

"That sounded like a dig at someone, Z."

"It was."

"Why don't you just go out under a protection spell?" Raven offered, "We could cast one over you and you could leave. Superman can't hear through magic, so he won't be able to tell. Neither will Superboy."

Danny thought for a second. "You're a genius, Raven! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"A few times," she blushed.

"Well, it needs to be said more!"

Zatanna laughed. "Alright, kid, let's get you outside before you drive yourself crazy."

Practically vibrating in place, Danny waited for the protection spell to settle over him. The second it did, he was out the door and wandering the streets of whatever city the House of Mysteries decided to drop him as Danny instead of Phantom.

"Who are you," was not the question or voice he wanted to hear the second he stepped into the open as himself.

"Danny," he squeaked out through his absolute panic. He didn't dare turn around.

The sound of fabric moving minutely clues him in to the second person behind him. What the hell were these two doing out? It's the middle of the day and there's no attacks going on anywhere in Gotham!

"Where did you come from?" Robin asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! This was really bad! Why did the House drop him *here* of all places? Does it *want* him to die again? It was very painful the first time, thank you very much! "Illinois?"

"Was that a question or an answer?" Why is Red Robin here now?!

"An-an answer?"

"Ah, you guys are scaring the little guy!" That was Nightwing. They're surrounding him! Why is Nightwing here? This is Gotham, not Bludhaven. "Give him some room to breathe."

They did not, in fact, give him room to breathe. Maybe coming outside was a bad idea. If he gets out of this no more dead than he already was, he was going to move to the middle of nowhere and become a hermit. Smallville is a town in the middle of nowhere, right? He'll retire as Phantom and move to Smallville until the people get suspicious and burn him as a witch-!

Maybe moving to a big city would be a better idea. Or locking himself in the basement of the House of Mysteries. Yeah, yeah that's a good idea.

"-even listening?"

Oh shit. They were still talking to him! Now is not the time to panic! "Gottagobye!" And then he was running.

Good job not panicking, Danny.

Part 1 Part 3

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 4; ghoap x reader) masterlist tags: dubcon/noncon, nsfw

-

Much of Ghost’s behaviour is reactive. Oddly passive for the assumptions people often make of him. He doesn’t run from trouble, but certainly he doesn’t seek it out. Aside from a few rare deviations from the norm (running his father out of the city at eighteen, not breaking enough bones to count as restitution, and finally leaving home to enlist), that remains the rule. 

The way Johnny mopes for days after parading his bird around base has Ghost nearly rolling his eyes, already exasperated. He should’ve known his puppy wouldn’t share well. 

It’s worse than he expected though. Johnny mopes for a week straight after the fact, hardly able to meet Ghost’s eyes in briefings. He stares straight down at the floor pathetically, dragging his feet behind him when he’s dismissed. Price notices it right away, raising an eyebrow at Ghost after Johnny leaves the room. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach.

“In the dog house, I reckon. His girl’s pissed at him.”

“Your doing?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Ghost replies smoothly, face giving away nothing.

Price is hardly convinced. “I’m sure. Nothing to do with you.”

Ghost doesn’t answer that. He waits until he’s dismissed and then takes off down the same hall Johnny just left, curious about wherever his boy’s slunk off to. 

He can’t help the latent sadistic streak in him that curls up in pleasure at the sight of Johnny pouting and squirming whenever he walks into the room. Still, his attitude will need to be rectified soon enough—there’s only so much Ghost will tolerate, only so much disrespect he’ll turn a blind eye to. One day Johnny will look back and reflect on this, and appreciate the extent of Ghost’s magnanimity. 

Still, he doesn’t enjoy being ignored. One week bleeds into the beating heart of the next and Ghost realizes that he’s had enough of the silent treatment. He’s given Johnny more than enough time to come to terms with their new situation. 

He tracks him down to the armoury on a Monday evening after most of the other soldiers have already left for the day, back home or eating supper in the mess hall. It’s empty apart from the two of them, and when Johnny finally notices his presence in the room, his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t flinch at least. Good boy. He’s gotten better at being less reactive, less shaky about being caught off guard. 

“Done for the day, sergeant?” He keeps it light to start, taking a step closer. 

Johnny tenses at the approach. “Yes, sir.” The title would usually satisfy on its own, but it comes strained, polite but removed. 

“Where’d you come from?”

“Layouts and gunners training, sir.”

On any other day, Johnny’s deference might come as a lovely note to end the day on, but not today. It rankles now, the edge of his voice sweetened by a kind of silent dismissal, not giving any more information than what’s required of him. Nothing like the boy who used to open his mouth and sing the world back to him. Ghost has earned his every thought. 

“We have a problem, Soap?”

“No, sir,” Johnny grumbles, still not meeting his eyes. His mouth barely moves when he says the words, teeth all but grit. 

No dealing with this temper tantrum like adults then. For all Johnny must carp and bitch to himself about the hardships that Ghost has put him through, he seems to have no desire to actually deal with the problem. That’s too bad. It would’ve been easy enough to talk it out like grown men.

They’ll have to come to terms some other way.

“Come. We’re fixing this attitude of yours now,” Ghost grunts, turning before Johnny has the opportunity to complain and marching down the hall towards the gym. 

He hears Johnny make a sound like an angry bull before following him down the hall. The loud footfalls against the tile floor betray his simmering anger; it reveals to Ghost what he already knew intuitively. His boy still needs to learn to play well with others. 

In time, this anger will fade into the ether, replaced by Johnny’s old doggish need to please Ghost, but it’s causing too many problems now to be tolerated. He hasn’t gotten to see the bird since the week before. Doesn’t even have a photo of his own to look at when he rubs one out. It would be less aggravating if Johnny were willing to spread his legs and let Ghost rut between his thighs, but they aren’t there yet.

The gym is empty as it usually is around early evening when Ghost opens the door, the lights off from whoever last used it. Johnny follows him sullenly, dragging his feet about it. Ghost’s eye ticks at the show of attitude persisting into this space.

“Lock it behind you,” Ghost says without looking back at him, crossing to where the mats are on the other side of the gym. 

Neither of them are dressed to spar, still clad in their fatigues, but his blood cranks up to boiling when he turns around to watch as Johnny crosses the room angrily, picking up steam now as well. He comes in hot, not even bothering to suss out Ghost’s first move before launching himself at him. 

Ghost staggers back a step at the hit, but he takes it in stride, shifting his weight and using Johnny’s momentum to throw him off, sending him sprawling. He’s quick to get back to his feet, but that moment of carelessness gives Ghost everything he needs. The next time Johnny throws himself at him, Ghost lets him get an arm around his leg and nearly grins to himself when he feels Johnny put all his weight into trying to flip him. 

He knows strength isn’t everything, but there’s something to be said about the several inches and even more kilos he has on Johnny. That plus a decade’s worth of experience. Sparring devolves into a sweat-slicked grapple, Johnny’s shirt coming untucked and rucked up, his hair mussed. He tries to go for the mask, eyes gleaming with a wet, savage glint—forgetting decorum or tact, and just going for the most underhanded maneuver. 

He pays for it when Ghost takes him hard to the floor, catching him with a leg sweep that he might’ve been able to avoid if he were fighting with a clear mind. Anger makes him sloppy though. 

“Fuckin’ bastard—” Johnny grunts when he hits the floor, narrowly avoiding clipping his chin against the mat. 

“Folks never married, so guess you’re right,” Ghost remarks, unbothered. Hardly winded even, only the lightest sheen of sweat on his brow, obscured by the mask. 

His sudden divulgence makes Johnny falter. So rarely does Ghost open even a crack that the momentary honesty catches him off guard, giving Ghost the opportunity to wrangle him into a tight hold. 

Pinning Johnny isn’t an easy task because the kid fights dirty when he feels cornered. Lashes out wildly with his fists when Ghost gets an arm around his neck and holds him in place, less precise than when he’s coolheaded, but still brutal, all raw strength packed behind his punches. He twists Johnny over onto his stomach when the boy tries to buck him off, slamming him down hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Gonna tell me what’s got you all riled up now?” Ghost asks, twisting Johnny’s arms behind his back to pin him in place. 

He struggles in Ghost’s hold, trying to find a weak point. The search is fruitless. Ghost’s body weighs him down like a boulder pinning him flush to a dirt-streaked mountainside, forcing the air out of his lungs when he presses down harder. 

“Ye cannae just take her from me—” he spits out, face flushed. He kicks out a foot, trying to free himself, but all Ghost does is shift slightly to press his shin to Johnny’s calf, holding it down. “I told ye she was different and ye had to—and now she willnae even fuckin’ talk to me. Barely texts me, willnae answer my calls. I cannae—I can’…” 

His voice trails off on a hitch. Not quite a sob, but a frustrated, wretched sound. 

“Held that in for a while, didn’t ya?” Ghost murmurs, holding Johnny down with ease when he struggles again, trying to wrench his arms out of Ghost’s hold. 

“I almost fuckin’—almost just fuckin’ gave her to ye,” Johnny says, shame thick in his voice. “Thought maybe it wouldnae be worth…jus’ dinnae want a girl coming between us. But she’s—I told ye, Lt, she’s special, I cannae jus’—I cannae jus’ let her go. And now she doesnae want anythin’ to do with me.”

Ghost doesn’t bother pointing out the absurdity of that statement. As if Johnny could give him something that’s already his. 

“Not trying to steal your bird, Johnny.” He taps Johnny’s cheek, a little reprimand. It makes him blink and scrunch up his nose. “What’d be the point of that?”

He forgets how young Johnny is sometimes, just now nearing the end of his twenties. Still wet behind the ears, all blood flushed and pink cheeked. Green still to the realities of the world and Ghost’s presence in his life (permanent, fixed; unchanging). 

There isn’t a version of him that wants someone who doesn’t also want Johnny. Inconceivable. After everything that they’ve been through together, the root of him and what he wants is inextricably tied with what Johnny wants—at times, Ghost almost wishes he could live inside his head, just a constant stream of Johnny’s thoughts into his. 

Johnny twists his head enough to glare over his shoulder at Ghost. “The fuck are ye on about? Ye grabbed her ass in front of God ‘n everyone, for Christ’s sake. Said your intentions loud ‘n clear.”

“‘Course I did. She’s got a nice arse, doesn’t she?”

“You’re really startin’ to fuck with my head, Ghost, I dinnae understand what ye—”

“You keep running your mouth off about trying to take the girl from you—I don’t need to take anything.” He stresses the word to be clear, forcing Johnny back down when he tries to buck Ghost off again. This time he stays in place, both calves pinned down to the mat, cheek pressed into the fabric when Ghost slots a hand into the scruff of his mohawk, forcing his head down. “Quit struggling—you’re not getting back up. We’re sorting this shit out now so you quit moping around base and giving me a fuckin’ headache.”

“Stop exaggerating—I havenae even opened my mouth around ye in days. I’m no’ doing anything to your head—”

“How the fuck am I supposed to think when you keep running away?”

The air hangs heavy in the wake of his words, the oxygen all but sucked out of the room. 

“The two of you are mine,” Ghost says in a low, harsh voice, the sound making Johnny flinch against the mat. “I’m not asking for just one of you. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I’d leave you out of this, mutt.”

He’d sooner lose them both, but that’s another scenario that he’d never tolerate. 

With some effort, Ghost tips Johnny over onto his back, holding him down before he can start to struggle again. He keeps his wrists trapped behind his back, forcing Johnny to arch his back off the floor, presenting himself. From his vantage point, it’s easy for Ghost to flick his gaze down and find Johnny’s dick pressed hard against the zipper of his pants, all plumped up from being pinned to the ground. 

“Good, you’re already hard,” Ghost grunts approvingly, rolling his hips down to alleviate some of the pressure building up in his groin. “Haven’t come since she left the other week, I bet.”

Panic flares red hot in Johnny’s eyes, widening when Ghost settles deeper between his legs, his own hard cock unmistakable. “Wait—wait, Ghost—I’m no’—I’m no’—”

It would be a stretch to say that anything softens in him, but a part of Ghost does feel for the boy. He’s been around Johnny long enough to know his persuasion—strictly women with the occasional appreciative glances towards some men. An appreciation he relegates to furtive, guilty glances, holding it inside of him like a nasty secret that he’ll never part with. Too riddled with Catholic guilt and the ease of just playing it straight. 

Ghost has no intention of making it easy on him though. 

He tries to imagine what it might be like if he were on the other end, but for him it’s only ever been cunts and Johnny and the bird. Now just the latter two hold any weight. 

His protests only last as long as it takes Ghost to unfasten their belts and zippers, fishing Johnny’s cock out first. The second his rough hand wraps around Johnny’s length, the words die on the boy’s lips, replaced by a choked off grunt. His balls are full enough to corroborate Ghost’s words—he probably hasn’t come since seeing his girl off the other day, too frustrated and upset to jack off, the ducts shut, working himself up into a frothy mess only for it to slip right out of his hands at the last second. 

Johnny’s eyes roll back when Ghost grips both their cocks in his fist, slicking his hand up with Johnny’s precome. Sweat sluices down the sides of his neck. He looks good with his tongue tied up in knots, thoughts emptying out through his ears in rivulets. 

Even with Ghost’s hand as big as it is, he can’t wrap it all the way around the two of them. Johnny’s come provides a nice glide though, lubricating the underside of his shaft when Ghost grinds up into his fist. 

It spurs him into a kind of ​​protolithic fervour, desperate only to come. The iron rich scent of blood and sweat makes Ghost salivate, eyes drawn to the tender skin of his neck, the flush now riding high, up and over his cheekbones. Lips bitten red, also swollen with blood. In a better mood, Ghost might indulge him, might roll up his mask and lick into the wet mouth hanging open deliciously, teasing him, but there’ll be time for that later. 

He slurs out Ghost’s name when he comes, Simon ripped from his lips like it was dug clean out of his soul. His come splatters across his belly and shirt in thin, watery spurts, the wind knocked out of him again. 

Johnny squirms when Ghost doesn’t let go of their cocks, hand still dragging up and down, mumbling that he’s too sensitive, fuck, lemme go, I cannae—

“I’ll stroke your cock and grab the bird’s ass whenever I feel like it,” Ghost growls down at him, at the end of his patience now. He pants out a ragged breath when his cock throbs at a particularly whorish moan dropping broken from Johnny’s mouth. “I’ll nut in her cunt and make you lick it out if I want. And you’ll fuckin’ thank me for giving you a taste.”

Johnny almost goes nonverbal at that, a leg trying to kick out weakly even though it’s still pinned down under Ghost’s heavy thigh. His dick twitches against Ghost’s, a valiant effort. 

When Ghost comes, it settles in a thick, viscous mess across Johnny’s stomach, pooling around his belly button. It radiates hot down his back, the ache in his lower spine abating momentarily. Can only imagine how much better it would feel balls deep in Johnny’s ass or the bird’s pussy, a wet warmth clutching him tight, legs wrapped around his waist to drag him closer. 

He’ll have that soon enough.

A ragged wheeze is pulled from Johnny’s chest when Ghost drags his cock through it, spreading it over his stomach. It’s worse when Ghost dips his fingers into the mess, a sticky blend of both their come, before bringing his fingers up to Johnny’s mouth, forcing them past his lips and over his teeth and gums. Johnny sputters at the taste, going cross-eyed to look down at Ghost’s hand. 

There’s no time for pillowtalk or soft words though. Even if there were, niceties come out of Ghost’s mouth like a ring of smoke. Still, the thought of the bird not returning Johnny’s calls or texts makes him bristle, his annoyance renewed. His own disinclination to communicate aside—a waste of words as far as Ghost’s concerned, he says more with his actions anyway—none of this works if the girl won’t talk it out. 

Probably pent up, the stubborn thing. He’ll have to sort that out too. It keeps him young at least. 

“C’mon, Johnny,” Ghost says, rising to his feet. He dusts his hands off on his fatigues as if nothing happened, then holds out a hand for Johnny to grab. “Let’s go see our bird.”

[sanguinesmi1e]

A Round Door Like a Porthole, Lazarus Green Pt. 1 Pt. 2 (you're here) Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Art of LBM

Danny was still lying under the Specter Speeder, mind reeling as the words “they opened this portal with a child sacrifice, and bound his death and all the lost life potential to their bloody machine to create a perpetual gateway to the Infinite Realms” ran in a loop through his head. Could that really be true? Is his death attached to the portal, forever lodged in the doorway, preventing it from closing?

The guy clearly knew what he was talking about. The bit about why his ghost friends and frenemies caused so much chaos as they unleashed their obsessions on Amity Park made so much sense. It would certainly explain a lot of his interactions with ghosts after he died. 

 Danny silently cursed himself for not destroying everything in the lab before they got here. He and Jazz hadn't worried about the portal schematics, because they honestly didn't have any way to open a portal, only cycle energy in a recursive loop that shouldn’t have done anything. No one, not he and Jazz, not their parents, not Tucker or Technus, had been able to figure out why it had worked when Danny was inside. But if the machine was able to sustain a portal that was already opened. . . He wondered idly if he could light a fire that looked accidental and would both destroy the lab and leave the two men enough time to escape. It’d probably be too risky. And who knew what destroying the portal would do to him. Fully kill him? Destroy him completely and shatter his core? It might be worth it to prevent anyone from gaining this knowledge. 

No wonder Lex Luthor was interested in this business. A child was murdered in this basement, and for all Tim knew, the child’s soul could still be trapped here fueling a Lazarus Pit that connected the world of the living to the afterlife. What Luthor could do with an interdimensional portal or even a single sample of Lazarus water. . . Tim shuddered to think.

On the one hand, he was grateful that Wayne Enterprises secured the business before Luthor had the chance. On the other hand, he felt rather ill to think his family had directly enriched mad scientists who performed child sacrifices. At least he had full faith that between him and Oracle, they’d hunt the Fentons down and make sure justice was served.

“What is to be done for the child?” Tim asked Constantine. “Is his soul tied to that machine?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s just his death.” 

“You’re gonna have to explain the difference to me, ‘cause I’m not sure I see the distinction.” Tim said wryly. 

“I guess. . . Hm. You could think of it as the moment of transition drawn out endlessly like a plucked string whose note never stops vibrating. Like life is the anchor point of one end of the string, and the afterlife is at the other end, and the child’s death is the note created when his soul crosses from one side to the other. The soul is the bow causing reverberations, but the reverberations are the actual death itself. The effect of the soul’s passage. And in this case, the portal is amplifying the death so it doesn’t end like a normal death ‘note’ would.” Constantine leaned in to examine some of the runes that were part of the array. “Not a perfect metaphor, obviously, since you bow perpendicular rather than parallel to the string, and death and souls are nothing like music, but you get the idea, right?”

Tim was still caught on John Constantine saying the words “death note” together unironically in a sentence. He was going to have to share that with Steph later. Maybe with the whole family group chat, even. “Yeah, the metaphor makes sense, as much as any of this occult stuff does to me.”

“Whatever. As for whether there’s anything we can do for the child, I think we’ll have to try and summon him if we can.” The Brit started pulling items out of his trenchcoat’s inner pockets. “We need to ask what the spirit wants done, before we go messing with things we don’t understand.”

“Alright, need anything from me?”

“Yeah, move this stuff out of the way so I can draw a circle.” Constantine directed Tim to shove aside a few stacks of boxes, something called a Fenton Ghost Weasel, and together they shifted a coffin-shaped iron maiden that for some reason was labeled Fenton Stockades. Then he set to work chalking a circle and runes on the ground.

Finally he sat back and dusted chalk off his hands. “That should do it.”

“Will this be bright too?” Tim asked warily.

“Eh, might be? Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Tim grabbed an auto-darkening welding helmet with a green “Fenton” sticker on it off the workbench and slipped it on.

“Alright, here goes.” Constantine began the summoning ritual.

While Danny debated arson, the other two had finished clearing a space and chalked some kind of circle onto the floor. He tuned back into the conversation when he heard the trenchcoat guy begin a traditional incantation for a summoning. Were they trying to summon him? Danny really hoped it wouldn’t work. 

When people tried to summon the Ghost King he could almost always ignore the pull. This pull, however, was very strong and immediate. It seemed proximity made a difference, or this guy was just better at summonings than the average cultist. Before Danny could accept the inevitable, he was pulled bodily — literally! — out from under the vehicle and across the floor, still flat on his back on the Fenton Under Car Creeper, with the Specter Speeder’s ecto-engine hugged tightly to his chest. The wheels of the Fenton Creeper (not to be mistaken with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick) sped him straight to the summoning circle. Still very much in human form. 

This was his first real look at the guy called Constantine, and he couldn’t help a horrified yelp. “Eugh!! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude!?!!” 

His lapse in attention made him lose the battle with the summoning spell, and it gripped him, pulling him through the convolutions of the spellwork even though he was already lying half across the circle, and forcing him to change into Phantom in the process. It was such a disgusting sensation, like he was one of those squishy water filled tube snake toys that look like a fleshlight, and someone squeezed really hard and abruptly so he turned inside out and went flying to go splat against a wall (or in this case, against the ground inside the circle of chalk). He tried and failed not to retch.

The younger man in the crisp suit whom he’d already identified as Mr. CEO-Timothy-Drake-Wayne looked at him in startled bafflement, while the older blond, still smoking his cigarette, (gross, and was that thing never ending?) was probably looking at him. Maybe. It was really difficult to tell, because he was a frankly vile sight. Danny winced and swallowed down nausea. “What have you done to your soul?”

“I — what?”

“Trypophobia central, man! Ugh that’s gotta be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t you cover it up?”

“Who are you?” Timothy Drake-Wayne interjected.

“I’m the dead guy? You literally just summoned me.”

“Constantine said you were a child”

“I mean, I was?” Danny looked down at his obviously twenty-something year-old self and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I was fourteen though. These things happen.”

“Not typically, no. The dead tend to be pretty unaging.” Constantine said. 

“Dude I’m not having a conversation with you while your soul looks like Escher’s swiss cheese nightmare. Anyways, some of us do. Heck, I know a guy who constantly shifts from infant to old man and every stage in between. It’s pretty distracting when you’re trying to get him to let you fix the timeline again.” Danny continued to look anywhere but at the blond man. “But if it’s so important to you, I can —” He got an abstracted look, and slowly de-aged himself until the two men stood over a fourteen year old boy with snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

“That does not help. No.” The guy whose soul looked somewhat like a bleeding tooth fungus said. He turned away and started doing something magical. Danny hoped it would mask his soul in some way, but so far all it did was make Danny feel like he needed to pop his ears.

He also felt particularly uncharitable, so he didn’t revert to his natural age, and instead tried to see how young and cute he could make himself appear.

“So are you just haunting this basement? Seems hazardous, given the former proprietors.” Timothy tried to redirect the conversation. He didn’t seem nearly as distressed to see the ghost of a child, but his eyes darted surreptitiously to the Lichtenberg figure Danny used to always hide under gloves.

“Nah, haven’t been back here in years. I mostly live in my Infinite Realms haunt these days.”

“You . . . live? Is that just a figure of speech?”

“It’s rude to ask about a ghost’s nonliving status, you know. Highly taboo to ask how a ghost died or poke into the circumstances of our deaths without permission.” Danny admonished. Making himself younger than fourteen took more effort than he expected.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Timothy raised his hands placatingly to the boy who now looked younger than Damian. “What brings you back to Amity Park?”

“Uh, you summoned me? Are we still not clear on that?”

Tim looked pointedly at the Fenton Creeper and the engine Danny still held. He’d shrunk down to the size of a four year old, and the engine really should be crushing him given it was bigger than his torso now. He quickly set it aside, and turned his biggest puppy dog eyes on Tim.

“You were in here already, and you looked pretty alive for a moment there.”

“I can look lots of ways!” Danny focused really hard on looking as cute, small, and nonthreatening as possible. He thought it was working when all of a sudden there was a pop! and he was smaller than he’d ever managed before. 

Timothy Drake-Wayne looked like a giant. The other guy, who had thankfully managed to put away his soul somehow, wore scuffed oxfords bigger than Danny. Hell, he could probably fit his entire self into one of Constantine’s shoes if that wasn’t a bizarre thing to do, and they weren’t already full of stinky feet. Holy shit what happened to him!?

Tim blinked down at the cat? Snake? Ghost. . . thing at his feet. What the fuck. A moment ago he was talking to an adult man whom he’s pretty sure was dead and he’s very sure was trolling them. Now his interlocutor had turned into an adorable creature with soft white paws, a long twisting tail, big pointed ears that swiveled like a cats, and a humanoid face that should’ve been creepy but was actually eliciting cute-aggression in him. Tim blinked again. The little baby ghost creature blinked enormous green eyes back at him. Then it yawned, revealing three rows of needle sharp teeth that looked like a cross between what you’d find in the mouth of a shark and a cat. Yikes.

“Does that mean the interview is over?” Tim asked him.

The creature just blinked up at him again, then zeroed in on his shoelaces, pupils expanding until only a narrow band of green ringed them.

Yup. The interview was over. Those paws hid some wicked claws which could apparently slice through leather with ease. Oh, Tim really hoped ghost scratch fever wasn’t a thing. At least the ghost looked sufficiently contrite after he yelped, and it waited while he removed a shoelace to sacrifice as a toy.

If Damian ever met him, there would be a new member of the family. Maybe he should name the creature preemptively so they didn’t have a cat-snake named Bat-Ghost in Wayne manor. 

“Do you have a name, little baby cat-snake ghost? Little baby ghost man?” He cooed as the miniature monster dashed back and forth, intent on shredding his shoelace.

The ghost paused long enough to chirp, “Li’l baby man!” before launching himself at the string. Even shocked, Tim’s reflexes had him whisking the toy out of the way, and the ghost went careening under a cabinet.

He wedged himself in the gap, landing face first in a dust bunny, and quickly wriggled backwards with an indignant squall. His wordless protestations cut off as he fell into a violent sneezing fit that thankfully dislodged him from beneath the cabinet.

Tim suppressed his laugh, and asked, “Little Baby Man? Is that what you want to be called?”

The ghost pawed most of the dust away from his nose, but spider webs covered his face and a big dust bunny perched atop his head like a fascinator with a cobweb lace veil. He looked Tim right in the eyes and nodded, dislodging the dust in his hair and setting off more sneezes.

“Li’l Baby Man” he confirmed. He placed a paw on Tim’s shoe and chirped, “Tim!” Then he pointed his tail at Constantine and said, “Gross!” with narrowed eyes.

[libingan]

IM BACKKKKKKKK

i was rewatching b99 and theres this one scene w captain holt that gave me the inspiration to write LMAO

something about reader being able to read simon like an open book is just so amusing to me

the base is buzzing with its usual sounds—radios crackling, distant chatter, boots hitting the floor in rhythmic patterns. you’re used to it all by now, the routines and rhythms, the way everyone moves around each other like parts of a well-oiled machine. today, though, there's an odd tension in the air, a stiffness lingering on the faces of the others.

you spot johnny and gaz huddled together, throwing glances at ghost, who stands near the far wall, still as a statue. he’s in full gear, mask in place, eyes dark and unreadable beneath the skull pattern. his shoulders are squared, his stance firm, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. there’s a quiet intensity to him that feels like it could crack concrete if he willed it. with his arms crossed over his chest, the black fabric of his sleeves stretching over his muscles, he looks every bit the silent, unapproachable specter he’s known to be.

johnny tilts his head in ghost’s direction, muttering something to gaz, who nods back, looking genuinely concerned. you drift closer, catching pieces of their conversation as johnny’s low, accented voice reaches you. “tell me that doesn’t look like a man on the edge,” he says, eyeing ghost. “i don’t remember the last time i saw him lookin’ this grim.”

“maybe he got some bad news,” gaz adds, brows furrowed. “you think he’s about to lose it?”

you glance over at ghost again, taking in the hard line of his jaw beneath the mask, the set of his shoulders, the way he seems to radiate an intensity that could send most people scurrying. but to you? nothing feels particularly unusual. you’ve seen ghost like this enough times to know when he’s actually having a rough day—and this isn’t it. so you shrug, looking back at johnny and gaz with a small smirk.

“bad day?” you say, trying not to laugh. “he’s in a good mood.”

the two of them whip their heads to stare at you, disbelief clear on their faces. “a good mood?” johnny echoes, brows shooting up. “that—ye’re tellin’ me that right there’s him happy?”

“yep.” you give a simple nod. “trust me. i can tell.”

johnny and gaz share a bewildered look, glancing back at ghost with renewed confusion. “so… that’s his version of cheery?” gaz says, more to himself than anyone else.

before they can keep speculating, ghost’s gaze shifts over, locking onto the three of you. there’s no warmth in it, but there’s a strange steadiness, a weight, that makes it clear he’s noticed your conversation. he starts toward you, his steps slow, measured, each one landing with the faintest thud on the concrete floor. when he reaches you, he stops just a few feet away, gaze flicking to johnny.

johnny clears his throat, glancing nervously at gaz before finally blurting out, “l.t., we were just wonderin’... somethin’ wrong today?”

ghost’s eyes narrow slightly, and his head tilts just a fraction. “wrong?” he repeats, sounding almost amused. “no. i’m havin’ a good day, actually. got an extra hour of sleep this morning.”

you can feel the stunned silence coming off johnny and gaz, both of them frozen as they process the idea that ghost—a man they’re used to seeing as an impenetrable wall of silence and scowls—has just announced he’s in a good mood. you can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face as you turn to them.

“told you so,” you say, crossing your arms.

johnny looks from you to ghost, and back again, a mix of disbelief and exasperation coloring his expression. “bloody hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. “how… how d’ye know that?”

you just shrug, catching ghost’s gaze for a brief second. there’s no clear expression there, but you swear there’s the slightest glint in his eyes, a hint of something only you seem to recognize. you don’t need words or explanations—you just know.

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

summary ; eddie finally admits that he can't get you, his best friend, out of his head.

notes ; potential cussing, mentions of weed and the reader having hair. let me know if i forgot anything !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

it was midnight on a friday, now turned saturday, and the low sound of rain hitting the roof of your trailer had been accompanying you as you watched your film. usually, eddie would be with you, curled up in your bed, watching whatever movie it was that you had picked out with his hands trailing through your hair because he knew you loved it. 

the sound of knuckles rapping on the trailer door drags your attention away from the movie, and it's not until then that you eventually pull yourself from the sheets. there was only ever one person that would come knocking so late at night, and the small "open up, my ass is freezing" that follows, only solidifies your thoughts. 

eddie was your best friend — he was also the best friend you could ever ask for — protective, compassionate, understanding. he saw the world in you, much like you did him, and it had been that way ever since you were kids. 

giggling to yourself, you straighten out the shirt you were wearing, an old one of eddie's that he no longer wore, and opened the door to see him leaning against the frame. a smirk is splayed across his lips, his unruly hair slightly damp and covered in tiny raindrops as it fell over his dewy brown eyes, and he pulls something from his back pocket. 

"wanna go for a drive?" he wriggles his brows, holding a joint between his pale fingers. 

"and by 'drive'... you mean?"

"getting high in the back of my van." he answers almost immediately. you don't respond, instead, you narrow your eyes at him for a second. the hint of a smile makes an appearance, and he takes the little roll of your eyes as a 'yes'.

you give him a light shove, though he adds to the theatrics and plays along as if it had actually hurt before inviting himself in and closing the door. "i would've come by earlier but hellfire ran a little later than i thought it would, and then i got carried away planning out next weeks part of the campaign." he plants himself on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as you search through your basket of discarded laundry to find some pants. 

"have they worked out you're bringing vecna back, yet?" you ask, sifting to the bottom of the pile and plucking out a pair to slip on. 

"no, but dustin made a huge move tonight and i think they could be close to finding out." 

as eddie continues to relay the events that had unfolded at hellfire, you head to your room to grab a jacket, though upon your return, you notice he had suddenly gone quiet. there wasn't but a murmur or an utterance that fell from his lips. 

he remains on the sofa, his head lulled back against the cushions as he stares at the roof. something had shifted in his demeanour. his eyes no longer sparkled with passion like they had only moments ago, and his ever-so-lovable smirk had disappeared.

"you okay, eds?" you ask, adorning a now worrisome frown, and you sit on your side to face him. your knee hits his thigh, and the chain on his pants clangs together, but he doesn't answer, his mind a million miles away. "eds?" you poke him gently. 

"hmm, what?" he clicks back to reality, eyes wide when he sees you're beside him now. he blinks back whatever had been plaguing his mind, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, and looks to you once more. "what were you saying?"

"i wasn't saying anything, you were, and then you went quiet." you give a lopsided smile, leaning your arm against the back of the sofa to rest your head on. "what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?"

he blushes, relishing in the way you call him pretty, and his head sinks with a sigh, "m’just thinking."

"you? eddie munson? thinking?" there's another tug at his lips, the ghost of a smile appearing before it's gone once again. he lets out another sigh, eyes avoiding you now, and that's when you know something is truly bothering him. "okay, sit. tell me what's wrong." you pat your thigh. 

obliging, eddie moves to rest his head on you, your fingers immediately finding his hair and entangling among the curly locks. ever since you were little eddie had always been an open book to you, constantly telling you what was on his mind, never keeping anything hidden. more times than not, you knew what was wrong with him before he did, but this... this seemed different. 

it takes him a moment, but eventually, he opens his mouth to speak, the gears turning in his head, "do you ever think about getting out of here?"

"out of hawkins?"

"yeah. like just packing a bag and leaving?" 

"like.. every day."

"where would you go?" he looks up at you through the shaggy mess of his bangs, a quirk in his smile as his dimples peak through now. 

you shrug, "anywhere is better than here. what about you?"

"oh, i'd pack up my van in a heartbeat. take my guitars, my tapes, my dnd stuff and just take off. don't know where, but as long as i'm on the road, i don't care." it was hard not to notice the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about hitting the road, though the pang in your chest that followed after him mentioning leaving, set a wave of fear over you. 

for so long eddie had been a part of your life, the one constant you had as you grew. it was hard to ever imagine a life without him because... you didn't want to. after spending so many years by each other's sides, running to one another in your times of need, being the only person the other fully trusted — a life without eddie would be an empty one. 

there's a flicker of fear in your eyes that eddie catches sight of before it's quickly gone. a tug between your brows as worry etches across your forehead because while the thought of leaving hawkins had crossed your mind many times, you never intended to leave eddie behind, nor would you want to. but with the roles reversed, you weren't entirely sure if you held the same amount of importance. 

this hurts even more when you take into consideration the flourishing feelings you had for him. it was bound to happen — practically inevitable — but you couldn't bare the thought of him ever finding out. 

a blanket of silence falls over the two of you, eddie's ringed fingers dancing across the material of the sofa until he reaches yours and pulls your hand towards his chest. he doesn't say anything, just fiddles with the ends of your fingers, before abruptly sitting up and turning to you. 

there was a shift in the way he was looking at you now, almost like he had something to tell you - something that was on the tip of his tongue. he prods at the sofa nervously, before planting his hands in his lap and shuffling closer to you. 

"there is one thing that i know i wouldn't be able to leave without though." he says in a way, that both confused and intrigues you. "well, i should say 'someone' rather."

"rick." you joke. 

a soft chuckle leaves him, "no. though, now that you mention it-" he stops short when you playfully hit his shoulder, an array of laughter falling from you both. "i'm kidding. i'm kidding. obviously… it’s you."

"you mean that?" there’s a coy smile on your lips, unsure if his words were sincere or if he was simply saying it to make you feel better.

his brows pinch together, "of course, i do." 

"what if… you get sick of me?"

"i could never get sick of you, you muppet." he ruffles your hair.

"what if i get sick of you?"

"I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that."

another silence falls over you both, smiling at one another, thinking of scenarios in your heads of the two of you on the road. iron maiden playing at an alarmingly loud volume as eddie sings along with the wind blowing through his hair, and he wears the biggest smile you had ever seen as you drive through the prettiest of landscapes.

"do you... do you ever think about... us?" he hums the question though there's a shakiness to it that you don't think he meant to let off.

"what? like hanging out? we already do that."

"no,” he exhales. "i mean... people say that you're likely to fall in love with your best friend. do you ever think like that about us?" the question takes you by surprise. did he somehow know of your feelings for him? your sudden silence seems to stir something in him. "uh, y'know what? just forget i said anything."

"no, eds," you reach for his hand but he moves it before you can. "do you think about us... like that?"

he peels himself off the sofa now, pacing a little on the other side of the coffee table, "no — i mean, sometimes. i just — mike said something that got me thinking and, i know that i shouldn't let that little shit get inside my head. but, i don't know, lately, i just can't seem to keep you… out of it."

you were unsure as to what eddie was implying — saying he couldn’t get you out of his head — did he mean it the same way you did? or did he just mean he had been thinking about you like he always did? "what did mike say?" your voice is low, almost too afraid to ask. 

"oh, he was just being a smartass as per usual,” his brows raise as he rolls his eyes. “when i said i had to check-in with you first about whether or not we could fit in an extra hellfire session this week because we had already made plans, he said ‘why is she your girlfriend now?’ of course, i denied it, but then jeff started saying that i act like we’re a married couple, or that we’re domesticated, or some shit. and then, of course, dustin just had to chime in saying that he sees the way we look at each other — what does that even mean? — and then gareth and jeff started saying all this bullshit and-“

“-eds,” the sound of his name falling off your tongue hits him like sweet honey, stopping him mid-ramble as his head whips back to you. you stand to join him around the other side of the table, his eyes watching you with wonderment as you slowly approach him. “… i do too.”

“you do too, what?” he asks, bemused, and it’s not until you tilt your head and raise a brow that he catches on. “wait… you do?” you nod, tracing his features as he does the same to you. his eyes illuminated by the moonlight as his bangs fall in disarray, and you reach up to gently brush them back into place. “what are you doing?”

"i wanted to see your face." you say, lowly, your hands now falling to land on his shoulders. 

"why?" he asks. 

"i wanted to see your face..." you pause briefly, a shiver of anticipation rolling down your spine. "... when i do this." you lean forward now, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. he's quick to catch on to what you meant, and he meets you halfway, pressing your lips together with pent-up urgency. 

"y/n," he mumbles your name against your lips before slightly pulling away, leaving you breathless as your chest rises and falls dramatically. "are you sure? i don't — i don't want this to ruin anything between us." he smiles through his eyes, though there's a sadness deep within him begging for reassurance. 

"what did you say to me before? about the someone you wouldn't be able to leave without?" you ask, leaving him with more questions than the ones he already had. 

he exhales, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as his hands rest on your hips. "i said... it's you." 

"exactly." 

[melit0n]

Something that always confused me when I read TPOTO was why The Phantom chose box five out of all the private boxes to be his.

Out of all the seats in the house, box five is among the worst and would be (and still is) sold cheaply (average 65 francs at cheapest in 1880, now sold a between 10-25 euros nowadays) on general sale. A higher profit would've been made from a year-long booking, especially since there are multiple seats, so it would be 65 francs per person on a yearly booking no matter how many people are in there at once, but still not as much as other seats.

Visual wise, a good chunk of the left side of the stage is cut off and parts of the performance that would occur in the higher wings would be completely unseen, so, why choose it? Isn't the main point of going to go watch an Opera is to actually see the performance?

(A screenshot from the Palais Garnier's seat listing stating the best seats for viewing and the view from the box five via this video)

Having been there myself in late May, I found an answer to my own question and I'm gonna share it with you guys because maybe someone else was asking the same thing!

Although yes, the stage is half cut off, it's one of, if not the, best seats acoustic wise. You're a perfect distance from the orchestra as well as the stage for everything to sound just right. As much as The Phantom would've loved the operatic performance, I don't doubt he would've been more focused on the music itself as well as the vocals, and, mainly, Christine.

Further, although going to the opera was more of a social thing than an entertainment thing, so the boxes were built for aristocracy to be seen above all things, you can disappear from public view quite easily in that box. There are two to three rows of seats going backwards to the door, so all one would have to do to disappear from sight of anyone on stage or in the audience would be to just move a seat backwards (which means he wouldn't have been able to see the stage at all, but would still be able to hear everything perfectly well).

Plus, the box is located right at the end of the row of private boxes, as well as very close to entry and exit stairs, both public ones and private ones meant for stage hands and general workers.

All in all, those three reasons are why the box was chosen and kept in high priority for The Phantom, because he could quite literally disappear, like a ghost, by just moving himself in the box, as well as disappear out of the box and hear Christine almost perfectly.

[mutable-manifestation]

Ghost Chirps AU Part 4

A little treat in these trying times

Part 1 & 2

Part 3

***

The first time Daniel chirps (to Vlad’s knowledge, but it’s actually the fifth, he was just out of range in the GZ all the previous time) Vlad responds immediately. 

The boy attacks him just as viciously as ever, and Vlad assumes from then on that the boy is merely taunting him, crying out for family only to go “no, not you.”

Vlad ignores it from then on. It isn’t particularly frequent anyway.

When he hears him chirping back and forth with some other ghost somewhere on the East Coast he feels his eye twitch. 

He dismisses it, however. No doubt it is one of Daniel’s little ghost allies helping him try to antagonize Vlad into showing up just to be rejected again.

Well, Vlad won’t fall for Daniel’s petty tricks. He would be Vlad’s son in time one way or another, no need to indulge the boy’s temporary sense of superiority.

It is grating when it wakes him up in the middle of the night, but he goes back to sleep quickly after.

Midday, he thinks he might have to track down Danny’s little friend for a nice long chat about Not Doing That. But that’s an issue for later.

Before “later” can arrive, Vlad finds himself taken into “temporary custody” while the police search his house.

He goes peacefully, assured that they’ll find nothing amiss, all of his ecto materials tucked neatly away in a lab that is inaccessible any way other than phasing. And wrapped in lead just in case.

He does not notice that a member of the Justice League is involved, nor would he care, certain that none could find his lab. And utterly unaware of the JLD’s existence.

Not that the JLD is needed in this case.

Despite his best efforts to change every copy of the construction crews’ blueprints both digital and physical in order to eliminate knowledge of the inaccessible room, there’s no accounting for memory.

Officer Roger worked in construction before joining the force, and it was only less than a half a year ago that Masters’ Amity home was constructed. Officer Roger still remembers the doorless, windowless box they built alongside the small mansion itself. It’s nowhere to be found on the property, so he brings it up with his superior.

Orphan questions it - nearly giving the whole team heart-attacks in the process - but a simple “I used to work in construction” seems to be enough to satisfy her curiosity.

A two hour sweep with some metal detectors finds nothing.

Then Orphan reappears from the shadows, providing another jumpscare, before pressing a hand silently to the side of her head.

The crew watches in silence as well, giving their pulses a chance to slow.

A ten-count later Orphan’s hand drops, and she strides confidently to the rear-left corner of the mansion and points at the ground.

“200 feet beneath the foundation,” she says before disappearing back into the shadows.

The crew shares a look and gets to work.

The time it takes to dig up the cube is just more time spent in a cell for Vlad, where he waits patiently, assured he’ll be released soon enough.

The lab itself would be only a minor problem - there would be fines and inspections and a heavy watch until everything was brought up to code. Questions about how he accessed it would be a larger problem.

But worst of all, in the comfort of his lab? He’s not much for hiding away incriminating documents. 

Of which there are many, given his propensity for keeping extensive records of his experiments, which include unethical cloning and what sums up to human experimentation. 

Once they find the actual facilities for the experiments in his Wisconsin home? It will all be over for him.

Being a ghost he could, of course, simply flee the cell and start anew somewhere else, with a new identity or even in a new dimension altogether - so long as he could nab Maddie and her children to bring with him.

But within his labs, he also keeps extensive records of himself.

A copy of the Plasmius Maximus.

Other ghost- and halfa-capturing restraints.

When he hears steps approaching his cell 2 days into his stay when it is clearly not a mealtime, he thinks “finally” assured that he is about to be released.

He only registers that it is Batman after he’s been hit by the Plasmius Maximus - cut off from his powers for at least the next two hours.

He has no chance to complain, as he is subsequently tranqued unconscious to be taken to a more secure location.

***

It’s an hour and half after school let out when the cops - who had taken to trying to distract Jazz and Danny with cards games and work stories while they waited - step away to answer their radios. 

When they return, they tell them that it’s “time to go.”

The siblings share a look, then shrug.

It wouldn’t be the first time the cops had to drive them home - rare though it was, there were at least 4 such occasions in their memories. It wasn’t a big deal.

They were less than enthused when the cops explained that they’d be heading to take them to the station instead of to home. Still, they chalked it up to the whole “questions about the Red Hood” thing and moved on. 

At least it meant they could dodge a home visit like Danny had wanted.

Except when they get there, they are taken to a cushy room and introduced to their social worker, a woman with a kind smile and a soothing voice who introduces herself as Bethany Scott, sits them down and explains, very gently, that their parents are currently under investigation.

To her credit, she isn’t condescending. She doesn’t try to hide away the truth; when they ask why, she tells them.

It’s a surprisingly long list of charges. Of everything on it, the violation of the meta protection acts comes as the biggest surprise.

Their parents were obsessive about ghosts, but they were also good at it. They never attack anything that doesn’t have ectoplasm.

Well, barring a few misfires.

Another surprise comes then: the Anti-Ecto Acts don’t exist. Ghosts are covered by the MPA by design, the AEA would never have gotten off of the ground in any legal capacity. It is solely a creation of the GIW, an extreme “‘real’ humans only” supremacist group that had worked at every level to pull the wool over the eyes of the small town’s citizenry so thoroughly that they’d been thought a real government agency - the imitation of which would be just one of the many charges that every member they managed to capture would be facing.

Then Mrs Scott starts talking about placement options.

Their Aunt, they are told, is not an option. 

It comes as a surprise to Danny. On quiet nights, when no ghosts showed up to interrupt him and Sam and Tucker weren’t up to distract him with a game of Doomed, his mind would sometimes wander back to that darkest of timelines.

He’d wondered how Vlad had ended up with custody. Being his godfather made him an option, but Danny would’ve wanted to go with Alicia. Will be damned, Danny would’ve plead on both knees with the judge to go with his aunt. Grieving or not, he’d have wanted as much distance between him and Vlad as possible,

He’d assumed Vlad must have done something to her or paid off the judge to rule in his favor.

To find out it was because she simply wouldn’t take him?

A part of him understands. He doesn't - Aunt Alicia is a kind person, yes, but not particularly loving or caring. When his parents brought up the subject of children with her on one of their rare visits, she described herself as having “less motherly instinct than a starving axolotl.”

Not an encouraging description after he read a book on axolotls for context. 

With their options being “Aunt in a small wood cabin in the middle of nowhere with the emotional sensitivity of a bull in a china shop” and “Rich friend of the family who would enable them to stay in contact with their friends and could hire them therapists even if he’s personally useless for helping them through the grieving process” she probably also figured marking herself down as a solid non-option would just expedite them getting the help they need (because she does care, even if she herself can’t - won’t - be there for them in that way).

He doesn’t hate her, but the knowledge burns. To know that there really was no avoiding Vlad - in that horrible future and in the now - makes him sick to his stomach.

Except-

Except before he can spiral, Mrs Scott tells them that Vlad is also not an option. Because he’s also under investigation.

A hysterical giggle bursts past his lips before he can think to stop it.

“Why?” he asks, ignoring Jazz’ disapproving grimace.

It’s less funny when they’re told that he’s under investigation under suspicion of mostly the same violations as their parents - including MPA violation, given the whole “million dollar ghost” incident and related propaganda. As the mayor especially, he should’ve known the AEA weren’t real and that the GIW were frauds and it was his responsibility to do something about them.

Depending on how he’d interacted with the group, he might be looking at aiding and abetting treason - or just outright treason - charges.

“If Aunt Alicia and Vlad both aren’t able to take us, then where are we going to go?” Jazz asks, shoving her emotions aside to deal with the matter at hand.

“Ordinarily, we would call up a few local fosters and see if one could take you in for a few days while we look into more long-term options. Worst case scenario you would have to spend a night or two in a hotel suite connected to mine while I found someone,” she answers. “But the two of you are in luck; Batman is the one who brought the case to our attention - apparently some erratic behavior from Red Hood brought them here, don’t ask, I don’t have all the details - and offered to run your parents’ DNA to check for other relatives that could take you. There was a match.”

The siblings share another look.

Both grandparents on their mother’s side had been only children and both were dead. Aunt Alicia had already said no and had no children of her own. Their father had been disowned by his family, and even if their other Aunts and Uncles would have been willing to take them in it didn’t matter, because all 5 had died in various accidents on their “hunts.”

“Apparently your uncle, Jerry Fenton, had a fling before he passed with one Ms Sheila Haywood. Their son, Jason, was thought to be the son of Willis Todd and Mrs Haywood until the DNA test today. He was raised by Willis and Mrs Catherine Todd until his subsequent adoption by Mr Bruce Wayne, and is currently living in Gotham.”

And it sounds wrong - the only thing most Fentons could love was mystery and danger - thus why only one out of six had survived. But they don’t know enough to dispute it.

Also. The involvement of another billionaire is setting off alarm bells. On the one hand: this could be a fruitloop paying someone off in order to forcibly adopt them. On the other hand, maybe Jason Todd really was a Fenton and being adopted by fruitloops was some kind of curse on the current generation.

“We contacted Mr. Todd the moment the connection was made. He has expressed an interest in taking you in, and flew out immediately to come and meet you. He arrived not five minutes ago.”

She paused and gave them a sympathetic look. 

“I understand that this is all a lot to take in. Please know that placing you with Mr. Todd is not the end of my duties; even after he takes you, I will be following you to Gotham. I’ll be looking into counselors for the both of you, and we’ll have a follow up on that topic in a maximum of a week’s time. I’ll also be doing regular home checks to ensure you’re both settling in well and that you’re being taken good care of. 

Even with what little I’ve gleaned, it is obvious that the environment you both grew up in until now was neither a safe nor a healthy one. It is my job to ensure that doesn’t happen again. If you have any concerns about your placement home now or in the future, please do not hesitate to bring them up with me. If you worry something is not “important” enough to mention, rest assured that if it bothers you in the slightest, then it’s important to me.”

She gives them each a long look.

Then she brings in Jason.