#the good place crossover

[artianwen]

You're in "the good place".

[saltysunflowersugar]

Sapphic trauma bonding over being trapped in another dimension run by a guy in a suit who auto censors your swearing and is hiding some deep dark secret about the dimension you're trapped in

[totally-here]

3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help. 

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long. 

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned. 

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity. 

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room. 

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up. 

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark. 

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?” 

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times. 

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?” 

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.” 

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life. 

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes. 

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that. 

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it. 

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone. 

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders. 

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost. 

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead. 

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?” 

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.” 

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.” 

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him. 

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?” 

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!” 

“You what.” 

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg. 

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament. 

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead. 

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl. 

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker. 

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?” 

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes. 

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing. 

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body. 

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches. 

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly. 

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker. 

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?” 

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that. 

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably. 

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car. 

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything. 

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out. 

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile. 

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions. 

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.” 

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.” 

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible. 

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies. 

He gets a resounding no in response. 

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else. 

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it. 

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula. 

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?” 

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?” 

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!” 

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame. 

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?” 

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.” 

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest. 

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds. 

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head. 

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring. 

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.” 

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest. 

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused. 

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.” 

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.

[akanemnon]

That's two jailbreaks in one day!

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[r3ynah]

NU UH

Jack Fenton, dialed his younger sister's phone number as he gazed apologetically at the family of bats, that was hanging around in his living room. he impatiently waited for the other party to pick up.

The Bat family remained stoic as they observed the man, they had or Batman had ordered to put the call on speaker, if ever the phone was answered, Robin had stared at the doorway leading to the kitchen there stood Jack's supposed oldest daughter Jazz. who only stared amused at her father's antics much to Robin's confusion.

finally after a grueling 10 seconds wait, the call was finally answered.

Robin held his breath awaiting for the voice he was expecting for.

"Yes, Ahki?" Talia's voice resonated, from the phone. making everyone's eyes except the Fenton family widen.

'what? mother never told me she had a brother.' Damian thought as he took a peek at his father's face who was scrunched up in confusion. same for the rest of his family.

"Talia, my dear ukht, I've heard from a few birds and bats that you have taken my son. on his fieldtrip." Jack said, his nervous and outgoing personality vanishing and what took place was a serious and angry tone of a father as soon as heard the caller's voice, making everyone in the room shudder at the sudden cold atmosphere while the oldest daughter remained composed and unbothered as she watched.

Silence came from the other side of the phone, before answering "It seems i have." Talia answered back, you can here the voice of a boy in the background asking if it was his dad.

"Stop with this false innocence of yours, bring my son back immediately, partly alive and safe." Jack stated, much to the Bats and birds confusion.

Silence once again, as the phone remained quiet seemingly put down on a table with a few whispers and shuffling. before it was picked up once again.

"Nu uh." was the only thing Talia said as she hang up.

everyone paused.

"The fuck you mean 'Nu uh'?!" Jack yelled, at his phone. While his wife walked their daughter's side who was laughing her ass off, confused she looked at the bats then at her husband and then just sighed.

"Dinner's Ready." she only said as she retreated back at to the kitchen.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Following an accident, Danny wakes up in Gotham City in a DC universe. Lacking any forms of ID or possessions beyond the clothes on his back, he’s forced to commit some crimes to survive. Minor crimes, but still.

And then he gets caught.

During the court proceedings, they come to the mistaken conclusion that he’s a Meta suffering from some psychiatric issues such as Cotard’s Syndrome (a real rare condition where a person holds the delusional belief that they’re dead/don’t exist/etc).

Thus, between his “need for mental treatment” and the concerns about housing someone with his unique physical traits, he is sentenced to spend time in Arkham Asylum. He’s under pretty low security aside from the anti-Meta stuff and has more freedoms than some other inmates, but it’s still not a great experience. Even at the best of times, Arkham is hardly a nice place.

Some of his fellow residents are decently chill all things considered, but lots very much aren’t.

[bluerosefox]

Her Astrophel and Sterling

hmmm

Hmmmmmmmm

You know what.

You know those AU's where the Batfam finds or learns about either hidden or thought to be dead Al Ghul Danny! with a deaged/daughter Dani (Ellie) (I should know, I created a few of those storylines) but what if, now hear me out, what if instead of them finding Danny first its Talia.

Do I want Talia discovering her thought to be dead son to be alive? Yes. Do I want her to find him while investigating Amity Park when the League gets reports of 'Lazarus creatures/water'? Yes.

DO I WANT HER TO KNOCK ON THE FENTON'S DOOR, fully ready to pretend/honey talk her way into the house to uncover what the Fenton's know, ONLY TO MEET A LITTLE ELLIE?!

YES.

Ellie whose eyes and hair look like a copy of her Beloved but she can see bits and pieces of herself as well. Talia knows the child in front of her was not fully her's though but everything makes sense when she hears a voice, a voice she hasn't heard in ages but as a mother just knows, speak out.

"Ellie! I thought I said do not answer the door my Sterling."

"But Daddy, yous was busy fighting the hotdoggys!"

Talia's eyes widen when she finally catches sight of familiar black hair and blue eyes.

and she could only lightly whisper a old nickname she hasn't dared uttered in ages, a name she secretly gave her son due to his love of the stars "Astrophel..."

[noodles-and-tea]

CHAT

HOW YOU WOULD RECOMMEND GOING ABT WATCHING LUPIN THE THIRD?

IVE WATCHED LUPIN ZERO, LUPIN THE THIRD: THE FIRST AND CASTLE OF CAGLIOSTRO

WHERE SHOULD I GO FROM HERE?

OKAY SO IM PROLLY THE WORST PERSON TO ASK. My viewing history was like some of the movies and then the season where he’s in England and the season where he’s in Italy (both much newer instalments). BUT! There is this post I’ve been referring to (and also the Google drive is amazing)

Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful but I do wish you happy viewing!!!

[emdeerm]

Half-brother?!?!????

Prompt ig. Don't have enough knowledge to pull it off.

So, Dp stuff happen. AGIT too. So PP is gone and forgotten.

ANYWAY. Time passes, and after another huge battle of Ghosts, Maddie dies. Jack is distraught. He wasn't the most attentive parent before and had completely stopped trying to be one after that.

Danny was 17 and Jazz was 19 when they woke up to a small note with an apology.

Jack moved away. He was in his late 40s, the Ghosts were never his biggest interest tbh, it was Maddie and he loved her and her interests to bits. Now that the driving force was gone he just saw no point.

He got back into Uni. Got a degree and started travelling to different sights.

There he met Janet Drake and the rest is history upto your interpretation.

Tim, when he becomes Robin, does a more thorough check of his family and finds out about the possibility that he might have siblings. Adult, independent siblings. He didn't know whether or not to reach out. If he even should. He found records of them searching for his father. Maybe they wouldn't at all be happy to learn about the fact that their dad had a whole new family...

[radiance1]

Gotham: Holy shit there's a random animal running around Gotham city and no one's ever caught it before. They say it only appears in thunderstorms and anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with it look as if they've been hit by thunder.

Dan phantom, the 'random animal' who is in fact a Raiju in question: If I destroy this place I'll be fucked over by Clockwork. But if I don't destroy this place I'll keep being followed by this brat.

Damian Wayne, the brat in question: There is an animal roaming Gotham in thunderstorms, father. We must save it!

[wigglesdtuff]

In which the gang dies and fixes Heaven

[turrondeluxe]

IDW MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS/ TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES: HUMAN DESIGNS OF THE BROTHERS

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 51

One of Damian’s pets passes. Instead of moving on it’s a Cujo situation.

Damian’s animal does not move on. Instead attacks the ghost king to get back to Damian by becoming king. The animal thinks its the only way to get back to Damian. So Danny now had a feral animal constantly attacking him.

Danny just has gotten used to the attacks. One day sam is complaining about a gala she’s being forced to. She shows tucker and Danny pictures of the Wayne’s.

Just in time for the attacker to see the picture and start hitting the picture. It clicks for sam what’s going on.

Sam has the brain cells.

Danny now brings the ghost animal to Damian. Telling him that his pet is feral, then proceeds to explain how to care for an ecto-pet. Also a supply of ecto supplements to add to the pets food.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

[telesodalite]

I love the idea that, whenever a Cybertronian space-faring vessel lands or docks within a predominantly non-Cybertronian space station or port, that it's required that they either confirm or deny whether their vessel is sentient or not before being permitted to land.

1. For proper accommodation and clarification, along with the chance for communication between the vessel and crews working the station/port.

2. Because there has been... incidents... incidents that have led to the requirement of the above reasons.

[domesticatedford]

Assistant

(A good ending story)

D inhaled the rich scent of coffee as he drank. He was beginning to remember why he used to like the stuff so much. Its bitterness was strong and pleasant, and it made his blood feel as though it carried an undercurrent of electricity. Slight, but present. He did some figures in his head and sketched them at the bottom of an expense report. It was one of the things H let him do, now that D was helping him with his work. It had started after a particularly long stretch of H neglecting to care for himself. He wouldn’t take meals with D, wouldn’t come to bed. D didn’t see him outside of his office for days. Once he had finally passed out (at his desk, of course; D had to wheel him to his room and hope he wouldn’t be angry about being moved without his permission when he woke up,) D decided to step in. He did as much of H’s paperwork for him as he could before the other man returned.

H had been annoyed, but not terribly so. The wrath that so often thundered around him rarely touched his friend. In fact, at D’s insistence that he would only keep butting in, H had relented. He wasn’t going to work less, no; that, it seemed, was an option he was unwilling to consider. He would, though, permit D to keep assisting him. A second desk had been brought into H’s office. It was smaller than his own, but still large enough for D to sit comfortably at, with enough room for his coffee, and the selection of documents (much smaller than the stacks collected on his companion's desk) H allowed him access to.

A series of tinny yet resonant chimes marked 7 PM. D downed the last of his coffee and stood. His papers would be where they were supposed to be when he returned. Or, they would be where he left them. That was good enough. He stretched, his back cracking, then his neck, evaporating a bit of their stiffness. H didn’t look up as he approached.

“It’s dinner time,” D informed him. H grunted a vague response. A small needle of frustration dug into D. “We should go,” he added. H waved a frail hand, still not looking up from the dense script before him.

“In a minute,” he said. D’s face fell into an irritated pout but he remained silent. He stood, waiting, on the other side of the expansive slab of varnished wood. There was an old ink stain on one corner. Scalene had been ‘helping’ her father with his duties, and had somehow ended up breaking one of his pens. D hadn’t been there for that; he had still been upset with H at the time, and had only heard about the incident later on. Bitterness tugged at the back of his throat at the memory.

As the minutes ticked by, anxiety began to shudder across D’s skin. It was 7:15. He should have been in the kitchen by now. He needed to eat at set times every day. It was the only way he felt safe.

“Please, H, it’s time to go,” he pleaded. His voice sounded thin and cracked. Deeply unpleasant.

“I heard you the last time,” H said on a sigh, still refusing to look up from his damn desk. D fidgeted, staring down at the crippled dictator.

“Please,” D whined softly. He wasn’t sure whether or not he had actually vocalized the plea. Either way, H remained unmoved.

7:30. D’s teeth clicked and ground against his necklace. The hand that wasn’t holding the pendant to his mouth clutched and dragged at his top. He was hungry. It hurt. When H finally looked up at him, D realized he’d been repeating the word ‘please’ under his breath. He supposed it must have finally gotten loud enough for H to hear. Something shifted in the old man’s face. D probably could have worked out what it was if his thoughts weren’t buzzing too fast to catch.

“I think I’ve done enough for today,” H said. His pen clicked beautifully against varnished wood as he set it down. “Why don’t we go get something to eat?” D was beside H, behind his desk, before he realized he wanted to move. He hated this feeling. His body was getting away from him. He tried to grab onto it, but he kept sliding off. Hold tighter! You can do that. You know how to do that now. H lifted himself from his leather office chair, leaning on his cane. He turned, making for his wheelchair. It was nearby, but H was so slow. 7:34. D wanted to grab him and yank him into his chair, get them moving. He could now. He was so much stronger. But H was fragile, and he didn’t like being moved without permission. But it was 7:35.

Finally, finally, H was in his wheelchair. D’s body had moved without his permission again. He was behind H, hands trembling as he held them up, inches from the metal attachments. H’s wheelchair hadn’t been made for him to be pushed around; he generally moved under his own power. D liked to help him, though, so collapsible handles had been added on the back. He couldn’t grab them without H’s permission.

“You can wheel me there, if you like,” H said. Energy rushed through D; relief, as uncertainty was scrubbed out. He grabbed the chair and bolted for the door. H was nearly thrown out of his seat by the force with which D wrenched him about to turn into the hallway. Later, once D had eaten and calmed down, he decided that H still had far too much work to contend with on his own. He was too protective of his affairs to delegate properly. That, it seemed, left D to take up the reins. His friend couldn’t keep neglecting himself like this. D couldn’t take it. He would have to work harder.

—--------

“Some of these numbers are wrong, Kitten.” It took several moments for H's words to worm their way into D’s awareness. H had one of the papers D had completed in his hands.

“Oh, I-I'm sorry,” D said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I'm sorry, I must not have been paying attention. I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” H ordered. His voice was hard but sincere. Right. D wasn't supposed to do that anymore. Not as much. He was usually better about it these days. Must have been another thing that slipped his mind.

D's leg bounced; another thing he couldn't control. That was fine. It was a harmless involuntary movement. Probably the coffee. Maybe that was why he hadn't leapt on the drink as soon as it was available to him again. That, and the acid reflux, which was worse than he remembered it; probably due to his age.

It was 9PM. At seven, D had brought H dinner, and they had eaten together while working. Which was fine. It wasn't where D preferred to dine, but it was really the time that mattered, and he wanted to stay with H. The emperor insisted there was more work to be done, that he couldn't stop until it was seen to. Maybe, if D helped his friend, they would be able to share a proper meal together tomorrow, in the proper place. Maybe H would take a break, go to bed early, and D could stop worrying that he was going to have a heart attack from the constant stress of overwork. D’s chest throbbed painfully at the memory of the similar attacks he'd suffered. One had killed him. His breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut. If H died, no one could bring him back. Now that D worked the same hours he did, alongside him, he realized just how much of a risk that was.

—-----------

“... Uncle D?”

D started awake to find small hands pressing into his shoulder. He lifted his head (slowly, it felt so heavy) from the dark nest he'd made of his arms to see Scalene peering at him.

“Mhh… I'm sorry,” D said. His voice felt creaky. “I think… I was in the middle of something. What's going on?” Scalene took a step back, her toe clicking on the ground. She really did love those tap shoes. She looked worried, though. Everyone always looked worried lately.

“We, um… well, you gave us a test a while ago,” the raspberry triangle of a girl said, her voice uncharacteristically uncertain. “Everone is finished, but you fell asleep.”

“I’m in class,” D observed. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but he'd just remembered it. He looked out across his desk (right, he'd just meant to rest for a moment, get his burgeoning headache under control,) at the collection of Eu juveniles staring back at him.

In some ways, the scene reminded him of the classrooms of his youth. Neat rows of desks, books, a boxy room filled with colorful diagrams and models to help the children visualize the concepts they were meant to understand (there were more of those than he was used to, but he found they helped aid in his explanations.) In other ways, it was decidedly alien. The students themselves had the largest part in that. While some were able to hold something similar to a human shape, or perhaps a raccoon like Jean-Paul or a Euclidean like Scalene, others took simpler forms. They were intermittently rounded and sharp, often putting D in mind of a spiny caterpillar, though far less consistent in their shapes. One of his students was currently a long, thin tube of grayish, waxy flesh with an eye on the end.

Another way D's classroom differed from the ones in his memories was that it was far kinder. Not him, per se; he'd always gotten along with his teachers. It was the accessibility. Each student's desk was tailored to their level of ability, aided by the Eus’ technology. Some offered support with mobility and writing, others providing a visual filter to enhance shapes and colors for those who struggled to see them. Posture support was given to those who couldn't keep themselves upright under their own power.

There were also two teaching assistants, Ex and Cee, who roamed about the room, offering aid where needed. They were what the others called Low-I; individuals of the Eu species with less of a capacity for unique identity. They required more guidance than the others, and were less likely to act without instruction. They were placid and pleasant, in a way that felt more genuine than the rest of their brethren. They reminded D of himself, and moreover, they felt safe.

Ex strode to D's side while he rubbed his temples, trying to focus. The Eu silently bade Scalene to go back to her seat.

“Are you okay, Dr. Pines?” She asked when she reached him. A crinkle creased the smooth, pale skin on Ex's forehead. The Eus’ skin was always too smooth. D suspected they didn't properly understand pores.

“Yes, yes, I'm fine,” D said, more harshly than he'd intended. “I'm sorry. I'm just tired.”

“Would you like me to take over for you?” Ex asked. D pushed himself to his feet. It was harder than it should have been.

“No, I told you, I'm fine,” he repeated. “I just need to remember what I was doing.” Ex stepped back and nodded, her slicked back, chin length hair bobbing. It was shiny and fine, and put D in mind of a doll's hair. D pawed through the papers on his desk. He usually brought a lesson plan, notes on what he'd been talking about with the students. He couldn't find anything of the sort.

—-----------

The music D was listening to sounded more like gnashing metal than anything produced by actual instruments. It was a band recommended by Mabel, and it was terrible. That was good. D needed something unpleasant to stay awake. Unfortunately, the brash sound was only making his headache worse. He'd retreated to his room to soothe it in the first place; the constant ticking of the clock in H's office had been like a knife to his temples. The knife was only getting sharper as what D guessed was a guitar wailed like it was dying, but D had to stay awake. He had things to do.

It was roughly 1AM. D had, as usual, been helping H when he remembered he still had his own work to attend to. He had to plan a lesson for tomorrow; he'd been falling behind, and was scrambling to come up with something, hoping it at least roughly lined up with what he'd been teaching his students. He was having a hard time thinking. No matter how much D prodded his brain, all it could do was flop weakly like a dying fish. He sat back and growled into his hands.

Behind him, a knock sounded from the door.

“Please leave,” D said, his voice winding through his fingers. “I'm busy.” Whoever it was didn't listen, and the door clicked open. D squeezed his eyes shut as light flooded the room. He'd made it as dim as possible while still keeping himself awake, the overhead light abandoned in favor of the various lamps he'd collected over the years (his favorites were those that had been gifted to him.) The door pressed shut and H was standing beside D, leaning against his cane. He wasn't using his chair today.

“It's late,” H observed. D hummed, face still buried in his hands. “You should go to bed,” H added.

“I can't.” D surprised himself to find his voice came out in something like a sob. “I have class tomorrow, and I didn't do the lesson plan, and I have no idea if I've even been teaching them anything at all. Fuck. I'm so tired.” He hadn't meant to say that last part. There was the soft, dull dragging sound of wood against rug, and H was sitting beside him. A gentle hand pressed against his arm.

“You need to stop this, Kitten,” H soothed. “You have your own job. You can't keep doing mine on top of it.”

”I need to,” D whimpered. “I don't want you to die.” He had the vague sense that that wasn't what his concern had started off as at all, that he perhaps wasn't being entirely logical. That needling voice, though, was too small to drown out his panic and frustration. There was a pause.

“I'm not going to die,” H said evenly.

“You “will,” D whined, digging his nails into his forehead. “You have a weak heart, and you put so much stress on yourself. You don't eat or sleep enough, and you never take breaks. You're going to kill yourself if I don't do something!!” D's voice broke, and he let out a strangled sob.

H's arms wrapped around him. The old man's chin pressed into the back of D's neck, and he held him, closing his arms tight around him, holding him together. Little by little, D's racing heart slowed. He stopped shaking, which apparently he had been doing.

“I'm scared,” he whimpered.

“I know,” H breathed. “It's okay.” Moments bled by. H clicked off the terrible music.

“Please, stop all this,” H murmured into D's hair. The breath felt cool against D's neck. He must have been sweating.

“No,” was all D could manage. It was soft and feeble, and he wanted to say more, but it felt like his throat was clogged with cement.

“I've been doing my job just fine on my own up until now,” H reasoned. D shook his head. He couldn't say anything at all now. More time passed, but it was too fuzzy for D to judge the length. H sighed.

“If it will get you to stop worrying, maybe I can find a way to delegate some of my responsibilities to others.” D sniffed.

“Really?” He warbled. H ran his fingers through his hair.

“Really. Now will you go to bed? Cee and Ex can take over for you tomorrow.”

D really did mean to go to bed. He meant to get up, get ready, and settle down where he was supposed to. But, suddenly, he was allowed to sleep, and it would be okay. H was there, holding him, not working, brushing his digits softly through D’s short, coiled locks of gray hair. It really was impossible to stay awake for a second longer.

——————————————————

H and Scalene belong to @alexthebordercollie

D and H are the names commonly used in universe by Domesticated Ford and Hand of God Ford, especially when they’re around each other, which is pretty much all the time in the good ending