ghostgoing

[ghostgoing]

Danny is a damn good mechanic. Working on his parents automobiles have made how he works on vehicles a bit unorthodox. Why disassemble half of the entire car to get to the battery when you could just go in intangibly? OSHA is a scam and a fraud. So what if Nightwing sees him put tension on some coil springs he needs to add back to a cars suspension BY HAND BY SQUISHING IT DOWN and using safety squints while he secures everything in place. He also can MacGyver up absolutely anything you’ll ever need and anything you never should ever attach to your vehicle. All he asks is that no one ever repairs that part besides himself till the end of time or risk a chance of the item exploding in your face. Is it made out of half a toaster and a raspberry pi? Yes. It can however allow you to see the real time positions of any cop within 25 miles and that’s worth rapid disassembly.

[ghostgoing]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[ghostgoing]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[ghostgoing]

DPxDC #35

Ghost king gets summoned. Danny shows up wearing sweats and a loose t-shirt, holding a pot.

Danny: ...

JL/summoners: ...

Danny looks down and sees he's still holding his dinner.

Danny: Okay, less annoyed now, what's up?

Starts eating his dinner out of the pot with his serving spork. (Danny silently thankful his dinner came too. He hadn't eaten all day.)

JL and/or summoners are completely confused.

[ghostgoing]

(Not Exactly the Haunting of Danny Fenton)

Tim's PowerPoint

“Drake, why are we here?”

“Because Bruce told us to be,” Tim said, eyes focused on the interface set in the meeting table. Damian was like a dog, too much eye contact and he took it as a challenge.

Damian was thankfully silent for about two and a half seconds. Then, “And why is Todd here?”

Jason tossed some popcorn in his mouth, talking around it. “Cause this? This I have to see.”

Tim resisted the urge to sigh. It would just encourage them both. He went through his PowerPoint one more time. Neither of them would allow for mistakes. He didn’t give a fuck what they thought of how he provided the information, but it would have to be right.

Which was annoying with a complex concept like polyamory.

“Right, let’s get started so that we can get this over with,” Tim said as he sent the PowerPoint to the big screen. “Dick is apparently in a new relationship.”

Damian tilted his head. “He finally saw off with that that absurdly cheerful vagabond of a Speedster?”

Don’t give them the satisfaction of sighing. ���No. Dick is still dating Wally. The two of them have agreed to try adding another person to their relationship. Bruce wants to make sure nothing is said to ruin the new relationship, hence this PowerPoint.”

“Adding another person?” Damian asked, nose all scrunched up. “Why?”

“Because Polyamory,” Tim said with a grand gesture to the screen where the Pac-Man ghosts were standing with heart eyes under the word.

“Are you Clyde?” Jason asked.

“What? I’m ignoring you, you’re not required to be here,” Tim said and clicked the button on the laser pointer-slash-remote to go to the next slide. It was a rather artistic shot of what Tim was ninety percent sure was a pigeon orgy. The Merriam-Webster definition was over the picture in yellow:

polyamory noun

poly·​am·​ory ˌpä-lē-ˈa-mə-rē

plural polyamories

: the state or practice of having more than one open romantic relationship at a time

“Like much of nature,” Tim started as the picture behind the definition rotated between different animals from cats to frogs to cows and more, “some humans and humanoids participate in polyamory. There are, in fact, alien humanoids that engage in polyamory or polygamy as the primary form of relationships. If you are interested in a more detailed look at these alien races, there are links in the third slide.”

The third slide was the Clipart of the classic ‘little green man’ head with several footnote citations to various Justice League files. So maybe they shouldn’t have all that information, but Tim didn’t have a back door into the Justice League system for nothing.

“Considering that Dick, Wally, and their new third are all human, we will be focusing on the typical and basic human configurations of polyamory.”

Damian’s hand shot up. Raising his hand was, thankfully, a rule that had been made after the fifth time someone had been stabbed.

“Yes, Damian?” Don’t sigh, Tim reminded himself.

“Animals have the need to produce a large numbers of offspring. They also do not possess the same emotional processing powers as humans,” Damian stated. “While, perhaps, multiple partners assist in both the amount of offspring, but also the dispersal of genetic make up for animals, modern humans do not share this need.”

“…correct,” Tim agreed warily.

Damian kept his hand up as he continued. “I was also under the impression that if one is to be with a romantic partner long term, that the partner should be someone that one is romantically interested in and emotionally invested in.”

“Oh, he’s adorable,” Jason cooed.

“Raise your hand or shut up,” Tim said. “Yes, that’s generally correct, though there some other forms of relationships that are not romantic. We will cover some of these shortly.”

Damian nodded as if actually satisfied. “Then why would someone want to share?”

“Cause sharing is caring,” Jason said with a snicker.

“Ignore him,” Tim said, “and we’ll turn back to the slides! There are a few different types of standard polyamorous relationships! The first we’re covering is open relationships.”

On the screen, the words ‘open relationships’ went around in a circle like a train.

“In an open relationship, a member or members of the relationship are free to date, or otherwise engage with, whomever they might want to.” Tim clicked the buttons a few times and the main circle connected to other circles, some that spun and others that did not. “These other relationships may also be open or may be closed—limited to only a select amount of people—depending on the other person. These open relationships may also have certain rules in place or be completely open depending on the agreement of those in it.”

Tim clicked over to a rather scrunched list of rule examples. Maybe Tim made it purposefully unreadable so that he didn’t have to answer Damian’s questions about sex. Maybe.

“Why?” Damian asked. He sounded so confused that Tim decided to answer even though Damian hadn’t raised his hand.

“Lots of reasons. A person may want to experiment with other gender combinations. Or they may have different or more emotional, romantic, or physical needs than one partner can support.” Tim hurriedly clicked ahead to his slide on asexual and aromantic individuals. The background was a loop of hundreds of bouncy balls. Tim had no reason for that, he’d been losing his mind by then. “Asexuality and aromanticism run on a spectrum of course, but at a basic level, asexuals do not experience sexual attraction. They may be sex favorable or sex avoidant. So, for example, they might have an open relationship with their partner, so that the partner can satisfy their sexual needs.

“An aromantic individual does not experience romantic attraction, so again we might see multiple partners to satisfy the diverse need of the aromantic themselves or their partner.”

Damian frowned and tilted his head, but stayed quiet. Interestingly, Jason was also frowning slightly.

Tim moved on hurriedly and backed up to his intended slide. “Now, by contrast a closed relationship either does not add new partners, or partners are added with the approval of all members of the relationship. As a major simplification, this can be thought of as a series of arrows or triangles.”

“Now with arrows, the agreement and negotiations are still there, but everyone can be dating different people!” Tim said. Green Arrow stared back at them from the next screen. Tim thought it was particularity fitting, knowing what he knew of Oliver Queen. “So A might be dating B and C. And B is dating A and D. D and A are not dating. They might not even really be friends. Their relationship is known as metamors.”

Damian nodded slowly.

A spinning graphic of the triforce came up on the screen next. “This can really be any shape, but a triangle keeps it simple. Basically every member in this format is involved with every other member. This is what Dick will be in, if everything goes well. Think of it like… so A and B both like C. It’s not about A sharing B or B sharing A, not really, it’s about them both also getting C! It’s more cake. Though that’s an ace saying, but, um, it’s like getting an ice cream with two scoops, yeah?”

“Sure,” Damian mumbled, a lost sounding agreement.

“And this can be lots of shapes, like I said! This is how it would look with four people: triangles in a square. The more people you have, the more complicated the relationship, agreements, and managing emotions can get, but if people are a really good group with each other and are willing to talk, it can work out!”

Damian almost tentatively raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“How would… something like that even start?” Damian asked.

“Oh, well… like, I guess think of it like a hero team just with romance? Sometimes you know people deeply enough that you trust them with your life and identity and everything else. In cases like that, it might not be odd for things to… for things to, um,” Tim trailed off, blinking up at the interconnected square.

“Drake…?” Damian prompted.

Jason started giggling.

“I, what? Sorry!” Tim said with a shake of his head. He continued in a rush as he flicked through various relationship set up examples. “But something like that! So um, those are your basic types but things can be combined and changed and altered. The main thing is to respect that someone who is in a polyamorous relationship wants to be in one. And that if you enter one, that you aren’t afraid to talk things out, make boundaries that you need, and talk through any changing boundaries!”

Tim flicked quickly to his last side.

“Oh, and, um, queer platonic relationships is sorta like aroace stuff, people in it dedicate themselves to a partner or partners even if they have no romantic or sexual feelings. It’s basically a way to say that a person is that important to them just as a person!” Tim said as he fumbled for his phone. “Anyways! The PowerPoint has been emailed to you. Direct any questions to myself or Bruce and be polite to Dick, Wally, and their new guy, okay? Okay. Gotta run.”

“That was odd, was it not?” Tim heard Damian ask Jason.

“Yeah…” Jason was still staring at the screen on queer platonic relationships when Tim glanced back. “Actually, I have to go too, okay? Doesn’t have to be your jam for you to be polite, got it?”

“What on earth has gotten into them,” Damian mumbled.

-

Cassie crossed her arms as soon as Tim appeared on Mount Justice. “Okay, what’s the emergency?”

“It’s, okay, so Bruce made me give this presentation to Damian because Dick and Wally added a new person to their relationship and no one want’s Damian to be an asshole—”

“Like he normally is,” Cassie muttered.

“—and ruin things before it starts, you know?”

“Please tell me it wasn’t your normal style of PowerPoints?” Kon asked.

“Of course it was,” Tim said with a dismissive wave. “But I was giving it and—just it all made sense suddenly! We are all idiots.”

“Hey!” Bart chirped. “I mean, yeah, but hey!”

“No, I mean—” Tim let out a noise of frustration and grabbed the nearest teammate, which happened to be Bart, and kissed him.

Bart made an adorable little squeak and then practically went boneless and still in a way that Tim had never seen Bart go before.

“Oh,” Kon said off to the side, sounding oddly flat. “That’s—congratulations you two.”

“Zeus, you are an idiot,” Cassie said.

Kon’s reply was muffled.

Tim pulled back, shoved the lax Bart at Cassie (who had just finished kissing Kon), and marched over to pull Kon into a quick, crushing kiss.

Kon blinked back. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Tim said. “All of us. I want… I want all of you and for all of you to want all of you and for… and for us to be together—teammates and more in all the ways. Because I trust you all, and I never don’t want to have you.”

Tim looked from Kon, who still looked stunned, and over at Cassie who was cradling a boneless looking Bart and petting his hair. She rolled her eyes. “You’re all idiots.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed breathlessly. “But you love us.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a smile and a sigh. “yeah I do.”

[ghostgoing]

people don't talk enough about how fucking funny it is that bruce can sub in his kids as batman when he's too busy. like can you imagine it from the league's perspective? imagine you have this really mysterious, geniusly scary guy that you know next to nothing about, never cracks a smile and yet always comes out on top, and one day he shows up to a league meeting and there's just something... off. about him.

you can't pin it down because he's literally acting exactly the same as usual and there's no reason to think there's anything wrong, but maybe he shifted in his seat one to many times, or he looked just a tad bit too bored during green lantern's case review, but something's just... odd. so you quietly ask superman after the meeting if anything's up with the bat bcs you know those two are closer and also clark can hear heartbeats so if something's wrong surely he'll pick it up? and without hesitation he leans over to you and mumbles 'yeah batman was busy, that's his 17 yr old son. he's a crime lord and kills people sometimes though so we're not allowed to let him into the weapons department.' and then walks away like it's normal.

like the whiplash the league must go through every time they realise that no, this is not their fearless dark and brooding leader, this is in fact one of his dipshit kids being forced to sub in bcs the real batman broke an ankle, is incredible.

wonder woman: so that's my proposed plan, what are your thoughts batman?

batman: hn. i think that- *voice raising two octaves* oh shit hold on my phones buzzing

the league:

batman, answering the phone and immediately dropping the Bat Posture™: what do you mean- aw come on little wing that's not fair! but- no, NO DON'T YOU DARE TELL ALFRED I'LL BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU- IM SORRY OK I'LL BUY YOU MORE- *catches sight of the league watching him, baffled* *stiffens* ok listen i promise to replace them but i gotta go, please show me mercy iloveyoubye *hangs up*

the league:

batman:

batman: *coughs awkwardly*

superman: *sighs*

batman, to superman: ...red hood found out i ate his chocolate pretzels-

superman, shaking his head: just... just stop.

the flash: so this isn't batman either, is it?

wonder woman: if this one's also a criminal im losing my mind.

superman, tiredly: no no, this one isn't a criminal. this one's actually a cop.

batman: *sinks down in his seat* b's gonna kill me

green lantern, mystified: where does he keep GETTING you all from!?

'batman' dick, who made a pact with jason to Always Fuck With Bruce Whenever The Opportunity Arises: batman is a whore.

they think they've finally sussed out all 2 of batman's kids and then one day during a meeting 'batman' ends up on a 30 minute rant about different hacking methods this tech villain could be using that results in him half way through a sentence breaking off to say '-oh uncle clark could you pass me that pen- thanks, anyway so-' and then five minutes after that when the league have all been exchanging incredulous looks he finally freezes and is like. SHIT.

wonder woman: you're different from the other two, aren't you?

batman: maybe i am maybe i'm not, you can't prove it.

wonder woman:

green lantern: so like, are you new or have you just managed to avoid sub duty up until now?

superman, coughing: actually, this is this ones ninth occasion of replacing batman. you've just never realised before.

the league:

batman: yeah actually the other two are kinda mad i lasted longer than them...

the flash: how the fuck does he keep getting kids with the exact same build as him!??!?

'batman' tim, spent 20 minutes padding the suit out so he would look the part, still mad that bruce keeps palming WE work off on him: oh he forces us to take steroids for it.

the league, concerned:

superman, pinching the bridge of his nose: now come on red robin-

batman, fully tearing up and looking distraught: PLEASE uncle clark, it HURTS, you can't keep COVERING FOR HIM!

superman, frantically to the league: this one lies.

bonus

the league, squinting at batman:

the league: ...

superman: *head in his hands, too disappointed to do anything*

the league: *silently exchanging looks, wondering if anybody's brave enough to say anything*

duke as batman, fully aware this is fucking stupid but jason and tim fell on the floor laughing when dick came up with the idea and frankly, he wanted to see if anybody would have to guts to call him out: so, are we all ready to start the meeting?

[ghostgoing]

Back again with another prompt! Baby!Tim summons Eldritch horror!Danny.

***

Phantom crawled out of the summoning circle in his Eldritch form. "Who dares summon me, foolish mortals?" Only to see that his summoner is a child.

"My name is Timothy Drake." The child spoke properly, enunciating every syllable and holding out his hand like a businessman. A stark contrast to the ratty pajamas and dirt streaked across his face. "And I have been kidnapped. I summoned you to ask for your help."

[ghostgoing]

it must feel like a ghost town to him

[ghostgoing]

Having been declared legally dead and without a cent to his name, Danny arrives in Gotham desperate for any job. So when he gets hired by a rich couple to babysit their kid while they're away (which apparently is quite often) without them even doing a background check on him, he thinks he's hit the jackpot.

Until he finds out just how neglected this kid is. Danny knows from personal experience just how that can mess a person up so he decides to shower this kid with all the love and attention he could ever dream of. And maybe figure out a way to stop him from sneaking out at night.

[ghostgoing]

DpXDc prompt #???

It isn't often Batman gets a call from Constantine.

When he picks up Constantine doesn't even say hello

Constantine: Word from the undead is that Gotham is now considered the property of the new ghost king. The child king Phantom. More specifically Gotham is his dollhouse according to Deadman. What did you do???

@hdgnj @hilariousseagoat @junespriince @piedpiperart I think y'all will like this idea based on your other work I read

[ghostgoing]

Dead on MAYn Day 6

Trope | Enemies at First Sight/Scar Soulmates

Dialogue | "I would believe that you're fine, but that's a knife sticking out of your goddamn leg, so…"

cw: blood, medical care, scars

“Hey, um, are… you okay? Can I call someone? Or, like, help you get somewhere?”

“I’m fine,” Red Hood growled back at the voice from the bright edge of the alley.

“Yeah, I would believe that you're fine, but that's a knife sticking out of your goddamn leg, so…”

Hood snorted, the sound ugly through the mask. “Yeah. Hurts like a mother too.”

“I’m sure.” The figure was a broad one—broader than Hood was maybe. It seemed like they filled up the entrance to alley. It wasn’t threatening though. In fact, they seemed almost hunched in on themselves. “I’ve got my bike close. I can give you a ride to wherever you need and completely forget where I’ve been after.”

“Yeah? Good at forgetting, are you?” Hood rasped.

“I’m a college student in the middle of finals, chances are I won’t remember this at all,” they said dryly.

“If you try anything, I can still kill you,” Hood pointed out.

“No doubt of that at all!” they said, way too cheerfully. “I’ll grab my bike and be right back.”

Hood let his head thump back against the wall. He gave it an eighty:twenty that guy would come back himself. Forty:sixty that they would try something on the way. Seventy:thirty that this would come back to bite him in the ass later. But his leg fucking hurt.

He could save himself some trouble now and later if he got dropped of at Leslie’s instead of a safe house. The clinic being somewhere Red Hood would shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. It would mean a lecture, though. And possibly some heat for Leslie.

He was pretty sure the knife didn’t hit anything vital.

Hood was just pulling out the last of the bandages he’d need with the person came back. The roar of a beast of a bike was the first hint, and then their shadow blocked the alleyway for a moment before they approached.

They were pretty nondescript. Unruly Black hair, slightly scruffy beard like they jut hadn’t had time to trip it up lately. They had on a hoodie under a worn leather jacket and jeans. It was only the bright turquoise eyes that really caught Hood’s attention.

“Time for the knife to come out? Let me help with the bandages while you do the pulling,” they said, still annoyingly cheerful.

“I could kill you with the knife,” Hood pointed out, just to be ornery.

The guy just snorted. “Sure, you could, but you wouldn’t. You’re the Red Hood and I’ve not fucked with anything on your nope list. Hell, the worst thing I’ve done this month is glared at a little old abuela because she was talking so loudly on her phone on the subway. Like, okay, you’re old, you’re look one sneeze away from scattering into dust, I’m sure there’s hearing loss, but spare the rest of us, you know?”

As they chattered, they took the bandages from Hood and then squatted down. And Jesus their thighs rivaled Hood’s. They made quite a sight down there at Hood’s feet like that.

Fuck, get a hold of yourself, Hood. So it’s been a long time, but this wasn’t the time.

Hood yanked the knife out with a bit back noise. The guy’s hands were there instantly, pressing the gauze down tightly for a little bit before wrapping it under the bandage. It was crude, but Hood just needed it to last to the safe house where he could clean it up properly.

He tossed the guy a wet wipe to clean up with and then took the trash and stowed it away to burn later. Then Hood pushed himself up off the wall, ignoring the offered hand, and limped towards the entrance of the alleyway.

The bike was impressive, even Hood had to admit it. His fingers itched a little to poke and prod at the beast. It was an old school hog, or a least that’s where most of it’s bit came from, but it was clearly a custom work in progress. It actually looked like it could support both of them too.

“He’s a looker, isn’t he?” the guy asked with a proud smile. “Not done yet, of course, but I’m working on it! Oh, I’m Danny.”

“Danny,” Hood repeated with a little nod. “He/him fine?”

Danny blinked in surprise at the consideration. “Yeah, good with me. Um, right, I know you know how to ride, just signal where you want me to turn and things.”

Hood gave a little nod, waited for Danny to climb on to his bike and put his helmet on, and then carefully settled behind him. The engine roared to life with a lovely purr and then they were of.

Danny didn’t try anything.

“I knew you were going to be a fucking problem,” Hood growled as he stalked across the roof to where Danny stood bashfully, as if he hadn’t just basically put up a bat signal to summon Hood.

Two out of three wasn’t bad.

-

“I mean, I didn’t show up at your house or anything!” Danny defended. “I just—look, we just need to talk.”

Hood crossed his arms. “Talk?”

“Or I’ll talk, and you can just listen! That’s fine too!” Danny said. “Look, so after I took you where you needed to go a few weeks ago I went home, showered, and crashed hard. But then I woke up and—look, I’m sorry for this, but you’re the one who got stabbed there!”

And then Danny started undoing his pants.

Which, what? Hood was pretty sure that he wasn’t dreaming this time. He focused on imagining a red ball to check if he was lucid dreaming.

Nope, nothing.

Danny was still pulling down his jeans over his very well toned thighs. And Jesus if Jason hadn’t been having dreams before—

“See?” Danny said. “I have a fresh scar right where you’ve been stabbed! And I haven’t done anything that could have given me it.”

There was indeed a pink, freshly healing scar on Danny’s legs, right where Hood had been stabbed. But Danny couldn’t be implying that.

“That’s one scar, it doesn’t prove anything,” Jason snapped even as he stepped closer.

Scar soulmates were one of the rarer types. Jason had never even considered having one. He had always thought empathy was mostly likely for him, with his moods. No one should have the scars that he had. No one should share his marks, not even a soulmate.

“It’s just one little scar, I know.” Danny yanked his jeans back up but didn’t bother fastening them before he pulled his shirt and hoodie up instead. An ugly, surgical Y crossed his chest. “But this one’s a little more distinctive.”

Jason stumbled back from Danny, hand pressed to his own chest.

Danny just stepped forward. “You had to have wondered where that came from. People don’t just get a scar like that.”

“What?”

“It’s—I was—”

Jason shook his head. “No, that’s my scar. I died.”

Danny paused. “What?”

“I died. And then I woke up in my coffin. I had that scar. I always assumed it was an autopsy scar…” but that didn’t make any sense, did it? Why would Bruce have let an autopsy happen? It was clear how Jason had died. And that how was revealing, too revealing. Why had Jason never thought of that before? Why had he assumed? “But… it’s not, is it. It’s yours?”

Danny nodded.

Anger surged through Jason, bubbled up like the growl in the back of his throat. He stalked forward. This time, Danny took a step back.

“Who did that to you?” Jason growled. He yanked Danny’s shirt back up and pressed his gloved fingers over the scar. “Who hurt you?”

“Well, you know, the usual. Shadowy government organization intent on studying me like a lab rat,” Danny said with an awkward chuckle.

Jason was going to get more information than that. He was going to find them and end them for what they had done to Danny. He was going to—

“Hood, breathe,” Danny said. “I’m okay now. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Jason ran his fingers over Danny’s side and the round scar there. A bullet from his Robin days. Batman had been pissed after that one. Or was it worried?

“Can we—is there somewhere we can go to talk this over? I’m not… I’m not expecting anything from you,” Danny said in a way that already sounded heartbroken, “but I feel like we should at least talk about it, right?”

“Yeah.” Jason swallowed back his nerves and every part of him that wanted to wrap Danny up in his arms and never let go. “Yeah. Come on, I have a safe house close. We can talk there. We can talk about everything.”

---

Danny, who always knew cause wow Jason has a lot of scars, patting Jason's back and very amused and flattered that Red Hood wants to go destroy the GIW for him. Maybe Danny will let him.

AN:

Jason, who thought he didn't have a soulmate and that meant something because he didn't have the normal types and he didn't get (noticeable) scars because all of Danny's big ones were as Phantom, clinging desperately to Danny like ;-;

[ghostgoing]

Danny was asked where his in memorium is, after saving another civilian on a JL mision.

Danny in all his glory just "hu?"

"You know, so i can put a thank you for saving me ofrend"

"Oh.. i i dont have one- not even in my secret identidy i had a grave... but thank you so much for thinking of that" the sinsere and melancholical smile that the ghost hero give to the civilian was so full of emotion that even the people acros the screen could feel it.

Not knowing that he was recorded, Phantom guve a false saluted and continued with his work.

The video soon become viral, and with that, little by little a lot of in memoriums and shirenes started poping up all around the globe.

[ghostgoing]

Wayne Enterprise DILFs | DP x DC

this just in local 23 year old forgets they wear glasses and i’m at work lmao

in this prompt / au ish kinda thing, danny’s around i would say late 20s so he gets along well with the younger bat clan members because he’s just an honorary family member at this point. he’s also an enabler to bruce and thus a retaliation had to be made (im a firm believer that danny gets tall and buff when he gets proper nutrition and is built like a tank)

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny squints at his notepad, the words were small and blurry enough that not even squinting helped clear up whatever was written on it. He’d forgotten his glasses— something that occurs occasionally when he’s trying not to be late to work and it always ends with him struggling. Beside him was Bruce who seemed to equally be squinting at the tablet but at an arms length compared to when Danny brought it up to his face.

“I think this is why my kids keep telling me to get my eyes checked.” Bruce mumbles and Danny can’t help but let out a small snort in amusement. Danny’s aware of how often Bruce’s children nag on the older man about getting his eyes checked now that he’s ‘getting up there in years’ as one Tim Drake said.

“Tell me about it, my youngest— Eleanor but we call her Ellie always nagged on me until I finally went to our family doctor to see. She turned out to be right but I forgot my pair today.”

His pair that were gently coated in ectoplasm since apparently normal glasses couldn’t help with his heightened senses that his ghostly side leaks over to his human side and it’s why he needed them. Frostbite had been eager to get him a pair, something that Danny wanted to be upset about but the gentle yeti was too caring for Danny to deny him.

“Don’t worry about it chum, I’m sure we’ll figure out what’s on the schedule for today.” Bruce says and Danny gives the man an encouraging smile.

“Danny.” Tim’s voice says with a heavy sigh and instinctively Danny wilts like a flower and hangs his head low. That was Tim’s ‘disappointed but being polite about it’ tone and Danny hates that tone because it means Danny made a mistake. Mistakes made by Danny must be made better by Danny by doing something like joining the Wayne family dinners or even— he shivers— modeling for when one of the Waynes can’t do a photo shoot.

“Tim.” He curtly replied as Tim shook his head and placed his hands on his desk.

“Please tell me you didn’t forget your glasses today.”

Danny pressed his lips together.

“Well.”

“Danny.”

He huffs as he picks his head up and crosses his arms, leaning back against the comfortable couch in Tim’s office because that man took power naps like it was his third job. Danny isn’t stupid, he knows the Waynes are the vigilantes that go out but he dutifully ignores that fact and doesn’t say anything because he likes this well paying job even if he’s really a bodyguard posing as a secretary for Bruce.

“I may have misplaced them today.”

Tim groaned loudly in response as Bruce’s lips curled in amusement, Bruce waited for Tim to turn away from them to slide Danny a hundred dollar bill which Danny silently pocketed.

He wasn’t going to snitch out his boss that the reason Danny and Bruce Wayne were seen at an aquatic center to help teach kids to swim that ended up with Bruce ‘tripping’ and falling into pool nearby was because a kid ‘pushed’ him. Really, Tim should know better than to think Danny was going to say no to acting undercover so Bruce can get clues about a case he was working on.

It’s Batman! He’s not going to deny Batman. Even if the two completely scrapped whatever schedule was made to do their own thing.

“I’m telling Alfred. We’re also getting you glasses old man, I’m not accepting any excuses anymore!”

Both Bruce and Danny gave offended gasps.

It’d be later in weeks time where Danny would be on the phone with Jazz, coffee cup in hand as he spoke to her about any recent things and how life was.

“So are you going to tell me why people in Gotham and on the internet are calling you a DILF?” Jazz asks and it causes Danny to choke on his sip of coffee, the heat burning briefly before he managed to croak out a weak.

“What- Who… Tim.”

His work phone rings and all he sees is a message from Tim with a simple smiley face as if the man didn’t drop multiple photos of Danny, Ellie and Dan (whose faces are thankfully blurred) on the internet as revenge. Especially when Danny sees the caption.

Tim Drake ✔️@ceoTDW

Wayne Enterprises loves supporting single fathers! I’m sure you’ve noticed Bruce Wayne’s secretary but are you aware he’s a single father raising his son and daughter? Here’s our photo shoot with him to celebrate one of our loved employees!

How cruel Timothy Drake-Wayne. How cruel. It’s even worse when he sees fucking Gotham Gazette make an article about how people have voted that Danny is a DILF alongside Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox. As well as the fact that W.E. ‘collects’ attractive employees to boost morale. What the fuck who wrote this— Vicki Vale.

“I’m never going to show my face again.”

Jazz laughs in response.

[ghostgoing]

Dp x Dc #2

Danny has a choice between Gotham Metropolis for college.

He chooses Metropolis mostly because Gotham gives him the creeps and he doesn't want to end up on Batman's radar.

Except when he goes to visit the MU campus, he realizes he's made a Big Mistake.

Because as soon as he crosses the city limits he can tell that, much like Amity Park, the whole city is another Halfa's Haunt.

It's not until a really confused Superman shows up, ready to throwdown, that Danny learns who the Haunt belongs to.

[ghostgoing]

You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?

That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.

But!!!

WHAT IF?

They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?

Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.

Riot in the streets.

Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-

Ah.

So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.

One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.

It Fiiiiine, Sam.

He's just here to Talk.

He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.

ON LIVE TELEVISION.

He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~

"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!

And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"

*drops mic*

Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.

Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.

The press secretary faints.

PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!

Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!

And Danny?

Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~

If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.

Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.

(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[ghostgoing]

Danny being dragged to a gala, against his will, by Vlad, only he notices that Damian also looks like he wants to be litterally anywhere else, so Danny approaches him.

Danny: Listen, you don't want to be here, I definitely don't want to be here, want to stage a fight so we can both leave.

Damian: ...*cracks his knuckles* You are my new favorite person. *punches Danny in the face*

Danny: *grinning with a bloody nose* Likewise! *punches him back*

[ghostgoing]

After small talk and thanking the vigilante for saving him from some pesky muggers, Danny sends out pings from his core to Red Hood’s half formed corrupted core in an attempt to gauge the extent of the injury of the fledgling remnant. Ghosts are able to feel when another core reaches out to theirs, it’s a similar sensation to the resonant vibrations of a gong spreading throughout your body.

Danny expected it to be no big deal, just a quick check to assess core damage and how much ectoplasm to give him to boost his recovery. He didn’t expect Red Hood to reel back as if punched and then lunge to attack him.

Danny, not knowing just how fragile Jason’s core was, accidentally set Jason into a ghostly fight or flight as his core sprang into action to protect itself from any potential threats. The halfa now confronted with a undead vigilante trained by the freaking Batman in a blind rage.