#and ectoplasm are the same damn thing

[alkminisworld]

There is NO WAY that the DC and DP universes aren't even slightly connected.

There are way too many similarities and common grounds with both Uni's

They are connected, whether it be by that they're in the same realm or the same dimensions but I will prove that they are connected😤

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 1

Prompt: All the Phantom/Fenton Siblings end up with one of the Bats and Birds. It's just that neither of the two families know that their partner is related to their siblings' partners.

Danny and Red Hood

Going to Gotham for university was a planned decision, mind you. It was one of their many contingency plans in case the reveal went wrong. Thankfully, it didn't but his parents were still trying to change their views on ghosts for the sake of their children. Last he heard from his parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton were practically harassing every ghost they could find on culture, history, and etiquette. (He's gotten one too many complains from Box Ghost and Poindexter.) Plus the mess that was the situationship between the Fenton Couple and Vlad Fucking Masters. (Dante was about to kill himself again for that).

Gotham had enough ambient ectoplasm for him to be stable. Everything was very normal. Absolutely...

If not for the fact that Danny loathed clowns. When a clown decided to try and attack Danny, what does he do?

He did what every self respecting Fenton would do when faced with something he absolutely hates. He came at him swinging, aiming for the face.

And maybe he put a little too much power into the punch and the next thing he knew, a body was flung against a wall and breaking it on impact. Danny stares at the toppled wall and—HOLY SHIT HE JUST KILLED THE JOKER.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—BATMAN WAS GOING TO KICK HIM OUR OF GOTHAM!

But this was the Joker... The last time that crazy fucker got out of Arkham, he threatened to blow up an orphanage. Okay, he could do this. Gotham Harbor it is.

And in typical Fenton fashion, his luck was shittier than ever.

"What the fuck..."

Danny whipped around, freezing in place when he came face to face with the Red Hood. The fucking revenant of Gotham that the city spirit seemed to really favor. Fuck.

"It's not what it looks like! I mean—It is—But, like..." He swallowed thickly, trying to offer a smile but he flinches away when Red Hood snapped his head from the corpse then too Danny.

"That's the fucking Joker!" The Red Hood was pointing a gun at the corpse now, voice distorted and everything.

Yeah. Well. Shit. Danny gulped, finally deciding that since he was already half dead, he might as well clean up. Not like the Red Hood could kill him—I mean, he could, but Danny wasn't going to die by a bullet.

"You—" The gun was now pointed at him.

"It's not my fault he decided to fucking jump me!" Danny immediately argued, grabbing the clown by the legs and dragging him forward before he winced at the trail of blood. "It's a clown! A fucking clown!"

He yelped when the crime lord slapped his hands away from the corpse, "The fuck is wrong with you? Don't fucking touch the corpse unless you want that shit to traced to you." The Red Hood grunted, shaking his head. He sounded... He kinda sounded giddy, in all honesty. Why the fuck was the Red Hood teaching Danny how to get away with murder?

"What were you even going to do with the body?"

Danny cringed away. To tell the truth or not? Such a difficult question... Okay, he's pretty sure most of the Bats were like detectives and lying to this one might get him shot.

"Gotham Harbor?" He squeaked out.

Danny was met with silence and the man built like a fucking fridge (but he's so damn sure that Dan was still the tallest person he knew) didn't move a bit. Then his shoulders shook. And then he was laughing. Fucking shit, the Red Hood was laughing because Danny was going to dump a body in the harbor.

What was Jazz going to say?!

(Meanwhile, Jason Todd finds a strange boy that makes him feel strange, warm���the same boy had killed his worst nightmare. He might just have fallen in love right then and there.)

Part 2 | Masterpost

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 7, Part 3

masterpost it's 11am and it's already been A Day

Danny turned Clockwork’s medallion over in his hands. He’d taken it out again for the MRI. He didn’t know if things inside of his ghost body could react to the giant magnet, but he hadn’t wanted to find out be destroying a very expensive medical device.

The design was slightly warped now, like it had been melted on the one side, and the once bright gold was tarnished. Danny was pretty sure that the tarnish was from his blood and ectoplasm.

Fourth time dying and still not the charm.

Which Danny was damn glad for, of course, but it was still his fourth time dying. Fifth, if alternate timelines counted.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Mina said as she set down the tray of tea.

Danny eyed it.

“It’s just normal tea,” Mina assured him with a little huff. “Early grey, to be specific. You like it with honey and milk.”

Danny smiled slightly. “I do. And thank you for having me over for it. I needed to just not… be busy with tests and people worrying and… just not there. Does that make me horrible?”

“Of course not!” Mine said. She set the honey pot down a bit forcefully. “Danny, you’ve been away from home for weeks and weeks now. You had to drop out of your classes this semester. I know there’s probably a new job or two you missed. It’s totally understandable that you need a break from that.”

“Okay, okay good,” Danny sighed. “I was just worried? I mean, I’ve basically been doted on by my boyfriends for weeks now, that should be good.”

“Boyfriends who you started dating under extreme stress.” Mina passed Danny his cup and a hard look at the same time. “Besides, you’re not Penny, you don’t fall for someone and become inseparable. You still need your own space.”

“They’re both so cuddly, Mina,” Danny whined. “And I love it! But also sometimes I just need a little bit of space.”

“You’re allowed to be overwhelmed, especially after dying.”

“Again,” Danny added.

“Again,” Mina agreed. “Since you’re half ghost! And never told me!”

“Oddly, does not come up much in normal conversation,” Danny said.

“As if we’re normal,” Mina pointed out.

“Never,” Danny agreed. He took a long sip of the tea. It was good, even if maybe he had tea trauma. “But I could maybe use a little bit of normalcy.”

“Go back to your own place,” Mina said, “get used to your hearing aids, and take some time to breathe. Read a book or something.”

Danny arched his brow over a pointed sip of his tea.

Mina rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, play a video game. Point is, relax and just let yourself recenter. I’ll send you home with a crystal.”

“You know those don’t do anything,” Danny pointed out.

“Yeah, but they’re pretty,” Mina said with a little sigh.

Chuckling, Danny shook his head. “Okay, fine. But before I go to find my zen or whatever, tell me about the latest fortune telling drama.”

Mina leaned forward with an eager smile that promised a good story. “Oh my gods, Danny, you’re going to love this…”

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

[yuriosakawa]

It had been ten years since Daniel Fenton had last seen his other half.

Ten years since Vlad Masters had torn him apart.

He still remembered the pain—that unbearable, soul-searing agony as Vlad forced his ghost half out of him. His screams had echoed through the lab, but Vlad had only smiled, victorious, as the glowing form of Phantom was ripped away.

And then, before Danny could even reach for him—before he could fight back—Vlad had sent Phantom away. To where, Danny never found out.

But he swore he would.

The world knew him now as the Lost Hunter—a phantom in his own right, though not in the way he used to be. He had made a name for himself in the underground, taking down rogue ghosts and corrupt humans alike, wielding twin guns holstered at his sides. One loaded with ectoplasmic rounds for ghosts, the other with solid lead for anyone else who got in his way.

Without his ghost powers, he had to make up for it in skill, and damn did he.

Vlad might have thought stripping away his ghost half would leave him weak, but Danny had only adapted. He had trained, fought, and survived, becoming something more than just a powerless ex-hero. His name spread through ghostly circles and human crime syndicates alike. Some said he was a myth, a bogeyman that spirits whispered about in fear. Others said he was hunting something—someone.

And they were right.

Because Danny was still looking for Phantom.

For a decade, he had searched every possible realm, interrogating ghosts, breaking into hidden laboratories, even shaking down crime lords who dealt in ecto-tech. Every clue he found pointed to the same thing: Phantom was alive.

But something—someone—was keeping him hidden.

And Danny was done waiting.

The warehouse was silent as he slipped inside, his twin pistols glinting under the dim lights. His target for tonight: an informant working for Vlad Masters.

Danny had spent years dismantling Vlad’s empire, burning down his corrupt ventures piece by piece. But the old fruit loop was slippery, always a step ahead, always covering his tracks. But this time? This time Danny had him.

Because this informant, a low-level ecto-smuggler, had seen Phantom.

The guy just didn’t know it yet.

Danny moved through the shadows, his heartbeat steady. He didn’t need ghost powers to be deadly—he had learned how to be a hunter the hard way. Years of training, learning the ins and outs of combat, of human and ghost weaknesses alike. His reflexes were sharp, his mind even sharper.

A guard rounded the corner, and before he could react, Danny had his gun pressed against the man’s temple.

“Shh,” Danny murmured, voice calm and deadly. “Don’t scream. Don’t move.”

The guard froze.

Danny smiled. “Good man. Now, take me to your boss.”

The informant—Gerald Tate—was tied to a chair when Danny finally faced him. The man was sweating, wide-eyed, trembling.

Danny leaned forward, resting one pistol against the guy’s knee. “I’m only going to ask once,” he said smoothly. “Where is Phantom?”

Gerald swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

Bang.

The bullet lodged itself into the wooden floor, inches from Gerald’s foot.

Danny sighed, shaking his head. 

“See, that was the wrong answer.” He cocked the gun again, this time aiming at the man’s other knee. “Try again.”

Gerald broke instantly. “Okay! Okay! I heard something—just a rumor, I swear!”

Danny motioned for him to continue.

Gerald licked his lips. “Word is… Vlad’s got something locked up. Something big. Not here, not in Amity, but somewhere deep in the Ghost Zone. A fortress, hidden away.”

Danny’s pulse quickened, but he kept his expression neutral. “And?”

The man hesitated, but the glint in Danny’s eyes told him it wasn’t a good idea to stall. “Some of the ghosts—high-level ones—say they’ve seen a prisoner in that fortress. One that glows like starlight.”

Danny’s grip on his gun tightened.

Phantom.

He straightened, holstering his weapon with practiced ease. 

“Thanks for the tip,” he said coolly, turning away.

Gerald let out a shaky breath. “So… I can go?”

Danny smirked over his shoulder. “I never said that.”

The informant didn’t even have time to scream before the ecto-bullet to the head hit.

[ive-been-timebombed]

PART THREE

💥Danny the avoider💥 and ✨Jason the Daddy issues✨

Jason decidedly hated Wickham. Both in the story and the blue dumbass. He had barely caught Dick when he decided to take an early leave and the damn floating asshat is just watching him like he was a the best thing he had seen in fucking years.

He needed to get Big Bird to the cave to check out whatever the fuck is happening to him. He needed to deal with the being and he didn’t know where to start. He can’t just shoot this problem and leave the problem could kill him with a snap of its fingers.. are they even fingers? The damn claws on it said otherwise..

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” Jason glared at the being pulled his brother up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Ghost, like you.?” The being spoke it looked awkward and it was picking at its nails similar to a kid.

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ Jason adjusted his helmet onto his head and looked around for his guns and the Dickheads sticks. Ignoring that panicking face of the being.

______

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” His son- his baby.. he can’t believe that his baby is right in front of him.. the very same one that he held all night when they wouldn’t stop crying.. the very same one that had explosive poops almost every night. Okay he didn’t miss that part. Or the other.. but he missed when he could look at his baby in the bed sleeping as laugh at the small snores that reminded him of his father’s. Or even the smile the kid had whenever he got back from work and picked him up from the neighbors.. oh god.. he really fucked up.. he gave his child away because of how selfish he was.

Back on track- wait did his kid not know he was a ghost? Actually he couldn’t judge. He didn’t either.. kinda really just thought he gained meta powers and not died.

“Ghost, like you.?” Danny said to his kid he felt so damn awkward.. he knew he should be more confident- being the king god thing of basically all does that to one. Take Pariah Dark for example. He was ugly yet still had the confidence to speak like he was the toughest guy around. Good reasons too, at the time he was the toughest guy around. Ghost? Guy? Same thing. No it’s not..

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ His kid truly hadn’t had a clue what he- wait. No, no, no he can’t lose his kid again. He already lost the rest of his friends and family he can’t lose his kid. Sure he had the ghosts and Ellie but this was his kid! The same kid that he held for three hours straight the night before he had to give his child away. He couldn’t let go again he couldn’t- wouldn’t. He knows where he is now- his core! He almost forgot! He needs to do something about that-

“No!” Danny yelled a bit louder than he wanted. His kid looked over at him his face was covered by the helmet thing. Why was his kid wearing that? “I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” His baby- grown up baby.. he didn’t see his baby grow up- held up the gun he had found on the ground pointing it at Danny,

“Oh- sorry” Danny floated back a bit he didn’t even notice that he got closer, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

Danny was a horrible parent wasn’t he? He horrible, horrendous, good for nothing parent. Oh.. he shouldn’t ruin his baby’s unlife anymore than he did. He should just fix his core make sure he is okay and leave. Is it getting hard to breathe or is that just him..? He could feel his core crying out to his baby’s core.. he couldn’t leave him again. He couldn’t but he had to. His baby had a life that wasn’t with him. He needed to respect that.. the lump in his throat didn’t go away.. in fact only got worse at the thought.

_________

“No!” The being yelled. It scared Jason. It was like his insides, his brain.. the pits wanted to go up to the being and hug it. Like it could fix all his problems with just a hug and a few words.. like he felt when he got those faint memories of his bio dad. He was told he was adopted or given away by his bio dad to his mom. His Ma explained that his dad, better than the Willis, His dad had wanted nothing more than to keep him. But he was in big trouble and made the decision to give him away for his safety. Lot of good that did. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if his dad didn’t give him away. Would he be happier? Would he have different siblings? Would he be in college and become a lit major? Or even an author? Would he have died..? Would his dad avenge him unlike Bruce.? Is his dad even alive..?

“I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“ The being continued, who the hell was Frostbite? Jason didn’t care enough to ask. He needed to not be near the thing that made him think so clearly.

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” Jason almost relaxed his body with how close the being got. He needed to not be here. At all. Away.

“Oh- sorry” The being floated back even apologized, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

“My parents were fucking awesome! My Ma was the best mother I could’ve asked for- Sure my adoptive dad was shitty as hell. But my Ma told me even my bio dad loved me like a life line. That he gave me up for my safety! Fuck even the only damn picture I had of my father he looked at baby me like a was the best thing in the world!” Jason snapped he knew he didn’t turn out like Dick or even fucking replacement, the picture perfect son but he knew his Ma and Dad loved him like they were supposed to. The only picture he had of his Dad was destroyed in the explosion. The picture was of his Dad, the somewhat skimpy black haired with white at the nape man, the blue eyed the was cold but looked at him with warmth, the man that had a scar on his lip and inhuman sharp teeth man holding a two or three year old Jason who was sleeping in his fathers lap. He loved that picture like it was the last bit of air on earth. He reminded him that he had someone out there that loved him out of the streets, when he was fighting with Bruce, when he was an idiot and got himself killed.. fuck.. he even tried to yell for him when he was laying on the cold concrete covered in his own blood after the Joker left him.

The being looked at him with wide eyes, it tilted his head and his mouth open a bit like he was gonna say something. That’s when Jason noticed it. The scar on the beings lip. The exact same scar that he used to look for on every man in Gotham when he was younger. The same scar that he looked at for years in the picture of his father. The same scar he wanted to give himself just to have something to remember him.

“Wait-“ Jason started his voice cracked, like a fucking teenager. Then the fucking man himself, Batman, broke through the window making Jason look at him then back over at the being in a panic only to see nothing but an empty room. Not even the summoning circle was there. The only evidence left was Wickham..

[dreamermonica]

—gender neutral reader x bakugou, just a drabble escalating into a oneshot cause my brain's rotting with mha (mostly katsuki) pls save me from the dump called writing block errr also mild language cuz this is boom boy

“what the hell?”

a very bad word crossed your mind the moment BAKUGOU had entered your dorm room—following shortly is a silence so dense that you swore you heard your stomach drop.

the object that had piqued the attention of your visitor were perched right upon your desk. the very same object that could very well also be the reason you meet your demise.

your dynamight plushies and figurines,

yes. plural.

—were bared in display, to the very man you harbored a big fat crush on.

the silence enveloped your room like a tight veil. a shudder makes its way down your spine when you finally felt a piercing gaze burning onto the back of your head. you are so fucked.

“i—uhm, i can explain!” you break the silence, holding your hands up whilst turning around to meet his crimson eyes—scanning you over whilst you attempt to figure out an excuse.

let's do a quick throwback:

see, you were rather confident in your abilities and quirk—one of the best, you smugly think—but academics were still a great obstacle to overcome, even for an upcoming pro hero. it's a formidable force that's against your dream becoming reality! not really, but you get the point.

damned ectoplasm shouldn't be teaching math! your brain cells were always fizzled out like kaminari's after he used up all his electricity by the time whenever ectoplasm had left the room after a discussion.

a dark cloud looms over your head more often after a particular topic you're struggling to comprehend, the fact that you were called out earlier by ectoplasm and miserably failed to answer didn't hell—and you're sure your god-sent classmates have noticed it.

a few smarties had reached out already—like yaoyorozu and iida, offering their notes with a smile and promising a few tutor lessons if you were to accept. keyword: if.

even though you were tearing up at their kindness and thoughtfulness, you gently declined them before slapping a fist to your chest—

“i shall overcome this by myself! my failure to adapt is a known weakness of mine, and i shall defeat this boss known as calculus with my own strength, no matter what it takes!”

a distant 'how manly!' sounded throughout the room.

it's not manly, you mentally cry out to kirishima. you were just embarrassed to actually get help because you were one of the top students of the class. you need to uphold your image as a capable student, whatever it takes! not so manly now, are we?!

the top one and top two worriedly glance you over, reluctant at your reasoning, but they hadn't pushed it further thankfully, and wished you good luck.

you definitely needed it, you sulk.

your stupid declaration must've spread throughout the entire class, cause now a scowling bakugou katsuki is stomping his way over to you once classes had finished, stopping a few feet away from you whilst you were packing up your stuff.

“oi. i heard your dumb ass earlier—why are you refusing to ask for help?! you plan on getting behind all of us just because of that damn picture perfect image of yours?!” he yells, and you're now sweating, twiddling with your fingers.

you're not surprised that he approached you—he had declared you as one of his rivals (he called you a stepping stone to his victory but same thing!) ages ago and knowing his competitive nature, you surmised he was probably disappointed that you were stumped in such a pathetic way.

“w-what pride do you mean, bakugo? haha...”

“shut the fuck up. you know what i'm talking about,” a finger presses onto your chest as if to emphasize his point, and you just now realize the distance between you.

caramel wafts its way to your nose. heat crawls up your neck as you avert your gaze away from his chiseled face.

he hisses at your dazed look, “i'm beating calculus into your goddamn brain later tonight whether you like it or not, you got that extra?!”

you break out of your stupor when he leans away from you to gauge your reaction. of course he'd say something like that, even if he was just trying to help.

you shrink under his gaze, embarrassed and defeated at his intensity. if even the big bad bakugo thinks you need help, then maybe you really do.

“...okay.” you resign after a few seconds of contemplation, “thank you, bakugo.”

clicking his tongue, he gives you one last look before turning on his heels, walking towards the door.

you look around and realize that you were the only ones left in the classroom. did he offer his help in private so you would keep the image you're upholding? eh, whatever, he was probably the embarrassed one because he never offers help willingly to anyone.

you blink.

wait—he never helps unless someone would beg on their knees for him, so why—

“...you were always the one preaching about lowering my pride or whatever,”

your eyes dart towards the sound of his voice where bakugo paused his steps at the exit, glaring at you over his shoulder.

he huffs as he adds on, “cut that shit out, hypocrite.”

you blink owlishly and he's gone as he turned the corner, his loud footsteps echoing through the hall.

shaking your head, you pack your stuff up and rush out the door shortly after, eager to return to the comfort provided by your bed.

his words ring in your ears as you walked back to the dorms.

—now, baam, we're back to the present.

you're so fucked, if it wasn't mentioned earlier.

bakugou katsuki is now staring at you, silently demanding an explanation on why you have a row of mini dynamights, ranging from the winter version of his costume, to one of him wearing his signature black tank top—he hasn't even debuted yet as a pro-hero, so the amount you have is probably concerning. maybe even borderline creepy.

fuck being creepy—this probably looks horrifying!

“it's—uh...”

you hadn't had the chance to hide them before he so rudely, barged into your room carrying the materials needed for your study session.

“well, you're my idol, because you're so strong and—” inflate his ego! it's not like it wasn't the truth either with how much you compliment him during training, so maybe he'll be distracted enough and let it slide—

“did ponytail make these for you?” he asked quietly, ignoring your praises and walking past your panicked state as he got closer to inspect the tiny versions of him. he slowly took one from the bunch—a plushie of him wearing the suit he specifically used for a mission in otheon. “how the hell are the outfits so accurate?”

“...”

“answer my questions and i'll let this weird obsession of yours a secret, fuckin' creep.” he seems to like the way you took in his words, horrified, a smirk dancing on his lips as he turns away.

this sadist, you swear to all might...

“okay, okay! so uh...” you gulp as he continues inspecting the army of tiny bakugous, “yes, i had yaoyorozu make them. as for the outfits—i borrowed your blueprints, remember? it was to find some inspiration in enhancing my own costume, but i guess it also had some other uses...?”

he grunts in response to your explanation as his eyes move away from the desk and land onto your bed, where a few more plushies of him resided.

your face is definitely burning up by now.

“wasn't aware you were a fan,” you could hear the grin as he spoke, and you're one hundred percent sure he's never going to live this down, “well, i guess it's expected. i am amazing after all.”

“...yeah.” you agree, albeit cautious, trying to sound uneager to avoid inflating his ego anymore than you already have.

he moves to lean over your bed and grabs a plushie of him wearing his school uniform, squeezing it lightly, “but if you want me to be honest—this shit's kinda creepy.”

would he stop you if you just took a swan dive out of your window? should you get him to roast you alive right now? you wish all might would just united-states-smash you at this moment.

your hands shoot up to your face as you crouched down, too humiliated to even look at him even if he wasn't facing you.

“kill me now...”

“i've got plenty of chances to do that in the future, don't worry,” he's oddly calm for someone who's standing in a room practically devoted to him, “this is pretty adorable of you i must admit,”

you freeze. tickle my pickle! no fucking way he just called you adorable!

“you got a crush on me or something?”

ah.

this is it. you hope you've done enough good to end up in heaven atleast.

“well, if you're not gonna kill me, we should probably just study and get it over with—oh, we should also just go down to the commons—

“i told you to answer all my questions, didn't i!?”

“...”

the blonde finally turns, hands free of any plushies, crossing his arms over his chest as you stare up at him through the gaps of your fingers. he raises a challenging brow at your hesitation.

“well?” he urges on, “did you go mute from embarrassment or something?”

you say something underneath your breath and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“speak up, you idio—”

“i like you, bakugou katsuki.”

you stand up from your crouched position and situated yourself to your desk, bringing out your textbooks from a drawer as he stared on silently. the silence had grown thicker than the one before.

“let's just get this study session over with so you can go, okay?” you spin around your office chair to look at him with a small smile, as if you didn't just confess, “wanna go down to the commons? my room seems to be uncomfortable for y—

“i was joking about the creep shit, you dumbass.”

you stare at him in surprise when he holds you by the shoulders, gently pushing down to prevent you from getting up from your chair.

“bakugou...?”

“...i'll teach you here. no need to get up.”

“but—”

“shut up. get ponytail to make me a plushie of you so we're even, alright?”

confused, you're about to speak up again and he resolves it by squeezing your cheeks, resulting in only incoherent babbles from your mouth.

“bafhkugou—!”

“ugh, i like you too, if your dumbass hasn't gotten it yet.”

“ohfmayghodf—”

“shut it. no more words from you.” he waits a moment for you to calm down, and lets go of your burning cheeks. a smile grows on his face when you weakly glare up at him, but it quickly turns wicked in the span of a second.

“now...you were so eager to start studying earlier, weren't you?”

he unfortunately wasn't joking about beating the damn subject onto your brain. you could feel a mild headache from all the times he hit your head with a roll of paper.

but nonetheless, you know the hard work and pain paid off when you finally got a question right during ectoplasm's class.

bless bakugou, you'd kiss him right now if you could—

“so,” the boy in question starts as you discreetly hand him a plushie of you in your hero costume, he seems to brighten up at that, taking it nearly immediately, but attempts to appear unbothered as he moves his gaze back to yours.

“are we gonna talk about that body pillow last night or—”

“katsuki—no.”

“pfft,” he snorts, “suit yourself, fangirl.”

imagine your surprise when yaoyorozu snitches and tells you that bakugou practically threated her to make more plushies of you after he received the initial one

[flamingpudding]

The first part of this Au that I went out with so funny thank you for answering it I hope you were able to rest and stuff but anywho

I feel like after those first two parts I feel like RedRobin and Batman have questions about the Ghost King and Vlad relationship like they're asking questions

And the Klarions / Phantom children and the kids keep just dropping he with to college with our mom's parents, he would take kidnap mom and locked him in a basement, he's legally mom's godfather, he tried to marry grandmother on multiple occasions

I just feel like Dan anytime he gets the moment gets mad at him and goes like until you pay the 8.5 million you owe mom in child support is the day that you can call me your son ectoplasm donor.

Also I would find it so funny if outside of their Klarion thing they live with Vlad time from time again when Danny is overwhelmed or need someone to watch over them and the the rest of the people he's friends with in the Infinite Realms can't do it and are friends with the Wayne children

I feel like Duke will be having a heart attack when you realizes that he goes the same high school class as Dan or that Ellie and Dick best friends back when they were children for funsies

Also the reveal of Teekls has never been a cat it's going to get on doctor fate's nerves cuz he knows damn well that things never been a cat also I feel like all of them have the power to rip Dr Fate out of whoever he's possessing body and always he's pulling that power on him anytime they get the chance

Also a review of the fact that Teekl has never been a cat until when like Batman or Red Robin pov

Have I ever mentioned I love your ideas and how fun they are? Cause damn this had me laughing while reading it already.

Also glad the first two parts were still fun despite the mishaps that happed while writing :D

Also I skipped over the Teekl Part for the moment since I didn't know how to tie it in at the moment...

Sooooo anyway.... here we go again~ (sorry if its a bit short...)

Part 1 Part 2

------------------------

Red Robin was intrigued, worried and on several levels suspicious as he watched the interaction between the ones that had been Klarion, the current Klarion and Vlad Masters. He had also a lot of questions, he really wanted answers to but for now he held back.... partially. Vlad Masters was a contact Batman had brought in when the situation with the Demon became more dangerous than they originally expected.

John Constantine had mentioned they would need a even stronger force to really drive that Demon back and off handedly mentioned that something like an Ancient or a Ghost King would be needed. And wouldn't you know, Batman knew someone that claimed to have contacts with a Ghost King or rather THE Ghost King. And as luck would have it, Vlad Masters was in Gotham because of one of his relentless attempts at striking a business deal with Bruce Wayne. (That really had been an unexpected luck but by now Red Robin was also suspecting something else was at play.... [Like a bored Ancient of Time])

Well either way now he was watching, just a step behind his mentor, how Batman was grilling Vlad Masters on his relations to the Ghost King, since apparently they (the hero's assembled) wouldn't need to do anything anyway since the Ghost King was handling the demon threat. Red Robin did realise that not all heroes present were convinced but what else could they do but wait right now? Since according to Klarion their Mom aka the Ghost King was already dealing with the situation.

So with that happening, the well known bat-paranoia, curiosity, suspicion and need to know every good damn detail of a situation arose full force. Not that Red Robin minded, as mentioned before, he had a lot of questions too. Plus he wasn't so sure if the other Heroes had caught it but there were some disturbing things Klarion and is siblings sort of dropped that really needed clearing up.

While Batman was grilling Vlad Masters, Red Robin listened in but then decided to his own sort of questioning with Klarion, the current one.

"So... you called Vlad Masters 'old man'? And your suit is in the 'old man's style'?" the question was asked directly to the current Klarion. Since they were apparently here just to watch Red robin was sure he could just try having a sort of civil talk with his questions.

Klarion on the other hand grumbled crossing his arms, before uncrossing them again to pet the demon cat on his shoulder. "I just went with his dumb vampire look but more fancy and classic and less insane colouring."

The arched eyebrow stayed sort of hidden under his mask but it was there and Red Robin knows that tone Klarion used. It's the same Red Hood has when he begrudgingly admit do doing something the way Batman would. Which raises the a question he already had on his mind, how he could interpret Klarions use of 'old man'. Which would give Batman even more incentive to question Vlad Masters on his relation to the Ghost King. Also for now he was going to ignore the 'dumb vampire look' part, but he did note it down in his mind for later.

"Vlad Masters is your 'old man'?" There probably was a way to ask a little more subtle or nice but they were waiting for the Ghost King to beat up a Demon and he was making small talk with subtitle questioning with Klarion. So sue him for being blunt after all. Also the face Klarion was making right after he said.

"Well Far Frozen gets a hot summer." Was the instant reply and Red Robin blinked unter his mask. There probably was some information he was missing behind that reply.

"Ew no! He wishes though. But Vlad is like double or triple our Mom's age! He even went to collage with Grandpa Jack and Grandma Maddie!" Misrule suddenly interjected apparently done pestering Nightwing as she leaned over Klarion, resting her head on his and causing Teekl to hiss at her. Well that certainly got his attention now and with the way he saw, form the corner of his eyes, Batmans head wipe their way and then back at Vlad Masters it certainly also got his mentors.

"He wishes...? Triple your Moms.... age? The Ghost King?" His mental information board was getting more and more chaotic with the information he was getting.

"He acts like we are his kids and has a right to be called Dad by us." Misrule shrugged dismissively to which Klarion growled, he growled! Red Robin was tempted to check his ears because this was the first time he heard Klarion growl towards his sister.

"The day I call your DNA and my ecto donor anything with the context of father is the day he pays Mom the millions of child support he owns him and additional pays for emotional and physical distress." Okay, Red Robin was not ashamed to say he did a double take at Klarions growl and the fact that several alarm bells went off hin his mind with that one sentence alone.

"Mom has his own castle and riches from the previous King. Not like we would actually need that money. Plus Vlad does pay for your school tuition." Misrule answered her brother, complete ignoring the fact that Red Robin was having a mental crisis and thinking that Vlad Masters might even be an even greater threat, then just a weird and suspicious potential business partner and that the reason he has a summoning stone for the Ghost King might be a custody thing regarding Klarion and his siblings.

So with all these things what did Red Robins brain decide to focus on? "Vlad Masters pays your school tuition? No wait you go to school?"

There was an awkward moment Red Robin received two very similar looking deadpan stares from Klarion and Misrule, the first Klarion.

"Of course I go to fucking school Mom would kill... well no thermos ground me if I didn't." Another drop of information Red Robin didn't know how to handle, what the hell does 'thermos ground' even mean? Was that like their version of grounding?

"Oh isn't today like a school night?" Misrule suddenly piped up pinching her brothers check and Red Robin felt weirdly reminded of some of the interactions he used to have with his siblings. It was strange to see Klarion like that.

"Shit... I forgot to do my part of my group project with Duke..." Klarion grumbled and Red Robin did a double take once more, blinking several times as there was a very very important information drop here, his head snapped towards Nightwing in hopes that the other had also caught it and thankfully, he had and while Signal wasn't present at the moment because he had done day patrols already and had been barely awake anyway when this whole Demon mess started.... they had gotten a hint of figuring out Klarions identity, they were certainly going to use later.

For now they had some more red flags to investigate in regards to the relation of Vlad Masters, the Ghost King, Klarion and Klarion's siblings.

---------------

Little Bonus (Next day after Demon Crisis):

"Hey Duke, who are you working with in a group project?"

"Huh oh that is Dante Masters-Nightingale."

"Masters-Nightingale? As in Vlad MASTERS?"

"Yeah, that what he said his temporary guardian's name is that pays for his schooling."

"Wait didn't I go with Danielle Nightingale-MASTERS to school too? We were like besties in school!"

"Oh god...."

"Tim, you okay you look very pale. Are you okay? Dick too..."

"BRUCE! VLAD MASTERS NEEDS TO BE PUT ON THE RED WATCH LIST AND WE NEED TO TALK WITH THE GHOST KING ASAP!"

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt#128 part 2

Jason had finally made it too a safe house, his eyes blurred everything together and he was having a hard time breathing. His soulmate seemed close to death when they switched and Jason began to worry about making it a little. Thankfully the safe house was close to where his soulmate had been wandering. He was getting a scolding when Jason was finally in his own body he decided. He thankfully remembered the combination for the lock and sat down on the couch after locking the doors behind him. 

His head was pounding and he wanted to do nothing more than lay here on the couch but the sooner he got in contact with Bruce and the rest of them the sooner he could find himself in his own body again. He took closer attention to the one he was inhabiting at the moment and noticed a few things about it. For one he was wearing a shiny silver belt that had some bright green, the kind that seemed a little too close to the green of the pit or his eyes when he got angry. He moved to touch it but when his skin made contact he violently got shocked. Now Jason had gotten electrocuted before, but this was on a whole new level. 

This utterly confused him, why was his soulmate wearing something that would cause him this level of pain? He couldn’t have been wearing it on purpose, maybe he was forced to wear it? The more he thought about it the more pissed off he got. If someone was forcing his soulmate to wear something that caused this level of pain to torture him made Jason nauseous. He took a few breaths to calm himself before he thought about what his next steps should be.

First he was going to check and see what supplies this safe house had, it was one of Bats so there was probably a spare communicator somewhere he could use. He carefully got back up from the couch afraid to touch the damn belt again and began looking. He found some first aid and a communicator right where he thought it’d be and he put it in his ear and spoke,

“Hey, Jason here, finally got to a safe house, buddy when you get here you’ve got some explaining to do”

—————

Danny could feel how tense the car was as Batman drove. He’d  be totally excited to be riding in the Batmobile but dreaded the conversations he was about to have with everyone here, everyone being Batman, his soulmate, and all of the people that could apparently hear everything through the helmet he was wearing. Danny was afraid to take it off at this point seeing as Batman had been almost silent the whole way. 

Danny had a few moments to actually think about things. The most pressing being his soulmate was in his half almost fully dead body. He knew he was wearing ratty clothes and a specter deflector last. They made him wear it at the facility and he really hoped his soulmate hadn’t tried to touch it. 

Another thing that had bothered him is the body he was currently in. It felt off, not half dead like his own but something similar. He could feel the ectoplasm flowing through his veins but it was much less than what he had. Jason was more alive than Danny was especially at the moment. 

He’d panic a bit more about not knowing the state his soulmate and body were except his helmet crackled back to life,

“Hey, Jason here, finally got to a safe house, buddy when you get here you’ve got some explaining to do”

It felt weird hearing his own voice in the tone of a stranger and he felt it was probably the same for him.

“Jason I’m in the car with your soulmate, let me know your position,” Batman said his voice crackled in his ears. Danny wasn’t sure what to say, he was worried about his soulmate but he sounded really pissed. Probably because Danny took his chance to kill the Joker, he assumed his soulmate intended to kill him anyways since the safety was off.

Danny kept silent throughout the rest of the trip after Jason told them his location. He was honestly a little terrified, he wouldn’t doubt that his soulmate knew Batman with the way they were talking to each other so he went through what he knew about the bats. He went through all of the bats he knew and came to the conclusion that his soulmate must have been Red Hood which meant he was in Red Hoods body at the moment and that thought didn’t help comfort him at all. 

That also meant that Red Hood was his soulmate and that terrified him even more. He’d heard stories, mostly from Sam who kept an eye on everything Gotham related seeing as it was her favorite city. Danny missed his friends, they had seen him get kidnapped by the GIW and tried their best to free him but it wasn’t any use.

Danny spent months in the facility and if it wasn’t for the GIWs own incompetence he’d still be there. They had done some terrible things to him during his captivity. They were in the middle of moving him back to his cell when the lights went out. They hadn’t thought to install a back up generator so the ghost shield had temporarily gone down. He was able to fight them back and escape somehow but the belt he was forced to wear made it impossible for him to use his powers. 

He had been on the run for about a week when the switch happened. 

He tensed a little as Batman parked the car. 

Master Post:

Previous:

Next:

[thegaysinmyhead]

PROLOGUE

Guys—I never ever ever write Yandere Fics but?? Dead on Main Mutual Yandere??? Ghost Obsessions or Ghost Biology taken to an extreme, leading to bloody and ectoplasmic messes??? DAMN

(Legit wrote this in 15 minutes on my phone lmao)

Jason smirked underneath his mask, a feral grin of all teeth as he dug his nails into the body underneath him. These white suited fucks had been crawling through Gotham for weeks and the Pit snarled everytime he caught sight of one in his territory. It had been months since he had gone into a green-tinted rage, but every time he saw one of the walking stain collectors he had to fight one down. The Pit snarled deep in his chest and begged for violence, begged to turn the eggshell colored tuxedos into a mess of carnage, everytime he came close to the 'agents'.

There was an ache in his gums and a burning underneath his nails, he dug them deeper into the light colored flesh. Blood pooled under the abuse, were his nails supposed to be that sharp?

Jason got tired of watching these guys shuffle through Crime Alley like they owned the streets he cleaned, and the people under his protection were constantly complaining about them too. He was just supposed to come in to question them, threaten them so they learned the rules, he didn't expect the RAGE-RAGE-RAGE that overtook him as soon as he was in range of the eyesores.

It was...different than his usual pit-induced madness. There was a purpose tickling in the back of his brain—a garbled voice he recognized but didn't that was screaming at him.

RAGE-PROTECT-KING

King?

Jason snarled before putting the rest of his strength into his grip, there was an audible snap underneath his palm. The last agent's body fell limp in his grasp.

KING-PROTECT-SAVE

The thing in his chest howled at him as it forced his legs to move, instinct carrying him as he put bullets (real ones, why did he have real ones? He barely used those anymore) into whatever fashion-freak tried to stop him with their Lazarus green guns. Their aim was shit, his was better.

KING-HERE-PROTECT

There was a paines scream on the other side of the wall that had Jason snapping back into awareness, and with strength he didn't know he had he ripped a thick metal door with his bare hands and threw it to the side. The Pit settled in his chest, a grumbling anxious thing instead of the all consuming it was moments ago. Jason absent-mindedly rubbed his hand where he felt the warmth of the green that stayed with him before he stepped into a sparsely lit room.

Glowing green Lazarus water and blood was spewed and mixed across the walls, a chaotic clash of neon and maroon that stunk of copper and acid. There was a figure wailing in the middle of the room as more green leaked from an open wound on its chest. No, not just an open wound, a vivisection. His vision tinted harshly once more as he slowly made his way to the restrained figure.

A man, most likely the same age or younger than him, with snow white hair, tanned skin that looked almost blue-tinted, glowing freckles in the shape of constellations, and green-green-green unseeing eyes as they spilled cold tears. Jason gently wiped the tears away as if pulled by instinct, and cooed softly with and audible echo in his chest. The Pit had never felt like this, not even in his most justified rages. It had never felt this soft either.

The man cried harder as he tilted his cheek further into Jason's bloody fingerless gloves, a pitiful whine escaping his throat as he begged without words. Jason doesn't know why it was so important for him to get this man his king out and to safety, to care for him, but he knew denying that instinct would only hurt him in the future. There was a warmth building under his fingertips before he pulled them slowly away from the freckled skin, the man gasping and blinking rapidly trying to find him again.

scared-help-afraid

There was a rumble deep in Jason's chest as if the soothe the man, and it seemed to work. The strained shoulders relaxed slightly and allowed Jason to move his (clawed?) fingers to the thick iron cuffs with strange electricity running through them. With a clenched jaw, he ripped the metal in half for each restraint, barely holding back the green before pulling needle and thread from somewhere in the room. The man didn't react to being stitched up, but whimpered when Jason's hands left his chest. A green and purple bruised hand shot out to bring his palm back, and Jason murmured softly while interlacing their fingers.

RAGE-PROTECT-HELP

grateful-safe-help?

HELP-RAGE-PROTECT

The being slumped into his arms as Jason pulled him close—the blue-tinted man weighed less than a bag of chips.

They deserved to suffer for the horrific acts they committed to his king the man in his arms. The Pit and him agreed on that.

With a gruff, Jason adjusted to pull off his jacket and cover the weeping wound of the man. He pulled him into a bridal-style carry before making his way out of the horror room, stepping over freshly dead and dying bodies. There was more blood in the previously white hallways than there was in the room he came from, and he wasn't gentle about stepping over still-alive scientists and agents. He ended up crushing skulls under his steel toed boots when the Pit snarled for their blood, but the rest wound bleed out and die slowly.

.

.

.

Masterpost, Pt 1

[idkhowtomakethis]

Now presenting:

The Ghosts of Amity Park

Part 1

Tucker and Sam stood in front of the Fenton's house, daring the other to finally knock on the door.

Two weeks had passed since the- incident.

Danny was rightfully upset, but Sam was starting to get impatient.

"It can't be that bad!" She exclaimed.

"For the record, I blame you," Tucker frowned.

"Me!? You're the one that started trying to dissect would could have been wrong with the damn thing!" Sam stomped her foot furiously.

"Yeah but you just HAD to see the lab and what knew stuff his parents were cooking up!" Tucker threw up one of his hands dramatically, "why can't you just boycott like a normal person!?"

"Ectoplasmic radiation is a fascinating energy source that has proven to be both environmentally friendly and efficient, it would be irresponsible for us as a society if we didn't explore all of its capabilities!" Sam snapped, "Its not just about big money and corporate greed!"

"What the hell are you two doing?" The distinct voice of their friend cut through Sam and Tucker's argument and they turned to him in shock.

To say Danny looked like hell was an understatement.

Neither Sam nor Tucker could remember the last time they'd seen Danny without his bracelets or his gloves or even one of his jackets.

It felt wrong, he looked blank. Just a plain white t-shirt Sam never knew he owned a regular pair of washed out blue jeans.

He looked hollow, cheeks slightly sunken, eyes heavy, lips chapped- it felt as though if they were to reach out he would shatter under their touch.

"Danny?" Sam asked, almost convinced it wasn't him.

She knew it had to be.

They were dull, but those ghastly blue eyes still pierced through her very being, making her feel raw and vulnerable.

"Yes?" His voice was hoarse, and Sam wondered if he actually was sick.

"Dude- you uh-"

"I know. I got forced out by Jazz. She's worried," Danny replied blandly.

Oh. He was pissed.

Sam could feel it. The air was legitimately colder as he just stared at them, as though they had insulted him simply with their presence.

"Dude," Tucker sighed, extending his hand out to their friend.

"...asshole."

Tucker nodded, going to retract his hand, but Danny stopped him, latching onto to it weakly. Something akin to relief seemed to wash over Danny as he held onto Tucker's hand.

"We need to talk."

Danny's room was in disarray. Sure, it usually was, but this was different.

It was genuinely unorganized, like he'd pulled everything out while trying to search for something and gave up on putting things back in their original place.

"Whats going on man?" Tucker's voice interrupted the somber silence that had settled over them.

"Its easier to show you...I guess," Danny muttered, pushing himself off of his dresser and moving to the center of the room.

"Something is wrong with me...I think that energy conduit is more than that...like- like a different place," Danny stumbled over his words in effort tit articulate himself, "it changed me."

"What do you mean it changed you?" Sam scrunched her nose in confusion.

Danny looked over at her, but the eyes that glared were not the same blue she had grown accustomed to.

Danny's gaze had become a bright, vicious green that literally glowed like some kind of algae, the ceiling light began to flicker, the air became ice against Sam's skin. Her eyes darted over to Tucker, his gaze rested outside, where even the streetlights were starting to pulse.

"Holy shit."

"You haven't seen the half of it," Danny remarked. Slowly his feet lifted from the floor, and he leaned back slightly, sitting on thin air.

Tucker choked on nothing, "What the fuck!?"

Yeah. That summed it up pretty well actually.

But Sam decided to throw in, "How the fuck," just to get everyone up to speed.

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2

[siri-ike]

Danny's Phanclub

From this prompt

(This is connected to Summer of change, Jazz Al-Ghul, Mad Science Private School, empty, and a little crime as a treat)

On december 9th, 7 people who were not busy that afternoon gathered in a dimly lit garage on the request of one person.

Angie (15) head of the Danny Phan club's theories division: You're probably all wondering why I asked you here today.

Su-Jin (19) in charge of keeping the websites updated: Yeah, the urgent message with no explanation was kinda jarring.

Jónatan (16) event organizer: couldn't have given a little heads up?

Carmelo (14) treasurer: And I don't believe we needed this many snacks.

Rowan (17) President of the Phanclub: Let's hear her out.

Suddenly, a bright light flashed above them.

Harriet (17) made matching t-shirts: Got the power back on. What are we talking about?

Angie: I'm sure you've all heard that Danny Phantom somehow managed to freeze that giant plant ghost last summer?

S,J,C,R,H,D:*murmurs of agreement*

A: And everyone knows ghost poweres are based on how one dies. As was proven last year with that ghost who was perpetually soaking wet and kept spiting up water

She turns dramatically away from the pool conference table.

A: Before now, he could just do the same things as all other ghosts. Invisibility, intangibility, flying. Plus, those blasts, which are probably just concentrated ectoplasm.

She drags in a large corkboard and looks at the others when she flops it around. Revealing newspaper clippings of Danny using each of his powers, a grave yard, some mountains, and... ski resort pamphlets?

A: Now. Let's look at the evidence.

1. The snow. That came out of nowhere, right? - Wrong. Before the Christian version of Hell, there was the Norse Hel. It was where everyone whet when they died, provided they didn't die in battle. It was thought to be a vast wasteland covered in ice where you could spend eternity with those who were with you when you died.

2. His appearance. He wears a onesie. There are a few reasons one might wear a onesie. The main reason being, you don't want something getting into your clothes. For example, bees. But he has nothing to do with bees. It would have to be something else, something he is connected to... like snow. Like his hair. *pause for effect* it's snow white. The chances of someone being born with white hair is less than 0.001% or one in 17 to 20 thousand. It can also be caused by a deficiency in vitamin B12 or pituitary or thyroid issues. You can all refer to the group chat for articles on those.

*Angie knows no one ever reads her sorces, but damn it, she did her research, and she's gonna site it.*

Jónatan: When did you have time for this? School only finished yesterday.

A: What I think is more likely is that his haircolor changed post-mortem. But why white?

*pause*

A: I think he froze to death.

The room went silent. It had crossed each of their minds, but no one had wanted to say it. Enter Angie 'can't read the room to save her life' Sage.

A: Considering the multiple ski resorts in Illinois supporting the theory and how much more aggressive he is in December, probably due to the anniversary of his death. It could also explain why no other ghosts show up in December. Either they're too scared of him or they're giving him space. He has seemed to be somewhat chumy with some of the other ghosts, despite their combative relationship-

Rowan: Angie, stop.

Quiet.

She looks around the room. Four people are looking down, seemingly avoiding eye contact, and two look at her. Rowan, looks right at her with stern yet sympathetic eyes.

R: Everyone take five. We'll pick it up from here. Angie, a word.

Oh great, she must've offended someone. If only she could remember to look at the faces. Shurely, there must be some signs she could look out for.

R: I know you like theories, Angie. But can you tone it down? You're talking about someone's death. That's not the sort of thing most people are comfortable with.

They're one of the most patient people she's ever met, but sometimes even Rowan doesn't quite make sense.

A: But... he's a ghost. We all know he died.

R: We do. But, I think this whole conversation could be easier if you remove the "post mortem" and the "to death" parts of your presentation.

A: I guess I could change the wording a bit. Leave out the more gruesome parts. But I need someone to hear those out, a second set of ears to make sure I didn't miss anything.

Rowan looks to the corner of the room, where a 12 year old girl sits on a barstool with a wide-eyed grin ear to ear. She nods as though knowing exactly what they want.

R: Dani can hear you out on those.

Dani (12 (real age 1)) a gremlin, somehow always has time for this: I look forward to working with you.

~~~~~~~~

Angie's articles

Premature gray/white hair

One in 17-20,000

BTW I'm not gonna continue this.

Guess I'm continuing this.

Pt 2

Masterpost

[wolfjackle-creates]

Got some bad news today and I want to forget it. So I'm gonna share a bit of something here as a distraction.

Earlier today I referenced a smut piece I've started working on. Dead on Main. How would you guys like to read the set up for it? (No actual smut in this snippet.)

Enjoy these 800 words!

-----

Danny’s leg was bouncing and the girl sitting in front of him in the lecture hall turned to glare at him. He forced it to stop and pulled out his water bottle, only to realize he was down to his last few drops of ectoplasm.

It wasn’t enough.

He’d thought Gotham would have enough ambient ectoplasm that there’d be a bunch of other ghosts hanging around, even if they were weaker than the ones Amity got. But apparently not. It was already mid October, almost Halloween, and he hadn’t met a single other ghost. He’d even gone looking.

He needed some ghost-on-ghost interactions. Non-liminal humans were fine, necessary to hang out with from time to time even. But not enough for him anymore. His ectoplasm intake had tripled since he moved here to make up for the lack and it wasn’t working.

The girl in front of him turned around again and hissed, “Cut it out.”

Shit, his leg was bouncing again. He stopped it and looked up at the powerpoint the professor was teaching off of. Then back down at his notes. Well damn, he’d missed a few slides.

He ground his teeth and shoved his things into his bag. Clearly sitting here was a waste of time if he couldn’t focus. As quietly as possible, he slipped out of the lecture hall and made his way outside. He was wound too tight. Needing to do something, anything, he loosened his control on his aura, letting it spill out around him

If he’d still been in Amity, everyone would know Danny Fenton was having a bad day. Here, no one spared him a second look. He stalked off campus and through the streets of Gotham, taking turns when needed to match the street lights or avoid getting run over by a car. He had to keep moving.

He didn’t know how long it had been or how far he had traveled when he felt it: the brush of another ghost’s aura against his. Another ghost who was just as angry and frustrated and lonely as him. Danny was moving in their direction—into a park—before he ever consciously made the choice.

The other ghost was moving closer, too. Danny grinned, showing a bit too much teeth. Maybe he’d finally have a chance to let loose, get rid of the frustration he’d been feeling.

And then a man in a leather jacket came running into view. Danny allowed himself a moment of surprise at seeing another apparently-living human who set off his ghost-sense. Could he be a halfa, too? Whoever they were did not seem to be surprised like Danny was, however, and moved faster as soon as they saw each other.

Danny shook off the shock and laughed as he rushed into the fight. He needed this.

Though his aura, Danny sent out his feelings of frustration and isolation and delight at finally meeting another ghost. Then they were trading blows.

He got the same sense of anger and frustration from his opponent, mixed with some confusion. But Danny didn’t bother trying to parse out the guy’s emotions. That could happen later, after they were both finally sated.

His opponent didn’t use any ghost powers, so Danny followed his lead. He dodged a kick and blocked a punch only to return both. He managed to get a grip on the guy’s jacket, but the other did something that twisted his wrist painfully, forcing him to let go.

Danny dropped to the ground and tried to kick at his opponent’s legs. But he only got a glancing blow that barely tripped the man up. Danny jumped up, and managed to head-butt the other’s chin. His opponent growled and kicked out; Danny was sent sprawling. Then, the maybe-halfa had him pinned to the ground.

They both paused for a minute, just breathing. Around them, indistinct voices cried out in panic, but Danny ignored them. He let his hands be pinned above his chest, his legs held down by the other ghost’s knees. Even his aura was pressing down on Danny, holding him in place. Danny could’ve fought back, but something about this felt right.

So, for the first time, he let himself look at his opponent. His ghostly nature was evident in the streak of white hair that fell over his forehead and the ectoplasm-green eyes that stared down at Danny. But what really struck him was how much physically larger he was than Danny. How they appeared to be about the same age.

He was fucking hot, too. Strong as well, if his aura was anything to go by.

Danny licked his lips and let a little lust leak into his own aura. He quirked an eyebrow in question.

-----

Next

This song is the inspiration for the fic and will help set the tone for how things're gonna go. (NSFW lyrics, make sure you listen in an appropriate location or with headphones.)

[azrielhours]

Company of Phantoms

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2k

Synopsis: Azriel has a crush that's overtaking his life. He's so obsessed with her that he starts hallucinating her lol.

A/N: inspired partly by The Haunting of Hill House and this

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

Azriel sat and watched, thanked the Mother for all his training for the privilege it allowed him to take her in. Hell—if all the knowledge he possessed peaked and surrendered to this, the holy act of observing her, if this was all it was good for, Azriel would be content. He even felt lighter about the horrors of his past, felt an absolved ease knowing it all would end with this act of penitence. An arm’s-length indulgence.   

With her.

But she was starlight, an ectoplasmic celestial body that glowed. She smiled so big and bright it made his breath catch. He’d have to look away sometimes to relieve the ache she carved into his chest.  

If she shone any less, it would be an act of mercy.

But Azriel had always veered on the side of masochism.

He was afraid his darkness would make her wink out. Didn’t want to be the cause of her dimming. Would never dream of contaminating that joy. Even when she’d smile at him, even when he’d struggle to return it, left instead with the sight of hers faltering at his coldness.

He could stand the shame sluicing through his chest cavity, take the sting of hurt all for the assurance he’d insist to himself—that this was the noble thing.

Everyone adored her, and it was what she deserved. The foul-mouthed temptress she was, making males redden at the dirty jokes she told, laughing bright and beautiful. The empathy she dealt like medicine that drew friends to her like a siren luring sailors. Secret keeper. Rhys doted on her, bought her jewelry to watch her face light up. Azriel never missed how his brother’s face would crinkle with adoration, with the ease of loving her when she opened his stream of gifts.

She was easy to love.

It was like she was slotted just right to each person.

He often wondered how she would mould to him should he ever open up, to return her generous smiles that had begun growing seldom.

She was soft with Feyre, creative and adventurous. Often found up to various artistic schemes no one else understood, discussing motifs and strokes, tragedy and yearning. Gone for hours to emerge with bright eyes and paint smears.

She cried to Cassian, and it was an effort to reign in Azriel’s envy, to listen to the drowning voice of reason telling him to be glad she was being comforted rather than to rage at his thieving brother as he’d stroke away her tears with gentler hands than those dealt to him in his life. She’d lie next to Nesta on her heavier days. Read to her, talk about foreshadowing and hope that made Nesta’s eyes light up.

It was always light brought to others. Her contagious aura.

And damn him, it was like his youth all over again, watching his brothers care for Mor, watching how she fit seamlessly.

How she chose Cassian. Never him. How she cried to Rhys, never him.

It seemed Azriel would always be haunted by the ghosts of his past.

And damn him for still possessing that otherness that punctured holes in his chest then, the same holes now that made it impossible to heave in a full breath, to sleep soundly. An undead soldier. It’d been weeks of this incessant torment. His heart would palpitate til his body perceived a threat. No sleep in the night—thoughts of her haunted him, taunting—so he’d pace like a lingering spirit.

He could see her always.

In the dark quiet of the house, there’d be a flash of silk around corners. Someone tossing hair over a shoulder. The echo of a laugh in another hallway. He’d creep to it, try to spy it out only to be met with empty corners.

Yet there in his peripherals, at the ends of hallways in the dark—

Again and again—glimpses.

His ghost.

His bed had become a grave, no peace found in it to rest. No food for the dead, only scraps—libations offered into the fire that was his belly. In the fleeting moments of rest, oftentimes in armchairs in all the wrong rooms, he’d meet her. She glowed even there, that phantom halo that marked a ghost. A beacon of light to his shadowy storm. She’d hold his hands and love him. And when he’d fade back to consciousness, in the early morning hours, if he sat still long enough, he knew he would hear her murmurs echoing down the halls.

Azriel wanted with all his might, wanted like it was his purpose.

Wanted like it could possibly mean something. Do something.

Wanting was all Azriel knew.

Beneath his shadows, beneath the contained lethal capacity of his body, any semblance of sanity, beneath ancient bone and immortal rot, he wondered if his soul was made purely of desire.

It made sense then, he supposed, that if he was wanting at his basest self, he would dream about nothing more than to have the unattainable. A ghost.

A wish.

It was impossible to eat. Sleeplessness stole his appetite. He consumed coffee in the morning and drank on an empty stomach in the evening. Nesta saw—she knew, pressing fruit and bread in his hand sometimes, but mostly she was quiet, which Azriel thanked her for in equal silence.

Tell her, Az, she whispered once. He’d shaken his head, and that was that.

Sometimes when everyone was home, he could pretend like it didn’t exist, the pull to her. He’d try to relax in his flesh and participate in having a family, but then she’d walk into the room, having just come home from somewhere Azriel knew every detail about.

The effort to not stare, to not care nor assess, to calm his heart, his mind—the shift out of the state of pretended calmness to an even worse pretence of calmness—the stream of thoughts that would pummel his brain would jolt so violently, the wanting was so violent that Feyre would flinch.

He couldn’t stand it—the lying. He knew everyone was doing it. Pretending they didn’t see what haunted him. At the first damned prod of a dark talon at his mind, Azriel stood, leaving. Ignoring how she peered at him with a pinch between her brows, stepping out of the path.

Azriel exhaled, watched his breath curl in the cool night air. Closed his eyes in exasperation as he heard footsteps approaching on the balcony. Whatever wise words Rhys may attempt to offer could be shoved up—

“Azriel,” Feyre spoke gently.

He turned, taking in his High Lady. “Feyre, I don’t really—”

“Az,” she cut him off, “I—don’t mean to pry. But you’re not—” she exhaled. “I know you haven’t been eating, and Rhys says—”

“It’s fine, Feyre,” he said softly. It was his own fault for not reigning in his thoughts. He wondered how much more he’d been broadcasting in his state, made clumsy by restlessness. If Feyre knew of the glimpses he trailed after at night—the ghost chasing.

She frowned, concern swimming in her eyes. Insomnia can cause hallucinations, she spoke gently into his mind.

Azriel scoffed. “I’m not hallucinating.”

Feyre stepped closer, caressing his elbow. “You know, if you’d just talk to her—”

“I can’t.”

She paused for a beat. “I can help put you to sleep, if you want.”

He just shook his head. Feyre accepted his boundary, leaving him to linger in his purgatory. He stayed, breathing in the cold until things quieted in the house.

Re-entering the emptied lounge, he sat, meeting wakefulness like a reluctant ally. His shadows curled at his cold ears. In her room, they informed. Saying goodnight.

Azriel listened to the sounds of his family settling in. He closed his eyes, envisioned how she might look, if she was perhaps brushing her hair, how she might look in the dim glow of a faelight. Settled and safe. Or—even better, he imagined her coming down, seeking him out. How lovely she’d look descending the stairs. If he focused hard enough, he could make out the sound—

Azriel opened his eyes, awaiting the gentle creak of wood.

His heart skipped a beat. Was she indeed coming to him?

He rose, quietly making his way to the stairs, wanting to see her descend to him.

Her steps were growing closer, and Azriel peered up the darkened stairwell—

She must’ve turned around, but Azriel caught the glow of an aura at the top, around the corner.

He made his way up, listening with all his might.

There—the rustle of silk. He sent his shadows ahead in the dark, not wanting to frighten her.

Clear, they whispered. He stalked down the hall, turning corners, walking past the low chatter behind various bedroom doors. He was nearly at the end of the hall when—

At her door, a shadow curled at his ear. Azriel frowned, if she was at her door, how could she—

A soft feminine laugh made him turn. Nothing, but he was sure—

There was that silk again, trailing around a corner.

Azriel blinked, making his way over. She was looking for him, he was certain.

More pacing around the darkened halls, trying to catch sight of that silk again.

Azriel.

He froze.

She’d called him.

A few walls over, he could recognize that voice. He whipped his head in the direction, creeping over.

Nothing.

Azriel.

There—again, he turned the other direction, blindly following.

Azriel.

He walked faster, his shadows swarming all around his body and up the walls, trying to catch his name.

Azriel.

Azriel.

“Azriel?”

He jolted, turning to the source.

Y/N stood in her doorway directly to his side, making him halt in his tracking. She took in the agitated churning of his shadows, burying him in darkness.

She was—there she was.

Azriel took a step toward her. She’d called him.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

She looked up at him wide-eyed. “Are you—alright?”

He assessed her. She—how could she be here so quickly, if he’d seen—

He looked around the hall, trying to make it make sense. He frowned, turning back to her. She was partially behind the threshold of the door, apprehension tensing her form under his scrutiny, the restlessness marking darkness beneath his eyes.

He was making her nervous.

Azriel immediately reigned in his shadows, relaxing his stance to a neutral posture rather than his previous mid-prowl stride, tucking his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke gently. “I thought I…did I wake you?”

She shook her head, stepping more fully in the doorway, making Azriel relax. “No, I—your shadows were under my door, and when I came to them, I could hear…someone wandering outside.”

Azriel blinked. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She bit her lip, assessing him. “It’s alright. Why were you pacing?”

“I, uh—I couldn’t sleep.”

She nodded. “I heard Rhys tell Feyre you’ve been having trouble sleeping,” she said quietly.

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, his head dipped in confirmation.

She nodded again in thought, peering up at him again with that wonder. Azriel should’ve taken Feyre up on her offer, should’ve known better. He should apologize again and stop bothering her— “Would you, um, like to come in?”

Azriel’s breath caught.

She shifted her weight. “If—if you can’t sleep, I mean—I’m awake, and—”

“Yes,” he said.

Surprise lit up her eyes despite her offer, and she nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

Azriel’s heart was in his throat. His sleep-deprived state blurred the edges of his reserve, but he allowed himself to take the opportunity.

In her room, he took in the warm space. She closed the door behind him and came to stand beside him. She was indeed in a nightgown, hair unbound, glowing as usual. He averted his gaze when she blushed beneath his stare.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I haven’t had much rest lately.”

“That’s okay,” she said, stepping closer. “I know, I—usually I can hear you pacing at night,” she confessed. He hadn’t realized he’d been that overt. She beckoned him to walk to her bed, perching at the end of it. She smiled, gently patting the space next to her.

Azriel swallowed, making his way to her.

She looked to her bed and back at the Spymaster. “I, uh—you do look tired, Azriel.”

“Do I?” he was pleasantly surprised to find contentment in her space—in her presence. The longest he’d ever spoken to her, and it turned out to be easier than breathing.

“Mhm,” she nodded, taking him in. She raised a hand to his face, tracing the bruises beneath his eyes with gentle fingertips. “Poor thing,” she breathed, frowning. “I know how hard it can be to have insomnia.”

She lowered her hand, clasping them in her lap. She looked to the pillows again, then back to him. Azriel resisted the upward tug of his lips, seeing how long it would take her to invite him to sleep.

How careless did sleeplessness make him, indeed.

He simply nodded. “It is hard.”

“It helps if you feel someone,” she spoke softly, blushing. “I sometimes sleep with one of the girls.”

Azriel hummed in thought.

“Or—you know, we can get you a sleeping tonic.”

“We could try that.”

She suddenly averted his gaze, crossing her arms across her abdomen. In a small voice, she said, “I know you don’t—like me, Azriel, but—”

He frowned. “I do like you,” he interjected.

She paused, meeting his gaze. “You do?” The vulnerability swimming in her eyes made him shift closer to her on the bed.

“I do.” He thanked the Mother for the inhibition of his judgement.

She was silent for a beat. “But—you leave the rooms I enter,” she said in that small voice.

Azriel’s heart broke. He dared to reach a hand out, gently taking hers. “It’s—it’s because I like you,” he said lowly.

Her mouth parted in an o shape, and she squeezed his hand, a small smile overtaking her lovely face.

“You were my ghost,” he muttered.

Confusion drew her brows together. “What?”

Azriel smiled, a laziness creeping up his body that he’d missed for weeks. “I’ll explain it in the morning.”

Her brows shot up, pink tinting her cheeks. “In the morning?” Another glance to the bed.

Azriel laughed. “Unless you want to hear it now.”

She smiled, tentative and sweet, shaking her head. “The morning will do.” She rose, taking his hands in both of hers, prompting him to rise. He held her stare, let her pull him to the head of her bed. She tugged back the covers, sliding under and patting the space next to her again.

Azriel toed off his shoes, took off his outermost layers, placing his belt and various assets onto her dresser. She pulled her knees to her chest, watching intently as he offloaded in her space, basking in the belonging.

When he at last slid beneath the cover, he lay on his back next to her. She reached for his hand beneath the covers, clasping it. Without saying a word, he squeezed her hand. He felt the tension seep out of his body, felt heaviness in his eyelids that matched the one in his chest. She shuffled closer to him so they lay shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t dare move, let her settle against his arm, still only holding his hand under the covers.

As rest crept up on him for the first time in weeks, his restless thoughts were calmed by the warmth of her presence, the kindness he allowed himself to finally taste.

“You know,” she muttered in the dark. “With all your pacing, I was beginning to wonder if this place was haunted.”

Azriel huffed out a laugh. “Imagine that.”

He could hear the smile on her lips. “Guess it was just our sneaky Shadowsinger.”

Azriel shook his head, smiling. “Guess so.”

She turned, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight Azriel.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @aroseinvelaris @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy

[torscrawls]

Questions for the Substitute Teacher

The new Substitute teacher is weird—like really weird—and Liam and his class are dead-set on figuring out what his deal is. Based on the excellent prompt by @shockingshinx12-shinx: Mr. Lancer works as a sub during his semi-retirement. He's long since moved out of Amity, but has some pretty wild stories to share, or some weird off-the-cuff comments and mannerisms that make no sense to the local culture of this new town. His new students have opinions on all this, and there's many rumors surrounding this strange substitute…

Words: 1,643

Can be read on AO3!

---

“Hey,” Liam said as he slumped into the seat next to Nathalie. “What do you think of our new History sub?”

Nathalie looked up from her phone and raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Lancer?”

“Yeah! Isn't he…” Liam trailed off as he searched for a word to describe their new eccentric teacher. He landed on a hesitant, “A bit weird?”

Nathalie shrugged. “I guess? We've only had him for one class.”

“But didn't you see when he gestured at nothing during reading time? He seemed to be having a whole conversation!”

Nathalie shook her head.

Liam groaned. “Well, I tell you! He’s weird. Maybe in this class you can see what I—”

Nathalie elbowed him in the side and Liam groaned as Nathalie hissed, “Shh! He’s coming!”

And true to her words, in walked Mr. Lancer himself. In all his bald, gray bearded, and beer-bellied glory. “Alright, class, settle down.”

Liam sat down at his desk, settling in and deciding to wait for Mr. Lancer to do something strange OR for Mr. Lancer to slip up.

He reached over and elbowed Nathalie and she rolled her eyes but put her phone down.

He didn’t have to wait for long.

A sudden bang and shout rang out in the classroom as someone tipped their chair over and fell to the floor. Almost at the same moment, Mr. Lancer jumped up and whipped out what looked like a very sci-fi looking gun. After a split second and a scan of the room, he relaxed and lowered the weapon back down, seemingly ignoring all the wide eyed stares locked on him. He gave a small chuckle. “Moby Dick! That scared me!”

“Is that a gun?!” Liam screeched and several of his classmates joined in the chorus of panic.

Mr. Lancer waved them all off, with the gun in hand no less. Students threw themselves to the side or to the floor to avoid being in front of it. “It's an ecto-gun, completely harmless to humans.”

Liam didn’t want to ask, but damn it all, he was too curious. “... So what does it harm?”

“Ghosts,” Mr. Lancer said immediately, without shame.

Liam leaned over towards Nathalie and whispered. “Is he joking?”

Nathalie looked a bit pale. “I don’t know. I’m still stuck on the fact that he has a gun.”

“I promise it’s not dangerous. Look!” And then Mr. Lancer pointed the gun at his own left hand and pulled the trigger.

The classroom that had managed to calm down slightly exploded back into chaos.

“Holy shit! You just shot yourself!”

“Call the nurse!

“No! Call an ambulance!”

Mr. Lancer, still with a very calm look on his face, just lifted his hand, now covered in green goo and said, “I’m fine. It’s just ectoplasm.”

Everyone stopped and stared at him.

Mr. Lancer looked at his own hand and then wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Oh, this is gonna be a pain to wipe off. Does someone have a napkin?”

Nathalie silently reached into her bag and pulled out a packet of napkins.

“Thank you,” Mr. Lancer said as he took the offered package. “I don’t need all of them, though.”

She shook her head, eyes on the green goop on his hand. “Keep them.”

Liam couldn’t keep silent any longer, almost vibrating out of his seat as he asked, “Did you say ectoplasm? Like the thing ghosts are made of?”

Mr. Lancer seemed delighted by his question. “So you know about that? I have to admit I’m not really sure what’s common knowledge. Yes. Like ghosts are made of.”

“No way that’s real ectoplasm.” Liam knew for a fact that scientists were still debating whether ectoplasm even existed or not. There was no way that their History substitute teacher just had it on him. Even more strange, why would a History teacher have it in a gun? “Why do you have a gun that shoots supposed ectoplasm?”

Mr. Lancer wiped off his hand as if it wasn’t covered in fluorescent goo, as if he’d done it a million times before, and ignored Liam to say, “Well then. No more delays. Open your books to page 116.”

Liam slumped back in his seat, knowing an evasive maneuver when he saw it. Heard it. Whatever.

The rest of the class crawled past; Liam doing his best to focus and failing miserably. Like usual. After he failed to answer a few of the questions and found himself staring emptily at his notebook for the majority of the class, Liam was ready to just go home.

And apparently, he hadn’t been so lucky that Mr. Lancer had missed his lapse in attention. As they reached the end of the class, the dreaded words were spoken; “Liam? Can you stay a bit after class?”

Liam tensed and Nathalie sent him a sympathetic look before the rest of the class all filed out.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat and offered Liam a smile. “I can see that you're struggling a bit with the schoolwork. Are you having trouble at home? Out hunting ghosts?”

Liam blinked in surprise. That… was not what he had expected to hear. “No?”

Mr. Lancer nodded and then seemed to think for a moment before landing on, “Do you need any extra help?”

Well, if he was offering. It would be nice to have some extra time to hand in assignments. And he had promised himself to try and stand up for himself more, to be kinder to himself. Liam straightened his shoulders and said, “I wish that—” 

Mr. Lancer cut in with a panicked, “No wishes in my classroom!”

“What?” Liam blinked his eyes in confusion. “Why?”

“You never know if she's listening.”

Well. That’s not ominous at all. “Who?!”

“Oh right. No ghosts.” Mr. Lancer cleared his throat. “I just don’t… Like? Wishes?”

“Oh.” Liam didn’t know what to say to that. “Sorry?”

“That’s okay,” Mr. Lancer said easily. “Now. What were you saying?”

“Right… Eh. Maybe I can get some extension on the next deadline? I have ADHD and some extra time would be a huge help.”

Mr. Lancer didn’t even hesitate before nodding. “Yes, that’s no problem. Thank you for telling me.”

Huh. Mr. Lancer was actually really nice. Liam left the classroom feeling slightly shocked. He’d never had a teacher just agree to help him, no argument needed.

Nathalie was waiting for him outside the classroom. As soon as he got out she went over to him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? What did he want?

“To know if I hunt ghosts in my spare time.”

Liam had to admit, it was satisfying to see Nathalie blinked in obvious confusion. She slowly asked, as if afraid of the answer, “And why would he ask you that?”

Liam shrugged with a grin. “Apparently that’s a more likely cause for not paying attention than simply having ADHD.”

“Really?” Nathalie asked and Liam felt gratified by the small smile of incredulity growing on her face.

“Yeah. But he also gave me some extra time for the next deadline, no problem, so I think he’s actually nice?”

“So you don’t think he’s strange anymore?”

Liam gasped in fake outrage. “I’m insulted! Of course I will!”

“Good,” Nathalie said with a nod, “Look what I found.” And then she held her phone for him to see.

Liam grabbed it and frowned down at the screen and the web page of what looked like a small US town that was pulled up on it. Green lettering and pixelated pictures made it look old and tacky. “What is this?”

“I looked him up while you were in there talking,” Nathalie said, not able to disguise the pleased tone of her voice, “This is the town he’s from.”

Liam scrolled to the top of the page and read the town name. “Amity Park? Never heard of it.”

“Me neither. Look at their slogan.”

“America’s most haunted town. Really?!” Liam was delighted. Ecstatic. He looked up and met Nathalie’s equally sparkling eyes.

“You think he worked in the tourism industry? Still getting some money on the side to spread the rumor?”

“It must be a bit, right? Some weird humor from his home-town?”

“I think he's crazy,” Nathalie said dreamily. As if a crazy teacher would be the height of their school-year. It probably would.

“Let’s find out.”

—

Before the next class, the whole class was abuzz with tension and raised voices. Several students talked over each other as they waited for Mr. Lancer to show up.

“I think he's from area 51.”

“Yeah, I agree. He's clearly an alien trying to blend in and mixing up reality and fiction.”

“No, I think he worked there! He's been there for so long he doesn't know what normal life's like anymore.”

“No, no, I think he's a ghost. That's why he keeps bringing them up.”

“Ghosts aren't real!”

“Guys. He’s clearly just messing with us.”

“Who is messing with who?” A voice asked from the door and Liam turned with a big grin, expecting to find Mr. Lancer. But there was Mr. Johnson, their regular History teacher.

Liam cast about for the other man. “Where is Mr. Lancer?”

Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow as he started setting up. “Probably at another school or at home. Why?”

Liam deflated. Right substitute teacher. “No reason.”

That’s what they got for getting excited. Liam sighed. School had never seemed so dull. He turned to Nathalie and moaned, “It’s like he was never here. Maybe he was a ghost after all,” he ended a bit dreamily.

Nathalie gave him a short glance from where she was staring at her phone. “Nah, I saw him outside Starbucks on the way to class, talking to a white haired guy about green dogs? So he seems to be alive and kicking.”

Liam slumped deeper in his chair. “Oh joy.”

[radiance1]

(Cha'll know Hornet from Hollow Knight? Yea, she inspired me for this along with her song recently made by Man on the Internet.)

Danny's reveal went wrong. His parents operated and experimented on him until his body couldn't take it anymore, and, well.

He died on that operating table.

Jack and Maddie weren't immediately concerned, really, since it's just a ghost. They weren't, at least, until that ghost transformed back into their son.

They were far too stunned to properly process it. Their son was phantom, their son was the ghost they spent a while chasing through the streets of their town and hunting.

They killed their own son on an operating table.

When Jazz found out she, well she wasn't pleased. At all. She screamed at them, tears streaming down her face when she found out her brother was dead. The brother she spent raising in her parents place, the brother who went out and risked himself fighting ghosts for the town, her little brother.

She couldn't take it anymore, couldn't deal with them anymore. She had a friend over a Gotham, a very good friend who would let her crash for a while at their place until she could get back on her feet. So she packed her things and left Amity Park and her parents behind.

The Fenton's were racked with guilt, because they killed their own son and the last damn thing he saw was them operating on him. They had to make this right.

They never really, truly, dabbled in genetic engineering much. But they could goddamn learn, they were smart enough for it. They built and put Danny in a pod to keep his body from either melting or decomposing, they never could tell which would happen after learning of his unique biology and got to work.

Their first try at cloning him was a failure. The clone barely lasted a second before melting away into a puddle of unusable ectoplasm and DNA. Their second clone had the same effect, so did their third, fourth, fifth, sixth.

It was incredibly harder than they first thought to clone the unique biology of a halfa. But they couldn't, wouldn't, give up. They had to do this, they had to right what they did wrong.

It took 4 years for them to engineer the 'perfect' clone. 4 years in which they haven't left their home, 4 years in which they haven't seen their daughter, 4 years of trying to atone for what they did, and they finally did it.

Subject 'Omega' was built to last. Superhuman durability, superhuman healing, unable to physically age. Everything they could think of that allowed it to not die they engineered into it.

They couldn't clone his ghostly abilities, would make it too unstable, it would have to develop such things on its own. They couldn't clone his memories either, but it was ok, they could make new ones!

Subject 'Omega' was released from its pod and unlike the other failures, it didn't melt into a puddle as soon as it left the pod, nor a few minutes or hours after. They kept it around for a day, fully ready for it to destabilize and be regarded as a failure, but blessedly it didn't.

They then kept their son's body in that room, putting it on full lock down and ensuring that it could never get in.

They finally succeeded in making the perfect clone. One almost exactly like their son, stuck between life and death, black hair, blue eyes the whole shebang. Sure, he didn't have the memories or the abilities that Phantom possessed, but it was fine.

They had to treat it properly, raise it right, even. Teach it all they knew, take care of it properly, that's what parents did right? Sure, maybe it wasn't as perfect as it should have been, missing memories, missing abilities, for example.

But they still loved it regardless!

It was unable to transform into Phantom. It had ghostly abilities, yes, but it was fully stuck as just Fenton, they didn't get it, they made him as perfect as could be why couldn't it just do that-

Did they miss something? Was there a problem with its design? The missing memories they could attribute to themselves, the abilities they could write off as having been replaced by the abilities they built into it to make it last taking priority over pre-installing the ghost abilities.

But this.

THIS.

WHY COULDN'T IT JUST DO THIS ONE, SIMPLE THING!? THEY MADE IT RIGHT, NOTHING SHOULD HAVE GONE WRONG, IT SHOULD BE CAPABLE OF DOING THIS.

But it was ok, it was fine, sure he didn't have the ability that Danny should have. But it was ok, they still loved him even if he wasn't perfect, they told him so all the time.

Everything is ok.

----

Subject Omega, or Danny, as he was told his name was. Loved his parents quite a lot, or at least he's been told he loves them. He didn't have any memories of them, nor of this house, nor of that girl in the pictures, but he was told it didn't matter.

He was told he had Amnesia, that it was so bad he couldn't remember any of his memories before today. They were his parents, parents who loved him with all of their might, this house was their house that he's lived in since he was born and the girl in the pictures was his sister.

He asked where she was, they said she left, he asked why, he didn't get an answer. He didn't question it, really, it was intriguing to know who she was, but his parents didn't want to share and a good boy doesn't ask questions that his parents don't want to answer!

Apparently, he was what his parents called a Halfa, a hybrid between a human and a ghost and he had the abilities to prove it. The standard ghost powers of Intangibility, invisibility and flight, with his own ability to form ectoplasm into string, or silk (he had them whispering about that, but it was probably nothing of concern) along with a numerous amount of abilities either related to durability or healing.

He was confused when they asked him to 'Go Ghost', because he didn't know what or how to do that. They showed him some audio, apparently something they had to hack through a lot of cameras to even find, of him shouting "Going ghost!" and what they believe to be him then transforming into another version of himself with white hair and green eyes they called 'Phantom'.

He tried it out, they seemed hopeful, he didn't want to disappoint them. But he couldn't do it, they urged him to try again and again when he failed over and over. He was worried he was disappointing them, but he told them he just couldn't do it.

He was scared, of how they reacted to. His mother screamed at him for why he couldn't just do this one simple thing, the thing he was supposed to do, while his father grabbed onto his arm and dragged him to his room. He couldn't feel physical pain, or much of it so his parents told him, but he had the idea that it should hurt.

He was told to never leave his room until he could figure out how to go ghost, and then the door was slammed shut in his face. He tried to do it, he really tried too! Even forgoing sleep to try and go ghost repeatedly.

It turned morning, and he still couldn't do it. He wasn't even tired, so he could continue trying until he got it right! But then a knock came from his door and his mother came through, he was preparing to apologies when she just told him to come down for breakfast and said she loved him.

He, didn't know what to feel about that.

he questioned his parents about it, a while after he came downstairs. But they acted confused, asking if he had a bad dream or something of the like, so he hesitantly recounted what happened and his mother just hugged him. Telling him that they would never do that because they loved him far too much to yell at him and treat him that way.

So, maybe he did just have a bad dream and nothing happened.

He was glad for it, too.

He didn't go to school, they pulled him from school because of his accident and decided to homeschool him. He had a lot to learn, really, all the stuff from inventing, mathematics and fighting from them!

He loved it! Really, he did! Sure, some of the stuff made him brain hurt from so much knowledge crammed into his head, but he was getting better at Martial Arts! He got so good at both that he even got a gift! A giant needle sword thing that was supposed to go hand in hand with his thread and such!

He didn't have anything else to be learnt, but he wasn't allowed to go outside, so he just stayed home really. It was just the three of them here, and it was his whole world.

One day his parents went out, which wasn't unusual as of recent, so he took to refining his technique with the needle, he could go on for hours and not feel the barest of fatigue, that's how it always was said his parents. But when they came back, they seemed, different, it was a subtle thing, but they seemed paler.

They were also a bit panicked, telling him not to go outside (not that they let him) and then going down into their lab to do something. He was curious about it, but didn't mind it, he knew his parents probably didn't want to worry him about something, so he just lost himself into refining his technique.

Over the passage of a few weeks his parents kept going out and then coming back into their lab, carrying samples of something. They never told him what it was, so he didn't bother asking, it seemed very important, so he shouldn't bother them.

Even if they seemingly had less time for him and more for whatever they had down in the lab.

Over those weeks his parents seemed to become ill, he didn't know what it was, but they seemed to have contracted something. Sometimes they came back covered in blood, sometimes coughing, or injured.

One day they didn't come back up from the lab, and Danny left them there because he didn't want to disturb them. He had to refine his technique after incorporating string after all.

Another week passed, and his parents still didn't come back up, he was worried, extremely so. So he sneaked down into the lab, he was prepared for being punished or shouted at for doing so, but he just needed to know if they were ok.

They weren't.

The first sign was a terrible smell of rot, the first repugnant thing he's ever smelt oddly enough. The second was the smell of iron, and the third was seeing his parents' bodies lying on the ground, blood splattered from their mouths.

He didn't understand why they were just lying there, why blood came from their mouths or why a terrible smell came from them. Maybe they were napping? A weird place to do so.

So he tried dragging upstairs and putting them on the couch or in their beds. Which he managed to do after a while, putting them to put and covering them with sheets, then went down back to the lab.

Because there was a newly opened door his parents had opened, and he was curious, and it didn't look like they were gonna wake up soon so surely, he could take a peek.

He didn't know what he expected, but seeing himself in a pod wasn't it.

Then he found out that he was a clone. A clone of the original, dead Danny and there were hundreds upon hundreds of other failed clones. He didn't know how to take it, apparently his original was hero, a hero they hunted down and killed because he was a ghost, and the only reason they made him was because they didn't realize and killed their son.

He wanted to march up there and demand an explanation, but he was scared, scared of how they would react if he were to bring it up. They killed their own, true son, so why wouldn't they just kill him and continue cloning too?

They left the way to lock this section of the lab in one of their entries, so he locked it and left, waiting for them to wake up.

Except, they never did.

Then a while later some people entered his house unannounced, clearing through the house. They asked him if he knew where his parents were, and he took them to their bedroom. they said his parents were dead, and then completely disregarded him after and went down into his parents' lab and took basically everything they could get their hands on, including his parents' prized Ghost Portal.

He couldn't stop them, too busy trying to process the fact his parents died, and he didn't know.

Awhile passed and he went outside, seeing the town basically abandoned for some reason. He saw no one but those men for a while, people he later learned to be some government agents.

And just like that the town he was in became the testing ground for the government to dump their failed experiments, either too hostile or not what they wanted.

More so the former than the later.

The original Danny protected this town, was a hero and stopped ghosts. There weren't many ghosts around here anymore, at least the humanoid ones his predecessor fought off, but there were the ghosts of animal's or experiments who kicked the bucket, and then there was the experiments who were still alive and wandering the town, extremely violent and animals that got mutated from some kind of chemical those ghosts dumped around town.

Probably another failed experiment.

So, he decided that just like the original he would try and protect this town, from the government, from the failed experiments, from the mutated animals, from the ghosts of experiments and animals long dead. He would preserve this place to the best of his ability, it was the only thing he could do now.

And just like that, 5 years passed. 5 years of fighting off experiments and beasts with his nail and thread, 5 years of zero human contact, 5 years of just fighting and surviving and honing his skills.

And then, one day. A group of people came to his town, not the government, he could tell when they were coming. No, this was a group of different, newer, people.

People he had to dig through his memories to find, because he only saw one article on them before his parents switched him to a server they made for him.

The Wayne's were in his forgotten town for some reason, and with them was the girl he saw in the original's family photos, he didn't know her name, but he knew she was the original's sister. He would watch and wait, see what they do, and if he determined them to be a threat.

Well.

Threats to this town have to be eliminated.