#cryptid Danny fenton

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

[theghostkingisdead]

when he's really tired, danny sometimes slips up and starts talking in ghost speak. the only ones who can understand him when he gets like this are tucker, sam, and jazz (because they're Liminal). of course, none of them realize this until danny slips up in public

Tucker hated English. The whole language was a confusing, contradictory mess. Honestly, the world would be a much better place if everyone just stopped talking and writing and only communicated using Timerio, preferably with several screens between them.

The blank word document stared back at him, mockingly. The sounds of his classmates typing away at their own projects – typing, normally his favorite sound in the world, how dare the project turn it against him! – filled the room. The clock in the corner of his screen told him they had twenty more minutes left in class; twenty more minutes until lunch, where he could at least enlist Sam’s help.

He wished she shared this period with him and Danny, but she was taking AP Lit this year. Tucker glanced over at his other best friend. His best friend, who was staring off into space, not even bothering to pretend to be focusing on the assignment.

Glancing up to make sure Mr. Lancer wasn’t looking, he risked asking, “Hey Danny, what are the odds of a ghost attack happening in the next thirty-five seconds or so?”

Danny barely moved, but Tucker watched him squint, like he was trying to read something far off and blurry.

“Pretty unlikely. Unless we’re still counting blob ghosts as threats.”

Somewhere in the background, the sound of typing stopped.

Tucker hummed, “yeah, that’s about what I figured.” That was ghosts for you, never there when you needed them, never gone when you didn’t. “What if you, ya know,” Tucker raised his eyebrows repeatedly, staring intently at his best friend.

“no.”

“Aw, come on!”

Danny rolled his eyes, leaning back into his chair. “Dude, if I attacked the school just to get out of the last quarter of English, I’d never hear the end of it from Sam and Jazz.”

Tucker opened his mouth, about to present the very reasonable argument that what Sam and Jazz didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, when he felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning around in his seat, he met the wide, terrified eyes of Star. She was glancing between Tucker and Danny, face pale.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but uh…” Her voice trailed off, and in the pause Tucker was suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become.

Glancing around, he saw that everyone – including Lancer – was staring at him and Danny with varying levels of confusion and fear. Tucker considered himself to be pretty smart in most areas, maybe even a genius when it came to tech. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d missed something important.

Danny, the absolute dick, had slumped forward onto his desk. He was out cold. Dead to the world, and definitely not available for backup.

Kwan cleared his throat, and Tucker saw that his face was ashen.

“What are you two fucking talking about?”

[lollystocks]

The New Kid

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 3: White Crow

Summary: Danny continues to mind his own business whist freaking out everyone around him with his mere existence.

A short "Cryptid Danny" fic, with a twist.

Words: 509

CW: mild horror, mild body horror

---

"White Crow": a member of a group who is different from the rest. Elaya vorona (бе́лая воро́на) in Russian, kalāg-e sefīd (کلاغ سفید) in Persian. Similar to English's "Black Sheep".

---

The New Kid was exceptionally unnerving.

Friendly enough, if one got the chance to talk to him - which was kinda rare. He was territorial and kept to himself which, fair enough. But he never really seemed interested in getting to know anyone.

But despite being, on the surface, a pretty normal New Kid, there was something very wrong with him.

No-one could put their fingers on it at first. And no-one liked to talk about it. Because how could you talk about…that?

His eyes, for one. A nice, normal, luminous green for the most part. But when he was tired, or distracted, they would… they’d dull. Lose all traces of light, and just go empty. They’d flicker back on as soon as you’d caught it, and one might chalk it up to a trick of the light. He’d smile a normal smile, and you’d forget you’d seen anything. Or maybe, try to forget.

His teeth, too. A perfectly average maw of razor-sharp fangs. But he covered his mouth with his hand when he smiled or laughed. If one looked beyond that, they might see - or rather, sense - a jaw of blunt, flat, incisors and molars. Prey’s teeth. Mortal teeth.

But prey shouldn’t fill you with such discomfort. Should it?

He was probably just developing his shapeshifting skills early. That was probably it.

Youngblood swore he’d seen him drift through a wall, once. In the Ghost Zone.

Youngblood was hardly a reputable news source.

All the same.

Then, then, there was his voice. How sometimes (always when he was tired or injured or distracted) he’d talk and his voice would just… dampen. Vanish into nothingness. No echo, or reverberation through the ectoplasm around him. Nothing to carry his words through to other ghosts. And, once, again, everything would reset, and he’d be a normal ghost.

There was a theme - moments of flatness, dullness, of disconnect. Moments of mortality.

The worst one was when he would breathe. He wouldn’t even hide it. After a territorial spar (which he took way too seriously) he’d float there, victorious, and his chest would expand and retract like some wet, dying thing. Bodies weren’t meant to move like that. Not after death.

And it wouldn’t be so bad if he was weak.

Freaks came and went. There was enough variety amongst ghostkind that any one, or even multiple of these things, could be brushed off.

But the New Kid was strong. Stronger than any of them. He’d been around for no time at all and defeated every one of them in combat, even the strongest of them. His abilities were coming in fast, too fast, and he had too many. No ghost should have a portfolio that large, and know how to use their new powers so well.

He got better with every fight. 

They were training him, without realizing. Feeding him.

But there’s the rub. To back off, to withhold from indulging in one’s Earthly Obsession, to bow to his obscenely large territory? The thought alone was obscene.

And what would be the repercussions?

[arrowheadedbitch]

When a character is super over powered but still super limited by outside factors, I like that

[the-autistic-spider]

we all know the story

Danny fenton goes into the portal and becomes a being known as a ghost by his DNA being fused with ectoplasm

but what if it didn't make him a ghost?

what if his DNA being messed with made him something else something other?

at this point i ran out of idea so =I yea have fun with this i guess

[depressnt]

Does anyone know where this came from

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Amity Cryptids

ectoberhaunt2023 day 21- past prompt (2021/treat/cryptid) TW- none summary- The Fentons have always been weird

ao3 masterlist

Amity Park had always been weird. It’s citizens always just felt a little off to outsiders.

It only got worse after the portal opened. After they were sucked temporarily into the ghost zone.

Visitors never stayed long. They claimed the town was too far, too difficult to find.  And when Amity Parkers visited other places, people always gave them a wide berth. Hardly anyone looked them in the eye.

Amity Parkers just thought this was because people from bigger cities were rude. 

But even within Amity, those Fenton children were considered especially strange.

Especially the boy.

Strangers noticed it most. When they spotted one of the Fenton children, they froze till the perceived threat had passed. The effect was lessened for Amity Parkers but even still, whenever the children were around they couldn’t help feeling an intense sense of dread.

The girl gives weird vibes and her eyes are so perceiving. She can read you scarily easily.

The boy gives off fight or flight vibes, but mostly flight. He feels like looking at a predator and when he smiles, it’s all threat. 

The Fentons had always been strange. They had waltzed in talking about ghosts and portals, and the town had called them crazy. But then the ghosts had shown up, and everyone had to adjust. 

They changed, but it was okay. They were used to the chaos now, they embraced it, like all small towns embrace their singularities no matter how small. 

Ghosts were real. 

At first it had been terrifying, but things had settled down. They even had ghosts employed now!

But even before the portal opened, that Fenton girl had eyes that were too wide, that didn’t blink, and that seemed to stare into your soul. She’d make casual remarks about what would happen tomorrow or next week, and they always came true.

And then the boy was born. He had been average sized, but he had felt like he weighed nothing at all. This didn’t change as he got older. He moved silently and his teeth were sharper than they should be. When you looked at him, your brain registered a threat.

It only got worse after the portal.

The boy’s appearance wavered like a mirage and to look at him hurt your brain. The girl’s movements appeared otherworldly and it felt like she could tell what you were thinking.

Amity Park had always been strange, but those Fenton children; they were something else.

[that-one-punk-gay]

This has probably been said like 100 times but I love cryptid Danny Fenton so much

Eyes that reflect like cats eyes do, pointy teeth in human form, uncanny valley, literally goes through rigor Mortis.

Like make him as creepy as possible please

[h31fd3ad]

All of these songs can be a Danny Phantom au

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Ectober week day seven!! Last day (although I still have to finish my fic for yesterday rip)

CASPER HIGH SCHOOL IS HAUNTED

[warnings for mentioned marijuana usage]

My mom told me, that ever since she was in high school, Casper High... has been haunted.

She says that seventeen years ago, when she was a senior, there was this freshman kid whose parents were paranormal scientists, and one day, at the beginning of the year, he was in an accident in their lab. He was only out of school for two days, but when he came back he was... different. At first, no one really noticed since most of the changes were small or gradual.

Like how the first month of school, the kid was a model student, then when he came back to school after the accident, he was suddenly a problem child, constantly breaking lab equipment, falling asleep in class, bumping in to people, skipping school. My mom said he always looked on edge too, shifty-eyed, like he was waiting for something to jump out at him.

Then the ghosts started showing up.

The first one was a lunch lady with glowing green skin who turned the meat in the cafeteria into meat monsters that attacked the students and faculty. She came to get revenge on a girl who got the school lunch menu changed to add vegan options. The school was evacuated, and all the students were accounted for, except the weird kid and his two friends, who no one could find.

The second ghost was called Phantom, and no one what exactly caused him to appear. Unlike all the other ghosts, he didn't want revenge or power. He showed up out of the blue, and within fifteen minutes, he fought the Lunch Lady, and trapped her in a magic thermos, then vanished. No one saw him leave. He was just gone... without a trace.

My mom says she didn't notice it herself, but some of the weird kid's classmates said that after that first ghost attack, the kid started carrying around a strange-looking thermos everywhere he went. But no one ever saw him eat or drink from it. People said that sometimes... they heard howling and moaning coming from it. Like there was something inside... and it wanted out.

That was the first haunting, but it wasn't the last. That same year on Halloween night, the Fright Knight himself showed up at the school haunted house to get back the sword the weird kid had somehow stolen from him, and unleash hell on the whole town. Phantom showed up again, defeated Fright Knight, and just as before, he disappeared like he was never there at all.

For four years ghosts attacked the school, Phantom would show up out of nowhere, fight them, beat them, and disappear just a quickly. My mom graduated after the first year, but my Aunt Mindy was there the whole time. She was in the same year as the weird kid, and even had a class with him when they were sophomores. She swears one time she saw his eyes glow bright green.

She also says that in her yearbooks, if you compare his yearbook photos you can see how his appearance changes over time. Their freshman photos were taken before his accident, and he looks totally normal, but with each year his skin looks paler, his hair looks wispier, his teeth look sharper, and his eyes look brighter, and the photos themselves start to have distortion in them, like there's something wrong with the camera, but only for his photos.

But no matter how much his appearance changed, he never looked older. She dug out her yearbook to show me his senior photo once, and it's totally true. In his senior photo he's pale as a ghost, and his hair looks like it's floating, and his teeth look like straight-up fangs, it's super creepy.

Anyway, my Aunt Mindy told me that the ghost attacks continued, until her graduation ceremony. And at the ceremony, every ghost that had ever attacked the school was in the audience, just sitting there, peacefully, putting everyone on edge. Every ghost except for Phantom, who was notably missing. As soon as the weird kid took his diploma, the ghosts vanished.

My mom was there too, sitting right next to the ghost of a pop-star, so close she could feel the heat of the ghostly flames. She said that when the ghosts disappeared, there was a sense of finality that you could almost touch, like a pressure was released, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Somehow they were sure that was the end of the hauntings, and everything would be safe and normal again.

My Aunt Lina says the weirdness didn't end there. She started high school the year after Aunt Mindy graduated. She was supposed to be a freshman when Aunt Mindy was a senior, but she got held back once in the sixth grade and had to repeat a year. She says when she started at Casper High, she knew something was up with it right away.

There were cold spots in the classrooms, and no matter how high you turned the thermostat, they never went away. If you listened closely, you could hear voices in the library, even when no one was talking. The lights would flicker in the hallway sometimes, for no reason, and the old ghost alarms, you know... the ones gathering dust in each of the classrooms and the hallways because they haven't been used in over a decade? Well they would flash, just once, not like they would to alert you of a ghost, briefly enough that it could just be a trick of the light, except that so many students were so sure they'd seen it. They couldn't all be mistaken.

Then, halfway through Aunt Lina's freshman year, one of the upperclassmen found a classroom next to the auditorium that was all boarded up and hadn't been used in years. Room 146. He thought it would be a good place to hide out and smoke weed with his friends since it looked like even the janitor had forgotten where it was, so he and his friends pried up the boards, and when they opened the door there were met with an icy gust of wind.

The inside of the room was so cold they could see their breath, even though the school was pretty well heated. And it looked like it had once been a storage room that they hadn't cleared out before they boarded it up because it was full of weird technology, strange artifacts, and books on the occult. Everything was stacked up against the walls along with a wall of stacked desks and chairs from when it had once been an actual classroom.

The only thing not pushed to the side was a single desk standing in the middle of the room with an odd looking thermos standing on top of it. It had the last name of the weird kid written on the side. When they tried to pick up the thermos, they got zapped with a static shock. It seemed like no matter how many times they tried to pick it up, it never ran out of static charge 'cause it just kept shocking them.

The students weren't really bothered by any of this, and they pulled out their joint, but every time they tried to light it, a breeze would come out of nowhere and put their lighter out. Aunt Lina says she heard one of the kids who was actually there telling people about it, and he swore up and down he heard a disembodied voice say "don't smoke that shit in here!"

After that, they all ran out screaming.

They spread the story around the school, and a few days later, a group of students calling themselves the paranormal research club went to room 146. My Aunt Lina was with them, since she was always a believer in the paranormal. They observed the thermos, took readings of the temperature, and catalogued all the items that had been stored there. While they did this, they also cleaned up the room, dusting and mopping, but never moving the desk in the center, or the thermos on top, believing that it didn't want to be moved.

It took them two weeks, and by the time they finished, one of the members complained that they hadn't gotten any studying done because they were busy with this project after school every day and during lunch, and they were totally going to fail their physics test. When they left the room after lunch, that member says they felt like the icy chill that always hung in room 146 followed them out.

Thinking it was just their imagination, they went to physics class. The tests got handed out, and as expected, they knew immediately that they were screwed. They didn't recognize any of the equations, and were sure they were about to bomb, but then, they heard a voice whispering in their ear. It walked them through the first problem, then the second, then the third, helping them find the answer, correcting them when they got something wrong.

They said as soon as they turned in their test, the icy chill that had followed them vanished, and they felt warmth finally set in. When they got the test back, they saw they'd gotten an A.

Sure that they'd gotten help from whatever mysterious entity was in room 146, they went back the next day with a bag of offering, like they would offer their dead loved ones on the Day of the Dead, sweets and fresh bread and flowers. They spoke to the creature, which they assumed was a ghost, thanking it for its help. They asked its name.

It answered, "Phantom."

Again, the story got spread around the school, and other students started going to room 146, bringing gifts for Phantom, and asking for his help, with tests with bullies, with setting up decorations for school dances, and it worked. More stories spread among the student body, of hearing test answers, of bullies shoelaces being somehow tied together, of streamers and lights hanging themselves on the gym's ceiling for homecoming.

And the offerings... the flowers stayed fresh, the trinkets were neatly arranged on the shelves, the sweets and snacks disappeared. Though the Paranormal Research Club still kept the room clean, they all swore on their lives they never did anything to the offerings, except throw out the flowers when they finally died.

To this day, Casper High's famous Paranormal Research Club maintains Room 146 as part of their club activities, and you can still leave offerings for Phantom ans ask for his help, although they say he's been pickier and less active in the past couple of years, the rumor mill still circulates new stories.

My best friend said she asked Phantom that nothing would go wrong for her at her first prom, and when she got back, she noticed her dress had ripped at some point in the night, but she hadn't noticed because somehow it had been fixed with a safety pin made out of ice. She still has that pin; I've seen it. It's been months, but it hasn't melted.

You may not believe in ghost stories. You may scoff at the idea of ghouls and cryptids. You may think there's no monster under your bed, but do you know for sure? Have you checked?

I have.

[snaileer]

Time Unsolved

Dp Unsolved

“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”

Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.

But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?

“What a name!” Shane cut it immediately, yellow words typing themself across the screen. Ryan laughed.

“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.

Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.

“Uh, /he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”

Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”

“That’s okay. /I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”

“Alright then.”

The screen was lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.

“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.

They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”

“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?” Shane cut in.

“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.

-People move, Ryan.-

-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-

Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.

The images came back.

“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”

There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “

-You ever own a Swiss watch?-

-Nope-

-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-

-Yep.-

-…-

“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”

The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.

“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”

-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-

Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-

-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-

-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-

-Yeah!-

“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”

The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.

“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.

He returned to his shop soon after.”

Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.

“With later evidence statements regarding Charles stating that he was an ‘odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’

This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”

-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.

-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-

-He’s advertising, ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’-

Ryan laughs.

“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”

Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.

While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’

Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”

It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.

“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”

“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”

Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.

“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”

Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.

“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.

Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.

Something that had never happened before.”

The word ‘before’ faded into red.

“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn��t be stolen.

At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.

It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.

But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room.

It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.

Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.

Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.

A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.

The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.

However, despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”

The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.

“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”

Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“

“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.

Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”

“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”

“What???”

“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”

Ryan wheezed into his elbow.

Danny laughed quietly.

Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”

Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.

“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.

Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.

This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.

In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.

This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.

Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.

Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”

The screen switched.

Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”

Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”

“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”

“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”

“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”

“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.

Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.

“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.

This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”

“Or in a grave.”

“You really think he was mafia?”

“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.

“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.

This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.

None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”

Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.

“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.

Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”

“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”

“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.

“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”

Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.

Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.

“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.

This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.

Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”

“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.

“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“

Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.

“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.

This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”

“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.

Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.

And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:

Unsolved.”

Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.

No way.

No freaking way.

He lurched upwards, eyes wide.

Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.

Oh mygod!

Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”

He dove for the ghost portal.

Holy frick!

Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!

[bluerosefox]

A Fair Warning

It was only a matter of time, and a long awaited and well deserved comeuppance, when Joker tried to hurt the wrong person or people.

Not everyone was going to play his games like 'Batsy' does. Not everyone will hesitate or let him live should he put his hands on someone to hurt them. Not everyone will believe Arkham could 'fix' him, he just needed more time and help.

No.

This time Joker bit off more than he could chew when he kidnapped the newly hired Arkham psychiatrist Jasmine Fenton (and he had plans, so many plans, for her. With her mixture of Harley's mind and her looks matching Gordon's daughter would sure to cause some chaos and pain in memories) and the girl's visiting sister Danielle 'Ellie' (and did he laugh when he noticed the 'Wayne' adoptive looks the girl had, on the fun he'll have, maybe he'll beat her the way he beat the second Robin just for funzie's, it'll no doubt upset Batman) from Jasmine's apartment.

He had plans to keep the Bats guessing where he was and by the time they reach him it'll be far to late for them to save either of the two girls, he had just sent the little video he taped to the Bats and the police to get the ball rolling...

So...

So why did a shiver run down his spine for the first time in years when they both looked unafraid (it was their eyes that made him shiver, a look of already dead yet somehow alive, something he never seen before. He's seen the light fade from people's eyes before yes, he's even laughed as he watch people desperately cling onto life only for it to fade into nothing as they took a final breath but never have he seen someone, something alive yet dead at the same time before. It, their eyes, held a natural yet unnatural sense as they stared at him, stared at everything that made him Joker and it unnerved him), honestly they looked very bored, and one of them (the youngest of the two, and the one with more of the look of death than life in their eyes) said with a chill tune in their tone.

"Last chance to back out of this Freakshows Reject. You wont like what'll be waiting for you."

The tone alone was enough to send another bone deep chill down Joker's spine.

But instead of listening to his natural instincts, the deep inkling of run blaring at him, Joker merely placed a grin on his face, ignoring the strain he felt from doing so, and said as nastily as he could in order to scare the two girls (BOTH OF THEM STILL LOOKED BORED WITH HIM?!?! Not even a twitch of fear!)

"OH? And pray tell what is awaiting little ol' me hum?"

His mocking question got a wide feral grin from the smaller girl, a grin with sharp teeth and iris eyes beginning to bleed slowly from sky blue to neon green with each second he stared at her and he barely stopped himself from jumping in his spot when Jasmine answered his question.

"Your end."

-x-x-

By the time the Bats get to the warehouse Joker had taken Dr. Jasmine 'Jazz' Fenton and Danielle 'Ellie' Fenton they were prepared for anything and everything to go wrong. As much as they held the tiniest bit of hope that the two young women were still okay they knew better than to really do, this was the Joker that had them after all.

They had manged to narrow down his location much quicker than normal when they gotten Joker's first video and his little 'game' he was setting the Bats on, most locations he gave them were going to be red herrings or traps to keep them busy and it would had worked. Batman and the others would had been searching for hours for even a hint of the clue of where the Joker and his hostages were actually being kept.

It was nearly, not really, a shame all of Joker's plans went to waste when Red Hood had stumbled onto something when scooping out Jasmine's apartment with Red Robin.

You see, not only were they looking for clues at first but something about the apartment Jasmine rented seemed off, Red Robin noticed it first and called in back up encase there was more to oldest Fenton than what they could dig up (oldest daughter of Dr's. Jackson and Madeline Fenton, grew up in a small Illinois town, straight A student and a goal to become a psychologist, has two younger siblings, etc etc) and their suspension raised up more when the moment Red Hood entered the apartment and seemed to freeze for a moment.

Red Hood couldn't really explain it but he said it felt like something was... strange. Not evil bad danger strange but it felt familiar? Like he was a kid again on the streets and had walked into someone else's territory but knew the person wouldn't be too much of a hardass about it as long as he didn't stur up trouble or disrespect. A kind of... as long as you don't fuck around you won't find out feeling.

It was because of this feeling that Jason had manged to stumble across something in the room, his instincts telling him there was more to it, and they had discovered a clunky old custom PDA hidden away in a false floorboard in the office room. Thankfully Red Robin, was there in person because the old thing apparently had a rather ingenious firewall to keep others (aka Hackers) OUT but it did nothing against someone who held the main thing.

But still it took Red Robin almost frying the damn thing to get to open up, turns out the ghost and star stickers on the PDA was a rather large hint of the pass code. Once Red Robin was in the PDA he noticed some rather interesting files, one of them labeled "Gremlin Tracking" with a tiny green blob with red eyes and a green outlined star as the icons.

Curiosity taking a hold on the most curious of the Bats he opened it up, hoping it would need another password, and watched as the screen split into two maps, one was... strange, there was no land marks or anything but the star icon seemed to be right in the middle of wherever it was and the only hint of anything was the name "baby brother" and the map labeled as IR.

The other one showed an above map of Gotham, before zooming into the city, heading towards some abandoned warehouses Red Robin knew of and stopped right at one. This was the green blob icon, the short abbreviation for Gotham in the corner of the map, and the name for the icon was 'baby sister'

Red Robin immediately got onto coms to tell the others of what apparently was a tracker for Jasmine's younger siblings. Some questioned why the young woman had trackers on her siblings, though some of the others snarked back that "oh didn't know keeping trackers on each other wasn't normal. Mind if I loose the one you got on me than?"

After a quick sweep into the warehouses camera feeds, the very few up that could be accessed, done by Oracle they quickly discovered that yes the tracking on the younger girl of the two, Danielle Fenton, was correct and that was where they and Joker were at.

Despite this, Batman decided that in order to make sure Joker didn't have suspicion that they already know his actual location he made sure to send a few of the others to the fake locations.

So here they were now, staking out the warehouse where they could see a few of the Jokers goons walking around and looking for a way into the building without alerting any of them. As they talked low into coms, Robin mentioning a possible way in for Red Robin by how small it was, Red Robin hissing back a "just because you got a growth spurt doesn't mean you can poke fun at my height you little-"

"Wait!" Red Hood suddenly hissed shouted, his tone startling the rest of them and they all turned their heads to him. Batman made a quick and harsh grunt as a way to say "report."

Under his helmet Jason's eyes were wide and wild. He could feel something, something huge was on the rise, like something was out of sight but the energy of it was felt.

And if Jason could feel it from his spot, the Jokers goons all felt the same thing from the way they all dropped their weapons, turned toward the warehouse and looked ready to bolt like scared animals.

Jason opened his mouth to explain but fell silent when the feeling suddenly popped. Whatever was causing the feeling was here and like the calm before the storm he could only watch as the first drop of rain fall.

The next thing they know, was the noise and the screaming.

It was inhuman, a mixture of noise and sounds to hard to explain. The closest they could explain was a thousand voices coming in all at once mixing with radio static that kept changing volume so only few words could be even hinted at, and the angry cawing of crows along with the flapping of their wings as they took flight. The noise was so bad that many who heard it nearly ripped their coms out, or covered their ears. Thankfully it only lasted a few seconds.

Then, the air itself shifted. It felt like the coldest of winter nights and bone chilling shivers ran down their bodies for a moment. The air was suddenly that sharp cold that hurt to breathe sometimes.

The goons surrounding the warehouse fled in fear. Many scrambling to get far, far away from whatever was happening. If they felt even a fraction of what Jason could feel, he could understand. He honestly felt like a small animal cornered by a predator and there was no escape.

Then just as suddenly as it happened, everything shifted again. The noise of Gotham returned to normal, cars honking, a stray cat hissing or a dog barking, police sirens in the distance, hissing steam from a nearby factory. The air went from winter cold to a chill mid winter harbor feel now.

Once everyone registered what had just happened and not wanting to waste anymore time they bolted towards the warehouse, cautious and alert in case they needed to fight. Batman went in first, quickly making his way to the area he knew Joker would be with the Fenton sisters and wondered just what the fuck was that? Did Joker do something? Was he messing with things outside of his usual MO?!

He walked into the room and stopped.

There was nothing.

The room was in fact the room Joker had used to record his first message to them, the layout was correct and the evidence of two people who had been tied up were still there as well, ropes that weren't cut sitting on them, a lone lamp light above shining down from above no doubt to emphasize the two girls were meant to be the 'stars' of Jokers latest show. Thing was, the two weren't there despite the fact Oracle swore she could see them a few mins ago from a camera set up in the room, she would later explain that she heard the noise as well and that all her tech had glitched hard.

The only other thing in the room was, sitting innocently on one of the chairs was a green sticky note and on a tiny pillow was a tiny sickly green orb with hints of purple, white, and red swirling in it.

A note they would later read the following message written on it after carefully examining it over.

'Joker learned not to touch what is mine to protect. Sorry not sorry, but hey one less killer clown and he was warned not my fault he didn't take it seriously... The massive amount of souls wanting to rip apart the Joker's soul into nothing was quite a sight to be honest.

They were so ruthless. Best not mess with the vengeful dead am I right?

PS. I left a tiny gift for Jason Todd aka Robin Two. It's the tiniest piece of Joker's soul left over after everyone else got done. He can finish it off since he's a reverent and all, and well they need their revenge filled in order to peacefully move on later or else they'll be stuck forever in a loop of madness and revenge. So yeah. Hope he likes the gift.'

D.P.'

It took Jason less than a second after those words were spoken out to reach for the orb, ignoring the cautious and alarmed cries of the others, and could feel deep, deep, deep in his own soul the absolute pure weeping joy as he threw the orb onto the floor, the bottom shattering thus it didn't roll away and stomped hard with his reinforced boots. Crushing the broken orb into more pieces and if one listened closely they could hear the pure screaming terror that came from it.

And Jason for the first time in years felt his rage finally leave him.

[decibly]

Barry was hungry. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, as he could just grab some snacks from the kitchen, but he was watching a movie, and he was comfy. He really, really didn’t want to try and wriggle back to where he was now

“Phantom?” he called out hopefully.

A white glove emerged from the wall behind him, dropping an unopened bag of chips on top of his head. When Barry reached up to grab it, he saw that it was salt and vinegar, which explained why it was still uneaten. Phantom seemed to refuse those chips under all circumstances.

Barry didn’t really get it, because salt and vinegar was awesome, but that didn’t really matter. The point was, Phantom was a great person, even if he probably wasn’t human, and it didn’t matter if Barry hadn’t ever actually seen more of him than his arm, and he had told Barry his name by leaving a piece of paper on a table when he turned his back for three seconds after asking if there was a name for the ‘friend in the walls’, as Wally had called him.

“Thanks, Phantom!” The hand stuck itself out the wall again, forming a thumbs up.

***** ***** *****

Diana had found a bit of a problem. It wasn’t a big one, and was honestly more of an annoyance than anything, but her paper copy of Earth’s current standing with all known alien civilization was missing. She could get access to it again in a few hours, once the security upgrade to their computers was finished, but she had been intending to review it for a few weeks now and could use the extra time. 

An idea came to her suddenly, and Diana quietly asked, “Phantom? Are you here?” In answer, a chilly breeze blew through her hair. He was, then. “By any chance, would you happen to have seen my copy of th-” Interrupting her, the very papers she was looking for appeared out of nowhere on her desk. A green sticky note was stuck to it, reading ‘This? Sorry for taking it, but it was really interesting’

Diana smiled, hopefully in the ghosts direction. “Yes, that. If you want, I could see if I could get you your own copy?” Another green sticky note appeared on top of the first, this one just oozing the feeling of happiness. ‘YES PLEASE!!!’

***** ***** *****

Bruce… didn’t really know what to do about the teenager floating just outside the Watchtower. He looked like Phantom, from the few times anyone had actually seen the ghost, and he appeared to be enjoying himself in the vacuum outside instead of dying painfully, which was another point of evidence for that theory. Unsure of what else he could do, he knocked on the window on the off chance that he could get Phantom’s attention that way.

The ghost immediately vanished from view, and a strong, freezing cold breze blew in from the direction of the window Phantom had been outside. Bruce shivered violently from the unexpected chill.

Next time he would leave Phantom alone. Being out in space seemed to make him happy, and it was best not ruin that.

[arrowheadedbitch]

Guys, I think I might just like cryptid esque characters who have a secret to keep and lots of trauma

[fandom-lover-extra]

DP X DC Prompt: Conspiracy Cryptids - Soultouch

Soulmate bonds were looked upon as a blessing. For they were rare and few and far between.

With the added presence of extraterrestrial lifeforms, there was a guarantee that it made it even more difficult to find any potential Soulmate that someone might have. 

And of course, not all Soulmate bonds were the same, most differing in variety. The point being, it was very difficult to find one's soulmate if one did have them. 

However, the media stated that it was always worth the effort. Soulmate bonds always worked out, either that be platonically or romantically, soulmates would be with each other for life.

So, what exactly did one do if their soulmate kept dying over and over again?

Tim, Bernard, Danny, and Wes all shared a soulmate bond. A touch-bond based Soulbond. They could feel anything their soulmate physically came into contact with. Skin on skin. And they could also feel any injuries their soulmate acquired.

Which, wasn't inherently an issue.

At first, the group couldn't actually tell how many soulmates they had once they realized what the soulbond was. The general consensus amongst them all was that they at least had more than one soulmate.

Danny didn't look to deeply into it. Wes and Bernard had been curious but had also left the detail alone. And Tim was the one that had been the one that had actually spent hours upon hours of sleepless nights trying to figure out just how many he had.

(He had even learned morse code in the hopes of communicating with his soulmates, but not being able to actually get his soulmates to do the same thing had more or less ruined the point.)

Everything, other than that, had been fine for the most part. Besides the general occasional scraps and bruises, everything had been fine. That was a normal occurrence amongst a touch-bond based Soulbond.

And then, Tim Drake became Robin at thirteen years old. And the injuries got a bit more severe. They were much more serious. 

This started Bernard down the path of looking into Gotham's vigilante's. It was no secret that Batman took on Young prodigies, that other heroes at times would do the same. With the injuries his soulmate was receiving, Bernard began his search.

Danny and Wes had considered that their soulmate might be apart of an abusive household. But besides hugging themselves, they couldn't add much for comfort.

And then, Danny died when he was fourteen. His end of the bond going quiet. Tim, Bernard, and Wes all assumed one of their soulmates had died. That was until Danny's end of the bond came back as if nothing had happened. Sometimes with even more bruises they didn't feel happen originally, or completely unharmed.

Tim and Bernard assumed their soulmate was in the hospital, going in-between life and death. Tim doing more than a few illegal things in an attempt to find one of his soulmates. Wes had thought the same until he had saw Phantom bleed once. Noticed how Phantom always appeared when that end of the bond went quiet and was nowhere to be seen when it came back. He drove himself insane looking for Phantom.

Danny decidedly, did not in fact know of the frenzy he was putting his soulmates through. Or the fact that he was apart of making his soulmates as insane as they are about their conspiracy theories.

[hannahmanderr]

I see your increasingly eldritch ghost form for Danny, and I raise you:

Phantom who, instead of looking more ghostly, is just a little too much like a human.

Like yeah, everyone knows Danny Fenton can send literal chills up people's spines and they swear they've seen his eyes start to glow in the right light, but have you seen Phantom? Like why isn't his skin green or blue or even deathly white? It's a lot healthier looking than Fenton's, that's for sure.

And just about every ghost that comes through has crazy sharp fangs, but if anything, Phantom's canines are just a little sharper than normal, but really they don't look too different than Wes' when he's on one of his rage induced rants.

Not to mention the physical presence he has in Amity Park. The way he inhabits space just feels different than most other ghosts, as if Phantom is somehow more connected to the physical world. Like why is he opening doors when he can just phase through them?

Kat, who works the after school shifts at the Nasty Burger with Valerie, swears up and down that she's seen him sitting on the roof, eating two or three burgers at a time (and sharing his fries with the little blob ghost family that lives in the dumpsters).

Dale knows for a fact he's seen Phantom talking on a cell phone of all things with someone. Even claims he heard Phantom mention something about playing DOOMED.

Mrs. Greigerit, the tiny old lady who's cashiered at the grocery store since forever, loves to talk about the time Phantom grabbed a few first aid supplies off the shelves after a ghost attack to help a woman and her toddler patch up until EMS arrived. According to her, he knew exactly how to work with these things meant to heal humans, and he even left a crumpled handful of human cash on her counter to pay for the supplies before he disappeared.

Amity Park notices, just like they notice the strangeness that surrounds Danny Fenton. But really, maybe it's just AP weirdness finally rubbing off on Phantom.

Everyone brushes it off until Jack and Maddie Fenton do the unthinkable and offer their help to Phantom after a particularly nasty fight.

"We saw him there, and... we saw just another person who needed help," Jack tells Tiffany Snow later that day. "A kid who could've been going to school with mine. What else were we supposed to do?"