#dp giw

[ectospacecadet]

-[Frame it and Hang it]-

Aether managed to sneak into the GIW facility and steal his file, luckily he managed to get it before they could write their Plan of Action.

Here’s the GIW logo I put together, I wanted it to look like sunglasses, I hope it worked. Feel free to use it, just be sure to credit me 💚

[d-j-t-15]

Danny phantom au idea

Some thing’s about my Danny phantom au:

Johnny 13’s real name is Jonathan ‘Johnny’ Sullivan.

He and Kitty died in a car crash.

Kitty’s real name is Catherine ‘Kitty’ Manson.

Kitty is Grandma Ida’s niece.

Warden Walker is Danny’s maternal grandfather and he died of a bullet wound during a prison riot.

The Box Ghost is Jack Fenton’s older brother and he died in a workplace accident.

Ember’s parents are both former musicians and were happy that she wanted to follow in their footsteps.

Ember has an older brother named Andrew ‘Drew’ McLain Jr.

The name of Ember’s dad is Andrew ‘Drew’ McLain

The name of Ember’s mom is Eleanor McLain

Ember’s parents aren’t stupid, when Ember first appeared in Amity Park, they immediately recognized her as their daughter.

The GIW are not idiots and are actually quite intelligent when it comes to chemistry and physics.

It’s just that they have stormtrooper levels of aiming and their patrons can’t cover all the damage that they cause.

[half-deadmagicperson]

TW DISSECTION ⚠️

Seeing if I can finally post this today

Audio by 0grimlin0 on Instagram

[raaorqtpbpdy]

The Noteworthy Career of Operative E

The most experienced operative in the entire Ghost Investigation Ward recalls his history with the organization.

For the prompt: It was easier 15 years ago [from @dykesville]

Read on AO3

[No warnings apply]

The Ghost Investigation Ward had been around for a long time, but interestingly, it had a very short turnover rate for employees. For whatever reason, this job got to people. Especially these days.

Operative E was currently the most experienced active operative in the organization, and he was only on his... fifteenth... sixteenth year? Something like that. He wasn't the oldest. No, that honor belonged to Operative M, but he'd joined up older, and had only been with the agency for about ten years.

Rumor had it that only three agents in G.I.W. history had ever served for twenty years, since the Ward was founded in 1946. Operative E always planned to make it four. But, God help him, he was starting to wonder if he'd make it.

The organization had changed since he first joined up, a fresh-faced young man of twenty-five, fresh out of the U.S. Navy with an honorable discharge and glowing letter of recommendation that his captain assured him would get him into damn near any government agency there was.

E had chosen this one.

The head of the G.I.W. had raised an eyebrow when he read the recommendation and asked E why the hell he wanted the join the G.I.W. when he had a letter that could practically get him into the presidential cabinet. It was an exaggeration, of course. It was a good letter, but not that good.

Operative E had simply shrugged and said this seemed like more fun.

At the time, it had just been a handful of operatives, three or four scientists, and a couple dozen support staff members, including hazmats—all of them working out of a building down the street from the Pentagon that was little more than a shack with a couple of dingy basement levels. They didn't have much to do, but they kept themselves busy anyway, and even though they hardly had any direct oversight, they tried to be as professional and by-the-book as possible.

Operative E had respected them from the beginning because they clearly respected themselves. They took themselves seriously, even if no one else did.

The Ghost Investigation Ward had been a joke back then—even to the Extra-Terrestrial Research Unit (which was not in Area 51 by the way, and hadn't investigated any more legitimate cases than the G.I.W. had, not back then nor since, because aliens weren't real). They were the bottom of the barrel, lower than even the other niche departments that dealt with things no one believed it. The Cryptozoolgical Response Sector used them as the butt of their jokes, and those guys had been fruitlessly searching for Bigfoot since the fifties.

Operative E hadn't minded though. He'd always kept it to himself to avoid judgement from his peers, but he'd believed in ghosts since he was a little boy, and he'd had a fascination with the macabre and paranormal for just as long. Joining the military had been expected of him, family tradition and all, but studying ghosts, investigating spiritual activity, this was his dream job.

Or it had been his dream job... when he started.

A lot had changed since then. Things were different now, more intense, more dangerous, more difficult.

It was easier fifteen years ago.

Operative E could remember his first mission for the G.I.W., all the way back in the eighties. He'd been dispatched to a small town in western New York that he no longer remembered the name of with his partner, who had been Operative K at the time, although there was a new Operative K who was nothing at all like his predecessor. An alleged haunted house owned by one Margaret Porter.

He and his partner had performed a perfectly by-the-book investigation, and int the process, K had shown him the ropes, pointed out what and what not to look for, what to be wary of, what sort of things might look like ghosts but weren't, and how he could avoid letting himself be fooled by them.

In the end, they determined that Margaret Porter's house was not haunted. She'd just had a faulty radiator and a pair of raccoons living in her attic.

Operative K had seen the same thing before. Downtrodden, he'd warned the bright-eyed young Operative E that most of the cases he would investigate with the G.I.W. would turn out to be duds like that one, if not deliberate hoaxes. E had heard him, but chosen not to internalize that warning, to hold out hope that the next case would be a real haunting.

His second case was a woman whose seven-year-old daughter swore up and down that she'd been playing with a ghost in the garden at least once a week since they'd moved into the house. Operative K let E take the lead on that one, sidelining himself to give his trainee some practice. Operative E had thought for sure that it had to be a real haunting this time. It was too compelling not to be.

It had turned out to be one of the neighbor kids playing a trick on the little girl. She'd mistaken him for a ghost since he was albino, and could only go outside at night, or for very brief periods during day, because of the sun. The neighbor boy had thought it was hilariously funny and encouraged her misconception.

Still, the young Operative E refused to let it get him down. The third time was the charm, as the saying went, after all.

The third time was the charm.

Apparently young Operative E hadn't learned yet to be careful what he wished for. Now, he would give anything to go back to those easy days.

Operative K—his original partner, not the young hotshot who had the title now—was a cynic, so when they got their third case, a college student in Wisconsin who had a case of 'ghostly acne', K immediately assumed it was a crank call. Nevertheless, the two of them went to investigate. After all, it wasn't as if there were any more pressing cases that needed to be taken care of. The only active case at the time that the organization thought might have any legitimacy was already being taken care of by Operatives U and I.

At the time, U and I were the G.I.W.'s top operatives, so they got all the best cases, the ones that sounded most like they could be genuine hauntings. Operative E had been so jealous. He'd wanted so badly to be in their position, but he knew that he was green, and new, and he would have to establish himself more before he had that kind of credibility with the higher ups, so he went to investigate the probably fake ghost acne in Wisconsin.

The afflicted was a graduate student at University of Wisconsin in Madison, but it wasn't at the school that the operatives found him. It was in the urgent care ward of Madison General Hospital. He had apparently been hospitalized for the very same bout of acne that the G.I.W. had caught wind of and sent people to look into.

"Excuse me, we're here to visit a Vladimir Masters," Operative K said to the administrator at the visitors desk.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Masters isn't taking visitors, his parents were very insistent that no one be allowed to see him. He's in quite a state."

"We're with the government, ma'am." Operative K flashed his badge and E took the hint that he should do the same. "We need to ask him some questions."

As long as she didn't look to closely at their credentials, they wouldn't be laughed out of the building for being paranormal investigators. Although technically K hadn't been lying when he said they were government, he just knew which parts needed to be left out in order to get the job done. K was clever like that, cunning, not like the young brash Operative K they had now, relying on technology to do his job because he didn't have any common sense.

"Oh... well..."

She hemmed and hawed, no doubt weighing in her mind whether it would be better to piss off Masters' parents or the US government and coming to the right conclusion—or at least the one the benefited them the most. Operative E never found out how the parents had reacted, so he couldn't know for sure how that had turned out for the administrator, not that it was of any importance to his own work.

"Alright, I suppose we can make an exception for the government," she said. Then she handed them both yellow paper tags. "Here are your visitor badges. Just clip 'em to your label, or your pocket, anywhere as long as they're visible. Masters is in room 212 on the second floor."

They did as she said and made their way up to the room, where they found a man around the same age Operative E had been at the time, if not a few years younger, lying on a bed, visibly in pain, despite all the tubes connected to him—no doubt at least one was painkillers. And on his face, his arms, every visible inch of skin and no doubt the ones hidden under his blankets and hospital gown as well... was glowing green spots.

It was like no acne E had ever seen before or since.

In fact, he'd never seen anything like it before, acne or otherwise. And judging by the look on K's face, it was a first for him, too. He regained his composure faster than E did, though, introduced them both and started to ask the routine questions about cold spots and lights flickering.

Masters responded to the questions with a weak, ailing voice, and repeatedly asked why they were even there, in his hospital room, and what they thought they could learn by talking to him. The G.I.W. didn't go places to answer questions, however, they went to ask them, and once K was done with the standard interview, he moved on to the case-specific questions.

Namely: where, when, and how Masters had become inflicted with his condition.

It was an odd mix to hear someone tell a story with such a bitter tone whilst simultaneously moaning and gasping in pain every so often. He recounted his experience of trying to open a portal with his school's paranormal research club, and how things went awry. At the end, he added with a sneer that they hadn't even come to visit him, even though his condition was their fault and he'd thought they were friends.

E and K had looked at each other at that, but neither had said anything. It seemed like something Masters should discuss with his parents, and not two strangers with a job to do. College friendships were not their business. Their business was ghosts.

With his permission, they'd carefully taken some samples of the... stuff... the whatever it was under his skin that gave his pimples that sickly glow. Apparently the doctors were having no luck curing it thus far, and he didn't see the harm in having more people trying to find a solution. Then they'd gotten the names of the two other club members, thanked Masters for his time, and left.

It wasn't the last time they had cause to go to that hospital, but it was the last time they visited Masters directly.

After the hospital, they went to the school to learn more about this paranormal research club that Masters had been working with. They quickly found it. Apparently the club was rather infamous on campus for being freaks and nutjobs. Rumors like that wouldn't deter the G.I.W., of course. Freaks and nutjobs were exactly the kind of people they wanted to hear from.

The other two members of the paranormal research club were a behemoth of a man named Fenton and a lean but sprightly young woman by the name of Winch. They confirmed Masters' story.

When the operatives had asked to look at their portal project, the two students were happy to oblige, but warned that it probably wouldn't be of much value to them. The heap of scorched scrap metal in a cardboard box labeled 'ghost portal' was explanation enough. As expected, examining the remains of the portal project yielded no worthwhile information.

The whole situation was certainly ghost-adjacent, which was good news for the continued existence of the G.I.W., but as there were no actual ghosts to investigate, the operatives had eventually returned to HQ with only copious notes in hand, as well as the names of three people upon which keeping tabs might prove fruitful. The higher-ups had agreed, and activated surveillance on Vladimir Masters, Madeline Winch, and Jack Fenton.

That was the turning point.

First it was evidence of a haunting at the hospital where Masters was. U and I were sent to investigate—despite Operative E's protest that it was his and K's case to begin with and they should be the ones going back there—and they determined that the haunting was legitimate, and furthermore that the ghosts seemed to be drawn to whatever strange energy Masters gave off, probably due to his condition.

E and K had gotten to return after that, to stake out the hospital for continued spectral activity—but only because the organization thought their best operatives would be more useful elsewhere. Just as their fellow operatives had reported, Madison General Hospital had several ghosts hanging around it then, and they were the real deal.

At least, Operative E had thought they were the real deal. He had been so excited, and dutifully logged every single shred of activity they observed before finally cleansing the place of ghosts with their anti-ecto pulse generators—the first time Operative K had ever had need to use his in the field.

A month or so later, however, they were called in to return to that hospital and cleanse it again. Then again. Every month or two for years, Operatives E and K would go to cleanse that hospital of spectral activity, then, when K retired after eleven years with the ward, Operative E took his new partner, Operative J.

It wasn't an especially difficult task, but it was the first consistent and recurring ghostly activity on the record, and E was happy to do it. It was fulfilling work, and he actually got to deal with real ghosts.

He learned years later that those weren't real ghosts. They were barely shades, each one a shadow of a whisper of what a real ghost was like.

Masters wasn't the only one they were keeping tabs on, but, embarrassingly, the G.I.W. sort of lost track of Fenton and Winch shortly after the two of them got married. Someone had been slacking, and when the two of them moved out of Wisconsin, they dropped off the organization's radar entirely.

The slacker was summarily identified and their employment with the G.I.W. terminated. That kind of oversight was unacceptable, especially now that they'd provided actual proof of the existence of ghost and were under review for a funding increase.

The funding increase was eventually approved, and it was enough that they could move into a new headquarters and hire a few more employees. The little ghost activity they'd been able to confirm finally justified their existence, and they were given the means to combat the ghost issue more effectively than ever.

That didn't stop things being weird, though.

It was as if that portal experiment actually had worked to some degree, because after that very first trip to Wisconsin, the number of genuine hauntings the G.I.W. operatives identified skyrocketed. And as time passed, the ghosts they encountered became ever so slightly stronger. They were more visible, some of them could even move things... touch things.

Slowly... slowly... Operative E began to understand the truth about ghosts. Began to learn that the shades he'd first encountered were mere echoes of a true ghost's power.

Then... there was the million dollar ghost.

And suddenly that slow, steady progression sped up exponentially, and the G.I.W. was suddenly faced with ghosts leaps and bounds more powerful and more dangerous than they'd ever encountered before. Their anti-ecto pulse generators were ineffective against the more powerful ecto-entities, and the organization was forced to adapt or become obsolete.

If there was one thing that those who worked at the Ghost Investigation Ward would rather die than become, it was obsolete. This organization had stayed afloat for decades with hardly anything to show for it, and it wasn't about to die because the workload became overwhelming.

Instead, the G.I.W. rose to the occasion. Increased ghost activity meant reasonable cause to request increased funding, increased staffing, better equipment and technology, better training. Within a few months, they had gone from a dedicated, but underappreciated and underutilized sector of the government, to an elite, and highly efficient ghost hunting group.

But it was difficult. Intense. Keeping that up was too much for a lot of people.

The turnaround for employees back when Operative E first started was around ten to fifteen years, now, people who'd only worked there for five or six were handing in their resignations.

The work itself wasn't all that much more difficult than what the CIA or FBI did. But there was something about it that got to people. It wasn't a moral or ethical thing. It wasn't the fact that it made them question their very understanding of reality, of life and death—although that certainly didn't help matters.

It was something else. Something Operative E understood but couldn't identify, like a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn't quite say.

"Ah, Operative E, I hear congratulations are in order."

E jerked his head up, suddenly pulled from his thoughts by Operative M stopping to talk to him.

"Elaborate?" E requested.

"I was just down in records, and Meg down there saw that today marks your twentieth year in the organization. That makes you the fourth operative ever, right?"

"That is what they say."

"Well, congratulations," M repeated. "I can only hope to survive long enough to be the fifth, although at my age and in this line of work, there's no guarantee of that."

"Well, all you have to do is not die for a while and your set."

Operative M gave him a good natured laugh. "Well, sir, I'll do my darnedest."

"That's all anyone can do," Operative E replied. "Thanks, but if you'll excuse me."

He pardoned himself to the restroom, which was, thankfully, empty, and took a good look at himself in the mirror. He was still tall, his muscles hadn't atrophied, thanks to his stringent fitness routine and his physically demanding work. But he hardly recognized himself.

He looked old. His hair greying at the temples, a deep furrow forming on his forehead, skin starting to sag and wrinkle. His eyes were tired. This job had certainly done a number on him over the years. Twenty of them... apparently, not fifteen, not even close.

But still, things were easier fifteen years ago, when he knew how long he'd actually been working, and he could recognize his own face looking back at him in the mirror.

[ghostly-shenanigans-in-progress]

Once in awhile I come on and post art of ocs and canon characters then proceed to disappear for like a couple weeks. Anyways, at the top is Agent J’s issue with being the robocop of the universe bc his suit became part of him and keeps him alive against his will at times.

Au where Walker keeps his memories of his past after dying and continues to raise his kids as a begrudging skeleton dad. And here’s a family tree I built with my friend, @amityparkhalfa.

We had two things in mind, one: Walker is his middle name instead of last name bc it be too confusing to refer to everyone that way and two: I loved the idea his dad named his sons after an old west outlaw, Jesse James, and their daughter after a famous movie actress, Julie London.

Also yes, I hc Danny and Jasmine’s names being connected to them making them their godparents bc I wanted more family friends for them that will protect them and shit on Vlad some more.

Anyways, wanna know more about these people I’ll reblog with links to other stuff relative to them in the tags soon.

[new-revenant]

Danny is also literally like a "spirit guide" to the world of ghosts. He catches them on Earth and sends them back to the zone so they stop rampaging and causing havoc.

When the GIW agents die(any random reason) and their ghosts are formed, I think they are weak as new ghost souls and need the ectoplasm of the Zone itself to not lose themselves and disappear? To saturate themselves with it and literally strengthen their inner kernel.

Danny sees them, and as much as he feels sorry for the ghosts themselves, he feels no proper regret or pity for his past hunters. And instead of taking them to the Far Worlds, he deliberately ignores them and keeps them out of the portals.

The ghosts of the former agents try to sneak through those gaps created by ghosts and ghost animals, but they all know who these newcomers were and are unwilling to let them into their world

Danny and the other ghosts to the GIW: Sucks to suck you sick fucks!

Although, I do think Danny would help them if they are willing to not Be The Worst. Or if they complain hard enough.

[picturejasper20]

Which Villain or ghost in Danny Phantom do you think is more underused?

Well, Desiree is one. She is able to grant any type of wish, the trick is that she twists them to cause chaos to the ones who asked for them. In her first appearance she isn't exactly evil and she has a reason to be the way she is. As in the sense that she is one of the few ghost characters that has a backstory + was confirmed to be alive. She is a character that quite a lot of potential.

Then there is Walker, whenever he appears he shows to be a good antagonist. He has a lot of power and influence in the Ghost Zone. It would have been interesting that he had showed up in more episodes as villain in Season 1 and Season 2. His morality could have been something cool to explore as he is obsessed with all these rules he imposes to others.

The Observants are guys we only see in some scenes. We never get to learn what their whole deal was. They seem to be older and more powerful than the rest of the ghosts in terms of influence and role. Are they supposed to be guardians of some sort? It's so weird that Season 3 didn't expand on them more than one episode. They are big source of fanfiction fuel for the phantom. I have read stories that made some really good things with them.

On last point, The Guys in White don't get to be develop as proper antagonists in spite of being kind of a huge deal that someone like Vlad wouldn't want to mess with them. The episodes they have as main antagonists kinda suck so we never get to see them become a bigger threat. It would have been great to see more human antagonists in the series to have some variety.

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”

[mrmrsman]

I'd love to see a dpxdc story where the Justice League knows about Amity Park and the Ghosts the whole time, and does think the ghosts are rogues to be addressed. Doesn't agree with the GIW, maybe doesn't even know about them? THE IMPORTANT PART.

The Red Huntress is the only active vigilante in Amity Park, according to the JL. Phantom is marked as one of her rogues. Maybe the Fentons even are marked as rogues from all the property damages and random shooting/sliming of citizens. Valarie is the only person successfully taking care of the ghosts, masking and suiting up in the classic vigilante way the whole time.

[zylev-blog]

Batman opened the door, catching the falling body that had come out of the tube. Glowing green Lazarus water flowed around his feet, but he didn’t care. He gently laid the boy onto the ground, listening for breathing sounds. But he wasn’t even sure if his species could breathe. The boy was no older than Tim, with stark-white hair, and pale green skin. The boy wasn’t human, that was for sure, but as to what species he was, Batman had no clue. The teenager hadn’t even opened his eyes since being removed from the tube.

The Lazarus water didn’t smell quite like the pits he was used to. The water smelled cleaner, stronger. Less like battery acid and more like a strong-scented cleaner that he couldn’t give a name to.

He grasped the boy by the shoulders as he picked him up bridal style. He needed to take the boy to the cave, and figure out if he was even alive. A regular hospital wouldn’t be able to do anything for him.

“Batman, we’ve apprehended the last of the men in white suits.” Red Robin said over the comms.

“Good,” His voice was gruff, “Make sure they don’t escape before police arrive.”

Tim didn’t bother saying anything else to him. Neither of them were in the mood for jokes. Not after what they had seen tonight. They had stumbled across a lab in Gotham in an abandoned warehouse. They had thought that it was a Joker hideout when they first arrived, but they had quickly found out that wasn’t the case. After they had began to investigate, they had found corpses of many people that had been thrown into a pit. The bodies had evidence of vivisection, torture, and experimentation. The bodies had ranged from children to adults, but the results were all the same. They were all dead.

They had found tubes like the ones used at Cadmus. They held a few humanoid-species, but most of them looked like they were in varying stages of death. The only tube that looked like it held someone living had been the teenage boy he now held in his arms.

The worst thing about all of this were that they had no idea what this place was, what they were doing, or why they were in Gotham. They had stumbled in by mistake.

He had a lot of work to do.

“No survivors.” Nightwing’s voice sounded. Not even Dick was in a good mood anymore, and he had been joking around for the last few hours.

Batman looked down at the boy in his arms. The boy hadn’t stirred once, hadn’t moved, and hadn’t breathed. He might be carrying a corpse for all he knew.

“And the files?” He prompted.

“Downloading.” Red Robin’s voice was grim. “You’re not going to like it.”

He didn’t like anything about this situation already. How could it get any worse?

“From what I can tell from skimming through the files,” Red Robin continued, “They were experimenting with people’s souls. They killed all of these people because they wanted to catch their ghost.”

“Hrrn.” He looked away from the teenager in his arms. Maybe he didn’t have a corpse in his arms—but a ghost. A ghost of a teenager he failed to save.

What if it had been Tim lying in his arms? Dick? Jason? Damian? Did this teenager have parents before he died, or were his parents in the pit?

The boy stirred, whipping Bruce’s attention back to him. The boy moaned in pain, starting to writhe in his arms.

“You’re safe now.” He said to the boy. “You’re saved.”

“Nnnngh.” The boy opened Lazarus green eyes to look at him. The eyes were hazy, as if exhaustion plagued them. “Batman?”

“They won’t hurt you ever again.” He promised.

“Where is my sister?” The boy asked. “They took her.”

Dick’s words played on repeat in his mind. No survivors. But the boy didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“We’re still searching the base. She’ll be here somewhere.” He lied.

The boy closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. But even with Bruce watching him, the boy did not breathe. Maybe he didn’t need to anymore. Tears leaked down the boy’s cheeks, as if he knew Bruce’s lie.

[ectospacecadet]

-[Before The Fall]-

This is Ethan before he became a Halfa, his name was Archer Cain and was a part of a knighthood that protected humans from ghosts during the war.

He was classed as an Alchemist within the knighthood but longed to be a Knight to fight within the war, not just help create weapons and defences against ghosts. Let’s just say his wish is granted in the end.

[nerdpoe]

Kon was visiting small town and trying to take a little bit of a breather.

Sometimes things got to be a little too much. For instance, he recently found out that due to some weird niche law, he wasn't a person. He was property.

So even if he ever got tired of essentially being owned by CADMUS, it was them or some government branch called the GIW.

And no one knew anything about the GIW.

So even if he wasn't really with CADMUS anymore, he would never be free of them. Which was. Not great.

So he was just. Taking a small breather.

Sitting on a curb, eating some burgers, and just vibing.

Then someone grabbed both of his shoulders in a death grip.

"Dude, what-?"

"-I'm sorry, but I need you to stay still or I'm gonna get got." A panicked teen voice hissed.

Kon turned his head; there was a scrawny teen with unnaturally clear blue eyes, black hair, and a white knuckled grip on Kon's shoulders as he desperately tried to...keep his feet on the ground?

Then a van came tearing around the corner, with the letters GIW stamped across it. The men that left it were wearing white suits, and were clearly keeping an eye on the terrified kid trying to pretend like he wasn't about to float out of some sort of fear response.

Oh.

Oh, this was another clone. One without the protection of CADMUS or Kal.

Yeah, no.

He's got the kid in his arms and was flying over the mid-sized city in an instant, right before pivoting and retreating to Metropolis.

He needed Kal for this. The man was over his thing about clones, and Kon couldn't face the American Government alone.

[half-deadmagicperson]

Angstfest Day 5:

After finding out the existence of the halfbreed, the government knew it was a valuable asset and couldn't let it fall into the wrong hands. Thankfully, they recently confiscated a way to control it.

[sharkfinn]

"You caught him!"

doodle based on a thought @blobghost had that operative L is dash's dad dash found phantom wounded, L found them both and praised his son for capturing him

@midnightectosnack

read blob's fanfic here!!!^^^^^

[ghostly-shenanigans-in-progress]

A proper introduction for dp giw oc, Agent J aka Jonathan James or JJ by friends and family.

A bit of a hardass with a good heart, JJ becomes a valuable ally once he meets/hears Danny’s side of the story over his superiors on just who Phantom is and his motives. Which he understands very quickly that “Oh, shit this is a kid. I gotta protect this kid.”

So, JJ is someone Danny can rely on when comes to protecting the city for now. Also, he is a huge advocate for Danny against ghost hunters like his parents, other GIWs and Valerie/Red Huntress.

[chaos-bringer-13]

Injured and trying to hide after a fight with GIW, Danny has to overshadow the first person he sees. Because of how weak he is at the moment, overshadowing doesn't work as usual, and he's just a voice in the guy's head, no actual control over the body. The person he overshadowed? Billy Batson.

Yes, it's divine twitch chat au. Billy probably doesn't even notice a new voice for some time. Danny is very confused because there are just so many people in there and they're gods and who the hell did he possess???