#dumped into a random portal

[portalsafterschooll]

˗ˏˋ → small png dump part 3 ★

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: New Money

The ghost zone doesn't have a formal form of currency. Depending on which part of the zone one is in, a trade could be made, or a Deal can be struck, but coins can rarely, if ever, be exchanged.

Every subculture that forms in the zone can eventually develop its own currency, but it will only have value within its territory. An example would be the credit crystals that the Far Frozen have developed, with a corresponding amount of funds floating inside their iced rocks. Still, if a Yeti were to travel even a foot outside their snowy mountains, the stones would become an interesting clothing choice and nothing else.

Ghosts value emotions more than any amount of gold or coin. Oftentimes, the most powerful of ecto beings would battle it out if a child's favorite teddy bear somehow found its way into the zone, though the thin cracks between worlds or an entire army of ghost mercenaries could be bought with a single pair of favorited socks.

It may not seem as much to the living, but to ghosts who could see the attachment embedded into the item, it meant everything. Some emotions could even be eaten off of the items if they were fresh enough, and while it did give a power boost, most of the time, the emotions were positive.

If a negative emotion was eaten, Ghosts could quickly become addicted to it, and when cut off from the negative emotion, they could soon fall apart in seconds.

Spectra was a famous example used in the zone as a precautionary tale for all new ghosts. Her beauty and power were only a facade to her desperation for angst emotions, and she flouted about the Zone, always on the hunt for her next fix.

It was pretty sad to see.

A few ghosts did their best to limit additions, such as Walker, who established himself a section of the zone using his great sense of justice that he had died with. He found human contraband that came into the zone unnaturally, sealing them away in his haunt.

These items usually had lickings of anxiety, desperation, or even fear attached to them and could quickly turn any ghost into a violent sort.

Walker's mission since his creation was to limit this exposal. He even arrested various ghosts that went to the human world through unnatural means, a majority coming back contaminated with human emotions and becoming a danger to fellow ghosts.

Most of these ghosts had items on them that were deemed worthless once all emotion was sucked out. Walker usually had his men take them to the Dump.

The Dump in the Ghost Zone was an extensive collection of worthless items gathered at the far right. It was known as a neutral section of the Zone, as every civilization and haunt often traveled there to eliminate clutter. Everything unwanted usually finds its way to the Dump.

Danny, after having a trial with Walker and coming to the understanding that he was not, in fact, attempting to make his fellow Ghosts addicted to anger- cause apparently a majority of Walker's prisoners were in there because of their exposal to Danny!- he was directed to the Dump to rid of his worthless ripped bag.

Danny had flown there expecting mountains and mountains of garbage. What he found instead were islands made entirely of gold. He flouted over the piles and piles of jewels, gold coins, random bills, and valuable items, gaping at the long collection that went further than his eye could see.

"What is all of this?" He gasps just as Box Ghost floats by carrying a jewelry box. He flips it open and shakes out a necklace with a diamond as large as Danny's palm onto the pile of jewelry. He gives Danny a friendly wave when they make eye contact.

He proudly flouts over to Danny, taking the neutral status of the Dump to heart. No fighting was allowed in this territory, much like Truce Day; all ghosts abided by this rule.

"The Box Ghost was lucky to be near a natural portal leading to the Human world's sea. This small rectangular object was once beloved by a grandmother, and now it is all mine!" He cheers, holding the jewelry box, practically half rotted and dripping wet over his head. A faint, gentle green glow surrounded it.

Danny blinks, pointing down at the necklace. "What about that? Aren't you going to keep it?"

"The Box Ghost has no need for useless stones!" The floating man even sticks his tongue to the necklace that could pay for Danny's college education (If it were real).

Only half joking, Danny asks, "Can I have it then?"

Box Ghost blinks, then gestures to the mountains and mountains of wealth. "If the Ghost Child wishes for a garage, he can take whatever he likes. No one will mind. Though, why would you waste time on soulless items? Box Ghost can not be sure!"

Box Ghost flies away laughing as if Danny was the one to mock for wanting a diamond necklace. He watches the ghost go before turning back to the mountains and mountains of shimmering gold.

Deciding to fly through the Dump to see what else he can find, Danny begins exploring- but not before taking the necklace- and later comes upon an island dedicated to various human clothing that looked like it came from hundreds of eras. He finds himself dressing up like a Lord of Old for fun when he happens upon leather bags.

Seeing as no one was there to stop him, Danny filled up each bag with chains and jewels, flying home in his new get up. He figured he could use some of the funds even if the gold was fake.

_____________________________________________________________

Oliver Queen is new money. His wealth came from only three generations ago, and while that is rather impressive, it held no candle to families like the Waynes.

The Waynes were old money, and their galas showed it. Every time old Brucie called him to celebrate, Oliver went along only to keep his company board happy.

They couldn't afford to offend one of their most prominent investors even if there were no thoughts behind Bruce Wayne's eyes. Oliver would have enjoyed himself more at these parties- if there was one thing Bruce Wayne knew how to do: throw a fantastic party- but sadly, he had to deal with the other old-money people who attended Bruce's parties.

The passive aggression reminders that he would never been on their level, the choking humiliation, the constant looking down on him. Well, it got exhausting. Especially since Oliver spent so much of his free time fighting for justice and trying to make the world a better place. These people talked and acted like they were above it all.

Like nothing could touch them, even when a majority of them were the cause for so much darkness, Oliver faced as Green Arrow.

He needed a stronger drink.

"Rather self-important for new money, isn't he?" A woman whispers loudly, mocking in every inch of her tone. Oliver's eyebrow twitches as he drowns his glass. He turns towards the voice, somewhat ready to cause a scene so he can go home, but it is a surprise to find that the gossiping woman isn't facing him

Rather, they are turned towards a young man, likely late teens, who is currently piling his plate high with sweets. The boy glances in the woman's direction before snorting unattractively and adding more to his plate.

Oliver is mildly impressed that he could make the woman flush with rage without saying anything. He had never seen the kid before, but he almost looked like a new Wayne with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes.

He finds his feet walking towards the teenager before he can think about it. Something interesting may be at this gala after all.

"Hey, you seemed to really like fudge. Have you tried the raspberry ones? It's the best." He starts gesturing to a familiar chef's name in front of a chocolate tray. He had a sample of their work only a week ago when Batman brought some to the Watch Tower.

It was absolutely heaven.

The teen considered the pink color fudge before he took three cudes. With his bare hands. Well. New money, indeed.

"Thanks!" The boy chirps after stuffing one in his mouth and savoring the flavor.

"You're welcome. My son, Roy, really likes it too." He smiles as the boy glances towards where his adoptive son is currently chatting with Jason Todd. Those two find themselves attached to the hip whenever there is a gala. Maybe Roy will bring him home for the holidays soon. "I'm Oliver Queen, owner of Queen Industries."

"Danny Fenton," The boy responds slightly hesitantly. "Do all rich people do that? Add what makes them rich to their inductions?"

Oliver snorts, "Only the real tacky ones."

"Okay, Mr. Owner of Queen Industries."

Oh Oliver like this kid. He grins, ignoring the jab. "And what about you? What made you rich enough to be here to tonight."

The kid's eyes gain a certain glint of humor as he shrugs. "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

Oliver moves to ask what he means, but Brucie shows up then, and he can't find a way out of the conversation. He's buttering up to the big idiot, knowing he lost sight of the strange boy.

Afterward, Oliver looks into Danny Fenton, only to find that the boy somehow appears out of nowhere with billions of dollars but no known source of where he got them. It also seems Batman was already on the case, assuming the boy was counterfeiting somehow, but Oliver didn't get that sense from the kid.

Something wasn't adding up about the boy, but he didn't think it was illegal. He just had to convince the big bad bat of that. If only it could be as easy as convincing Bruce Wayne to spend millions of dollars.

[sheeezu]

Master Directionary

Short introduction - who?

H e l l o. Very warm welcome to my very messy blog. I used to get upset at the jumbled presentation but I think it represents what I want to feel like - a warm nostalgic home, with old dusty curtains and trinkets scattered around, blankets on the ground.

My name is Umme Hani, (just Hani is perfect). My username is a nickname for my home self- you can refer to me as both.

I've shifted! That's my most remarkable achievement in life. Feel free to bombard me with asks that make me think, even ones that directly challenge me (be respectful, yknow, according to societal norms) I love a good debate.

Shifting wise I shift in and out of reality frequently. I am a very private person in terms of my main reality- home reality, but that is limited to my relationship there, you can at any time ask me how I've world built and other aspects there!

I have been really transparent regarding my shifting experience on here, you can look through my account and hopefully you can relate to my experiences.

I am bipolar. Mine's an unmedicated case. So if I have misbehaved with you in the past, I wish you can forgive me!! That is usually an episode which ranges from depressive to angry maniac. (I'm not apologising to some aholes, so don't get your hopes high, especially terfs.)

Okay? Okay :) +++ I don't ignore asks, dms on purpose, I'll try my best to answer!! Fair warning sometimes I dissappear for weeks on end in pursuit of some spiritual awakening- yes.... that's what it is.

(Btw I love golden, sunsets, homey aesthetics)

READ.

Read before sending an ask

A conclusive list of my asks

If you don't like me, don't agree with my beliefs, just block me, there isn't a single thing you could do to change them.

(Btw, if you're rude, I will send soul sucking demons your way)

I'm not grammatically deaf or weak in English, but I sometimes write in words which make no sense, which happens to ruin the entire meaning of a sentence. Idk why this happens, but please correct me if anything seems off, I really don't mind.

⋆✴︎˚Directionary:⋆✴︎˚｡

Shifting Portal:

1. Shifting methods

✴︎My main shifting method + my shifting journey

✴︎Emergency shifting routine (1 day deadline)

✴︎Shift by channeling

✴︎Energy conversion method

2. Shifting/consciousness theory proofs

✴︎ Shifting proof

✴︎Consciousness theory proof (ask)

✴︎Shifting motivation via proof of consciousness theory (ask)

✴︎Nature of reality/how to prove it to yourself (ask)

3. Shifting tips

✴︎Commonly asked shifting questions

✴︎Embodying one's true nature/self (ask)

✴︎Scripting a DR from scratch (ask)

✴︎Getting rid of intrusive thoughts (ask)

✴︎Letting go of your previous reality and circumstances to shift

4. Shifting storytimes

✴︎Four part short stories (Socialite, hogwarts, dead poets society, home DR)

✴︎Random story 1 (home DR)

✴︎Random story 2 (home DR) (ask)

✴︎Random story 3 (home DR) (ask)

✴︎Random story 4 (home DR) (ask game)

6. Shifting misc.

✴︎Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

✴︎My DR s/o (ask)

✴︎Shifting quote

✴︎My DR list

✴︎Chaotic minishift experience

✴︎Shifting tips from other realites

✴︎Shifting blackboard

✴︎ Non-dualism and shifting

✴︎ What to do if you haven't shifted for years

✴︎ How to shift

✴︎ Shifting posts dump

7. Post which further uncovers my unhinged personality

✴︎An example of an "update" on this blog

✴︎DR self akin to a literal cat

8. Self made subliminals

Shifting:

✴︎Subliminal + google drive link

✴︎Subliminal affirmation list

✴︎The godzilla of (shifting) subliminals

Creator mentality:

Creator mentality + shift subliminal

Void state:

✴︎Void state + creator mentality

This post will be maintained frequently. (hopefully)

because I realized it doesn't matter where I am, I can still maintain my tumblr blog, I suppose I fell in love with this little space I've made for myself.

[tinydefector]

Who's portal is that.

DC X DP X Spider-Man

Just a silly little thought I thought of becuase I thought it be fun putting these two together in having to deal with being in gotham city.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: swearing, hints to Constantine being a slut

NEXT

________________

The night sky over Gotham City was shrouded in heavy clouds, casting the city in an eerie glow. A faint green shimmer flickered in the distance as a figure swung gracefully from rooftop to rooftop, keeping pace with a glowing flying one beside him. Behind them, a dark shadow leapt from gargoyle to gargoyle. The faint whoosh of a grappling hook shot past them.  

"Do you mind! not glowing like a freaking neon sign?" Spider-Man hissed, flipping mid-air to avoid a batarang that whizzed past his head.  "Excuse me," Danny shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, " you're swing around in a bright red-and-blue costume like a walking target!"  

“First off,” Peter replied, landing on a rooftop and immediately launching himself back into the air, “it’s called branding. Second, this is your fault!” Danny stopped mid-flight to glare at him, hands glowing with ectoplasmic energy. "Oh, sure, because I totally wanted to get sucked into a random vortex that dumped me into this hellscape, of all places! This city's like a goth kid's fever dream!"  

"Hey, I’m not judging your aesthetic preferences,” Peter quipped, swinging from building to building, his webbing snapping taut as he narrowly avoided a batarang that embedded itself in the brick beside him. "You know," he called out to the white-haired kid flying beside him, "I feel like you're not appreciating my quick thinking here!"

Danny, glowing faintly with ectoplasmic energy, shot him a glare as he zipped past Spider-Man. "Quick thinking? Are you a complete moron? Who the hell sees a swirling green portal and thinks, ‘Hey, this looks fun! Let’s dive right in!’?" Peter shot a web at a nearby gargoyle and gracefully vaulted over a rooftop. "Okay, in my defense, I thought it was one of Doctor Strange’s portals! You know, the guy with the magic hands? They’re usually pretty safe! Emphasis on usually."

Danny groaned in frustration, narrowly phasing through a fire escape ladder before materializing again. "Well, congratulations, genius. You didn’t just jump into some magic hula hoop!"

“Yeah, because this is so much calmer than my usual Thursdays,” Peter quipped, twisting mid-air. "Besides, if the portals are so dangerous, maybe slap a warning label on them next time, huh? Something like, ‘Danger: Do Not Touch, May Cause Interdimensional Headaches.’ ”

Danny rolled eyes, his frustration mounting as he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, sure, like I planned for some random spider-themed idiot to get sucked into the summoning mess I got dragged into!. This is totally what I wanted today.”

“Hey, watch it, Casper,” Peter shot back, landing on a rooftop before somersaulting off the edge. "I didn’t exactly ask for this either. One second, I’m swinging through Queens, and the next, I’m in Emo New York’s. Seriously, does no one here believe in streetlights?"

“Don’t call me Casper!” Danny snapped, his glow intensifying as he blasted through an old billboard. “Neither of us want to be in a Tim Burton fever dream!” Peter flipped onto a water tower, perching casually for a moment as he fired a web at a pursuing caped hero, snagging his grappling hook mid-swing. “Hey, I don’t know who Tim Burton is, but I’m gonna assume that was an insult.” He glanced at Danny. “Also, can we talk about your powers? Because I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’re breaking every law of physics I know.”

“Yeah, well, so are your webs!” Danny shot back, “How do they even work? What’s the tensile strength? Are they organic or synthetic? Because if they’re organic, that’s really nasty.” Peter gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know my webbing is a marvel of scientific engineering! I made it myself, thank you very much. And it’s not gross—unlike your weird glowing hands. What even is that, radioactive ghost goo?”

______________

 

Elsewhere…

John Constantine paced rapidly across the creaky wooden floor of a dimly lit room, the flickering glow of candles casting jagged shadows on the walls. His trench coat swayed as he moved, his muttered curses barely audible over the sound of heavy rain pelting the windows. The smell of burnt herbs and incense filled the air, but none of it calmed the rising panic twisting in his gut.

"This is bad. This is really bad," Constantine muttered, running a hand through his disheveled blond hair. His other hand clutched a half-empty flask of whiskey, which he occasionally sipped from between frantic incantations and muttered expletives. "Bloody cultists. Fuckinn idgits. Why can’t anyone leave well enough alone?!"

The summoning circle etched into the floor before him still glowed faintly with green energy, the remnants of whatever dark ritual had taken place before he had managed to intercept it. but he could feel the unmistakable, oppressive energy lingering in the room. It was heavy, suffocating, and distinctly ectoplasmic. 

The cult in question had been small, disorganized, and apparently suicidal. They’d tried to summon Pariah Dark, the ruler of the Infinite Realms, a being of unfathomable power and danger. Constantine had assumed they’d fail, as most cults do. But no. Somehow, the idiots had pulled it off. Or at least, partially. The problem was, Constantine had no idea if the ritual had worked as intended. He doubted it. If Pariah had been fully unleashed, Gotham would already be a smoking crater, and Constantine would probably be dead, considering the Ghost King owned a significant chunk of his soul. Still, the energy of the summoning lingered, and Constantine could feel it spreading across Gotham like a thick fog. Something had gone wrong, and that was almost worse than it going right.

"You bloody morons," Constantine hissed, kicking over an empty chair. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Summoning the Ghost King? The fuckin Ghost King?" He paused, taking another swig from his flask as he leaned against the table cluttered with occult books and ritual tools. His fingers drummed against the wood as he thought.

Constantine had dealt with many terrifying beings in his time, but Pariah Dark was one He wished to put behind him and never talk about again. It had taken the combined might of the Realms to imprison him along with Constantine having a small part in distracting the ghost in the first place, and there was no way Constantine or anyone else wanted him walking free.

"Right," Constantine muttered, "Time to call in the cavalry."

---

Wayne Manor - The Batcave

Bruce Wayne was at the Batcomputer, sifting through a series of reports about strange energy spikes across Gotham. The spikes had started a few hours ago, coinciding with sightings of two unusual figures who were dodging his team with surprising skill. One seemed to fly—glow, the other swung through the city with an agility that rivaled even Nightwing’s. Whoever they were, they didn’t belong in Gotham. And Bruce wanted answers.

The comm in his cowl buzzed. Before Alfred’s voice came through. “Master Wayne, you have a rather… agitated call coming through. It’s Constantine.”

Bruce’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “Constantine?”

“Yes, sir,” Alfred replied dryly. “He sounds, as usual, like he’s moments from catastrophe.”

Bruce frowned. Constantine rarely called unless things were dire. “I'll handle it Alfred” He tapped a button on the console, patching the call through. “Constantine,” Batman grunted. “What is it?”

“Bats! About bloody time” Constantine’s voice came through, frantic and hurried. “ Alright, listen to me very carefully, mate, because we’ve got a massive problem on our hands. And by ‘our hands,’ I mean your city.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. His voice dropping lower “What did you do?.”

Constantine “ i aint done shit!. There was a cult, don’t ask me why, cultists are always bloody morons and they decided to summon the Ghost King.”

“The Ghost King?” Bruce repeated, his voice calm but edged with suspicion. “What is that? Some kind of demon?”

“Worse,” Constantine said. “The Ghost King is the ruler of the Infinite Realms. A proper deity. The kind of being that makes demons piss themselves. His name’s Pariah Dark, and he’s the nastiest ghost you’ll ever meet. World-ending levels of bad. And here’s the kicker: I think the sod’s been unleashed on Gotham.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s true, why isn’t the city in ruins?”

“I said I think,” Constantine snapped. “Something’s wrong. The energy’s all… off. It’s definitely the Ghost King’s signature, but it’s not as destructive as it should be. That’s the only reason we’re still breathing. But trust me, mate: if he’s here, it’s only a matter of time before things go sideways. Its either His powers have been drained which if that's the case we are on limited time”

Bruce leaned back slightly, his mind racing. “What do you need from me?”

Constantine sighed. “First, I need you to avoid pissing him off. If Pariah Dark’s awake, the last thing you want to do is fight him. Second, I need access to every bit of information you’ve got on what’s been happening in Gotham tonight. Weird sightings, strange energy spikes, anything that looks remotely supernatural.” Bruce’s fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, pulling up data. “There have been reports of two unidentified individuals moving through Gotham. One appears to be glowing. The other swings on some kind of webbing. My team’s been tracking them.”

Constantine groaned. “Bloody brilliant. Bats i could kiss you for being the Paranoid fuck you are, The glowing one. That’s the Ghost King. And if someone’s with him, well, they’re probably just as much of a problem.” Bruce’s voice remained steady. “You’re certain?”

“Of course I’m bloody certain!” Constantine snapped. “I can feel it. The energy’s radiating off him like a bloody beacon. I’d bet my soul on it.” There was a beat of silence. “Oh, wait,” Constantine muttered bitterly. “He already owns part of that.”

Bruce’s hands paused, brows pressing together before he spoke again. “Explain.”

Constantine sighed heavily. “Long story short? I owe the Ghost King a bit of my soul. It’s… complicated. But if he’s here, he might decide to call in that debt. And if he does, I’m royally fucked. That’s why I need to trap him.”

Bruce sits back in his chair with a sigh and he tries to relax into his seat. “And how do you plan to trap him?”

“That’s the tricky bit,” Constantine admitted. “It’s not like trapping a regular ghost or demon. Pariah Dark’s power is off the charts. I’ll need a bloody arsenal of spells, relics, a fuck tone of salt, rosemary, dragons blood, blood blossoms and aloe vera and if you’ve got one lying around a miracle.”

“I don’t deal in miracles,” Bruce said flatly. “But I can help.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Constantine muttered. “Just don’t let your bloody sidekicks get too close to him. If they piss him off, we’re all dead.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “Understood.”

__________

Peter stopped pacing and crossed his arms, giving Danny a look. "You know, you’ve been pretty chill about the whole ‘I’m the king of ghosts, and I got summoned by some random cult’ thing. Is this, like, a normal Tuesday for you?"

Danny snorted. "Look, when you’ve spent the past two years fighting evil ghosts, rogue hunters, and the occasional interdimensional tyrant, this kind of thing doesn’t even crack the top ten weirdest days I’ve had." Peter raised an eyebrow. "Top ten weirdest, huh? That’s impressive. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned."

"Little bit of both," Danny muttered. Peter leaned against a metal pole, watching as Danny’s glow flickered for a moment before dimming again. Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, so, if we’re gonna figure this out, we probably shouldn’t be walking around looking like, well…" He gestured to their costumes. "This."

Danny glanced down at himself, still in his black-and-white ghost suit. "Yeah, you’ve got a point. As much as I hate to admit it, looking like a glow stick might attract the wrong kind of attention." Peter smirked. "Yeah, you’re a little conspicuous. And I’m not exactly subtle in red and blue spandex. But i can get away with saying its a cosplay"

Danny rolled his eyes and stood up, brushing himself off. "Fine. Hang on." He took a deep breath, and in a flash of light, his ghostly suit disappeared, replaced by a simple black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His white hair and glowing green eyes shifted back to his human appearance black hair and bright blue eyes. He looked younger, smaller, and far less intimidating.

Peter froze, staring at him. "Wait. WHAT?" Danny blinked at him, confused. "What? What’s the big deal?" Peter gestures wildly. "You—you just changed! Like, full-on transformation! You looked older, taller, and now—" He pointed at Danny, his voice higher in disbelief. "Now you look like a teenager."

Danny crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I am a teenager. I’m sixteen."

Peter’s jaw dropped. "Sixteen?! You’re SIXTEEN?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Danny asked, clearly unimpressed with Peter’s reaction.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. "You’re telling me you’re sixteen, and you’re the king of ghosts. At sixteen, I was just trying to survive high school, and here you are ruling entire dimensions?"

Danny smirked, rather amused at Peter's panic over the situation. "Life comes at you fast, huh?"

Peter groaned, shaking his head and leaning back as he remembered what he had recently been through. "Man, I thought I was stressed out at your age."

Danny shrugged. “You’re not that much older than me"

Peter hesitated, scratching the back of his head. "Well, technically, I’m twenty-two. But thanks to a little thing called the Blip, I kind of skipped five years of my life. So I guess I’m still seventeen in a way? It’s… complicated."

Danny stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Wow. Okay. So we’re both freaks of time. Good to know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled $50 bill. "Anyway, I’ve got about fifty bucks on me. Not exactly enough to solve this mess, but it’s something. Wanna get burgers?"

---

Constantine was cursing his luck as he stepped out of a cab in Gotham's East End, his trench coat already soaked from the rain. He could feel the Ghost King’s energy growing fainter, which meant either the being was hiding or his powers were finally stabilizing. Either way, Constantine knew he didn’t have much time. He lit a cigarette and pulled out his phone, dialing Batman again.

"Any updates, Bats?" Constantine asked, taking a long drag. "Because if the Ghost King’s energy gets any more stable, it’ll be nearly impossible to trap him."

Batman’s voice came through, calm and level. "We’ve located an individual matching the energy signals." Constantine let out a sigh of relief. "Good. don’t engage. If you make the wrong move, you could end up pissing him off. And trust me, you don’t want to see this guy pissed."

"I don’t plan on engaging unless it’s necessary," Batman replied. "But if this Ghost King is as dangerous as you say, we need to act quickly." Constantine exhaled a plume of smoke. "Right. Just keep your distance, and I’ll be there soon. We’re gonna need a bloody miracle to pull this off."

When Constantine had finally found Batman they stepped into the abandoned warehouse, the bats cape billowing slightly as he moved through the shadows. Behind him, Constantine followed, cigarette in hand and a look of barely concealed panic on his face. The remnants of ectoplasmic energy still lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable.

“This is it,” Constantine muttered, glancing around the room. “He was here. I can feel it.”

Batman’s sharp eyes swept the area, noting the disturbed dust on the floor and the faint. “They’ve moved on.” Constantine cursed under his breath, flicking ash onto the floor. “Bloody hell. I was hoping we’d catch them before they bolted.”

“They’ll be back,” Batman said, his voice calm and measured as he moves around looking at the slight setup in the corner. “This isn’t a random hideout. They’ll return.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure, mate?”

Batman glanced at him, his expression unreadable under the cowl. “The boy He’ll need to rest soon, and this place is familiar, they have already scooped it out. They’ll come back.” Constantine sighed. “Alright, fine. But we can’t just sit around twiddling our thumbs. If the Ghost King realizes I’m here, he’s going to come after me. And I don’t fancy another round with him.”

Batman ignored the comment, his mind already working. “We’ll set the trap,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Constantine gave him a skeptical look. “You’re planning on trapping the bloody Ghost King with what, a net? This isn’t some garden-variety ghost, mate. He’s a deity. You’re gonna need more than a fancy grappling hook to take him down. Like i said a fuck tone of Salt” Constantine said grabbing the bag of it he had brought. 

“I’m aware,” Batman replied, moving to examine the scorch marks on the floor. “That’s why you’re here. You said you had a plan.” Constantine muttered something under his breath, then reluctantly pulled a small, ornate box from his coat pocket. It was covered in intricate runes, glowing faintly in the dim light. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is a containment box designed to trap spiritual entities. It won’t hold him forever, but it’ll buy us time. If we can get him near it, plus the other stuff I've bought too. It might, just might be enough to contain him long enough so i can make a deal with him or maybe banish him back to the realms”

Batman studied the box for a moment, then nodded. “Set it up. I’ll handle the rest.”

Constantine smirked. “You’re awfully confident for a bloke with no magical experience. Alright, Bats. Let’s hope your preparation is enough to stop an interdimensional ghost king. Because if it’s not, we’re both screwed.”

------

Danny and Peter had bolted from the diner, the stolen burgers clutched tightly in their hands as they tore down the wet streets. The cashier’s shouts faded into the background, drowned out by the sound of their pounding footsteps and the rain slicking the pavement. Peter had been mid-bite when Danny grabbed him by the arm.

“Whoa—hey! I was eating that!” Peter protested, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel and half stuffed with the burger. “Yeah, and you can finish it while we’re not being chased!” Danny snapped, his free hand glowing faintly green as he phased the two of them through a chain-link fence. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Peter huffed, clinging to his burger like it was a lifeline. “I could’ve handled it, you know. escape artist here!” “Right,” Danny muttered, dragging him through an alley. “Because nothing says ‘stealth’ like a guy in red and blue spandex with mustard on his face.”

“Hey—!”

Before Peter could argue further, Danny pulled him into his ghostly form, phasing them through a solid brick wall and into the backstreets. They were invisible and untouchable now, slipping through Gotham’s shadows like ghosts—because, well, one of them was a literal ghost.

“Just get us back to the warehouse,” Peter grumbled, licking ketchup off his hand. “I’m starving, and this burger is the only good thing that’s happened to me all day.”

When Danny phased them back into the warehouse, the first thing Peter noticed was the eerie silence. The second thing he noticed was the faint hum of energy vibrating in the air. His Spider-Sense screamed at him, but before he could say a word, Danny froze mid-step.

The glowing green of Danny’s ghost aura intensified, and in a flash of light, his human form flickered away. In its place stood… something else. Peter’s jaw dropped as he stumbled back, clinging to his half eaten burger. Danny or whoever this was didn’t look like the snarky teenager he’d been running around with. This was something entirely otherworldly. 

Danny’s form was taller now, his presence almost overwhelming. His white hair glimmered like freshly fallen snow, cascading down to his shoulders, and his eyes burned an unearthly, glowing green, deeper and more intense than before. An ice-like crown floated just above his head along with the floating aurora shimmering, while a cape of flickering starlight billowed behind him, even though there was no wind. His pale skin seemed to glow softly, and across his cheeks and arms were faint freckles that looked like constellations.

He didn’t look evil. If anything, he looked eternal. Ancient. Like something out of a fantasy novel, the kind of being that could step off the cover of a book as a god or a king. But Danny didn’t seem to notice or care. His glowing form flickered slightly as his eyes dropped to the burger that had been in his hands, landing unceremoniously on the floor inside the glowing summoning circle that now caged him.

“No…” Danny whispered, his voice reverberating unnaturally, as if layered with echoes from another world. His gaze locked onto the destroyed burger, his expression a mix of disbelief and betrayal. “No, not the burger.” He dropped to his knees, staring mournfully at the fallen burger. “I was so hungry,” he moaned, his voice still layered with that eternal echo. “It was right there. I could taste it.”

The Dark Knight’s imposing figure emerged from the darkness, his cape sweeping behind him as he approached the summoning circle. Constantine followed close behind, looking both impressed and deeply concerned by the glowing, ethereal figure trapped in the sigils. “Bloody hell,” Constantine muttered, staring at Danny. “That’s him. That’s the Ghost King.”

“Excuse me?” Peter growled, his voice rising with agitation. His Spider-Sense was still buzzing like mad, and the fact that Danny was trapped in some kind of magical cage was making his blood boil. “You did this? You trapped him?” Batman’s piercing gaze shifted to Peter, who was still clutching his burger like a feral dog protecting its last meal. Peter stepped in front of the glowing circle as if to shield Danny. “He’s not dangerous! He’s just a kid!”

Constantine snorted. “A kid? That thing in there’s no kid, mate. That’s the Ghost King. Ruler of the Infinite Realms. A being with enough power to wipe this city off the map if he wanted to.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, Before Constantine or Batman could react, Peter crouched low, his body tensing like a spring. His mask was still off, and his expression was fierce, like a wild animal protecting its territory. He lunged forward, aiming a web at Constantine.

“Oi, what the hell—” Constantine yelped as he rolls to get away from the web. Peter didn’t stop there. He fired another web at the edge of the summoning circle, trying to disrupt the sigils. The glowing lines sparked as his webbing hit them, but they held firm.

“Stop,” Batman growled, stepping forward. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

“Neither do you,” Peter snapped, flipping backward to avoid Batman’s outstretched hand. Constantine groaned, rubbing his temples. “Bloody hell, kid’s gone feral.”

The warehouse was a mess. Peter had put up a valiant fight, but, as he quickly learned, going toe-to-toe with Batman wasn’t exactly a winning strategy. He was now webbed and tied to a metal support beam, arms crossed and glaring at the Dark Knight, who stood nearby with the stoic calm of someone who had done this a thousand times before. Constantine was in front of Danny, cigarette in hand. "Hello, Pariah," Constantine said lightly, exhaling smoke. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, like a man trying to act calm in front of a tiger. "Nice skin. Little young for you, though, innit?"

Danny froze, his glowing eyes snapping up to fix on Constantine. For a moment, he just stared, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted over Constantine, taking in the trench coat, the cigarette, the smug smirk. And then Danny's face twisted into an expression of pure, genuine offense.

"Wait a minute," Danny said, his voice echoing slightly with that otherworldly tone. He pointed a glowing hand at Constantine, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to place a face to a name. "Are you... the Soul Whore guy?"

The room went silent. Even Batman raised an eyebrow.

Constantine blinked, his cigarette frozen halfway to his lips.  "You know, the guy who goes around selling bits of his soul to anyone with a checkbook and a half-decent sales pitch? You’re kind of infamous in the Infinite Realms. Everyone’s heard of you." He tilted his head, his expression growing even more incredulous. "I mean, we all knew you were a mess, but I didn’t think you were is much of a mess."

Constantine stared at him, his mouth working like he was trying to come up with a response but couldn’t quite form the words. Peter, still tied up, looked between them with wide, confused eyes.

"Wait, wait, wait," Peter said, his voice cutting into the silence. "What do you mean, 'Soul Whore'? He looks like if Mr Strange ended up homeless!" Danny ignored him, his glowing eyes narrowing further as he seemed to piece something together. His jaw dropped suddenly, and he took a step closer to the edge of the circle. "No way. You’re that dumbass, the one who slept with Pariah Dark. Aren’t you?"

Constantine froze. His cigarette fell from his lips, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the summoning circle’s magic. Peter’s jaw dropped. "WHAT?!" Danny threw his hands up, his glowing aura flaring slightly. "Holy crap, it is you! You’re the guy who hooked up with Pariah Dark and put him in the Sarcophagus! I thought that was just a rumor."

Constantine’s face paled, his usual cocky demeanor evaporating as he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, now hold on a second—"

"He slept with the ghost king you fought and won against?!" Peter shouted, his voice rising with disbelief. "Are you serious?! He’s serious, isn’t he?!" He turned to Batman, who, to his credit, looked as stoic as ever. 

Danny, meanwhile, looked like he was having the time of his life. He crossed his arms, grinning like a cat who had just caught a particularly juicy mouse. "You know, I heard the stories, but I didn’t actually think it was true!"

"It was—look, it’s complicated, alright? It wasn’t my bloody fault!" Constantine tries to defend himself forgetting for a moment that this was the Ghost King he had trapped. Danny snorted. "Sure it wasn’t. That explains why half the ghosts in the Realms call you 'the Soul Whore.' You’ve got a reputation, dude. And not a good one."

Constantine groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Christ, I need a drink." This wasn’t Pariah Dark. This was something else. And whatever it was, it wasn’t bound by the same rules. 

And that terrified Constantine.

[sleighhethereal]

• so like

• the little ones around the mountain would get groomed by Wukong atleast once a month.

• it's just, the sight of it getting into their eyes really bothers the shit outta him.

• because we all know Wukong takes care of himself, such as; shaving his eyebrows, managing his fur, probably does skincare like cucumbers over his eyes and putting vaseline over his lips.

• so he'd make schedules for each little monkey and groom them.

• but

• the little guys hate it, they hate it so much.

• Wukong would struggle so much cutting their long fur, since the little ones would squirm really hard and he had to buy a little muzzle so they wouldn't bite him.

"Just a little— hey, heY! No biting, be grateful! You hafta look up just to see a goddamn flower!"

• Wukong always feels bad doing it because the little ones would whine like they were crying, but like— he barely touched them, so he doesn't know what to feel.

• here comes you, saving the day, because he asked you for help— promising to just fetch you via cloud.

• the plan was simple, you'd hold them while he snips at their long hairs.

• you once asked him why couldn't he just summon like ten of his monkey clones to assist him, but he'd always make up some excuse like..

"I mean, you're already here and my head hurts, ya know? Using my power just drains me, you don't want to see me in pain, do you?"

• gives you the sparkly-eyes like a wet dog

• he just wants to spend time with you but he'd never say it seriously.

• it was actually funny seeing him scold the monkeys for moving too much, or threatening to bite him.

• you'd hum the little ones silly little Disney songs or random lullabies to distract them from the razor's buzzing, since that seemed to stress them out, causing them to struggle.

• it was fun, just the two of you hanging out.

• when you guys were done after a few days, Wukong would build up courage to ask you out on a few outings... dates, if you wanna call them that.

• all perfect until Macaque decided to join for no damn reason.

• i mean, there is a reason, Macaque wants you too.

• Macaque would accidentally push Wukong into one of his shadow portals and offer his help to you.

"OH MY GODS, MACAQUE!"

"What? He's fine, he's many times immortal. He needs exercise every now and then. Enough about him, did you miss me?"

• he'd say it so sweetly as Wukong would zip back to his mountain, wet and angry because Macaque just dumped his ass into the ocean.

• that piece of shit. Macaque knows what he's doing.

• he never knew why but the little ones are always much more calmer with Macaque.

• they'd barely move and sometimes they'd fucking fall asleep.

• you didn't even need to do anything.

"Just sit still and look pretty. Now tell me, baby, how was your day?"

• fuming Wukong

• Wukong would just pout and grumble as he watched you and Macaque converse, hearing Macaque's little hidden insults about him- but you didn't know.

• they'd fist-fight when you leave, yelling and throwing insult here and there. they'd never fight in front of you, atleast not physically.

• would pinch and poke each others sides while you weren't looking, lightning struck inbetween their eyes as they fought for your attention.

• at the end of the day, they'd definitely work together to make you happy— but that doesn't magically make them get along, no.

[thiccsys]

can u dump random error facts.. maybe..

FACTS?? cracks my little knuckles

TW FOR SUICIDE MENTION!

okay. im gonna go off memory. so if i get anything wrong someone correct me.

- Error’s glasses have been around since Aftertale! Geno got them from Alphys with the wrong prescription. Because Geno is.. well, himself, he decided that the shitty prescription was “good enough” and rolled with it.

- Error is nearsighted. In the askerror comic Swap paps is seen standing far away. He is blurry. The closer he got to Error, the clearer his image became

- Error’s REAL name is Gaylord Scooter Brighton (im not making this up)

- Contrary to popular belief, Error can feel guilt. Guilt is hinted at in CQ’s summary of what could’ve been (a completed Error comic much like Aftertale).

- Error Papyrus and Error Undyne are canonical characters within his story. I, however, don’t enjoy them as much as I enjoy Error himself, so they’re irrelevant to me

- Errors are literally some sort of species. Error isn’t the only one (Circuit, Proferror, the ones mentioned above, Blueberror). My memory might be failing me but I remember hearing that an Error’s “last thought” before becoming corrupted is very important. Why? I forgot. Is this actually true? I forgot, but i cant be bothered to check

- Error IS suicidal. After destroying all fhe AUs, he will kill himself. In addition, Error would kill himself if he ever became mentally sane enough to understand how hypocritical he is.

- Error has a sensitivity to Papyrus. He doesn’t like being asked about him, or “his brother.” In addition, he struggles to kill them, shown in the AskError comic as well. Geno’s still in there and it’s sooo so amazing to think about

- Error’s very insecure. Although the idea of him being this slay girlypop feather boa wearing king is amazing, he could never. I remember seeing a comic where he indirectly says he dislikes himself. Which makes sense— his narcissistic characteristics definitely stem from insecurity. “i feel like i’m the worst so i’ll act like im the best” mentality (we genuinely relate too much to this).

- Error canonically has five blue tongues

- Error’s glitches temporarily blind him at random. Yes, it happens when he is agitated or upset, but it also comes and goes as it pleases.

- Error’s glitches are painful. Crashes are painful. The scene of him first pulling strings from his sockets was likely EXTREMELY agonizing (i’m pretty sure he said it hurt himself while showing it all to blue).

- Error’s portals do seem to have some sort of replay ability. After all, how else could he have shown Blue what happened to himself?

- He’s very lonely. He wants friends. Living friends.

- CQ stated that Error is INTENTIONALLY made to make no sense. His character doesn’t make sense to you? Good! That’s the point! He’s an enigma that doesn’t even understand himself.

- Error can see and read code as if he were looking at a computer screen. He likes picking through the code of an AU before he destroys it

- Error loves Outertale and Undernovela. He will never finish his little job.

okay thats all i remember ty for asking :3

[millenianthemums]

chapter 5 of the fic is here! it took me a while to finish the art this time. i know i said i’d put less effort into the pieces to avoid burnout, but they’re just so fun… rendering things like this is so relaxing fsr.

PREVIOUS

INDEX

NEXT

————

Bill trudged out onto the mud soaked lawn, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this godforsaken house. Even the woods, still soaked in darkness as the first rays of sunlight failed to reach them, appealed to him more than the Mystery Shack. Knowing he’d been dragged in there while he couldn’t fight back, he’d slept in there, under the Pines family’s floor… just the thought made his skin crawl. Seemed like even killing him wasn’t enough for them. They just had to keep humiliating him every chance they got. Offering to “help” him after everything they did was just sadistic, even for him. He’d have to remember it for the next time he had an enemy at his mercy.

He had to get out of here. Just being here was infuriating. Plus, if the kid was right about Ford being up, he might get spotted. And chances were, Ford wouldn’t be satisfied with destroying his life just once.

At the thought of Ford, Bill clenched his fists so tight that his claws pierced into his palms. This was all Ford’s fault. He’d ruined everything. He’d drawn Bill in with that sweet, innocent nerd routine, acting all impressed and grateful, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, making all those stupid promises about eternal fealty and partnership, and then the instant he sensed a single drawback to their deal, suddenly Bill was nothing to him. One little misstep and suddenly nothing they’d done together meant anything, because it never had, not really. All he’d ever cared about was the perks, the knowledge, the secrets of the universe, blah blah blah, he’d never cared about Bill. Not even a little. Why had Bill ever fallen for it?! If only he’d gotten anyone else to build the portal…

He stopped in his tracks. The portal. This stupid flesh brain was going to be the death of him. How had he almost forgotten about the portal?! Sure, it was deactivated, but it had to still be there! Even if it was in pieces, he knew better than anyone how to put it back together. He just had to get it running again, just for a second, and then all his problems would be over! He could get back to the Nightmare Realm, grab his power source, and be back in business!

He hadn’t crossed over the stupid Bill-proof barrier around the shack yet, on the off-chance it might still affect him. Just to be sure, he stuck close to the outer wall as he crossed around to the back door of the gift shop. It was locked, of course, but Bill hadn’t forgotten everything. The birch trees near the house had given him plenty of angles to see where Stan and that dopey employee of his looked for the spare key when they locked themselves out. Sure enough, it was still tucked under the same fake rock nestled against the stairs. As quietly as possible, he eased the door open and stepped inside.

The place was as dark and empty as he’d hoped. Hokey glass-eyed chimeras, stitched together from whatever random taxidermy scraps the thrift store or dump had to offer, leered down at him from every angle as he crept across the room, hiding in the blind spots of the security cameras. This place hadn’t gotten any less embarrassing in the months since he’d seen it; if anything, it looked kitschier and dumber than ever. The random garbage being passed off as “magical objects” and the taxidermy crimes against nature weren’t even trying to look convincing, but perhaps because of that, they were weirder and more eye-catching than ever. As much as he hated to give Stanley Pines any kind of credit, Bill had to admit the sheer level of silliness and brazen, gleeful fraud on display was pretty admirable.

The vibe of the Mystery Shack might have changed a little, but thankfully, the layout hadn’t. The vending machine marking the secret basement door was still right where he’d expected it to be. Those chumps hadn’t even bothered to change the passcode. As he scurried down the stairs, the first genuine laugh since his resurrection began to bubble up from his throat. This was almost too easy.

The laugh died a sudden, violent death the instant he rounded the corner and looked out into the basement.

The portal still seemed to be technically there. Most of it, at least. But the massive, triangular frame had been knocked over and shattered into pieces across the stone floor. The metal was twisted, charred, every visible surface bearing scars and dents as if someone had spent months on end viciously attacking it with every available weapon. Not a single remaining component was unscathed; anything salvageable must have been scavenged for parts. The monolithic structure, this thing that represented millenia of planning and years upon years of hard work and partnership, now resembled nothing more than a heap of scrap metal. Torn apart. He literally tore the damn thing apart.

Bill felt his knees buckle beneath him. He caught himself just before toppling over, slamming a hand against a countertop and leaning against it. This couldn’t be real. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. They shattered it. They literally shattered his only lifeline, again. This was a torment he’d pass up for being too on the nose. He was laughing again, but there was no joy in it this time. He just couldn’t help it. This was all just too funny.

Still doubled over with laughter, he started grasping across the counter for something to break. Something to throw as hard as he could, or crush in his hands, or something. Anything. He didn’t care if he made noise, didn’t care if he got caught. He just wanted to destroy something. But of course, just his luck, the countertop was totally clear…

Wait. It was not like Ford to keep a clean countertop.

Bill pushed himself up and took his first clear look at the lab he was standing in. As his eye swept across the cavernous basement, a glimmer of hope started building inside him. Aside from the wreckage of the portal, the place was completely empty. Stripped right down to the floorboards. Squinting, he made out the vague impressions left behind where he’d disturbed the layers of dust coating everything. He was the first living thing to set foot down here in months.

Ford had moved his lab upstairs. Bill put a hand to his face, reeling from the shock of delight. Oh, that poor idiot. He’d ventured up out of his sad little cave to be closer to his precious family. And he’d left the remnants of the portal unguarded.

And why not? The big bad triangle was dead. There was no reason to think he’d ever come back for it. After all, with all that damage, even with Bill’s intricate knowledge of the device’s construction, it would take him months of nonstop work to get it even close to operable again. And there was no way he’d be able to sneak in and out of the shack that many times without being seen by anybody.

Unless he was in the shack the whole time.

Another laugh burst out of him, and this one was pure, utter glee. His old pal Shooting Star had come through for him again. She’d handed him the answer to all his problems on a silver platter, and he’d almost missed it! He’d thought it was too easy, that nobody would ever be that generous to somebody they knew would turn on them, who already tricked them the same way once… but he definitely wasn’t complaining. If Shooting Star really thought helping him was a good idea, he was more than happy to let her keep thinking that.

He’d need to make this convincing, he told himself as he snuck back out the way he came. He’d need to really sell the sob story. Make it seem like he had no chance at surviving even one day without her help. He’d have to swallow his pride a little– maybe even a lot. But it would all be worth it in the end. Shooting Star thought he was a helpless sad sack she could win over with pity, so he would play that part. Just for a little while. Just long enough to get the portal up and running. And then he’d never have to answer to anyone else again.

And he’d show her and her whole family just how far pity would get them.

-

After Mabel had watched Bill scramble out the window with all the poise and grace of a drunk raccoon, she’d trudged upstairs, face planted onto her bed, and passed out within seconds. She didn’t move again until after 1 PM, when Dipper helped Waddles clamber up onto her bed and she was forced to wake up or be crushed to death.

As the enormous pig did his best to climb up and settle on Mabel’s back, she wheezed in protest and flailed out from under him, slumping face-first onto the floor. She aimed a beleaguered stare up at Dipper, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and said “Et tu, Brute?”

“Definitely not how to pronounce that,” Dipper said with a snort. “Waddles missed you. He wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you guys,” Mabel said with a giggle. Dipper grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, and she cupped Waddles’ face and rubbed his big cheeks. “You’re not a lap pig anymore, Mr. Sir! You’re the size of a fridge!”

Waddles stretched out contentedly until his widdle back hooves dangled off the mattress, shoving his face into Mabel’s hands. Turns out farm hogs don’t stay adorably travel-sized for long; in less than nine months, he’d gone from fitting snugly in a backpack to almost being big enough to ride. She hadn’t convinced him to stand up with her on his back yet, but she suspected it was less about strength and more about motivation. He always just stared at her like “I know you have legs, bestie.”

In any case, his adorability had only increased as he grew. Mabel gave him a tiny kiss on his flat pink nose, and he oinked softly in response.

“I still can’t believe he even fit on the bus,” Dipper said, patting Waddles on the tummy. “It’s a miracle the bus driver let us bring him.”

“I think he was scared of us,” Mabel laughed. “Probably thought Waddles’d eat him.”

Dipper scoffed. “This guy won’t eat carrots if they’re too crunchy. He’s not gnawing through human bones.”

“I dunno, that bus driver looked kinda calcium deficient.”

Dipper laughed and nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, goofball, go get changed. We’re hitting the lake today, remember?”

—

That lake day was the best day of the summer thus far. Every day they’d been back here– except maybe yesterday– had been the best day of the summer thus far. They hadn’t taken a boat out; Stan and Ford both agreed they’d spent more than enough time on a boat recently, thank you very much. They just found a good spot on the beach and swam, and skipped rocks, and attempted a game of volleyball (none of them were any good at spiking the ball, and it devolved into dodgeball pretty quick), and just goofed around together like a normal family. After all the drama last year, it was just so unbelievably awesome that she and her three favorite people could finally just be a normal, happy family.

Eventually, the sun made its way to the other end of the sky. Mabel had brought her bike along in the car trunk, planning to ride it home just for fun. Once the sunlight turned orange and the shadows started to stretch, Stan pointed out that she’d need to head back soon to catch the last of the daylight. She agreed she’d rather not have to bike home in the dark twice in two days, so she waved goodbye to everybody, joked that now somebody else would finally have a turn to win at dodgeball, and set off for home.

If she had a choice, Mabel seldom preferred to do anything alone. Maybe it was just because she was a twin, and had spent her whole life with a teammate, a best friend who was always there to watch her back while she watched his. Maybe growing up that way meant she never learned how to be alone without feeling like a turtle without its shell. But whatever the reason, if she spent too long by herself, it started to feel like drowning.

But sometime last fall, she’d realized just how fast she could go on a bike. And suddenly she just couldn’t get enough of it, and Dipper, bless him, he’d tried his best to keep up with her, but his poor nerd legs just couldn’t pedal that fast. So she’d told him she preferred solo biking now, and he’d gratefully accepted the excuse not to accompany her on her daily rides.

She really did love the speed. Watching the trees zip by until they blurred into a solid wall of green, feeling the wind lift her hair so it flowed behind her like a tail, keeping pace with crows gliding through the sky above. It was worth a little solitude. And if Dipper knew she’d rather he go with her, he’d bust a lung or fall over and break his arm, or at the very least be uncomfortable and embarrassed the whole time. So it wasn’t a big deal. Really, she was fine with it. Right now, as she traced the twisting road up into the rolling, forested hills and toward the Mystery Shack, she felt almost completely content. Watching the clouds roll gently overhead, catching glints of orange and pink from the setting sun, the songs of birds and crickets washing away any pesky thoughts as she let herself be absorbed into this moment–

“AAAAAUGH!”

Mabel slammed the handlebars sideways and sent her bike careening off the pavement as a flash of gold raced past, just barely fast enough to not collide with her. She couldn’t look at it and save her bike from crashing down the steep hill beside the road at the same time, so by the time she’d managed to wrangle it to a stop, it was gone from sight. But that shrill scream she’d heard, the one she’d mistaken for a fox earlier, hadn’t gone away. And the road wasn’t empty. More small shapes were racing across it, chasing the thing, and these ones were all too recognizable. Her hunch was confirmed when one of them lost its footing and didn’t quite clear the brush at the edge of the forest. An antler snagged against a branch, and a tiny thing covered in sandy brown fur started screeching and thrashing around so violently that Mabel grabbed her grappling hook on impulse. Finally it broke free and joined the pack chasing after the screaming gold thing. Jackalopes. Dozens of the mean little things. And she had a pretty good idea who they were after.

She swung her bike around, and against her better judgment she biked after the throng of bunnies. Sure enough, she was proven right yet again. Just a few dozen feet past the tree line, Bill Cipher, the antagonist of most of her worst recent nightmares, was trying to balance on the top branch of a pine sapling just barely large enough to support his weight, as the jackalopes gathered at its base and leapt up at him, jabbing with their sharp antlers, almost but not quite able to jump as high as he’d climbed. Bill hadn’t stopped screaming since she’d first heard him.

This was certainly one way to cure a phobia.

Mabel jumped off her bike and threw the back trunk open. Frantically, she rifled around through her emergency supplies; multitool, slingshot, glowsticks, sack of ball bearings, fake gold jewelry for tricking fey… maybe Dipper was right about traveling light…

“ARE YOU PLANNING ON HELPING?!” Bill had spotted her, and most of his fear had turned into indignance.

“One second!” Mabel yelled, tossing snacks and weapons aside.

“OH, NO RUSH! TAKE YOUR TIME, NOT LIKE THERE’S ANYTHING URGENT GOING ON– OW!!!” He screeched; Mabel whipped her head around to see that one of those antler jabs had caught him in the ankle. Shiny silver blood poured from the gash.

Mabel wrenched the basket off the bike and dumped it out onto the ground. Finally, her target was revealed: an air horn. She raced toward the frenzy of rabbits and held it aloft. “Hey!” she roared, and just as the jackalopes turned their attention to her, she slammed down on the button as hard as she could.

A shrill, deafening honk crashed against every tree in the forest, filling the air with sound. The jackalopes, as one, all screeched in agony, recoiling from the horn and flattening their ears against the noise. A bold one bared its fangs at her, but she pointed the horn closer and kept the button held down, and soon every jackalope had retreated into the woods. Once they were out of sight, she released the button, and the world was just dull ringing for a few seconds, until her hearing returned with the sound of a sapling breaking in half.

She turned to see Bill lying prone on the ground again, painfully picking himself up. She considered offering her hand, then figured that would just embarrass him further, then figured she didn’t really care and reached toward him anyway. He glared up at her. For a second, he seemed to consider accepting it, but then he stood up on his own with a pained grunt, grabbing the top half of the broken tree and steadying himself on it like a cane to keep the weight off his injured leg. Mabel winced as she realized it was the same one Scout had gotten ahold of the other day. At least he had one leg that maybe didn’t hurt?

“...You okay?” Mabel asked, after a long silence.

His eye turned to stare at her disdainfully. “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.”

She stared back at him for a second, assessing. Then she looked away again, examining the trees. She could see that he could see that she could see he looked terrible. He was all scraped up again, his old wounds not quite healed yet and joined by lots of new ones. His legs were caked to the knees with dried mud, probably from a long day of wading through the river and falling down ledges and stepping in gopher holes. He was teetering in place, visibly exhausted. His hat looked almost spotless, like he’d been shielding it at all costs, but his bow tie was in dire need of a spin cycle. And his arms and legs were more bug bites than skin at this point.

She figured she should say something. Fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve, she said “It looks like you forgot bug spray.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It was a short, loud bark of a laugh, but it was a laugh. She looked back at him to see he was sitting on the ground, leaning his face against his hands. He looked up at her. “YOU GUYS REALLY JUST LIVE WITH MOSQUITOS, HUH. THEY’RE JUST… AROUND. ALL THE TIME.”

“Well, not in winter,” Mabel offered.

Bill laughed again. It was a little bit more like a real laugh this time; still definitely not happy, more numb bemusement, but it felt like an improvement. “GREAT!” he said. “JUST SIX MORE MONTHS.” He covered his face again.

Mabel looked down at him, watching cautiously. Her hand was tight around the handle of her grappling hook, ready for trouble, just in case this was somehow all a trap. Heck, maybe this was all part of his plan. Maybe he lured out those jackalopes and got himself into a second near-death experience just so she could find him and completely let her guard down. Maybe this was just a big, elaborate, 4D chess evil mastermind long con.

Suddenly he looked up and shouted “WHAT?!?” Mabel jumped back, and by pure muscle memory, her hand shot up to brandish the grappling hook. Unfortunately, her hands had gotten sweaty from all the excitement, and as the hook reached the peak of its arc, she lost her grip on it completely. It sailed out of her grasp, whipped through the air and hit Bill in the side of the face with a loud, solid CLONK.

Bill clutched his head where she’d hit him, too shocked to even yell in pain. Mabel was quicker to react. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean– hang on…” She sifted through her pockets and grabbed her bag of band-aids, and before even thinking about what she was doing, she was already kneeling beside him and pressing a starry band-aid over the bleeding welt between his scales.

Bill recoiled from her touch again, pupil dilated in terror as he scrambled backwards. Mabel pulled back quickly, raising her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat clenched tight from panic at the thought that he might strike back.

They both noticed the grappling hook at the same time. It had landed in the grass right next to Bill, easily within reach. Slowly, to her terror, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her last line of defense. Like Grunkle Stan had taught her: when all else fails, there’s always punching.

But he didn’t shoot her. Instead, he turned the grappling hook over again and extended an arm, holding it out to her handle-first.

Mabel looked at him appraisingly for a second, then slowly reached out and took the grappling hook from him. She returned it to its holster, and then hesitantly held out the bag of band-aids. “Your leg’s still bleeding,” she said softly. “You can pick.”

Bill sighed and accepted the band-aids. Sifting through, he muttered, “YOU GOT A LOT OF THESE STAR ONES, HUH.”

Mabel gave an apologetic laugh. “I like stars,” she said.

Bill let out a soft chuckle in return. After a bit more searching, he chose another star-patterned band-aid and handed the bag back.

“Well, uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” Mabel said awkwardly, starting to scoop all her supplies into the basket and shove it back into place on her bike. “I know you said you didn’t want my help–”

“WAIT,” Bill said. She turned back to look at him; he looked like he was about to say something he really didn’t want to say.

“LOOK,” he said. “I… I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING. I DON’T HAVE A PLAN, OR ANYWHERE TO STAY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN I’M GONNA HAVE FOOD AGAIN. I THINK AT THIS POINT…” he took a deep breath and forced the last words out with the air, “...I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET. IF YOUR OFFER STILL STANDS, I’LL TAKE IT.”

Mabel didn’t know what to say. She was stunned, full deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed. She twisted the edge of her sweater tight in her hands, trying to ground herself. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew she’d regret it. But in some strange way, she knew there was only one way this could go. She’d made the offer already. There was no going back.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while,” she said. “At least until I figure out how to tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And you’ll have to stay close by, so I know you’re not sneaking out to do evil world domination stuff. I’ll help you out with food and stuff, but you have to play by my rules as long as you’re staying with us, or you’re on your own.” She stared straight into his eye. “And you have to swear, on pain of death, that you won’t hurt anybody.”

He stared back evenly. “I SWEAR.”

She held his gaze. This seemed way too easy. “You’re really not gonna stab me in the back?”

“KID,” he said wearily. “I WOULDN’T DO THIS IF I HAD ANY OTHER OPTION. IF I STABBED YOU NOW, I’D GO DOWN WITH YOU.”

Mabel took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Just for a little while. As long as you promise not to make me regret this.”

“YOU GOT YOURSELF A DEAL.” Bill extended a hand for her to shake, seemingly as a reflex. Just as reflexively, Mabel flinched back, expecting it to erupt in blue fire like it did last summer. But it didn’t take long for them both to realize, with embarrassment, that things didn’t work like that anymore.

“We’re not shaking on it,” Mabel said. Bill put his hand back down, looking glad for the excuse.

Mabel finished packing up and climbed back onto her bike. “We should hurry if we wanna beat the others to the shack,” she said. “C’mon, get in the basket.”

Bill looked affronted. “SORRY. WHAT?!”

Mabel pointed to the front basket, in case that was where the confusion lay.

“WHAT AM I, A BUSHEL OF TURNIPS?! I’M NOT RIDING IN THE BASKET!”

“I mean, this isn’t a two-seater, so the other option is walking all the way there on that leg,” Mabel said with a shrug. “Which is fine if you really want. I won’t stop you. I’d just much rather ride on the bike if it were up to me. I’d be worried about being stuck out here after dark, and if the jackalopes come back–”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I GET IT!” Bill clambered up into the basket. Just like last time, he fit perfectly. He looked furious about it.

As they cycled along the trail, gliding between slowly deepening shadows and bright patches of golden sunlight, Mabel could tell Bill was nodding off. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’m a smooth driver. I carried you all the way to the shack in that basket last night, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“DON’T TELL ME THAT,” Bill groaned, straining to stay awake. “HASN’T MY DIGNITY SUFFERED ENOUGH?”

“Not even close,” Mabel said.

—

Mabel suspected Bill had drifted off by the time they reached the shack. But when she stopped the bike in the driveway, he jolted to awareness and lurched out of the basket as fast as he could. He stumbled and brushed himself off, looking like he’d faced the worst indignity of his life. “LET’S GET INSIDE QUICK,” he said, striding purposefully ahead of Mabel. “I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOTTED, I’VE HAD ENOUGH STRESS FOR ONE DAY–”

Then he seemed to smack his head on thin air. With a yelp, he staggered back away from the invisible obstacle, holding his face like he’d been zapped by something. Mabel trotted up to him, just in time to see a shimmer of light flash across an invisible membrane in the air, highlighting the shapes of strange runes and symbols as it slid up across a massive dome that seemed to encase the entire Mystery Shack.

“Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Bill shrieked. “I DON’T HAVE ANY OF MY POWERS, BUT THAT STUPID DOME STILL WORKS?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! I HAVE TO BE STUCK AS A MISERABLE PATHETIC MEATSACK AND STILL DEAL WITH ALL THE STUPID CURSES AND SHIT FROM BEFORE?!? WHAT NEXT, AM I ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS TOO?!? WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE x7*&^@^%%$--” he cut himself off and glanced back at Mabel, wincing. “DON’T REPEAT THAT,” he said to her.

“I don’t even know what it was,” Mabel said honestly. She thought maybe a bug had buzzed past her ear while he was talking, because she’d totally missed that last word somehow. Also her vision was a little fuzzy for a second, but then she blinked and it was normal again.

“You passed through the barrier just fine when you were asleep in the basket,” she pointed out.

Bill sighed heavily. “CAN YOU STOP MENTIONING THAT?”

“I’m just saying… hmm.” Mabel walked her bike up to where the membrane had been, and crossed it halfway. Then she held out a hand to Bill.

He looked at her, confused and annoyed. She’d tried this twice before and it hadn’t worked, but maybe the third time was the charm. “C’mon, humor me,” she said.

Bill kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to just turn around and walk back into the woods. But then, slowly, he squeezed his eye shut and reached out his hand toward hers. She grabbed it, and he winced like he’d gotten a static shock. His skin was cold, rough and pebbly, like really old leather. She pulled him forward, almost without meaning to– he really did weigh basically nothing– and walked him through the barrier. It was effortless, no indication that anything had been in the way at all. She couldn’t even really tell when exactly they’d passed through it. But regardless, they’d gotten through.

“Knew it!” Mabel released Bill’s hand so she could flap her hands excitedly. “It’s like a vampire thing! You can only enter the shack if one of us invites you in.”

“GREAT,” Bill muttered. He was holding up the hand she’d just let go of, just staring at it, like it had changed in some way he couldn’t quite define. Like holding hands was the most harrowing experience he’d had today.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the best vampire power to have…” Mabel began, trying to lighten the mood. “But at least the sun doesn’t kill you. And you can eat food, and cross running water…”

“YEP,” he cut in, scowling into the distance. “LEARNED THAT FROM EXPERIENCE.”

“...and hold crosses, probably, if you want… and eat garlic! Unless you’re like a cat and it’ll make you sick… and…” Mabel trailed off. “Is it just me or are vampires a downgrade in, like, every way.”

Bill snorted. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A CURSE, KID. DID YOU MISS THAT PART?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard boring people call it a curse lots of times, but in those books and movies and shows and stuff it seems like everybody wants to be a vampire!” she protested. “They act like it’s so cool. I mean, I guess you can live forever or something, but, like, you can’t go outside! Or into any building where you don’t know the owner. And Italian food? Forget it! After hundreds of years, that would get sooo old. What’s the point of living forever if it’s no fun?”

Bill shrugged.

“But people always call it a curse for such boring reasons. Like ‘ooh, they’re evil creatures of the night’ or whatever. So I just wrote them off.”

“THAT’S FAIR, ACTUALLY,” Bill chuckled.

“Anyway, the point is,” Mabel concluded, opening the front door and waving Bill in like a fancy bellhop, “Maybe things aren’t great right now, but at least you’re not a vampire. Count your blessings.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Bill said, rolling his eye as he entered the shack. “I GUESS THINGS COULD BE WO-OOOH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Mabel spun to see what he’d screamed at, hand on her grappling hook again, but was greeted by Waddles lumbering up from the living room to greet her. She squealed with delight and held out her arms to catch his big pudgy head as he shoved it into her sweater, snuffling happily. “I missed you too, baby boy!” she cooed, squishing his chubby pink cheeks as he nuzzled against her.

After a bit, she happened to glance up at Bill, and couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was staring up at Waddles with by far the most baffled expression she’d ever seen in a single eye. “HOW LONG WAS I GONE?” he finally asked, stepping forward and then quickly backing up as Waddles, who was a full head taller than him now, started to snuffle curiously toward him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s June 2013.” Mabel diverted Waddles’ attention with more face rubs, and he went back to cuddling her. “Turns out farm pigs get really big, really fast! My dad was less than pleased!”

Bill just kept staring as Waddles flopped over onto the floor with a heavy thunk, his energy spent. “...NOTED,” he said. He gave the pig a wide berth as he followed Mabel further into the house. As affronted as she was at the notion of anyone finding Waddles “scary”, Mabel couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. There was a non-zero chance that Waddles might mistake him for a piece of cheese at some point.

“That’s why I’m such a good cyclist now, by the way,” Mabel said, leading Bill downstairs toward Gay Baby Jail. “Dad was like, ‘okay, we can keep the pig, but only if you raise enough money to buy all the stuff we need and build a shed for him and stuff!’ So I did a morning paper route every single day for like six months. And Dipper did a bunch of odd jobs to help raise enough money, and in the end we paid for everything Waddles needed and Mom called Dad out like “You signed a CONTRACT, Robert!” So Waddles got to stay.”

“YOU DID HARD LABOR FOR A PIG?” Bill laughed derisively. “YOU COULD’VE JUST BLACKMAILED HIM, KID! I SAW YOUR DREAMS LAST SUMMER, YOU’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS DIRT ON ROB PINES–”

“Anyway,” Mabel said loudly. “My legs are super strong now. Put me on one of those big hamster wheels, I could power California for like a week.” With that, she threw open the door.

Light spilled from the hallway into Gay Baby Jail, and Mabel couldn’t help but wince a bit. She ducked inside and scooped up some of the snack wrappers still lying on the floor. “We can spruce it up a little,” she said. “Add some fun posters, some gamer lights, maybe a lava lamp… more furniture too, ideally… I mean, hey, it’s a blank slate, right? Infinite possibilities! That’s exciting!”

Bill looked around with a half-lidded eye. “MYTHOLOGICAL SCHOLAR, ELECTRICIAN, REALTOR… REGULAR JACK OF ALL TRADES, AIN’T YA?”

“You bet!” Mabel chirped. She knew he was trying to be rude, and she didn’t care. “I can make this work. I’m great at everything. Heck, I bet I can even make it fun!”

Bill laughed. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought it sounded more amused than contemptuous. “I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT. SOME CASH COULDN’T HURT RIGHT NOW.”

Through the window above, Mabel heard an engine approaching. “We’ll figure that out later,” she said. “I better go meet them. I’ll be back with food later, the bathroom and stuff’s back there… just stay here until I get back, okay?”

“WAIT, HOLD ON,” he blurted out, and she stopped mid-door-slam. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL THEM I’M HERE. RIGHT?”

“...Yeah. Not yet.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “Not until I can think of how to break it to them…”

“KID, LISTEN.” Bill’s voice was grave. “YOUR UNCLES CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT ME. PINETREE, MAYBE. MAYBE THAT’D BE FINE. BUT STAN AND FORD? NO CHANCE. THEY CAN’T FIND OUT.”

Mabel frowned, clenching the hem of her sweater in her fists. “I mean… I could get them to listen–”

“NO. ” His voice ricocheted around the tiny room. “FORD SPENT HALF HIS LIFE TRYING TO KILL ME AT ALL COSTS. STAN DID KILL ME, AND EVEN IF IT WAS JUST DUMB LUCK, HE MIGHT HIT THAT JACKPOT AGAIN! IF THEY FIND ME HERE, THEY WILL KILL ME, AND I HAVE NO WAY TO STOP THEM. AND I CAN’T GO BACK, OKAY? I’M NOT GOING BACK!!”

Mabel had been backing away on instinct; she realized it when her back hit the wall of the hallway. But the shock snapped her out of her fear, and she stomped back in and yelled “HEY!”

Bill went quiet. He stared at her in shock.

“I don’t want to send you back, Bill,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little, residual fear clinging to her throat, but her tone was firm. “That’s the whole point of all this. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”

Bill just blinked. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” she said. “And when I do, I’ll warn you first. And I’ll have a plan. I’ll make sure they don’t kill you, okay?” Unless they have to, she added in her head. She figured it went without saying.

“...OKAY. GOOD.” Bill looked off-balance, like he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“And you’ll make sure I don’t regret helping you. Right?”

“RIGHT. PROMISE.” Then, reluctantly, right before the door closed: “...THANK YOU.”

Mabel didn’t buy that for a second. He was definitely up to something. But Stan’s car was pulling up outside, and again, it was too late to backpedal. She gave a short wave and then slammed and locked the door behind her, scurrying upstairs to sit on the couch with Waddles in the living room, like she’d been there all along, just in time to look totally natural when the front door opened.

“Of course there are still a few small issues with the auto-scaling.” Ford’s voice rang through the house. “But really, the problems it causes are negligible.”

“How ‘bout the time that kraken almost sunk the boat because you tried to set it to 1.5 and forgot the decimal?”

“That was human error, Stanley, that had nothing to do with the prototype–”

“Welcome back, guys!” Mabel rushed up to them, Waddles lumbering behind her to shove his face into Dipper’s shirt.

“Hey pumpkin!” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair. “You really did beat us home!”

“Told you she was fast on that bike!” Dipper said, petting Waddles and trying to stop him from chewing on his hat. “You see now why I couldn’t keep up with her?”

“Yeah, I’m a superhero, basically,” Mabel preened. “Watch, I’ll go carry all the beach stuff inside by myself. It won’t even be hard.”

“No need!” Ford piped up excitedly. With a flourish, he produced a tiny box and what looked like a laser pointer from his coat pocket. Stan started to say something, but before he could get a word out, Ford tossed the box into the air and zapped it with the laser pointer. In a sudden flash of purple light, the box and its contents grew into full-sized beach chairs, pool floaties, picnic supplies and everything else they’d brought to the lake. It all hit the floor with a crash.

“It’s a more efficient take on the shape-changing flashlight you two invented,” Ford explained. “It auto-scans an object’s default dimensions and can rescale them by any multiple you want with the push of a button! Turns out it makes packing a breeze–”

“Sixer!” Stan yelled with a frustrated laugh. “The whole point of using that thing was to not have to carry that stuff to the garage! Now it’s all piled up in front of the door!”

Ford winced. “Oh. Right.”

“I got it!” Mabel leapt into action. Heroically, she grabbed up all the heaviest things in the pile, started to run for the garage, tripped on a chair leg, and fell on her face. She was laughing before she even hit the ground, and soon they all were.

Dipper reached a hand down to help her up. “Hold on, doofus. I got your back.”

—

Luckily for Bill, the walls of his temporary room were insulated enough to drown out almost any sound before it reached the rest of the shack. It would be hard to make enough noise to give himself away.

Unluckily for Bill, Gay Baby Jail was not particularly good at keeping out noise from the rest of the shack. The ceiling, in particular, was like a steel drum with how every step and jump and fumble of the Pines upstairs echoed through it with painful clarity. It sounded like they were playing a rousing game of “Who Can Throw The Heaviest Thing on the Floor”. And the familiar sound of Ford’s obnoxious hiking boots tromping across the floor, like heavy cloven hooves, echoed loudest of all. And Bill was supposed to be the demon here.

He curled up on the beanbag chair and tried to block out the sound with a blanket. Not that he had ears that he knew of, but he had to try something. It wasn’t just the stomping and the crashing. It was the laughing. They were laughing up there, shrill and careless, like a hoard of jackals. This family of traitors and murderers. They put him in the ground, and they were laughing.

He tried to reroute his train of thought. Things weren’t all bad. In fact, they were a lot better now than they were yesterday. He had a roof over his head– thin and noisy as it was– and he had a plan. He just had to wait until they all fell asleep. Then he’d sneak out and assess things. Scope out the area, find out what he needed for the portal and what was here to work with. He knew there were a lot of useful tools and parts hidden in the shack’s various storage rooms, and he knew where to find the things that weren’t here. He had plenty of time to figure it all out.

And best of all, he had an ally. A mole in the enemy camp. His eye crinkled with amusement at the thought. Ford’s own precious little niece working against him in secret. He couldn’t let him find out, of course. But by god, if he ever did, Bill hoped he’d get to see the look on his face.

It was a really lucky break that Shooting Star was the one to find him. The universe owed him a little luck at this point, he supposed. She was the least intolerable of all the Pines by far; that wasn’t a high bar to clear, but it was something. She was compulsively helpful and much too nice for her own good. She was even kind of fun to talk to; her goofy, weird non-sequiturs were hard not to smile at. And she was perhaps the only person in Gravity Falls who was dumb enough to help him.

No. Not dumb. That was the wrong word. She wasn’t dumb, not really. He knew she was clever from how things went last year, and he could tell from their conversations that she wasn’t naive enough to really trust him. She wasn’t dumb. She was something even better. She was optimistic. That meant that even if she saw red flags, even if she started to notice something fishy, chances were good that she’d still look past them, still hold out hope that she was making the right choice. She’d have hope. And that would be her downfall.

His eye drifted shut. Everything would be fine. All the pieces were in place. He just had to play the game until the portal was ready, and then he’d be home free.

The trick would be staying sane until then.

[sturniololoco]

Are you Scared? Pt 2

Colby Brock x Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS)

Warnings: Kissing, ghosts, random shit, etc.

Note: Kinda set from the collab but some events r out of order

SLS's POV

“God damn, which one of you had to take a dump?” Chris asked, laughing while Nick smacked him lightly in the stomach.

Colby smiled at them, laughing like what just happened down the hall didn’t even happen.

I smiled and laughed too, but it was fake. The ache in my chest grew at a steady pace, making me feel slightly sick.

What did I do?

-

That ache was still present as we walked into the room full of old mirrors.

Colby has been ignoring me ever since we left the hallway downstairs.

I walked behind the group as they filmed the inside of the room. My head was down and I was biting on my nails, nervous, trying to figure out where I where wrong.

“SLS/N, come here real quick.” I heard Matt say, pulling me to the left of the door while everyone else walked into the room.

“What’s wrong? And don’t you bullshit me kid, I know you.” He asked, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I looked up at him, the ache in my chest moving to my eyes and throat, but I forced it back down.

“I’m good right now, I promise.” I said, hinting him in with the ‘right now’.

“okay, you will tell me later though…?” He said like a question, but I knew it was practically an order.

I nodded, taking his hand from my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

"Hey guys, we're about to start-"

I whipped my head around to look at Colby, who was poking his head out the door. But as soon as his eyes met mine, he cut himself off.

I looked down, cheeks red, but that ache in my chest, throat, and eyes was only getting stronger.

Matt and I walked past him into the room, but I could feel his gaze on me the entire time.

As we entered, Sam was talking to Chris and Nick about the possibility of portals through the mirrors of this room.

I only picked up about half the conversation though, focused on keeping my eyes to the floor in hopes of not meeting Colby's stare.

But his gaze was not breaking.

“O-Oh shit, I think I left my phone by the elevator.” I lie, excusing myself quietly from the room and walking out into tue corridor.

I break as soon as I pass the threshold.

Tears spill over my eyes and onto my cheeks, but I hold the sobs in, making my throat throb.

I get back to where were earlier, by the elevator, and sit down where nobody could see me. I brought my legs to my chest and stared at the wall in front of me.

What the fuck did you do. You always mess these things up.

My thoughts were screaming at me for being so stupid. I still don’t understand what I did but knowing me, it was something.

“SLS/N,”

I whipped around looking at the voice behind me.

Colby.

He walked over to me and kneeled, while I quickly ducked my head to stare at my hands in my lap.

Colby’s POV

This was all my fault.

I treaded her like shit, and now she feels like shit. So do I.

“Oh my gosh! I left the spare light out there!” I lied, quickly running out of the room before Sam could tell me we don’t need it.

After a minute of searching, I find SLS/N sitting in the corner by the elevator, staring blankly at the wall in front of her.

Shit.

I say her name and her head whipped to look at me, tears in her eyes and her cheeks pink.

But this time she wasn’t blushing, she was upset.

Kneeling down, I lift her head up by her chin, using my pointer finger and thumb.

She looks deep into my eyes as I wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry.” I say.

And apparently that’s all I had to say, because next thing I know, her lips are on mine and her arms are around my neck.

It doesn’t last long though, because she pulls back, saying,

“I’m so sorry-I had no idea what I did and I thought I made you upset and I-“ she started to ramble, fumbling with her fingers behind my head.

She keeps talking so I place my index finger on her lip.

She shut up immediately.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, so stop talking like you do.” I say.

She nods her head and I take my finger off her mouth, kissing her one last time before I stand, saying,

“We better get back before I get in trouble.”

She nods, grabbing my hand to pull herself up, then doesn't let go, which makes my heart flutter.

-

SLS/N's POV

Once filming was over, we said goodbye in the hotel lobby.

My brothers headed out to the car while I lied, saying I had to use the bathroom one last time before returning to our hotel.

Technically, it wasn't a lie since I never got to go earlier.

As I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall, I could hear familiar footsteps coming closer.

I smiled as I saw Colby's face appear around the bend.

He wasted no time at all, leaning in and kissing me, grabbing my hops to pull my body closer to his.

"Give me your phone." he breathed into the kiss, reaching for my pocket.

I instantly obeyed, pulling my phone out and unlocking it, before handing it to him.

He fiddled with it for a few seconds before handing it back. He then shot me a corny wink before turning to walk into the men's bathroom.

-

It was late by the time we got into the hotel, and I wasn't able to check my phone till after I showered and was tucked into bed next to Nick.

The first notification I saw made me smile at my screen,

Colby:

Ft me when your brothers are asleep ;)

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

Guys, I'm actually so mad that I had to rewrite this! Thanks a lot, Tumblr for deleting ALL my shit!!!

[ghostreblogging]

Lazarus pits are Danny's bath water. Used. And it's just that he's strong and some of his ecto seep into the water he takes bath in like a tea.

And it's like it's dangerous to go to the sewer system. So he just opens portals to random remote places and dumps them in.

He thinks it's very weird people are taking dunks in his used bath water

[portalsafterschooll]

˗ˏˋ → small png dump pt 2 ★

No credits needed (ofc since they aren’t mine)

Like or reblogs are appreciated tho^^

Note: the ribbon one has background 🥲 i just use it by deleting the bg from ibis paint

[solargeist]

you made a post explaining him becoming a watcher.. can we hear about him running away, the relapse, etc, pretty pretty please? :>

with a cherry on top? lol!

hmmm !! It might not be as long as the other post, but...

The body horror of changing into an angel isn't the sole reason Grian wanted to leave the Watchers, there was a brief moment in time where he wondered if it'd be worth it, but wings are the first to grow, the rest take much longer as they're not as needed as wings are. Despite how much it hurt, he's pretty proud of his wings, and he enjoys flying.

He sticks around long enough to learn how to fly, he gets rly good at it, flinging himself down the halls followed by a strong breeze, flying up high in the air outside and then dropping, he gets confident in this. (hes like rainbow dash to me-)

Along with that, he studies Watcher magic, he learns Portal magic, which is being able to open portals without the help of obsidian or rituals. This can also be used in fights, see: opening a portal where a person's head is, or a tiny strip shooting from his fingers like bullets, (like lasers, but those bits of flesh end up somewhere.) but the part he focuses most on is opening portals to other servers. He's always supervised, they always visit servers with him--but usually close it without going through anyway. The Watchers are more precise with it, knowing exactly where they want to go, Grian only opens random ones.

Other reasons he wants to leave is, being treated like a child, the lack of control, the lack of autonomy. They control his sleep, his food, where he goes, what he does, even what he says. Along with studying and training, hes exhausted, the resentment builds over time, any nice moment is buried by bad ones. He trains with Flora, another Watcher, whose idea of training is to just release mobs after him, creatures he's never seen before, he's unsure if they shoot fire, poison, or explode. Being pinned against the ground by a creature with its teeth bared around his sword is a sight he doesn't forget. If Flora feels like he rly can't do it, she'll kill the creature herself. Grian doesn't forget how the blood and gore feels dumped on his face and body, nor the disappointed look on her face.

This all, along with knowing his friends have left him--and they're not going to save him, has him plotting, desperate to think of how to get out of the void. He can't just run away while on a Watcher job on a random server, they will find him.

He doesn't pick a date--theres no sun anyway, he doesn't know what days or weeks are anymore. Its one particular breakdown that makes him act, he has no full plan, but what he does have is explosives he's been collecting from servers over time and stashing under his bed. He doesn't pack anything, all he does is set the explosives off and runs. I haven't thought abt this particular part fully, it happens so quickly for him, if he makes eye contact with his mum on his way out, he doesn't hesitate to take to the skies, before he can lose his nerve.

Shooting out into the void, he doesn't have a plan, but he keeps flying as fast as he can before regret can catch up with him. He opens portals in front of himself and dives through as they shatter behind him, he doesn't know where hes going. He pops out in random parts of the void, different islands he doesn't recognize, he comes across servers torn apart by war or genuinely not safe enough to land, so he keeps going.

Grian doesn't know how long he's been flying, his sense of time is completely fried, but hes tired, he's never flown for so long before. He hops through another portal into another world, dark and quiet, but lights shining from large buildings scattered about, there must be a lot of players here so he thinks he should leave quickly, but before he can do that, his foot snags a tree top and throws him off balance, his attempt to catch himself only propels himself forward, crashing through branches and sliding across the dirt below. He doesn't know if it was the trees or the ground, but his left wing snaps, he doesn't know if he screamed or not, but he lays in the dirt writhing for awhile, muscles aching and emotions finally grasping at him, pulling him apart.

But ! Still not time to think abt all that rn, bc Xisuma finds him. Grian's first thought isn't that this is a player, all he can see under that helmet is eyes, and his first thought is Watchers--they found him immediately--and he screams this time, flipping over and putting his hands in front of himself for any fighting, he can't hear whatever Xisuma's saying over his own shouting, angrily stating he won't go back. He calms down after a moment when he sees Xisuma has stepped back, hands up to show he's friendly. Grian doesn't care though, hes sliding backwards on his hands, his wings twitch and he winces in pain. I think it takes a little bit of persuading, but after Xisuma explains himself, that hes an admin and this is his server and people, Grian calms down a bit, the exhaustion helps with this too. He ends up accepting Xisuma's help in bracing his wing. Taking him back to his base to do so, Grian would've ran again if he could've. They both agree that Grian will leave as soon as he can, but he is safe here to wait until then.

Back at his base, Xisuma makes them both tea and sits in front of Grian, telling him he has to explain himself. Grian doesn't touch his tea, and after a long pause, he gives the shortest story with the least amount of details possible. Xisuma knows what Watchers are already, so he does feel some sympathy for him.. He would feel concern abt the Watchers finding his server, but hes confident enough in his code. Grian stays that night, he hides under a bed and cries, still never drinking the tea, but he falls asleep.

UH fast forward fast forward Grian is invited to the server, and he does join as s6 starts, his wing still in bandages but doing much better now. He still hasn't met any players or heard much abt them. He's shocked to see Pearl, but also very happy--his sister !! his sister ?!?!?! She looks happy too, so he rushes forward and they hug, shes gotten so tall. He promises to tell her what happened later, but he still leaves out a lot of details.

This is getting long again fast forward fast forward again

The relapsing happens throughout s6, Grian overworks himself, insecure and nervous in his building ability--it almost feels like Evo again, wishing he could do better, scared to disappoint Xisuma and be kicked out for not being worth the trouble.

Grian's gotten rly close with his neighbour Mumbo, he'll take a break for Mumbo, to hang out with him. Grian has a problem with hoarding food, he never had control over it with the Watchers, so now on his own, he can't bare to throw anything out, he keeps things despite the smell or mold. Good bits of food sat with the rotten, but he doesn't eat either anyway, he just wants to have it, safe, where he can get to it easily, and he doesn't have to ask anyone. It takes Mumbo awhile to talk him into cleaning that out, its dangerous ! Even during the conversation Grian is slowly closing the cabinet Mumbo is trying to look into it, holding eye contact and desperately trying to convince Mumbo its fine (it is NOT.) Mumbos taken to sharing his lunch with him most days, or bringing snacks he claims he made too much of--or he bought too much by mistake, just to make sure he eats something.

Grian has a hard time living alone, he loses track of time and doesn't eat, or doesn't get the right amount of sleep. He feels lonely in his large build. The Watchers' controlled his entire life, so he doesn't know what to do with it now that its his again. When he thinks about it too long, it starts to ache, that little part of him never went away, the guilt, regret, and remorse, builds every time he doubts himself, he misses his bed !--Back in the void, that bed, this still doesn't feel like home, in some sick twisted way he feels homesick. Mumbo finds him at his base one day with his head buried in his knees crying, but when Grian notices he immediately pretends he was not crying, despite the red puffy eyes and tear stained face, he smiles and asks: whats up !! Hello whats up ! Mumbo laughs in horrified confusion, asking what happened. Grian says Nothing. Mumbo sits next to him and says c'mon mate what is this. Grian sighs and sinks back into himself, face dropping and exposing how tired he is. Grian slowly explains himself--at first leaving out many details--he just says he ran away from home before joining Hermitcraft, but he still misses his family sometimes--even if they hurt him. Mumbo thinks this is much deeper than he thought it'd be, but he encourages Grian to continue, and he does. Grian ends up telling Mumbo everything, absolutely everything, every humiliating detail and embarrassment, every memory good or bad. At some point they start telling family stories to each other, and Grian isn't crying anymore, they're both laughing, sat right next to each other. Its a huge relief. Grian poured his soul out to Mumbo and he held it so carefully.

late s6 and s7 go pretty smoothly--Watcher wise, Grian adjusts to life on his own and within a new community. Grian learns to fly again, he makes his wings his own and dyes them parrot colours.

I can't fit the rest, but he gets possessed by an alternate version of himself in s8, i think the Watchers find him as well bc of this timeline chaos. And the moons falling. Its a lot for him to emotionally deal with !

[anonymous-gravity-falls-thoughts]

Hi, the "ford might trust bill" anon back so i can dump some random thoughts once MORE!!!

So, Bill.

Yea he's evil. But that could be a major coping mechanism for what he did, people will see him as a monster anyways, so why shouldn't he ACT as such? He doesn't feel bad at all! sure! Possibly repressing his emotions, as the axolotl said "misses home but can return." Why WOULDN'T he lean into the sadistic act, he done it for years, and it morphed his actual personality.

NOW ONTO THE STAN TWINS!!!!!!

Ford, the perfect nerd who has "the ego of kings", it is possible his father is the reason he feels like he needs to be the SMART one, it's what is expected of him, he can't handle being wrong because that's how he was raised.

Stan is the opposite, he's not dumb, he fixed the portal after all, but he was raised being treated as such, the "copy", this could've had a really big impact on who he grew up as, had he been treated similar to his brother, would he have been a different person?

.

[caldella]

Another post-Mastermind crack headcanon

RE: Vassago

BTW for anyone who enjoys this headcanon, I'm currently making it a fanfiction on Ao3! I'm seeing some people think maybe Vassago is Andre's ex, but I have another crack theory.

Let's say that Vassago is about the same age as Stolas, as I get that vibe. We've been shown that he's energetic and interested in doing things 'the right way.' And he clearly loves 'fun' things like music, and dancing, and even floats around on a fucking star shape. His name on merchandise is stylized like a pirate treasure map. Let's take a small assumption that Vassago grew up less isolated than Stolas and was part of “Goetia society” earlier than him. Like Stolas, he doesn't really gel with the haughty, holier-than-thou attitude parts of their culture. I'm also guessing that, a little like Stolas, he can feel out of place in it.

We know that once Stolas got his grimoire, he was meant to learn his role and join Goetian society as well. Let's assume he was in his teens when he was really thrust into the thick of it. Vassago has been participating in the 'grown up Goetia' society for a while, learning his role but also finding it disappointing. Stifling, so boring. Then this young prince shows up, nervous and socially awkward but so eager. He wants to participate, he wants to be part of things. And he's interesting! He knows all these random facts. He has books about pirates! Vassago loves pirate stories! Apparently Stolas' very first friend did, too, so he knows all about them! Stolas likes song and music, and he has dramatic feelings, and stars:

🌟His whole thing is stars! 🌟

Vassago wants to know this guy. There is so much potential! Maybe Vassago has a little crush, or maybe Stolas is an estranged half-brother or cousin he wants to know better. But Stolas is also engaged to Stella, who's Andre's sister. Ugh, Andre. Vassago knew that Andre was a pompous bullshitter from day one. His social circles are definitely not Vassago's, so unfortunately Vassago doesn't get to know Stolas extremely well, but he tries. He does see Stolas' enthusiasm dull under the pressure of Goetian society, and he doesn't like that it makes the owl prince more withdrawn.

Then Stolas gets married.

He still shows up to events when required, but nothing more. Even when he's there, it's like he's not. He does his roles, then he stands in a corner, sipping wine until it's time to leave. He acts like all the interesting parts of him never existed. No emotions, no info dumps, no theatrics, no song. The only time he sparks back up is if someone asks about his kid – he could go on for hours about her. Vassago doesn't know completely why Stolas has become like this, but he has a feeling that Stella and Andre have had some hand in it. He's miffed about that, but he's not close enough to Stolas to inquire into it. Stella and Andre's social circles continue to grow ("ugh" again), and Prince Stolas becomes more of a stranger as his wife and brother-in-law's popularity grows.

A couple decades in, and you hear Stolas might actually be getting a divorce. A Goetia? Getting a divorce? Unheard of, a surprise since he's never said much to anyone, but Vassago doesn't like Stella or Andre, so fine. Good for him.

Then Andre calls up an insane trial out of the blue that is supposedly about Stolas, for Stolas' sake, yet Stolas isn't there. What?! Vassago's not dumb. Something's fucky. He can tell Andre's bullshitting to some amount. But as usual no one cares. Everyone's eager to get this imp beheading over with. Until Stolas himself portals in, with his star magic and the most dramatic theater-kid energy anyone's seen from him in almost twenty years, and then he declares that he is going to clarify this entire mess:

🎵🌟THROUGH SONG🌟🎵 🕺

"YES!"

(Edited to remove info that isn't correct as Vassago is likely also a prince. And really, this could also work if Stolas is older, and Vassago saw him as an interesting figure to look up to who suddenly became withdrawn.)

[ar-gemlad]

Hang on - when did the Doctor get over his fear of breaching the walls between dimensions without destabilising the multiverse? When did it become easy to create a dimensional portal? Was he lying and it just dumped them on a random planet?

To be clear: I'm not looking for plot holes; I'm looking for loopholes.

DOCTOR, FIND HIMB.

[doofus-and-dragons]

Thoughts on Malevolent e1:

Starting off strong with amnesia

Who is this echoed robo Stanley parable mother fucker I like him?

Rip Arthur

"What is it?" "A book" Thank you Narator who's voice keeps getting progressively deeper

Arthur seems pathetic little man he's cute

WHO IS THIS ANGRY ROBO BITCH GODDAMN THE MAN HAS NO MEMORIES CHILLAX

"Your whimpering is awfully distracting" Maybe don't posses a pathetic little bitch (lovingly)

Bound? Seems kind of gay if you ask me

WHO ARE YOU GAY ROBO BITCH

Watch it there's a... piano? Angry keyboard dog?

I need Arthur carnaly. First episode and he whimpers. WHIMPERS WHILE BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO BY AN AGRESSIVE VOICE

AND HE PLAYS PIANO

HE WILL BE MY WIFE

Ah yes, best first date idea: hide the body of your busniess partner and best friend while plotting a possible murder together.

Eddie is fair. I would also be suspicious of this whimpering buffoon.

Who the hell is this demon robo dude? He's kind of toxic and I love him.

"Look at him" "I cant" Dude forgot he took Arthur's eyes XD

Arthur baby I love you so much please don't let Eddie beat you up

"Look in the mirror I want to look at you." Kinda gay bro

"I do not like to be pushed around." Sound like something a guy who likes to be pushed around would say

"...noted." note the sarcasm in that echoed tone.

Demon voice, you seem like you keep forgetting Arthur is a very good detective.

Oh? Lore drop already? Fucking awesome

YES INTRODUCING ALTERNATE TIMELINES ALREADY! IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS SHIT!

DEAD VOICE GUY YEEEAH

ITS 1934!?!? FUCK YEAH!!!!

Someone is avoiding the questioooon

Mayhaps it is because ye voice has trauma?

Oh yeah. Trauma dump already.

It must be 1934, taxi fair is less than 3 bucks. Damn

"Describe everything to me." Arthur you are so cute.

Yessss 1934 music! I love it.

This voice guy is really trying to push his emotions down and it isn't working that well. Babygirl we can all tell you're troubled. Do you need a hug? A cup of cocoa?

"Crouch low and put your back against the ckunter." "Arthur: *old man groaning sounds*" babygirl that's not very sneaky

"Relax. That was a close call. it won't be the last." That's reassuring.

That "well done arthur" sounded awfully suspicious

Arthur is so smart and this traumatized voice keeps forgetting that.

Oh shit he already has an enemy he doesn't know. This escalated quite quickly

These two are already bickering.

This guy is surprisingly angry about him not helping the police investigate a murder he was already investigating the disappearance of the victim. Chill out dude he's a PI not a criminal investigator.

"Arthur it's another small room!" It sounded so aggressively excited that I had to stop because I started laughing that was so cute what.

Hm. Sounds creepy...and hot.

What was that name again??? Asking for a friend ofc.

Dint turn random stones have you learned nothing from horror movies? Oh, wait, 1934. Right.

Arthur would be the horror movie girl who survives because she wants nothing to do with the stupid false solutions.

PORTAL TO HELL PORTAL TO HELL PORTAL TO HELL!!!

AAAHH THAT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD!! HELL YEAH!!!

[radiance1]

Ok new random au idea thing.

So, the basis of this au is that Danny isn't actually as ok as he could've been after the portal incident, yes, he still has ghost powers and yes, he can switch between the two but is core is unstable.

It's fully formed yet lacks some of the key features of a regular ghost core, one of them being wherein they pull ectoplasm from the surroundings to keep themselves going but Danny's does not.

So him going ghost has a timer.

His parents also find out his secret when he couldn't keep the ghost transformation for long, and they don't try to kill him or anything, but they do pull him down to their lab to figure out if there was any way to reverse what happened to him.

Which there wasn't. But they did find out something else.

Right under Danny's heart rested a fully formed core. Which is not something that should be possible, it makes him physically weaker, less aware of his surroundings and slow in his movements.

They blame it on how his core is actively pulling in the ectoplasm in his blood needed to keep him alive to sustain his ghost half probably, but even that is a stretch considering how his ghost half isn't all that stable either.

At least compared to other ghosts.

So, they made it mandatory that Danny take shots of ectoplasm into his bloodstream consistently so his core wouldn't begin to draw the ectoplasm from his own blood. And it worked, Danny no longer felt so fatigued and could stay in his ghost form for far longer than he could before.

But Vlad, unlike him. Didn't need to take any shots of ectoplasm or anything of the sort, he was proper, genuine halfa. With all the perks of being both human and ghost with none of the drawbacks of Danny.

Vlad wasn't obsessed with Maddie here, no. He hated the both of them, he blamed them for the accident he got into and losing all those years of his life withering away in a hospital. So when he found they had a son, a son who was basically a feeble, weaker version of him.

He decided to take away something like they took away from him.

Danny was left in a remote location for hours on end, his core starting suck away the ectoplasm in his bloodstream until barely anything was left, and then it started taking the blood.

He was barely even coherent when his parents finally found him, injecting him with a syringe of ectoplasm to keep him stable enough until they got back to their lab. Jack and Maddie then decided to dig out a big hole, single out the life-giving effects of ectoplasm until there was nothing but that and dump him in it.

They did have to cut open his chest, to give his core proper access to the pool. They pretended not to notice how barely any blood sprang from the cut.

When they finally placed him inside, two things happened.

Danny's core was energized, supercharged, even.

Such supercharged energy exploded.

His latent ice abilities expelled from his core, covering the lab and everything in it. Before the entirety of Amity Park as well and a good chunk of the surrounding forests. Vlad was relatively unaffected, his fire core melting through the ice easily until seeing how said ice creeped back up no matter how much he burned through it.

So he decided to just turn his back and leave, it wasn't any skin off of his back whatever happened. Jack and Maddie probably also died from all the frost so really it kinda just saved him the trouble.

Time went on, and the ice encased world of Amity Park did not. Years passed as the ice slowly spread, the ectoplasm from the (somehow still activated) portal leaking through to cover the ice covered town. The ice spread further out into the forest, absolutely consuming it along with everything in it, the mass amounts of ectoplasm helped formed multiple ghosts though.

It was many, many years later until life stepped into the city again.

One Ra's Al Ghul.