#going live module

[justynart-msc]

Going Live 03 - 3D to 2D

Although our team continued to create stylised 3D tests for environments we were getting quite similar results overall and couldn't get close to what we had in mind. After receiving feedback from Wild Child about how animating in 2D over 3D backgrounds could pose technical issues we shifted our focus to wards an entirely 2D workflow.

I started off by looking into the UPA/00's Cartoon Network style we were using as reference and created a background test.

Reference:

Latest 3D tests:

Background style concepts:

Using 2D allows for more instant control over how things look within the scene. It's easier to adjust areas if changes are proposed and generally easier to make 2D animation work over 2D environments.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[son-of-avraham]

One of the classes I'm taking is History of Early Civilization and I'm really looking forward to week four when our schedule says we'll be covering Mesopotamia and Judaism. I'm crossing my fingers and toes that it will be good 😭

The funny thing is that we're also covering early xtianity and the schedule mentions that we'll need a copy of the Bible. Of which I don't have. So I'll have to use an online alternative. I used to have a copy, but as you can tell, I don't read it and don't particularly want to keep it

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

Feeling the need to chart out my worries again and write through God's answers to all of them and wow it's been over a year since I did that

[izzy-b-hands]

I keep getting parenting subreddit posts rec'd on my dash there. No idea why, have decided I don't care bc a lot of times the post is either funny or is some asshole parent getting utterly smacked in the comments for being an asshole to their kids which is so satisfying lol

The above said, I did just get a post that made me shoot back to childhood and feel so anxious lmao. Interviewing your kid on the last day of school? When did this become a thing fdlkajdkasf

Like, these ppl in the comments have huge lists of questions, with the noted intent to get through as many as they can so they can 'prove their child is learning and prepare them for first grade' whomst in the entire fuck is interviewing your child like that in first grade. Truly, tell me, bc I'd wager it's more they'll be doing much harder maths than I ever did as a first grader and/or learning how not to break the school's laptops they'll eventually be getting sent home with now and then lmao

'If he can't answer then did he really even learn anything', 'if they won't answer me then they aren't ready for first grade and everything it entails'

Your kid is probably 6 or 7 years old. They're going to be a first grader. That's it!! Why are some of these people treating the last day of kinder like a fucking exit interview sdklajfdaskljf. I would have lost it as a kid if my mum had sat me down right after getting home from the last day of school for twenty plus questions about the school year, the day itself, my favourites of everything, why those things were my favourite, what did I think I'd learn in first grade, why did I think I'd learn those things in first grade, how many friends did I make, why did I like them, do I think we'll be good friends in first grade, etc, etc bc I could go on, I'm just paraphrasing the question sets in the huge lists I'm reading on the post rn and there's so much more lmao

[bispacecadet]

lmao. I was just wondering why it felt like it was already evening and why I was so tired even though it's only noon. and then I remembered that I didn't sleep.

[steelycunt]

filling my friend in on the house drama got so serious that i had to log into whatsapp on my laptop for ease of typing

[exopelagic]

Okay I’m finally excited abt term starting now this is gonna be GOOD

[justynart-msc]

Going Live 06 - Offering Feedback

As we're getting closer to settling on an overall style and look for our pitch I started to offer more detailed feedback to our team to help steer the art in a unified direction. Here are some examples:

Higher res feedback sheets:

I always aim to be as clear as I can while making sure everyone on the team feels comfortable enough to approach me and others if they have questions or need help with anything. I find that visual notes and feedback is the best way of communicating ideas that may be difficult to translate through text alone.

[bibleofficial]

i just think it’s funny that raspberry pi seems to plan their releases around that of apple’s

[nautilusgays]

Me: has a composition* assesment due tomorrow

Also me: writing aronnemo fanfic

[dwintu]

aerospace may suck but thank god i dont do mechanical

[k1ranishf4]

☆ Ink and Instinct ☆

☆ Jason Todd x Female Reader

☆ His muscles were screaming, his bones aching and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed—or to end up in a coma, preferably. Tasteless joke, he knew, considering that he had literally died and came back, but oh well. None of that mattered when he saw his fiancée, though. Or rather, when he saw the pretty black ink on her radiant skin, right where her womb was.

☆ Content tags/warnings: 18+ content, engaged couple, explicit language, horny Jason Todd, explicit content, soft smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, NSFW, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl (1x), my love), praise, reassurance, reader got a womb tattoo without his knowledge, information broker!reader, shameless Jason Todd, newfound breeding kink and its consequences (don’t worry, no pregnancy in this), Jason’s thinking with his dick, momentarily shy reader, ticklish reader, humorous and sweet atmosphere, no beta we die like everyone in DC at some point

The fire escape groaned beneath his boots as he landed on the creaky metal, right in front of your shared bedroom window. It became a routine for him to enter the apartment through the window after patrolling, considering that the front door would raise too much attention to him. No one was supposed to know who the Red Hood was nor where he lived, thank you very much. He checked his surroundings again, like he always did, and then slid the window open to climb inside.

Patrol had been complete bullshit, in his opinion. Chasing down an amateur thief who ended up knocking himself out by running into a brick wall because he had looked back at Jason, disrupting a drug deal by the docks, gunning down Penguin's goons after one of them had spotted him—he was tired. And sore. He didn't even know anymore if the dried drops of blood on his jacket were his or someone else's.

He wanted nothing more than to get rid of his clothes, take a shower and melt next to you in bed. You, his perfect, smart fiancée who entered his life as the best information broker of Gotham's underworld. He sometimes still had moments of realization that, yes, he was, in fact, going to marry you. His heart felt way too heavy with love.

Jason thought you might be asleep by now, cuddled up in the warm sheets and sprawled out over his side of the bed again, despite your insistence that you always stayed on yours. He never asked you to wait up for him and you were out like a light by eleven o'clock sharp most of the time, so it was a surprise to see you still awake, music filling the air from the loudspeaker at a volume that wouldn't disturb your neighbors.

He closed the window gently, not wanting to announce his presence just yet. You were oblivious that he was even there, in the middle of changing. He leaned back against the windowsill and crossed his arms as he watched you, still in his whole Red Hood getup. Sure, okay, it might have been creepy of him to watch you change, but he didn't really see how anyone could blame him.

To him, you were the hottest, most sexiest woman in all of Gotham, hell, in the whole world. Smart, witty, beautiful, and so kind, he could die again and be much happier in his grave this time around. His gaze raked over you behind his helmet's white lenses, taking in every inch of skin you were showing as you stood there in nothing but black lace panties, pulling a shirt over your head and humming along to your favorite song playing in the background.

He smirked with amusement when you turned and yelped, jumping like a scared cat.

"Jason!" You threw the nearest object—an empty deodorant bottle that he didn't know why you still kept—at him and missed, the aluminium bottle clattering on the hardwood floor. "Don't just stand there, asshole, you scared me!"

He smiled at your indignant tone and looked you up and down again. "Calm down, baby. You know it's me," he mused smugly, his voice changed by the voice modulator. He didn't even make a move to take his helmet off or to put his guns inside the safe in the closet, still leaning against the wall.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You asked with a huff, walking past him to pick the empty deodorant bottle up and putting it back on a shelf instead of just throwing it away, then pausing the music. "Watching me like some creep, instead... Idiot."

But he wasn't listening. His gaze was on your stomach, which was hidden by the shirt again. He could swear that he had seen something there. He watched you reach up to the shelf inside the closet, his eyes still on your stomach while you rummaged through your clothes. For what, he didn't know, nor did he care, because now he could see it clearly.

"Lift your shirt," he said without any kind of context, not even looking at you. His arms were still crossed, but he felt tenser.

"Huh?"

He met your gaze, white lenses meeting hypnotizing but confused eyes.

"Your shirt," he repeated, still making no move to get out of his grimy clothes. "Lift it up."

He kept watching you as you looked at him with confusion for another moment before grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to your stomach.

His breath caught in his throat.

"I was gonna show you eventually," you started rambling, but he wasn't even hearing the words. "I thought it'd be cool, I guess, and I was waiting for it to heal properly, but then you became busier and—"

He called your name softly, so soft it could as well have been deadly. His head slowly lifted, looking into your eyes again. "When did you get it?"

The 'it' in question being a womb tattoo just above the waistband of your panties, a tattoo of his name. Cursive, elegant, the J underlining the rest of the letters and dipping beneath your panties.

He felt his heart race, his head tilting when you didn't answer. "Baby, when did you get that?" He asked again. Exhaustion who? He was more concerned about not jumping your bones right then and there.

Jason slowly got closer to you, gloved hand gently tilting your head up. "Don't be shy now, pretty girl. I just wanna know when you got it without me ever realizing," he reassured.

His thumb gently rubbed circles on your jaw, silently encouraging you not to get all shy on him now. "A few months ago," you mumbled. "Three, I think."

He paused. Months? Months of his name engraved on your skin, on your womb, and he was only seeing it now?

Taking a deep breath, he finally reached up to get rid of his helmet, tossing it on the bed carelessly. His eyes were dark, once emerald now appearing black. "You got my name tattooed right above your pussy and never told me?"

"Don't say it like that!" You slapped his chest, but he only smirked. His pretty fiancée, flustered about a tattoo she had gotten on her own volition.

"It's the truth, no? Fuck, baby." His hands went to your waist, his pants painfully tight. "C'mon. Let's get rid of this, hm?" He lightly tugged at your shirt.

"You haven't even put your guns away—"

"I know." He looked into your eyes. "I'll do that as soon as you're out of this shirt. Promise."

"Jason..." He could hear that you didn't believe him. Which was fair, considering that all of his thoughts were on you. Your body. That tattoo.

He felt dizzy from simply remembering that it was his name. His name. On your perfect body.

How would it look like if you were pregnant?

The thought made Jason pause.

Neither of you had ever brought up the topic of having children, not when you were dating, not now. But fuck, if it wasn't an appealing idea.

He never thought of himself as father material, nor did he have any intention of fantasizing about something that you might not even want, but the thought of your stomach becoming round and full of his child, with his name literally on your skin and claiming you, both of you—shit.

"You'll be the death of me," he told you hoarsely, voice thick with lust. "Get on the bed, baby. I'll put my guns in the safe, I promise, but I need you on that bed."

He'd throw you on it if he had to, but he was forcing himself not to go completely caveman on you. It was the last thing you needed, he could tell from your uncertain expression.

"C'mon." He gently guided you towards the bed, walking slowly with you until the back of your knees hit the edge of it. "Just like that. Sit down, baby."

Only when you were sitting did he go to the closet, helmet in hand, and put it along with his guns inside the safe that he had put there for this purpose. Aside from the things he personally needed as Red Hood, there were also some document files and USB drives that belonged to you—all filled with information about various criminals and crime lords.

You never stopped being his information broker and neither of you intended to change that.

"You're not mad, right?" The uncertainty in your voice made him pause, the fog of lust dissipating just enough for some rationality to return. He locked the safe and looked at you again.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Jason asked, confused. He stood up and walked towards you, sitting down on his knees in front of you and peeling his gloves off.

"I don't know, I just—" He watched you huff, his hands gently running up and down your thighs. "I never told you. I thought..."

"What?" He tilted his head, looking up at you with patience and so much love. His eyes flicked to your throat as you swallowed.

"I thought you might think I'm insane," you confessed quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Jason couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face. "Insane? Baby, the only one going insane right now is me because I'm trying very hard not to fuck you right this instant."

He laughed when you paused, looking at him like he was crazy. His heart swelled when he saw you getting out of that unsure headspace. Insecurity never suited you, in his opinion.

"You're so disgusting," you huffed, and his smile widened at the relieved humor written all over your face.

"That's what you do to me," he grinned. "Now take this shirt off. Please. I wanna see the ink again."

He looked at you with a mix of lust and adoration, not wanting to rush you but also feeling like a feral dog that's hurling its toy across the room.

With a sigh, you took the shirt off and set it aside. "Don't be weird about this," you muttered with faux sternness, making him smile.

"No promises," he winked at you, his hands traveling up your thighs to your hips. "Spread your legs. I need to get closer to you."

"And people say romance is dead," you mumbled as you spread your legs, making him chuckle softly while shifting closer, his lips immediately pressing a gentle kiss on your lower belly.

"You don't know what this makes me want to do," he breathed against your soft skin, his eyes fluttering when he felt your fingers run through the raven strands.

"You mean other than fucking me?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head.

"Oh, you..." He met your grin with his own and stood up, making you lie on your back in the middle of the bed before taking off his boots and settling between your legs.

His heart swelled when you giggled as his lips met your neck. He loved it, loved that you were sensitive and easily ticklish. It made sex even better. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, chuckling when you squirmed.

"Hey, now," he murmured against your neck. "No squirming, I haven't even started."

"That tickles!" You protested with a smile as more kisses were littered on your skin, down to your shoulder.

He smiled and pulled back, looking into your eyes. "Let me worship you, baby." His hand went to your lower belly, gently caressing your skin. He took a deep breath, feeling like he might combust.

Jason looked at you when your hand reached for his cheek. "What are you thinking?" You asked, your eyes looking like gems to him.

"You," he rasped. "This tattoo." He took a deep breath. You were his fiancée, sure, but he was still so afraid that he might scare you away. "I'm thinking about what it would look like if you were pregnant."

A crazy thing to say, he knew, as he watched your eyes widen. You weren't even married yet and he was already thinking about knocking you up. Just to see your skin stretch with his baby, with his name on your body.

"Jason—"

"I know," he interrupted, not even giving you the chance to finish speaking. "I won't do anything you don't want me to, I swear to you. But... Fuck, baby, I can't stop thinking about it. What it'd look like if your stomach was round with my name literally on it and our baby inside you."

He hadn't even been aware that he was hard. But he could feel it now, the unbearable tightness of his pants. He swallowed. "We don't have to talk about babies or anything right now. I just..." His hand gently rubbed your womb again. "Let me worship you, baby. Please. Let me show you how much I love this tattoo. How much I love you."

He watched you swallow before nodding. "Words," he murmured. "Give me words, my love."

"Yes," you breathed. "I.. I want you to show me."

That was all he needed.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, but without urgency. This wasn't like the countless heated make-out sessions the two of you had had or the rough sex whenever both or one of you was too pent up to release the emotions verbally.

No, this kiss conveyed all of his love for you, the adoration he felt for you. One of his hands cupped the back of your head when you let out a small noise against his lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

He hummed against your lips when your arms locked around his neck, pulling away with a soft intake of breath before his lips went to your neck.

He smiled as he pressed kisses on your neck, hearing your soft laughs. "You're still ticklish," he murmured against your skin, amusement in his voice.

"I'm blaming you," he heard you say, and laughed.

"Of course you are."

His lips traveled from your neck to your shoulder, down to your collarbones. Both of you started breathing more shallowly as he littered your perfect breasts and stomach with soft kisses, until his lips were on your womb. On that damn tattoo.

He heard your breath hitch when his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, but they stayed there. He looked at you, pupils blown wide. "Can I?"

He watched your throat work as you swallowed. "Yes," you whispered. "Please."

"You don't have to beg me. Never beg me, baby." He inhaled sharply as he pressed a kiss on your clothed mound before pulling the black lace off of your body and tossing it on the floor. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

He felt hot. Too hot. His skin was burning as he leaned down and pressed another kiss on your mound, on the small extension of the inked J. His heart was racing, especially when he heard you gasp softly.

"Jay—"

"Shhh, I've got you," he whispered. "Just lie down and let me take care of you, baby." He had to take his jacket off, the leather landing on the floor too. His body was on fire, molten lava coursing through his veins.

He let his eyes wander over your body again before shifting a little further away. "You're perfect," he whispered as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your glistening cunt. He pressed a kiss on your flesh before licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, his eyes fluttering as he heard your breath hitch.

He looked up at you. "Tell me to stop if it becomes too much or if something feels wrong," he told you before his mouth closed around your clit, his tongue swirling around it.

The sound of your breathing becoming heavier only turned him on even more as his hands went to your thighs, moving your legs over his shoulders. Death by suffocation wouldn't be a bad way to go if this was how it happened.

"Jason—mmm..." Your breathy moan went straight to his cock, still straining painfully against his pants. He had half a mind not to dry-hump the damn bed while eating you out.

His right hand left your thigh and went up to your wet entrance, slowly easing his middle finger into you as he kept lapping at your clit. The pleased sigh that left your lips made him moan in response, muffled by your flesh.

He added a second finger when you started rolling your hips against his mouth, meeting his fingers with your own movements. He let out a muffled groan and put his free hand on your hip, to keep himself grounded and not to pin you in place.

Jason didn't mind the movement, in fact, he took it as a sign that he was doing a good enough job. He kept his mouth on your clit as his fingers pumped faster in and out of you, your moans and sighs filling the air.

It was over for him when your hands landed in his hair as you arched your back. He could feel your legs trembling while you clenched around his fingers, greedy cunt sucking them in. He kept his ministrations up as he listened to you moaning his name, his eyes on the very tattoo of it on your belly.

"Jay—Fuck, Jason, that feels good—Mmmm—!"

He couldn't see your face from down here, but he didn't need to. His eyes were locked on the tattoo, watching it ripple with your skin as he curled his fingers against the spot that he knew made you see stars, listening to you moan with satisfaction as he repeated it.

"Jason—Jason, Jay—," he heard you mewl and whimper. "I'm gonna—Fuck, I'm gonna—"

It didn't take too long for him to groan in pleasure as he felt you pulling his hair, coating his fingers with your release while your thighs clamped down on his head. His nose was pressed against your skin, the flowery scent of your body lotion mixed with the musky scent of your cum filling his senses.

He worked you through your orgasm, his own body practically vibrating from the lust coursing through his veins. Only when you stopped squeezing his head with your thighs, did he sit up and slowly pull his fingers out of you.

"Shit," he breathed as he watched you pant and come down from your high. His clean hand rubbed your hip and thigh gently, wanting to soothe you as you caught your breath. "Easy, baby. No rush, take your time."

"Jason," you breathed, your eyes meeting his.

"Shhh... Take your time. We can focus on my issue later."

He kept his hand on you until your breathing was relatively normal again and your legs weren't shaking so much anymore. He helped you sit up, letting you use his arm to pull yourself up.

"You okay?" He asked softly, adoration and concern in his eyes as he watched you nod.

"That felt good," you breathed. "Was...really good."

He smiled as you leaned against him, his arm snaking around you and holding you close. He was still uncomfortably hard in his pants, but that wasn't going to stop him from making sure you were okay first. He rubbed your sweaty skin soothingly, letting you take all the time you needed to fully recover.

"Next time," he murmured, "tell me before you get a tattoo. Might save me from having to process it before I can fuck you."

He chuckled when you slapped his chest, muttering something about him being "a filthy animal", and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

He had come home wanting to sleep, but the red light of the digital clock showing him that it was 3:47 A.M. told him that neither of you two would be getting much sleep tonight.

Tomorrow would have to be a lazy day, he supposed, smirking as he watched your hands reach for his belt.

☆ A/N: Let me know if there’s something I can do better, constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you enjoyed!!

☆ 3.4k words

[gamerhamlet]

bg3 plot spoilers /

I’m happy my bhaalspawn obsession/research rabbit hole from like three-four years ago is finally paying off I’ve wanted to make a bhaalspawn character for forever and now I can AND actually use them this is everything to me

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 4

Part 3 | Masterpost

Danny wasn't expecting for Red Hood to corner him. He would be lying when he says he wasn't panicking. First of all, they had quite literally strung up the bodies of prominent figures of the court of owls in very public places, then proceeded to order Technus to spread information about the court and their wrong doings.

The next step of the plan had been to publish a list of names—members of the court. Rich fruitloops that they were going to rely on the public to destroy. If the public and the GCPD couldn't do it, Danny had his ways to do so. Hauntings usually drove people mad if done a certain way.

But nevermind that!

His heart was practically trying to escape his chest—not that it was beating but it was there, in spirit (ha). He just wanted to see if little Emily and her sister were being fed by their mom and check if he needed to whisk the kids away and have them reside in one of their headquarters. Dan was more than willing to convert one of their facilities into a safehouse for children. Jeremy and some others were the ones who usually dealt with the house—others being parents are older siblings who got into crime for their family's.

"Phantom."

"Hood."

AAAAHH! The hot revenant really was looking for me! Thankfully, none of his siblings were there to witness how Danny was silently punching the air in absolute joy. Fuck yeah! Hot Crime Lord!

"Lemme guess... The big bad bat ain't too happy about the trouble we caused?" Danny chuckled, tilting his head as he narrowed his eyes. Organized crime was much better than his kingly duties, especially when it wasn't him playing the leader. Dan was doing pretty good as a boss, though Danny was reluctant to admit that in honor of his role as a younger brother.

"Sure as hell." Red Hood snorted, "But that ain't why I'm here, ghosty."

Danny rolled his eyes, gesturing for the other man to keep talking.

"You dealt with the court. Wraith led the mission... Personally. Not you. Not anyone else. It was Wraith, right?" Red Hood hummed, his helmet and modulator hiding everything. It frustrated Danny.

The mission was indeed led by Dante himself. But the operation had been split into three. Dan's team (Skulker, Amorpho) taking on the leaders of the court and disposing of them immed. While Danny's team (Wulf and Ember) were tasked to deal with the talons. Meanwhile, Elle's team (Johnny, Kitty, and Shadow) were tasked with saving the kids that weren't turned into Talons. But even then, Dan took full command of the situation.

It had been Dan who personally hung the Judge of the Clocktower and smeared his blood with some rhyme. It had been Dan who took charge of the remaining Talons once their leaders were dead and hung.

But it has been Danny who took the main Talon, dragged their body to Arkham, and painted a message in glowing, neon green paint. Maybe mixed with a bit of Ecto for better effects.

At the moment, all of the living Talons were in another one of their facilities—one outside of Gotham. Dan was a paranoid bastard, rightfully so, and had ordered the rehabilitation of these mindless soldiers outside of the Bats' territory. They didn't need anyone meddling with this. Not when it was Dan's first time choosing rehabilitation over elimination. In truth, these Talons were just innocent kids turned into weapons by the real monsters.

"Yeah, Wraith personally led this one." Danny pressed a hand against his hip, defiantly looking at the brick house that was the Red Hood. God, he almost didn't want a growths spurt if this was their height different. "Heard you've been snoopin' around, Red. What? Didya miss me?" It was teasing, a joke. He didn't expect much from it. He leaned in, grinning even when his mouth couldn't be seen, before pulling back as fast as he could.

But Hood sighed, letting out the hottest quiet laugh he could ever muster and tilted his head. "Yeah... Kinda missed you, ghosty. The kids were lookin' for yah. Emily was screamin' for yah on the roof two days ago."

Danny blinked.

Oh....

OH!

"Sure, sure." He immediately dismissed it, trying his best to make sure that his fast didn't go all purple, because apparently, that's the ghost version of blushing. Shit. "But the big bad Bat ain't too happy with us, yeah? I mean. Stringin' up the Judge and Talon gets you on his naughty list."

"Can't say he's pleased about it."

"Yeah, well, we ain't apologizing for that shit. The court wasn't on our radar before but they took one of our kids. Wraith is known for being one hell of a monster when it comes to kids." Danny scoffed, "They were turning them into weapons, Hood. I'd be okay if you want to throw them into Arkham, but the Judge and Talon? Somethings are more important than morals."

And Danny fucking knows that. He knows that some things should be out above morals, that they should be more important. His parents had failed to do that, failed to put their family above their morals and beliefs. The reveal was never going to be good. Not when Maddie Fenton fell to her knees, unable to accept that her baby died and demanded for him to give her back her son. It had hurt when she couldn't accept that Danny was Phantom and Phantom was Danny.

It got worse when they found out about Dan and Elle. They were hysterical. They stopped eventually. No more hunting, no more trying to protray ghosts as evil. They stopped helping the GIW. But they still couldn't accept it. They just vanished after that, leaving Danny and Jazz with Vlad, who had thankfully redeemed himself.

Danny knows what it meant to put something above your morals. Knows how valuable that is.

He shook his head, once again getting his head out of his heart and turning back to Red Hood. "Get to the point, Hood. You weren't looking for me for no reason."

"Well I've got someone who wants to meet the Wraith. The Court... They were almost involved in the court and was targeted." Red Hood tried to explain, making sure to sound as vague as possible. Danny could—kinda—understand why he was. Keeping someone anonymous until they couldn't. "Was wonderin' if you could set up a meeting. I don't think there's anywhere in Gotham that's basically neutral ground at this point but I'm willin' to bet on an area that you guys won't start a fight."

Danny paused, trying to simplify that damn request in his head. Hood wanted a meeting with Wraith, to introduce someone. And about the location? He was right. The entirety of Gotham was someone's haunt, every part of it was claimed. Even when the people were living, some were so damn liminal that certain areas were basically haunts now. Crime Alley being one of the biggest areas to end up becoming a haunt.

He could only think of three places that could somehow be considered their haunt: The Hill, where their main base was, the Narrows where Dan was trying to take over Arkham to make the security better, and possibly the Docks and Harbor. But there wasn't a solid claim on any of them, except for the Hill. It was one of the poorest and most crime-ridden areas of Gotham. The locals were hostile as hell when they first arrived, but after the Ghosts started cleanin' up the streets, helping people by offering a steady income, and keeping the kids safe, they eventually welcomed the Ghosts with open arms. It helped when Dan started weeding out people that were extorting the area.

That area was a no-go, obviously. Not their base.

"Gimme a second. Gotta ask about this before discussing a location." He whipped out his phone, modified perfectly by their resident technopath, Tucker-fucking-Foley.

D1: Got Hood here.

D2: Ew

D2: I don't wanna hear you moon about your revenant

D1: you're a bitch

D1: fuck you

D1: 🖕🖕🖕

D1: but that's not it

D1: he wants to set up a meeting. Said he'll introduce someone that Court tried recruiting

D2: Bet Vlad's castle that it's Nightwing

D2: he fits the Court's recruits

D1: what??

D1: all of the bats fit the MO

D2: yeah but Nightwing's the most flexible one. Idk

D2: Gut feeling

D2: Tell em I'm willing

D2: only on Sunday tho.

D1: K

"Good news! He's willing to show his ugly mug."

Red Hood snorted.

"Bad news—" and now he stiffened, "Wraith's only available on Sunday. Busy sched, see."

"Alright," Hood sighed, "Where are you guys willing to meet?"

Again, that was a problem. Danny might suggest the Bowery but that was too close to Hood's haunt. It wasn't until he felt the tug in his shadow that he goes stiff, blinking before he saw Hood's shadow move behind him. Instead of a hulking man, it was transforming into a classy looking woman—it reminds him of that lady from Resident Evil. The shadow moved, holding up what seemed to be a cigarette. The blankness of darkness morphed and now there was a white grin spread across her face.

Lady Gotham adored her knights but he was sure Red Hood was her favorite. Danny suspected that the city spirit had a hand in his resurrection—to which he was sure that had paperwork he'd need to process soon. But the city spirit was accommodating and welcomed them into her territory, with the promise that their intentions wouldn't turn malicious and destroy the city.

Danny couldn't help but laugh, eyes glowing green and Hood took a instinctive step back. "Heard you bats and birds got yourselves a cave." He tilted his head. "Gotham Cemetery. It's where you'll find ghosts."

The cemetery. The one area that was a haunt to all the dead and never the living.

Before Red Hood could even say another word, Danny floated of the ground, mockingly saluted the revenant, and phased through the wall.

NAILED IT!

"Lil' wing, I'm not sure about this. Doesn't it sound creepy that they want to meet in the cemetery?"

"I have a theory. I am 90% sure that the Ghosts of Gotham are actual ghosts."

"Why's you say that?"

"I had Tim and Babs help me investigate the other known members. All of them can't be detected by cameras cause the footage gets all fucked up. So we had to resort to teaditional means. Seriously, the demon brat and I had to follow that Johnny and Kitty duo around Gotham just so he could draw them properly! I kid you not, I saw those two phase through other vehicles when they were zoomin' around the streets."

"And?"

"There's a possibility that those two are from Gotham. But get this... All the matches are people who were confirmed to have died decades ago. Like... When B was a teenager."

Dick flinched. Okay. The new rogue organization might actually be made up of legitimate dead people.

"Shit."

"Right back at you."

The cemetery was already in their line of vision. Even if Dick Grayson was the target of the Court, Nightwing came with the package. Meeting Wraith as Nightwing was pretty reasonable if you had to ask him. And Jason had done his best to hunt down Phantom after Bruce forbade them from interacting with any of the ghosts unless they were starting trouble first.

Hopefully, this meeting would go well...

The cemetery is quiet once they start walking. The shadows seemed to be more lively, moving and rising like curious children wanting to catch a glimpse.

"BOO!"

His escrima sticks were already in his hands and Jason was already cocking his gun.

Phantom was floating there, upside down as Lazarus green eyes stared back at them. The obvious echo of laughter making the graveyard more eerie.

"Quit that!" Jason snapped, glowering at Phantom but slowly lowered his guns.

"Awww! C'mon now, Hood. You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost—but a really good-looking one!" Phantom promptly runs his fingers through his hair, winking at Jason before laughing it off like it was nothing.

"You're horrendous."

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm supernatural and beyond this world!" Phantom proudly declared, clearly on the roll. But Lazarus green eyes fell to Nightwing. The reaction reminded Dick of a curious cat.

"Shit, it really was Nightwing you were talking about. I owe Wraith a hundred bucks now, birdie." Even though his mouth couldn't be seen, Dick was pretty sure that Phantom was pouting. "C'mon, birds. The boss is talking to some ghosts over there."

"So... You're really ghosts?" Jason asks, walking beside the floating ghost while Dick trailed back a couple of steps.

"Kinda? There are different kinds of ghosts, really." Phantom shrugged, going silent again. "We usually help out the other ghosts that can't meddle with the living realm. Lotta ghosts in Gotham with unfinished business."

"What kind of business?" Dick frowned.

Phantom turned to him, mischief in his eyes as he pressed a finger against the place where his lips should be. "Now, now. I ain't tellin' you, birdie. Client confidentiality and all that."

Jason grumbled something unintelligible.

"Now that ain't nice, Hood."

And then Jason grunts in response.

"C'mon, Hood!" The way Phantom whined, Dick was very sure he was pouting. "Tsk, tsk. Stop ghostin' me, wouldya?"

Dick held back a snort. While Jason's glare could be felt through his mask.

"What? That wasn't so bad! Wow... This crowd is dead."

Jason groans and Dick didn't even hide his laugh. Okay, maybe Phantom was pretty okay if you could ignore the fact that his group was pretty homicidal if needed.

"And there he is!" Phantom sounded almost mocking, the tone so strangely familiar to Dick. (Twas the sound of a younger sibling rolling their eyes). "Wraith! Brought the birdies!"

"Seriously?" Jason groaned again but stopped. Dick didn't think he was being unreasonable because holy shit!

Wraith had the same white hair as Phantom with skin paler than the damn moon. But unlike Phantom, the ends of his hair looked like fire. Red eyes instead of green... And built like a brick house, because what the fuck was that?! He was taller than Jason and Bruce! Maybe even standing taller than Superman if he stood a little straighter.

He wore the same monochrome outfit that Phantom wore and a mask that covered his mouth. With round, red tinted glasses over his eyes. Wraith was talking to the air, well, the dead. Dick could see the faint outline of a young woman.

The fucking fridge, Wraith, turned towards them once Phantom called for him.

"You fuckin' twerp, can't you see I'm still talkin'? Rude little shit."

And Dick may have realized something else. Oh. OH! That's why it was so familiar, that behaviour and mocking tone! Fucking shit, were Wraith and Phantom brothers?

Red eyes were soon trained on him. Wraith looked him over once, before humming with a smirk.

"So I was right... Nice to meet you, birdie."

Masterpost

[earthsparked]

You’ve never been this sick before. You’ve had tonsillitis as a kid, typical flus and colds, a memorable bout or three with bronchitis and, of fucking course, came down with covid a couple times. None of those illnesses were like this. Something has gotten inside your head.

You make a quiet noise of complaint as what feels like cold metal surrounds you, painful against your hot skin, even through the blanket wrapped around you. You feel so cold, but you’re sweaty and dizzy. The world isn’t right. Everything’s too big and bright and moving wrong. Your head’s stuffed full of cotton and you’re not thinking right. And there’s a voice you don’t know, rich and deep, with a strange modulation to it you can’t place.

Sorry, little one, but your internal temperature is creeping past the danger zone for your species with no signs of stopping. Much higher and you’re risking processor damage. Don’t be afraid, we’re going to help you.

A machine sort of noise and rush of air, with a very quiet addition you don’t quite catch. I hope.

You are too sick to do much of anything except feel horribly confused, weak, and cold. You flinch away from the light, its brightness like ice picks into your head. There’s another voice snapping something about photosensitivity, dim the slagging lights. The brightness fades, but even in the dim twilight you don’t really want to open your eyes. Everything hurts. You just want to go home.

There’s a hushed argument, and then something very large moves over you. In your delirium it registers as if you’re swimming deep underwater, and a pod of whales has come to say hello.

‘S illegal. Getting me in trouble…caught. You’re mumbling to the whales. You’re not ever supposed to approach wildlife. Even if you always dreamed of meeting them.

That rumbling voice sounds so tired, so sad, that you feel bad for it.

Are they conscious? Are they trying to communicate with us?

A pause. The other voice speaks. There’s a sense of something big hovering directly over you. You can feel it somehow, even with your eyes closed, like feeling a current in the ocean.

No, I don’t think so. Their brain activity is alarming compared to baseline. But who in the Pit knows? Organic processors are a mess to begin with, let alone one infected with something this species has never encountered before.

A big blue whale-song, mournful. We never should have come here. What have we done, Ratchet?

The other, more gruff voice. Also sounding tired. We couldn’t have known that the debris brought a contagion planetside until it happened. Don’t panic just yet, Prime. So far, they’re the only one directly exposed. We got them in quarantine as soon as Nurse Darby realized something was wrong beyond the usual illnesses. It was just bad luck they happened to come across the contamination before we could clean it all up. There’s no reason to believe it can jump from human to human yet.

There’s a pause, and the first voice is even quieter.

Will they live?

There’s more motion. Beeping noises. You must be in a hospital. Yes, you remember that much. Going into the ER late one night after the Tylenol wouldn’t touch your fever, which had come on suddenly.

I can’t make promises, you know that. I don’t know much about this contagion. I didn’t even know it could behave this way in organics when it’s harmless to us.

He sounds frustrated.

But I was fine, the groggy thought drifts up from the depths of your mind. Everything is slow and dark and cold, a thousand fathoms deep.

I was fine, I went out doing my volunteer work. And then I got sick.

You don’t remember meeting your doctors. There might have been an ambulance…you think? Flashing lights, sirens. A woman’s worried voice, low, as she adjusted the IV in your arm. It’s what is making you feel so cold, you decide, and with all your frail strength begin trying to grab and wrench it out.

An immediate shuffle around you, and the grumpy whale reaches out and stops you. You push weakly at its rubbery flipper. It’s a whale, a humpback whale you think. You have about as much chance of moving it as you do lifting an ambulance.

Eh-eh-eh! None of that, now. You pull that out and neither of us will enjoy me trying to put it back in. Optimus, hand me the - yes, thank you.

You whimper softly and cry out as you find you can’t move. There’s things touching you - seaweed, wires, tangling you. Everything’s cold.

There. Sorry, human, but we can’t have you hurting yourself. …why am I even talking to them, they’re not going to remember any of this.

You huff and decide very hard to remember this just because you were told you wouldn’t. You forget a minute later what it was you were trying to remember, and start thrashing around against the seaweed. The beeping gets louder, more painful.

Can’t ever make anything easy, can you?

What are you doing?

I’m going to use the medication June left to sedate them.

But didn’t she say that could -

Yes, but - well, look at them!

Look at who? You wonder, as you fight off the tangling seaweed. You should find the surface. You need to breathe. You’re starting to feel scared. You can’t breathe.

The humpback whale is distressed. Somehow you can feel it, you know it. If they were a mech I could put them in stasis, keep them from suffering like this. This is cruel, Optimus. I - I don’t know.

He sounds defeated, angry. So tired. You reach out past the seaweed to try and pet him, because if the whales are going to insist on hanging out, you might as well earn that huge fine for touching the wildlife. Your sensitive palm makes contact with cold, hard skin, almost like it’s absorbed all the ice in the ocean. There’s a feeling of surprise, and silence, and then something crashes like a wave in the distance. There are big booming sounds. Those waves slamming into rocky, echoing caverns.

Watch them a moment. I’m going to consult with June. Do not let them tear that IV out. Comm me if their breathing gets worse.

The big blue whale is back, filling in the absence of the humpback. It catches your hand in its massive flipper, then brushes your wet hair out of your face. You had always heard whales were impossibly gentle despite their enormous size. You hadn’t quite imagined they could be this dexterous, though.

I’m sorry this happened to you. You did nothing wrong. You and so many other innocents, harmed because of us.

You squeeze his flipper, you think, but things are getting very hazy.

Please live. There is so much more to the universe that you deserve to get to see. I don’t know if you can hear me, but don’t give up.

His voice, even full of pain deep as the bottom of the sea, is comforting. You don’t want him to be so sad. But that’s what whalesong always is, isn’t it?

The humpback comes back. He’s doing something with the IV. You had no idea whales knew how to do that. You didn’t know they could be white and red, either. Don’t tell Ahab.

June says to increase the dosage and keep giving fluids. The tests she’s running show this formulation should drive out the infection, but…

But?

…but not without…impacts.

What kind of impacts? …Ratchet?

We can’t be sure. This is all highly experimental, Prime, we’re working off of practically nothing. June thinks it’s doing something to their central nervous system. We don’t know what, yet. It’s going to be a race to see what gives in first: the infection, or their vital systems.

A rumble, contemplative. At least they seem to have calmed. Their heart rate is down to almost normal.

For now. A pause. If they recover, we can’t keep this one. Fowler can find somewhere to stash them, I’m sure.

Silence.

Oh, for - Optimus! We’re not running a xeno-zoo!

Let us wait and see if that is even a conversation we will need to have, old friend.

Disgruntled feelings like poprocks in your mind.

…fine. Oh.

Oh?

Their fever has come down two-tenths of a point. That’s a start in the right direction. Let’s get that oxygen mask on and see if it helps. Of all the gasses to breathe, they had to pick one of the most flammable. Who even designed this fragging species? I want a word with them.

The whales are singing, and you decide it’s not so scary down here, after all. It reminds you of that song. You wheeze out a few words.

Beyond th’ sea, somewhere…waiting…

Hush. Rest, now. Big blue, biggest animal ever on earth. And for some reason, it cares about you.

You fall asleep under a blanket of seaweed, and eventually the ocean doesn’t feel so cold. You’re part of a pod, swimming slowly compared to them, but swimming all the same. And at least you’re not alone down in the dark. Maybe when you wake, you’ll get to see them breach the surface, leaping into the warmth of the sun. Maybe you’ll get to leap with them.