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prfctparis · 9 months

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I’d Give You My Lungs So You Could Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) [CH3]

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summary:

Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.

Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.

a/n:

“ch3 will be up in a few days,” i said, like a lying liar who lies. i meant to!!! but then i sort of forgot and then got distracted by another fic i’m in the middle of writing mlmao oops. so i won’t promise or say when ch4 will be up, bc this was the last of my already written chapters from ao3 & my update schedule is of the 'when i can and want to' variety. hope u guys on tumblr enjoy this chapter!! :)

warnings for the entire fic:

canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: blood; stressed teenagers; athanasia has a borderline panic attack; vivisection is mentioned again but only once if i remember right; implied animal death but in the past & it’s like 1 paragraph

CHAPTER THREE —

The secret, new headquarters of the Ghost Investigation Ward was in upstate New York. The Wayne Manor was in Gotham City, New Jersey. The travel from Point A to Point B was about three hours and forty minutes long – a much longer drive than any of them wanted. But with Manson’s magic, the van stayed invisible to the human eye and Wesley was able to speed down the roads without cops chasing after them, cutting down the travel time immensely.

Still, it was a risk.

But stopping some place before they got to Gotham was also a risk. One Athanasia refused to take.

Maybe if Ra’s al Ghul hadn’t been there, would she allow them to stop at a roadside motel or something. But he was there. He had been in the room where they were operating on Danny. Mother had one of her servants save Danny from death eight years ago to get him out of the League, allowing Grandfather to believe he was dead, but now he knew.

And Athanasia wasn’t going to let that man get anywhere near close to her twin brother again. So, they weren’t going to stop until they made it to Wayne Manor.

The others weren’t happy about it. She didn’t care.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was happy about it, either.

Believe her, she wanted to stop sooner. She wanted to get to a place where they could properly take care of Danny’s injuries, and give him what he needed to heal, and take those damn power repressing cuffs off. All they could do was make sure the bandages on his chest stayed put and kept too much blood from bleeding out, and made sure that he didn’t die on the way to the manor, which was more difficult than Athanasia would like, seeing as though, as Phantom, he didn’t have a heartbeat.

Eventually, they got the cuffs off. It took a while, and it was mostly done by Foley and Gray, because Athanasia was busy bandaging her own wounds with the limited supplies in the van, and Manson was focused on keeping the van invisible while Wesley drove. They succeeded, though. Once both cuffs were off, a ring of light appeared around him and with a flash he had black hair again, and green blood turned red.

His healing factor didn’t kick in.

“What do you mean he isn’t healing?” Wesley asked, worried, when Foley informed them. “He should be.”

“I don’t know,” Foley said, tone unsure and worried.

“But he has a heartbeat now, right?” asked Athanasia. She kept her eyes on her thigh as she bandaged a wound on there. It wasn’t the best, and she didn’t have anything to clean the wound with, but it would have to do for now.

Gray replied, “Yeah. He’s got one.”

“Okay. Good.” It was the only thing she could get herself to say. The possibility of still being too late to save him, even with him now away from the GIW and LoA, put a restrictive weight on her chest. It lessened with Gray’s affirmation, but not much.

They made it to Gotham in just under two hours and fifteen minutes.

Athanasia only got a split second glimpse of the city’s poorly lit up welcome sign with how fast Wesley continued to drive. Truly a speed demon; he didn’t even slow down when they got into the city’s limits.

As they crossed one intersection, a car with goons hanging out of the windows holding guns sped through it behind them, with what looked to be Red Robin and Spoiler on motorcycles on their tail. Three cops sped through right after. Gun shots rang out as they disappeared behind a building.

“Watch out for vigilantes,” she said. “It’s around the time most start coming out.”

Wesley shook his head. “I can’t imagine having more than one vigilante.”

Gray pointedly cleared her throat.

“I can’t imagine having more than two vigilantes.”

She hummed. “Forget about me again and see what happens.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Athanasia laughed quietly to herself. It wasn’t quiet enough, because he still heard and gave her the stink eye. It was hardly intimidating

Foley hissing made her look into the back seats. He was shaking his left hand, expression a grimace of pain, as he hurriedly passed the vial of liquid Athanasia had taken from the IV to Gray. Gray took it just as fast, twisting the lid back on.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Athanasia asked.

“They were putting that in his system?” The grimace turned into panic when she nodded. “Oh, that’s not good. That is so not good. That has blood blossoms in it.”

“What?!” Gray exclaimed. “That can kill him!”

Athanasia shifted so she sat sideways in the front seat. “What are blood blossoms?” Her eyes flicked to Danny – his chest slowly rose up and down – and then back to Foley.

“They can kill ghosts,” Wesley said gravely.

Foley explained, “They’re a blood red flower, have purple stems – humans can eat them. But for ghosts, they cause extreme pain and make them go powerless. Exposed to enough of it, they die. To people like me and Sam, who aren’t ghosts but have been exposed to ectoplasm for years, it just burns us. Like we touched a hot stove, or something.” He motioned to the vial. “That just felt like bee sting for me, but to Danny? It probably feels like he’s being slowly burned from the inside out.”

“It sounds like they made an oil from blood blossoms and diluted it until it wasn’t so strong,” Gray said.

“Strong enough to render him powerless, but weak enough to not kill him after long exposure,” Athanasia said, and the two of them nodded.

“Sounds like it.”

“That may be why he isn’t healing fast like he should,” Wesley suggested.

Foley cursed again. “This is so not good. We need to get it out of his system, like, yesterday.”

“How do we do that?”

Silence stretched between them.

Athanasia’s brows furrowed, incredulous and frustrated. And scared. “You don’t know?” she demanded.

“It– It’s never been in his bloodstream before!” Foley defended. “He’s only been near the flowers, so we just…moved him away from them. Or them from him. This is… We’ve never dealt with this before!”

“But you should have at least had a contingency plan for this,” she bit back. “Oils from flowers and plants are common!”

“We never thought the GIW would be smart enough for that!”

“Well, you should have!”

“Hey!” Gray shouted over them, “Enough! This isn’t helping Danny. Let’s just get to your dad’s place, yeah?”

Athanasia turned back around without another word. The movement pulled at her injuries, maybe even reopened the wound on her side, but she ignored them as she got out her communicator.

No one spoke for a few seconds.

“The device you are using to block the signals…” she started.

“I already said no,” Foley muttered, tone clipped. “It’s blocking his ecto-signature, too. I’m not risking unblocking it just so you can make a call.”

“You didn’t risk stopping, Ana,” Wesley said before she could respond. “Let us not risk this.”

There was a tightness in her throat that had been building up for the last ten minutes. It kept her from speaking; if she wanted to or even had a response, she couldn’t say it. She worked her jaw, ignoring the stinging in her eyes.

One brother was behind her near death, with a large incision that needed to be stitched. Her other brother was out in the city fighting crime, who knows in what type of danger in the crime capital of America.

She just wanted to know that at least one of them was okay.

It was as they went through another intersection, barely making it through a green light, when she noticed an unmistakable large, black shadow swing from one side of the road to the next.

“Stop the van,” she choked out.

“But–”

“Stop the van!”

Wesley slammed on the breaks. The ones in the back went tumbling, and she heard Manson let out a curse, concentration on the van’s invisibility broken after over two hours.

Athanasia got out of the van as fast as possible. She raced to the other side of the road and climbed skillfully up the fire escape on the side of a building. As she got to the roof, she spotted the figure speaking to another – red and black – in the shadows.

“Batman!”

Both figures turned. She dimly registered that the person Batman had been speaking to was Red Hood.

“Yes? What is it?” Batman questioned as he stepped forward.

Red Hood followed. The way his helmet tilted a little told her he recognized her. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Athanasia made it halfway across the roof before she faltered. Her father was…an imposing man. If she hadn’t grown up in the place she did, she would probably be fearful of him because of it. Instead it just caught her off guard. Seeing him in person, up close, was…

Well. Unexpected.

She blinked and forced herself to stay on track. To not get distracted. She stopped a few or so feet away, wary to get too close. “We need your help,” she started off with. “My…acquaintances and I – we have someone who needs medical attention that only the Batcave will be able to provide for, and I need you to take us there.”

“The Batcave,” he repeated.

“Yes. A regular hospital is out of the question.” Her eyes flickered around the roof. Something wasn’t right. “I would take him there myself but I do not know where it is.”

What wasn’t right?

“I have no idea who you are. You aren’t authorized to go to the Batcave.”

“You would make an exception for us.”

“You sound sure.”

“Because I am. Just help us help him!”

“Who is ‘him’?”

“B, I don’t think it’s time for an interrogation right now,” Red Hood said.

“My…” Athanasia stilled. She knew what wasn’t right. Her entire body tensed. “Where’s Robin?”

Her father’s posture changed. Right; Batman was protective of Robin.

But as his older sister, so was she.

“Out,” he said. “Listen, you’re injured, and I understand you need help but–”

“What do you mean ‘out’? As in patrolling? Out of town? Country? Earth itself?”

Red Hood took a step towards her. “Whoa, kid, relax. It’s okay–”

“Where Robin is isn’t your business–”

Red Hood muttered a curse.

“Not my business?” she seethed. “Knowing where he is, is most definitely my business. I am not asking for dental records – it’s a simple answer to a simple question.”

“I–”

“My twin brother is dying in the backseat of a van, and my little brother is not by our father’s side like I thought he would be, so please just tell me where he is so I know at least one of them will be okay! I–”

“Hey! Hey,” Red Hood interrupted. “Robin is okay! He’s okay, alright? I promise. He twisted his ankle pretty badly the other night and the old man benched him until it’s healed. That’s all. You can breathe, kid.”

“I am.” Barely. It felt like she had been running for hours. She was out of breath; her intake of air had increased in the past few minutes. Her throat was back to being tight, but so was her chest, this time.

“Yes, you are, but your breathing is too fast,” Red Hood said. “You need to slow down–”

“There is no time to slow down!” she shouted. Her feet moved backwards when Red Hood tried to come closer to her. “I had the GPS taking us to the manor, but it’s worse off than we thought, and I would take him to the Batcave if I knew where it was–”

“How many of you are there?”

Athanasia blinked rapidly. Out of surprise, not because she was about to cry. She snapped her eyes back up to her father. “What?”

“You said you had acquaintances with you. How many?” He was doing something on his gauntlet, a hologram-like screen faintly glowing above it. She tried to make out the words backwards but gave up pretty quickly.

“Six in total,” she said. “Myself included. They do not know your identity.”

He hummed. “Are all of you injured?”

“Except for one, my– our getaway driver. Danny is the worst off.”

“Hard to believe, you’re pretty banged up yourself, kid,” Red Hood muttered, with a small motion to her entire body.

“They vivisected him.” The words hadn’t meant to come out, but they did.

Batman and Red Hood stilled.

The latter sucked in a breath of air. “Jesus.”

“The Batmobile is on its way,” her father tensely informed her. He stalked forward, and she was expecting him to walk passed her so she was thoroughly surprised when he stopped in front of her. He raised a hand and her body tensed for another time that night. She didn’t know what she was else expecting, but it wasn’t a comforting hold on her shoulder; it wasn’t a comforting tone and assurance. “Your brother is okay. Your twin is going to be okay.”

Athanasia stared at the hand on her shoulder. It took a second or two to finally tear her gaze from it, and look at her father’s cowl covered face instead.

“I promise.”

+++

The sound of footsteps gradually becoming louder alerted him that someone was about to disrupt his peace.

“Hey, I’m going to bed.”

Peace officially disrupted.

Damian looked up from his sketchbook long enough to spot Duke Thomas poking his head into the living room, before focusing back on the drawing he was working on. “Okay.”

“And Bruce wanted me to remind you to finish your homework if you haven’t already.”

He sighed. “I have.”

“And Alf says no sweets if you have any snacks.”

“Okay,” he said, annoyance seeping through.

“And they both say not to stay up too late or walk too much on your ankle–”

“Leave me be and rest your empty skull on the warm side of your pillow before I stab this pencil through your jugular.”

Thomas snickered. It occurred to him, then, that the older teen had continued on to annoy him on purpose. It worked. That annoyed Damian even more.

“Alright, alright. I’m leaving,” Thomas said through another chuckle. “Goodnight, Damian!” he called as he walked off.

He huffed. “Goodnight.”

Duke Thomas was Father’s newest addition to his ever growing brood. The older boy wasn’t adopted (at least, not yet), only fostered. His parents were still alive – just victims of Joker Venom. They found a cure, although it wasn’t instantaneous, so Elaine and Doug Thomas were slowly healing and recovering with the help of professionals while their son stayed here.

Damian was sort of surprised he was still here. He had an uncle he could go to, and who he did visit often, but he had chose to stay. Not that Damian wanted him to go – he actually didn’t mind Thomas that much anymore. He liked to think they got along well, even if sometimes the atmosphere was awkward, or when they deliberately annoyed one another.

Recently when the two either merely existed in the same room doing nothing, or ventured into the city out of boredom, Drake tagged along. Or was the one to drive them around. It had been tense at first. It was less so, now. Damian truly didn’t know how to feel about it.

He stopped drawing and stared at the page. He erased a few lines that didn’t look right and grabbed his phone, unlocking it to study the reference picture he was using. Just as he was about to put it down, his phone vibrated with a text.

It was from Drake – in the groupchat he made that included himself, Damian, and Duke. Damian tried to leave it multiple times only for Drake to add him back every single time.

drake

hey

evrrhthing ok at the manor??

thomas

yeah

i’m about to go to bed, damian is sketching in the living room & alfred is in the basement

why

is something wrong?

drake

idk but b is heading back

w jason

neither have have said a word they wont answer

thomas

that’s sus

you guys have only been gone for what?? 45 min at least

drake

yea

barbara cant even get ahold of them

hey little d

bat brat

u sure ur ok

Damian rolled his eyes. Drake was almost as bad as Father and Richard when it came to hovering if he got hurt, the buffoon simply showed it differently. He only twisted his ankle; nothing major.

And if his back had been hurting him the past week, nobody had to know.

…Except for Pennyworth and Richard. They knew of the metal in his spine and the damaged nerves, and so he told them when the sharp aches and pains kept coming back.

Alfred insisted it was just a few nerves growing back.

Damian focused back to the groupchat. Drake had resorted to spamming it because he took too long to respond. Obnoxious plebeian.

He took a picture of his legs covered by the blanket he was using. One knee was propped up to angle his sketch book right, while the other was stretched out as his injured ankle rested on a small pillow. Alfred the cat was fast asleep, curled into a circle, on the arm of the couch, while Titus made himself small enough to lay on the couch beside his outstretched leg. He sent the picture with nothing else. Drake stopped his spamming and liked it while Thomas sent another text asking what Damian was drawing.

With that, he put his phone down – only for it to start vibrating repeatedly. A phone call.

He somewhat expected it to be Drake, but still wasn’t that surprised to see it was Father, instead.

“Father?” Damian answered the call. “Drake said you were heading back. With Todd.”

“Yes.” Father’s voice was rough, but in a distinct way that Damian knew it wasn’t his Batman voice. In the background he heard the rumble of the Batmobile. “We are. And we have some company with us.”

His brows lowered. “Is everything okay?”

Silence.

Damian sat up and tucked his foot under his other leg’s thigh. Titus shifted, getting off of the couch to lay on the floor instead. “Father?” Carefully, he closed his sketchbook and set it on the coffee table.

Thomas decided to walk back in, at that moment. “Hey, I…” He trailed off when he saw that Damian was on the phone. “Is that Bruce?”

“Father, is–”

“Do you have an older sister?”

Damian froze. He even stopped breathing for a second. Did he know? If he did, how? Was it Mother, was she in Gotham? Did she tell Father? Athanasia told him not to tell him or anyone else, and he hadn’t. Why was he asking this? Were they okay?

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Cassandra–”

“I’m not talking about by adoption, son,” Father interrupted. “Biologically, do you have a sister? Or even a brother?”

He involuntarily sucked in sharply. If Father heard it, he didn’t make any indication that he did.

“She would be around Tim’s age, seventeen or eighteen. Five foot eight, ten at most. She mentioned a twin brother.”

Damian kept his eyes on Titus. He ignored Thomas stepping further into the living room to stand near the couch. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said. “She said not to.”

“Who? Talia?”

“No.”

“Your sister.” Damian stayed quiet. “Why?”

“I don’t– do not…” How was he supposed to answer that? He had no idea why Athanasia told him not to tell Father, but Damian refused to break the promise he made her. Yes, he wanted to tell Father – all the time, so badly – but it was the last thing Athanasia asked of him. Even the idea of breaking that promise felt wrong. Even now, even though he somehow knew. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and hated how childlike he sounded.

“…It’s not your fault, chum. We will be at the Cave soon. If– when,” he corrected, “you come down, put on a mask. They have acquaintances who don’t know our secret identities.”

“Yes, sir. Are they okay?”

Father didn’t immediately respond. It sent warning bells through his mind. “We’re about to be at the cave.”

“Wait, Father–”

The call ended.

Damian let out a huff of frustration. He went to call him back, but stopped.

Athanasia was in Gotham. She went to Father for help. Did that mean she called him on the League communicator and he missed it? Did he? It sounded like she needed help, they both did, and he…

Damian vaulted off of the couch. Thomas shouted after him, but he ignored him and the pain in his ankle as ran through the halls and up the stairs to his room. He took the communicator out from its hiding spot under his mattress.

Nothing. No calls or messages. Not a single thing.

Why did she go to Father and not him?

Damian sent a message. It didn’t go through, just like the past hundreds of times. He tried a call, it did the same thing.

“Damian! Don’t run away like that, man, you’re gonna hurt your ankle more,” Thomas reprimanded as he finally caught up. “I’m sorta responsible for you right now, and I don’t feel like getting Alfred’s disappointed look because you’re running around.”

The words went through one ear and out the other.

He cursed in Arabic and tossed the device onto his bed. He snatched an emergency mask from a drawer of his bedside table, and left the room.

“Damian,” shouted Thomas. “Seriously, dude!”

“If you follow me to the Batcave, put on a mask,” Damian said. “We have guests.”

Whatever his foster brother’s response was, Damian didn’t hear it. He rushed down the stairs, simultaneously putting on his mask, and then ran to the study where the clock was. Standing on his toes, he moved the clock’s hands to the correct time and squeezed through before the secret door opened all the way.

As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he slowed. A cacophony of noise grew as he got further into the cave. He stopped on the last step and just stared.

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not a group of injured teenagers talking over each other to his father and the family’s grandfather of a butler. Todd stood a few feet away from the group, back to Damian. He seemed to be merely watching the scene unfold.

“We’ve taken care of him before, we know how to do stitches!” a girl with short black hair shouted. “This isn’t new to–”

“He’s not– you need to let us help,” a black kid argued. “We know what to do for him–”

“I have already seen it!” And there’s Athanasia. “It is not a pretty sight, I know, but I can help–”

“None of you are in shape to help Penny-One,” Batman tried to speak over them.

“I am!” Another girl. She held a red and black helmet in her arms that matched a vigilante-like suit she wore. “Please, just let us–”

“We’re his friends! Please–”

“We– Well, I don’t but they do – they know what to do,” a red headed boy said. “He’s different, you’ll need their–”

A sharp whistle cut through the air, so sudden even Damian flinched. As did Thomas, who appeared at his side the instant it happened.

Everyone quieted immediately, eyes falling to Jason Todd. The helmet was off, but a red domino still covered his eyes.

“Everyone shut up or else it will be too late for anyone to help anybody,” the young man snapped, “Let Penny-One do what he does on a regular basis. I promise, he knows what he is doing, and has seen his fair share of bad injuries between the eerily large brood he cares for. Even if he did need help, it would not be from any of you. Like Batman said, none of you are the right shape to help – either from exhaustion or injuries or both, each one of you looks like shit. So sit your asses down, let the professional do his job, and take a breather.”

No one said a word. No one moved.

“Thank you, Red Hood,” Pennyworth said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a patient to care for.” He ducked behind a curtain he and Father were guarding. Damian wasn’t able to get a glimpse of the person behind it.

In the back of his mind, he knew who it was. It didn’t dissuade his worry.

Father stared down the teenagers.

The girl with short black hair and gothic clothes glared harshly back at him. Angry, she spun around with a scoff and stomped over to a chair, a palm on her forehead the entire way.

“Sam,” the black boy called after her and followed. They quietly began talking to each other.

The girl in the red and black suit and the redhead boy glanced at each other. The former shrugged helplessly, and the latter frowned in response, looking away.

Damian finally looked – truly looked – at Athanasia. Todd was right: she looked like shit; they all did. But his big sister had the most blood on her, and a green substance on her hands and right side that had a too close resemblance to Lazarus Pit water. She had numerous injuries that were bandaged hastily, but not enough for all of the blood to be hers. It looked as if she tried to scratch some of it off on the few areas of exposed skin, only for it to not work. Her black hair was in a ponytail that had once been neat; now, curly strands were loose and framing her face, and the ponytail itself was unkempt.

The others didn’t look that much better. Except for the redhead. He just looked stressed and exhausted and worried.

Damian shifted a foot forward, then back to its original spot.

He didn’t know what to do. Say her name? Simply walk up? Run back upstairs? He didn’t want to make a scene, but he also wanted to go up to his sister.

He spotted Ace laying down near the bat-computer. Silently, decision abruptly made, he moved in that direction.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Um… B?”

Damian stopped, freezing behind Todd. He looked over to Thomas and glared. The older teen didn’t acknowledge him other than a split second glance.

“D– Signal? What are you doing down here?”

Todd shifted. Damian moved with him. He turned his head slowly and sent Damian a suspicious side eye.

“Oh, uh… Red Robin contacted us – said you were coming back here. I just want to make sure you don’t need any help,” said Thomas.

Todd reached behind him with the hand that wasn’t holding his helmet, and aimed for Damian. He pinched Todd’s wrist when it got close enough, making him hiss in pain.

“We might– Hood?”

Todd shook his hand. “Sorry. Bug bit me.”

Father continued speaking with Thomas, who walked further into the Cave.

“Brat,” Todd hissed under his breath.

Damian didn’t deign him a response. Once it was clear everyone else was distracted, he continued his way to the bat-computer in the shadows. When he got there, he crawled underneath the desk. Ace moved to lay his head in Damian’s lap.

His hiding spot didn’t stay hidden for long, though.

Someone silently walked over. Then, they crouched down and slotted their body next to his under the desk.

“Did Todd tell you where I am?” he asked. It came out more petulant than he intended.

“No. I saw you when you first came down.”

“Tt.” Damian muttered, “…You smell vile.”

Athanasia hummed. “And you are still short.”

There was a shakiness to her voice he didn’t like. It kept him from automatically responding with another insult.

He turned his head to look at her again.

Her eyes were staring at nothing in particular. Her breathing was a bit too fast for comfort, sort of choppy too. Tension lined her entire body.

“Stretch out your legs,” he said quietly.

She eyed him in question. He motioned for her to hurry up. Hesitant, she eventually did it. Then, he wasted no time in ordering Ace to lay on her legs.

Athanasia sucked in sharply. Her hands lifted to her chest. “Dames–”

“You won’t hurt him,” he interrupted. “He won’t hurt you.”

He was aware of why she was so hesitant – almost afraid, even. She tried to hide it from him, but League trainers had forced her to slaughter animals. Those same trainers did that to him a couple times, too, after she left. Apparently it was to make them stronger and better assassins. Less prone to weaknesses.

He wondered if Dányál had to go through that. If Mother knew.

Damian didn’t think she did, but…

Athanasia kept her hands to her chest.

“So, you found him?” Damian asked. He kept his voice low, and scooted closer to her.

She nodded. “Yes. He is… He will be okay,” she said, keeping her voice low like he did. “I apologize for taking so long.”

Damian didn’t know how to respond to that. It made a flicker of anger from in his chest. She was sorry for being gone for so long, but not for leaving?

“…He isn’t a clone?” was his next question.

“No.” Her arm lifted, and for once he let her pull him into her side in a hug. He wasn’t big on touch, and Athanasia wasn’t either, but she was definitely more tactile than he was in some ways. From what he remembered, she and Dányál had hugged a lot.

“Are you positive?” His mind flashed to Heretic. He held back a wince, twisting until his back was into her side and her arm wrapped around his chest. He had to bend his knees so he could fit all the way under the desk.

“Yes.”

“You made sure of it?”

Athanasia stayed quiet for a moment. He felt her eyes on the top of his head. “I did,” she said. “Penny-One is aiding our brother. Not a clone, or a shapeshifter, or anyone else. Dányál.” She paused. “I intended on going to the manor instead. Then, I saw our father, and demanded he take us here.”

“Why the manor?”

“I did not know where the cave was.”

Damian stared at his knees.

There was no way.

Did he hear that right? It was jarring. He grew up thinking his big sister knew everything.

How did she not know this?

“Athanasia,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The Batcave is below the manor,” he told her in Arabic.

For seven seconds (yes, he counted) Athanasia didn’t say anything. Then, “It is what?!” she hissed in a harsh whisper.

Damian felt a laugh coming up, and did his best to keep it quiet. His shoulders still shook. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” she muttered. “Thank you making me feel stupid.”

“My pleasure. I will be sure to do it again.”

She huffed a small, wet laugh. “Brat.” Her arm wrapped around the front of his chest more, and her hand gripped his shoulder. A second later, he felt her place a kiss on the crown of his head.

Damian couldn’t help but grip her arm back. One hand on her forearm, the other on her bicep. He pressed his knees closer to his body.

“I missed you,” he whispered through the lump in his throat.

She sniffled, and whispered back into his hair, “I missed you, too.”

A blanket of silence fell over them. Damian heard Father speaking to the others, his voice overlapping with Thomas’ and one of Athanasia’s acquaintances. Footsteps softly echoed as they all moved about near the medbay. They should probably go over there soon.

Damian didn’t want to. For the first time in four years it was just him and his big sister, hiding under a desk that was reminiscent of them hiding in an alcove back in the League just to spend time together. It hardly felt real. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared this was just some sort of dream.

“Can we stay here for a little bit longer?”

Her arm tightened around him again. “Absolutely.”

+++

It took a good while for someone to come look for them, which surprised Damian, but he was relieved and thankful no one came sooner. He wasn’t about to complain about the silent one-on-one time squished underneath the desk, uncomfortable as it was.

It also gave them time to stop any tears they let loose.

He eventually moved out from under her arm, and sat beside her. It took a bit of time. Damian wanted to say it was because he was done with the physical touch, that he let go. The truth of the matter was that he had to force himself to, to mentally talk himself into doing it. It was irrational, but he was scared that the moment he let go she would leave him again.

That didn’t happen. She didn’t get up and leave, or disappear, or anything of the sort. She stayed right beside him.

As he scratched Ace behind the ears, Athanasia merely watched. She kept her hands away from the dog. When he moved to lay down across both of their laps, she stiffened until he stilled, arms crossed over her stomach.

That was how they were found.

The large boots and bottom of a black cape were unmistakable.

Father crouched down, the half of his face that wasn’t covered by the cowl betraying nothing. It made Damian want to squirm. Was he mad? That he kept Athanasia and Dányál a secret?

“You two weren’t easy to find,” he said. He sounded more like Bruce Wayne than Batman. It was comforting, in a way. “Your friends got worried when they didn’t see you around.”

“Acquaintances,” she corrected. “And I am fine, I have no idea why they would worry.”

Damian gave her an incredulous look. “You’re covered in blood.”

“A lot of it does not belong to me.”

“Mostly yours or not, your injuries still need to be taken care of,” Father said. “The Wes kid said you weren’t able to clean them properly.”

Athanasia’s face did something quick and complicated that Damian couldn’t decipher. Her mouth settled into an annoyed frown before he could really question it. “Of course he did,” she muttered.

“And you, chum, need to get off the ground and prop your ankle up,” Father said. The man, with gentle hands, inspected the aforementioned ankle. “With ice. The swelling is worse again. Did you run on it?”

He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to admit he ran, either.

“…Maybe.”

“Hn.” Father stood. The joints of his knees popping and a quiet groan didn’t go unnoticed. “Come on out. Let’s get you both some medical attention. Ace, get up, boy. Up.”

The German Shepherd did as told.

“I didn’t do anything to it,” Damian grumbled as he scooted out and pulled himself to his feet with the help of Father’s hand. Putting weight on his ankle definitely hurt worse than it had before, though…

“It won’t hurt to check.”

Athanasia came out from under the desk next. As she stood, also with the help of Father, he noticed she seemed to be in more pain than when he first entered the cave. That made sense; the adrenaline had to have worn off by now, allowing the pain finally register.

Once she was steady on her feet, she stepped a little away from Father. “Thank you,” she said. “For bringing us here.”

“Of course,” Father said. “If you need to stay here, you can. I will even open up the manor to you and your fr– acquaintances. Whatever aids you the best and keeps you safe from whatever you’re running from.”

She nodded once. Her eyes, glassy with tears, blinked rapidly, and she turned to head to the empty medical cots.

Damian watched her, exhausted and hurting, then looked to the curtain hiding away Pennyworth and Dányál.

He tore his eyes away and hurried to follow.

#dc x dp fanfiction #dc x dp fic #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc au #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #dc #danny #danny phantom #batpham #stay with me my blood #my writing

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

Text

Danielle is NOT Anastasia's Clone

I have a drabble about this that will end up on AO3 at some point, but here's the concept.

Anastasia al Gul is an actual DC character that is Damian's twin sister and who doesn't exist in most universes. Danyl was the true name of Damian's twin, a secret just between the two of them. Damian meets Dani and almost goes nuclear at the thought of Ra's cloning his dead twin. Elle is insulted because her dad is way cooler than Robin's twin sister could have ever been.

In this verse Danny was a full ghost haunting Amity Park who happened to befriend 3 teenage outcasts. One of them being the daughter of the town kooks who was willing to take the others on a brief tour of her parents lab. The portal resurrects Danny as a half ghost and the future Team Phantom gaslights, gatekeeps, girl bosses the entire town, including Jack and Maddie, into believing the Fentons have always had a son. Since a ghost's appearence is strongly dependent on self image, Danny gets to be a guy without worrying about hormones or surgery and it somehow sticks when he gets his human form. However, he is still genetically female hence Elle being a girl.

I like to think Damian and Elle meeting is due to her coming to Gotham to give Aunt Jazz's new boyfriend, Jay something, a shovel talk. There is much yelling, some brief rational talk courtesy of Jazz, a DNA test, louder yelling and much confusion. Danny arrives in the Batcave to find himself face to face with his twin brother for the first time in almost a decade only to find Damian is shorter than his clone-daughter.

As it turns out Danny was worse at keeping track of time in the Zone than he thought and is now almost 5 years older than his twin.

The more I learn about Damians family the more bewildered and impressed I become. How many ladies are in this family?! Like canonically? Its starting to sound like Ras has a small army of Amazon-ish warriors and wanted a male heir due to sheer sexism.

How would Ras take this anyway? Would he be transphobic and keep referring to him by his dead name or would he consider it a "blessing from Lazarus" or whatever?

I'm on the blessing side because I might know nothing about transition surgery but it sounds like it would be expensive.

#submission #anon i love this #also danny being older because of wierd time shenanigans is awesome #dp x dc

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batpham-discord-highlights · 2 years

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Maddie is Tim's Bio Mom

Source: #ghosts-and-bats

GUYS

What what

WHAT IS TIM IS BIOLOGICALLY MADDIE'S SON????

Omg

He's older than Jazz and Danny, having been born before she married Jack

Because Jack and Janet totally seem like the kind of parents who would adopt for appearance's sake and then be horrible parents and pay off CPS

This is a Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton only story

Yeah, wouldn’t that suck to find out as Tim tho

Right?

Maddie only knows who adopted him, so she knows he's Tim Drake, but she's not allowed to make contact and has no clue anything is wrong

He finds out when going through some of his parents’ old papers

He's rattled, but curious

So, he reaches out to them, something about touring their lab and a potential business partnership

And so, they meet

And he finds out he has younger siblings who could definitely use his help?

I have so many ideas but brain no translation

Danny: This guy looks like me, but has posh manners and is talking about becoming business partners with my parents, despite everyon thinking they're crazy...Oh no, did the Frootloop make a stable clone?

Danny: Look, he may say he cares about you and he's a good man, but he's not. He's a rich basket case who can't let go of the past

Tim: I know, but he's trying his best

Danny: He really isn't

(neither realizing the other is talking about a completely different one percenter)

Tim is a little confused as to why his little brother is trying to sabotage his relationship with Bruce

What could he hope to gain by this?

another thought

Maddie totally tracked down a Lazarus pit to study for her thesis

She met Talia

For that single summer they started a fierce rivalry

I like where this is going

Tim has to call in his Mom due to a ghost problem in Gotham (this is post reveal, she's better with ghosts now)

And the Wayne's sit there and watch her kick butt

Damien is unexpectedly quiet and wary around her

"That's my Mom," Tim brags with a smirk after she finished and starts clean up

And Damien hisses

"you're related to MADDISON???"

He steps back and gives Tim a long, considering look

Then nods

"Acceptable, Fenton"

Then he leaves

He refuses to call Tim a Drake again

Lol yes I love this so much!

This is especially good because I'm pretty sure it's canon that Maddie is a black belt in at least one martial art

She is fully combat capable

She's a genius inventor

She is every inch Talia's equal

What she lacks in lethality, she more than makes up for in ingenuity

I love Talia and Maddie being enemies, but please also consider:

What I'd they're exes?

how did you read my mind????

What if Talia still misses her???

What if Damian has to call him brother now?

Perfection✨✨

Talia joins the "let's kill Jack" club with Vlad

Danny was excited to fight ninjas at first but now they're boring and such a bother

Why does everyone want his dad dead?

Jason is impressed and deeply intimidated by Tim's Mom

He's heard stories about her at the cradle

She put the fear of God into Ra's

This keeps getting better

And when she finds out about what happened during Brucequest...

She might need to go visit the old man and see how he's doing 😁

Pru calls Tim after it's over and absolutely gushes about his Mom

She has a new goal in life

Be Maddie Fenton

Ra's is so upset he let Tim get away in the end

What do you think is Maddie's maiden name? Or did Jack take her name?

I kinda like the idea that Jack took her name

Right?

Damian is very wary of her and looks like a cat whose fur got rubbed the wrong way when she's around

He finds her very unsettling

Dick is in awe

This woman can get Damian to do things with minimal fuss

“Teach me your WAYS!” He cries.

Cass likes her a lot and is very curious about her homemade equipment

Jazz isn't sure what to think about this whole thing

She sure did get a big brother out of it

It's very disorienting for her tbh

She's not quite sure how to process the whole thing and it keeps taking longer because stuff just won't stop happening

Poor Danny is being worn thin and just wants a nap

Then he realizes that neither Vlad or Talia have blackmail on him

So, he tattles

And Maddie is very upset that there are people trying to kill her husband

She protecc

Talia gets a very angry phone call

Vlad is flat out cut out of her life

She gets a restraining order on him for her entire family

She pulls obscure League lore knowledge out of her back pocket and declares a personal war on Talia in a way that makes Damian pale and Talia shocked

Ra's has already "stepped down due to health reasons"

So, she's essentially challenging Talia for control of the league over the crime of trying to kill her husband

#ghosts and bats channel #maddie fenton #jack fenton #tim drake #jazz fenton #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #damian al ghul #dick grayson #cassandra cain #jason todd

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

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Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover]

Or: Once upon a time, Talia al Ghul gave her first child away to a family that would keep him safe. But Danny Fenton is more like his parents than anyone realized, and Ra's al Ghul is very curious of his grandson who defied death till the very end.

Posted onto ao3 but i also wanna share this here <3 Giving a huge disclaimer that it's been a while since I watched DP and the only Batman/DC stuff I've interacted with are B:TAS, the JL cartoons, and what I got from fandom osmosis so don't expect any sort of canon compliance.

CW for non-explicit mentions of a car accident and fake character death

| AO3 | [Prologue] | 1 |

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

DANIEL JAMES FENTON WAS DEAD. Or, at least, dead-er, though only very few people would know of that fact.

His body was found at the bottom of a cliff, under a particularly sharp turn on a very windy road. The car he had been driving crumpled like an assignment found at the bottom of a backpack that was two weeks due. He is found by a search party two days after he had been reported missing; the authorities ended up identifying him from his driver’s license, tucked away safe in his back pocket.

His funeral is a closed casket, attended by his family who grieves and two best friends who are vehemently in denial of it all. People from school came, too. By twos and threes, small groups coming too offer their condolences and say such empty platitudes of how he lightened up the room and was always there to make everyone laugh.

Here is one truth they say: Casper High will never be the same without him.

(It’s funny, isn’t it? For a school so enamored with ghosts, they rarely spared a thought for death.)

In the days after the funeral, Jack and Maddie Fenton will pour their souls over their research with renewed fervor. Heads hunched over jargon-filled papers. Mugs half-empty with black coffee microwaved for the nth time. Before, they viewed their hell-damned portal as a scientific marvel, a new era in the world of paranormal sciences. One to be measured and experimented on and scienced to exhaustion, until the mystery of ghost and everything associated with it can be explained by theorems and equations and diagrams.

Now, though. Now they look at the green depths with a glint of madness in their eyes. Surely not all ghosts are just ectoplasm with a conscience. Surely at least some of those ghosts might have been different—alive.

All those myths of traversing the realm of the dead had to come from somewhere, right?

Sam and Tucker think along the same lines, except unlike the Fentons they know much more about the secrets of the Ghost Zone. Danny Fenton was dead. But he was already dead, and it seemed too ludicrous—even for someone with Danny’s luck—to die twice. They search what they can of the Zone, call in favors from any of Danny’s ghostly contacts that they can reach to find him. Hell, they even worked with Vlad.

Jazz handles the news best.

No.

That’s a lie.

Her baby brother died and there is no way that anyone would take that news well. But she has to. Where Danny was the heart, she was the family’s pillar. The one that knows how to keep a level head, the one that kept their family full of eccentric geniuses and more-than-human children grounded in some sense of normalcy. She would drag her parents out of their lab and teach them how to cope. Coach them through their stages of grief because Danny wouldn’t have wanted this.

And Jazz was right. Danny didn’t want this. Any of this.

His friends and family are balancing on the knife’s edge and they don’t know. They have no clue.

“Daniel, you will exhaust yourself for tomorrow.”

Danny blinked, tilting his head towards the speaker, eyes glued to the multiple monitors that hung on the wall. “You promised me an hour. I still have ten minutes left.”

“And tomorrow’s training will be more rigorous than the last—but it is your choice, I suppose.” Strong, slender fingers trace the width of his shoulders. Thumbs circling the spot between his shoulder blades. “They will still be there tomorrow. And the day after that. And for many more days to come, I assure you.” Danny snorted. “But if you are not well rested, then there I can’t guarantee the same thing for you.”

Danny leaned away from her touch with a grimace. “You can’t kill what’s already dead, Talia. And besides,” he looked up at her, eyes glowing like the Lazarus pit, “you wouldn’t leave your son to die for very long, yeah?”

Talia al Ghul smiled.

Danny looked away, focusing his gaze back to the live feed of his parents being dragged out of the lab by Jazz. Their faces haggard and empty except for that manic glint in their eyes.

He missed them. Missed them so much.

But Daniel James Fenton is dead.

And forcefully torn out of his husk is Daniel al Ghul.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fanfiction #al Ghul! danny #because the lazarus pit reminded me too much of the ghost zone and because the concept sounds fucking cool that's why #also wayne! danny #because again. cool factor. and i wanted to contrive a way for them to meet without making the fentons assholes or killing dannys friends #and family #phantom children.txt

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agendercryptidlev · 2 years

Note

hello, just saw this on my dash, and wanted to let you know i’m 100% the intended audience for this lol, and would love to hear you ramble

no pressure though, feel free to ignore me

Oh nice! Alright I'll explain:

So the AU starts With Tim and his friends in Tim's parent's ghost hunting basement, Because Bruce and Talia are Jack and Maddie. So similar to in cannon Bart, Cassie, and Kon try to convince Tim to go into the ghost portal, only in this AU Bart, Cassie and Kon go in instead (Tim is too worried about breaking it because he knows it means a lot to Bruce). When those three are getting ghost powers Tim tries to get them out so he is also affected just not to the same degree. Each of them gets a power to start and they are as follows:

Cassie: Ghost beams Kon: Flight Bart: Intangibility Tim: gets the ghost sense only well the ghost sense and his own unique power of being able to temporarily turn ghosts human again. Tim also cannot go ghost

Cissie fills the role of Sam and Tucker as "Sassy completely human friend without powers who knows" because I LOVE HER

Greta is the team's ghost bestie, she gets a little obsessed with Tim after Tim starts showing that he can temporarily turn her human, but she gets better.

Jazz is filled by both Cass and Steph, Cass realizes something is up with Tim and gets Steph to help her figure out what's up with her brother.

Dick and Damian are also Tim's siblings! Dick doesn't find out about Tim being one of the phantoms for a very long time, he's just glad that Tim is spending more time hanging out with his friends. Damian finds out after Cass but before Dick because he was suspicious of the phantoms and investigating them. Him and Tim still bicker and eventually develop a rivalry but they're closer than in cannon.

Now Jason, Jason is a ghost. a dead ghost. feel bad now? /ref anyway yeah Jay died shortly before Bruce started fostering Tim and is a big reason Bruce got so deep into the ghost research, he wants to know if he can contact his son. Jason is of course an angst ghost and fights with the phantoms initially but eventually makes up with his family because I need some fluff goddamn it.

Anita my beloved is next, she takes the place of Valarie. So her motivations are slightly different: in this her parents die in a ghost attack where the phantoms are present so she sees them as just as bad as the other ghosts (of course until she gets to know them and realizes they're on the same side) Also Slobo is a ghost and the first ghost she befriends

Thad is Danni because I love Thad so much- and also you can never go wrong with more flashfam. Ra's would have cloned Tim however because Tim is a "defective" Halfa he gets DNA from whichever other phantom he can access and that happens to be Bart! So yeah love Thad love Thad

Now that I've mentioned Ra's, it's pretty obvious that I've made him take the place of Vlad. Ra's wants Talia back from Bruce in a possessive parent way not a romance way obviously and he's initially most interested in Damian out of his grandkids, he wants to see if being a halfa is at all genetic. Much to his surprise it turns out Bruce's newest adopted kid Tim is the one who's a halfa, along with Tim's obnoxious friends. So he tries to make Tim his apprentice and Tim says no. Ra's later tries to make Damian Tim's rival but they make up instead and get closer hah!

Ok I have wayyyy more to say about this but I'm running out of steam. lmk if you want to hear about any specific YJ-centric characters because I probably have ideas for them!

#YJ DP AU #dc

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Reflection

Tucker passed in front of a mirror and stopped, did a double take. He'd been doing that a lot, lately, ever since what he and his friends referred to as the 'Egypt incident.' He raised one hand and traced a line under his eye, his lower eyelashes ruffling.

"You checking your eyeliner, Fol-ey?" asked Dash, bumping into him, rudely.

Tucker avoided stabbing himself in the eye and caught himself on the sink. He frowned at the reflection of the jocks in the mirror and scanned the locker room for Danny. Alas, his best friend must still be running punishment laps in the gym.

"Looking for Wimp-ton to save you? That's pretty pathetic," said Dash, jabbing Tucker again.

Tucker spun to face them and started to back away. He wondered if it would be okay to fight back under these circumstances, or if he would get in trouble. Because Tucker could fight. Maybe not as well as Sam and Danny, he was more the tech guy of their group, but all of them could throw a punch. Heck, Tucker could pull back a bow and put an arrow into the center of a target a hundred feet away. That took arm strength.

If he fought Dash, he'd probably win.

But fighting was generally frowned upon at school and with the other jocks as witnesses... Yeah, that wouldn't pan out well. His parents would take his side, but he didn't want to get a bad reputation with the teachers. One of the trio had to stay on their good side. Obviously it couldn't be Danny, and Sam was too argumentative, so it fell to him.

He sighed. Well, he could take a punch, too, if it came to that. He took off his glasses and put them on the back of the sink.

"What're you doing that for?" asked Dash.

"Good glasses are expensive, Dash," said Tucker, flatly, glaring up at the taller boy. "They're also made of glass. I don't want to be wearing them if you decide to hit me in the face."

Dash stared down at him, as though seeing him for the first time. He humphed. "You take all the fun out of it," he complained. "Come on, guys," he said to the other jocks, leading a parade out of the locker room. Tucker sighed and looked back at the mirror.

Eyeliner, huh? Dash probably would have been surprised to find out that Tucker had thought that he'd seen eye makeup on his face. Kohl. No. Not kohl. That was a recent word, and not completely accurate. Mesdemet for the black. Udju for the green. He blinked, unsure where the words had come from.

No, he knew where the words had come from. He just didn't want to think about it.

Danny stumbled into the room, banging the door behind him. "Hi," he said, waving at Tucker. He paused. "Are you okay? You look kind of..." Danny trailed off and shrugged.

"I'm fine," said Tucker. "Just talked my way out of getting beaten up by Dash."

"What, really?" asked Danny, his eyes flickering over Tucker. "Are you sure you're fine? He didn't hit you?"

"Nope. I'm really fine."

He hoped.

The archery club met right after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, regularly, contrasting with the computer club, which met 'whenever' and 'online.' Usually, meetings coincided with Danny getting detention and Sam's activist stuff. Tucker thought of these afternoons as their 'alone time.' Otherwise, they were, well, not quite joined at the hip, but...

It was a near thing.

Tucker wouldn't have minded if Sam and Danny did join the archery club (or the computer club, for that matter), but it could be nice to have some time away, so that he could sort through certain thoughts. Thoughts such as: What was happening to him?

Because he really had thought that he had thrown off the influence of Duulaman's ghost, or that weird staff, or Hotep-Ra, or whatever had been going on that week, and yet, here he was, over a week later, hallucinating himself wearing Egyptian makeup, of all things.

He squared himself on the edge of the archer range and checked that it was clear. The other members of the club were working with the closer targets. Tucker thought that he would challenge himself today. He pulled back.

The thing was, at the end, when Hotep-Ra was gone, and Tucker was back to himself, he had been able to use that staff, the Scarab Scepter, to return everything to normal. He wasn't sure he should have been. He had no idea how that staff worked. Yet, in that moment he had.

And he did look an awful lot like Duulaman.

"You're doing great today, Foley!" called the club advisor from across the range. "Are you sure you don't want to shoot competitively?"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "I'm sure!" Then he caught sight of his arrows. They were all clustered neatly in the bullseye.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Tucker was good. He wasn't, quite, that good. Not at this range. But, in the moment, as he was shooting, he hadn't registered anything as being unusual. He remembered looking at them as he was aiming, so he wasn't just spacing out.

Archery was practiced in Ancient Egypt, wasn't it? He remembered seeing murals. He remembered the sun shining down on his shoulders as his entourage...

... What?

Tucker frowned. This wasn't going to go away, was it?

The computer screen cast Tucker's dark bedroom in a blue light. The only sound was him typing away at the keyboard.

Tucker didn't want to worry Danny and Sam. Mostly Danny. He had enough to deal with without worrying that his best friends was going to go crazy and try to kill him. Again.

He cringed. He did not have the best track record when it came to that particular thing. Then again, neither did anyone else close to Danny.

Hence not wanting to worry Danny.

Maybe he should talk to Sam, though. Out of everyone he knew, she was the only one who'd been mind controlled in a similar way. She hadn't said anything about having hallucinations post-Undergrowth, but, then, she wouldn't, would she? Sam had the same reasons Tucker did for keeping quiet.

Tucker made a face at himself. It was probably a sign that their relationship wasn't as healthy as it looked, keeping secrets from each other like this. But... he knew Danny kept secrets. They all did, and they were fine with it. So, Tucker or Sam keeping secrets was fine, too.

As long as it didn't turn into murder attempts. That was not fine.

Tucker slipped his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes and returned his attention to the screen. He was researching Duulaman, and had dived deep into the academic side of the internet. He'd come up against a dozen paywalls and dismissed them all with a few keystrokes.

Duulaman. Pharaoh of Kemet. A descendant of Hatshepsut and an ancestor of Tutankhamen. He had been a fairly progressive member of his family, restoring several of Hatshepsut's monuments after other of his ancestors had done their best to destroy them, making laws concerning the treatment of slaves and foreigners, and forging peace with neighboring countries. He had been well-liked, his popularity having been attested to even years after his death by inscriptions in other graves, praying that their inhabitants would find themselves under Duulaman's rule in the afterlife. He'd been famed for his athletic and magical abilities.

Sadly, academic publications were as skeptical about magic as they were about ghosts.

Tucker rubbed his eyes again.

Duulaman had been murdered. According to his brother, the pharaoh who had succeeded him, the deed had been done by an advisor whose name and image had been systematically removed from everything.

Probably Hotep-Ra. That fit with the ghost's whole thing, and the fact that Tucker couldn't find any information on him.

After another relatively fruitless hour, Tucker pried himself from the chair and went to bed.

He turned the fine silver mirror over in his hands, contemplating its polished surface. It had been a 'gift' from a Mitanni noble, and had carried a brutal curse into the heart of Kemet, but the curse was loose, now, wound around his very soul, and the mirror itself was merely a harmless, empty vessel.

One that Duulaman could learn from. He ran his fingers along the strange symbols scored on the outer edge of the mirror.

If his advisors would stop arguing for just a moment.

"We must attack at once!" said Hotep-Ra. "This insult against the person of god cannot be borne!"

"But it is harvest season," objected another. "We cannot afford to take the men from the fields. There would be famine!"

"Hotep-Ra," said Duulaman, softly, "brother of my heart, it was not even their king that sent this. Would you raze their whole kingdom and force a tragedy on their own for the sake of one man?"

"One who attacked you and our kingdom through dread magics?" asked Hotep-Ra. "Yes, my pharaoh."

"Then perhaps it is good that I am pharaoh. I know that you love me, but I have no desire for war. Even so," he said, raising his voice, "I have sent certain persons to correct the problem, and my brother has borne a letter to the Mitanni king, explaining the situation. It is true that this assault on our kingdom cannot be suffered quietly."

The advisors took that in. Duulaman turned to the Priestess of Mut and tried not to squint. She was just far enough away that he had trouble seeing her. Sadly, none of his magic had yet succeeded in giving him the eyes of a hawk, but he yet had hope.

"What say you about the curse?" he asked.

Duulaman was a powerful priest in his own right, favored by the gods and his ancestors, but he valued other opinions. Being the focus of the curse might have blinded him to certain aspects of its function.

The priestess bowed. "It is as we first feared," she said. "It binds your great soul, so that you may not pass into the green fields of the Duat when it is your time to do so. Instead, it decrees that, when you die, you must suffer to be born into a common line, far from your rightfully exalted place."

"And for Kemet? For my line?"

The priestess, an experienced woman who had served Duulaman's father, actually trembled. "That, whence your second life reaches the age of reason, you shall understand, and you shall see the last of the Pharaohs come to ruin, all our temples abandoned save for nonbelievers, your descendants crushed or cast into obscurity, your name stricken from history, and your tomb robbed by foreigners. She dooms you to watch the slow decay."

This was about what Duulaman had expected. He closed his eyes, pained. If only he had been more careful opening the box... but he had assumed it to be from Hotep-Ra, or his brother, or one of his sisters, for it had been among other, like gifts.

"I see. Fear not. I will take care of it. Kemet shall not fall within our lifetimes."

The relief in the room was palpable. They had faith in Duulaman's power.

Alas, that it might come to naught.

Tucker woke with a jolt, hand on his heart. He looked around wildly, relaxing when he saw the acid green numbers on his bedside clock. He was here. He was now. He was Tucker.

And it wasn't even time to wake up for school.

Wait. It was Saturday. He wouldn't have to wake up for school anyway.

Alright. So he might have, thousands of years ago, been Duulaman. Fine. He laid back down, breathing through his nose. He dealt with ghosts on a daily basis. He could deal with reincarnation. This was cool. This was fine.

He was definitely having a crisis.

Crap.

He fumbled for his phone, and hit the speed dial for Danny. Danny never slept anyway, it was fine. Besides, stuff like this was why Sam had bought him a phone (a Nokia brick, because ghost fights) in the first place. Dead people were Danny's specialty.

"What's wrong?" asked Danny, far too alert for the small hours of the morning.

"I think I might be Duulaman," said Tucker.

There was a beat of silence. "Yeah?" said Danny, confused.

"Like, I'm a reincarnation of him or something."

"Yeah?" repeated Danny. "I thought that was the whole reason you could use that staff and stuff?"

"Wait," said Tucker. "You mean, you knew all along, and you didn't say anything?"

"I thought you knew and didn't want to talk about it," said Danny. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just having weird Kem- Egypt flashbacks. I'm fine."

"Do you want me to fly over?"

"No," said Tucker. "I just- Am I still me?"

"I mean, you're you to begin with. You are yourself. That's like, definitional."

"Yeah, but..." Tucker gestured at his ceiling with his hand, even though Danny couldn't see it.

Danny chuckled. "You're still you, Tucker. I know Sam and I aren't always super sensitive, but... We do pay attention, you know? We'd know if you were being taken over. Maybe not right away, but..."

"Thanks," said Tucker, with only a little bit of sarcasm.

"Hey, I like to think we've all come a long way since the thing with Poindexter."

"True," said Tucker. "Hey, thanks, man. I'm sorry about waking you up."

"Don't worry," said Danny. "You didn't. I'd just caught Boxy when you called."

"Oh. That's good. Get some sleep, Danny."

"You, too. Tell me what Egypt was like tomorrow, okay?"

"Kemet," corrected Tucker. "And, yeah. Bye."

"What are you doing?" demanded Hotep-Ra.

Duulaman turned away from his ritual tools and fixed an un-amused eye on Hotep-Ra. "I may have made it your place to question me," said Duulaman, "but I thought I had made my decision on this matter clear. The method your faction proposed is too uncertain, too risky."

"I have made a mirror," said Hotep-Ra, "one that will recognize your soul in whatever body it should take. With it, we could search all of Kemet for you when you are reborn and then lay you properly to rest, as you deserve, before the curse comes to fruition."

"And if I should be born in lands beyond?"

"Then we should look there, too!"

"Starting all sorts of wars on the way, no doubt. Tell me, brother of my heart, what is the difference between the young man who falls in war, whose body is left for the crows, and the old man who is buried peacefully, and who will find joy in the Duat?"

"The devotion of his family!" responded Hotep-Ra instantly.

Duulaman shook his head sadly and looked back to his tools, touching them softly. He had already completed the ritual that would force the curse to carry his soul thousands of years into the future. By the time his next life reached the age of reason, there would be no pharaohs for the curse to affect. And if there were? Well, it would have been a good long time, and the curse would have weakened significantly. Perhaps even to the point of unraveling.

"No, Hotep-Ra. The difference between a tragedy and a happy ending is time. All kingdoms fall. All civilizations fade."

"Not this one."

"Even this one. The only questions are when and how."

"No," said Hotep-Ra. "No. Never!"

Duulaman felt, rather than heard, the scrape of metal against oiled leather and reached for his staff, which lay across from him, on the other side of his ritual. He was too late. He had trusted Hotep-Ra too much, let him get too close, and he felt the bronze knife slide between his ribs. His eyelids fluttered as his hands groped up his chest.

He was dying.

"I will see you, in the next life," he whispered, blood bubbling in his throat.

And then he was gone.

It was bright when Tucker woke again.

He felt... oddly calm. It was nice to know that he had succeeded in out-waiting the fall of Pharaonic Egypt, even though the fact that it was gone made his heart shiver.

Well. He pulled his phone over, and texted Danny. I know what it feels like to die, now, he said. Maybe they'd be able to bond over it. Or Danny would give him some coping pointers, since Tucker was pretty sure he'd have at least one breakdown over this. Either one would be good.

He stood up and walked to the bathroom. His reflection stared back, completely normal. No weird eye shadow, no Egyptian clothes, just Tucker and his pajamas.

Behind it stretched miles and miles of sand.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #tucker centric #day 3

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jessicajonesrp · 4 years

Text

Another victim goes out in flames

It had been several days now since Jessica’s brother made his sudden and stunning reappearance in her life, and into her general understanding of his actual being alive. She still wasn’t quite used to this as reality. Every time the words or phrase “my brother” entered her thoughts or left her lips, it didn’t feel like she could be talking about her own life. It didn’t help that she had not actually seen him since he showed up at the door. Spoke to him, yes, briefly, because brother or not, Jessica was not a phone person. Texted him, yes, although not as frequently as she had the thought to do so. But she hadn’t actually seen him again. A part of her was almost worried that if she tried to make arrangements to, it would turn out that she had drunkenly dreamed or hallucinated the whole thing.

So when Phillip called, suggesting they go out for dinner together, Jessica was anxious even as she agreed. It was lame and probably stupid to stress out over going to dinner with your own brother, even if he had risen from the grave, sort of, and she hadn’t actually known him as her brother for over 15 years. But she was anxious, enough that she had to finish a few bottles of whiskey and hole herself up in her office to research her current case several hours before he was scheduled to come pick her up.

Yeah, apparently her brother was a gentleman. He had insisted on picking Jessica up, choosing where to go, and that he would pay for it too. Jessica didn’t know what the hell was up lately with the men she had been encountering. Luke, Danny, Phillip all seeming to know manners, being men in NYC, seemed more far fetched than Phillip’s semi resurrection.

So far the case against the death-fire doctors was slow going, but she had picked up enough information to begin drawing some interesting parallels. Each of the men who died had been hailed as especially accomplished and revolutionary in their field, and each had specialized in something slightly different- neurology, surgery, and orthopedic works. They didn’t primarily work in the same building, but all were located in the same general county, and Jessica had traced that each spent one day a week working at the same hospital. Each also were noted to do “volunteer” surgery and works, some of which were undisclosed to public in specifics. Jessica also had done enough interviews with family and coworkers to note that each had described the man as of a similar personality type- driven, ambitious, singular in focus, and very efficient at work, to the point of having little time spent on personal life matters. Only Dr. Heath White, the person whose death had instigated Jessica’s investigation, was married, and none had children. They were all definitely far too fixated on their work- possibly a factor in their deaths?

Jessica had also noted that although most coworkers had not known the men well personally, and none of the family indicated spending considerable time with them recently other than Karen White, each person she spoke to maintained that the doctors had not seemed suicidal. Secretive, yes, preoccupied, and driven to the point of unhealthy, but not depressed or suicidal.

She was pretty sure that her biggest break would be found once she had finished looking through all the files that Malcolm had managed to pull together from the hospital’s system, once he hacked into it. She had noticed just in a brief skim that the three appeared to all be involved in what looked like similarly filed cases, each which were assigned numbers rather than patient names or even preheadings of John or Jane Doe. Malcolm had told her in an email that the files he had retrieved had been very hard to get to, deeply hidden within the system and not accessible to most of the hospital employees for retrieval. Whatever it was that all three men appeared to be working on together, it was not something that they wanted everyone to know about.

She pushed aside her lingering theories and thoughts on the case as her a knock sounded at her office door. Standing, stretching, and taking a final swig of whiskey, Jessica stood to greet her brother, awkwardly making a gesture somewhere between an effort of a hug and a playful punch on the arm that ended up getting their arms tangled. She flushed, laughing uncomfortably, and then hugged him, marveling again at how very different it felt to do so now with him taller than she was than it had when he was still wearing super hero boxers.

“Hey,” she said somewhat redundantly, stepping back. “You got a car? Or are we doing subway or taxi? That’s what I do, mostly, if I can’t walk. I don’t like driving much. Guess maybe you don’t, considering our history.”

“Subway, if you don’t mind,” Phillip said easily. “I don’t have a car. As you can imagine, that makes moving difficult, so it’s lucky I travel light.”

“Oh, speaking of that, Luke says he probably does have a job for you, if you want to try it out,” Jessica said as she followed Phillip out the door, hands shoved into her jacket pockets as they made the way to the elevator of her building. “Might not be your dream job, it’s a warehouse job through a friend of his. But if Luke’s offering it, I’m sure the pay and hours are decent, and it’s a start, right? Better than part time.” She smirked. “Besides, you tell them you’re Luke’s brother-in-law, and they’ll be intimidated enough to treat you right. Or just tell them I’m your sister, I’m pretty sure a lot of people are more scared of me than him.”

“Yeah?” Phillip said curiously, eyeing her. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t imagine people being scared of you. The most scary thing about you is your makeup during your grunge phase.”

“Says the kid who wore the same t-shirt with a stupid cartoon alien on it for four days in a row until Mom forced him to change it,” Jessica shot back. “Yeah, it’s kind of a thing, people get scared of you when you kill people. Or when you knock them around or lift cars in front of them.”

“But that’s still ridiculous,” Phillip insisted. “Whatever you’ve done, or can do, you have good reasons for it. There’s no reason to be afraid of someone who does things because they’re right. You only do those things to people who earn it. And you wouldn’t have your abilities if you didn’t deserve them.”

Jessica eyed him, her brow furrowing. “I didn’t earn them, Phil. People don’t get superpowers because they deserve them, they just have them. Look at Kilgrave, did he deserve his? Besides, just because you have good reasons for doing things doesn’t always make it right. He thought he had good reasons for what he did, and he was a monster.”

She is twitchy now, as she usually is when the mention of Kilgrave comes up, and bolts out abruptly when the elevator lands in the parking garage of their building. Phillip puts a hand on her arm, apologetic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to offend you. I just…I believe in you, that’s all. I think it’s pretty amazing, who you are, what you can do. And what you can do with it.”

“You sound like Trish,” Jessica muttered, rolling her eyes. “You guys should get along great, she’s always “ra ra, Jessica the super hero” too.”

Phillip’s eyes flicker briefly when she mentions Trish, and he shrugs. “Maybe. Doesn’t seem to me like we’ll have a lot in common, from what I’ve read about her. Drinking is one thing, but hard drugs? And she’s been to rehab more than a few times, right? They says addicts are liars, just by nature of the addiction. I’ve known a few, had a few as foster parents. I always questioned how much of what they said was real and how much of it was an act.”

“Hey, that’s not who she is anymore,” Jessica said sharply, his words cutting deep. He wasn’t just implicating Trish, but herself as well with his declaration, although he had dismissed alcoholism as being different than drug addiction. “She’s been out of that life for a long time now. Hell, between the two of us, I’m the one people should be less willing to trust.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Jessie,” he said, shrugging. “You’re her friend, you know her. I wasn’t trying to cut on her. I’m just telling you what my experience has been. Like I said, I had foster parents into drugs, and a lot of kids in the foster homes and group homes too. It could really make life hell sometimes, living in that when there’s nothing you can do to get out of it.”

Jessica, having come to a pause in her walking to face him in Trish’s defense, blinked, uncomfortable and guilty at his second referral to his experiences in foster home. Every time she remembered growing up privileged, with all her basic needs met if not her emotional ones, in the Walker’s home, she felt almost personally responsible to know that her brother had not had the same experience. She exhaled, looking away.

“It’s okay. So, um….subway. Let’s get to it.”

Jessica started to resume walking to the parking garage entrance, stopping as a weathered gray mini-van entered to let it pass and park. She rolled her eyes, recognizing it as belonging to the Morrisons, a couple who lived on her hall and whom she avoided whenever humanly possible. The Morrisons had six kids, and Jessica knew them to be foster kids not because of their variety of ethnicities but because of the multiple obnoxious bumper stickers plastered over the mini-van, each some variation of declaring Nicole Morrison as being a “foster mom.” It reminded her of the fuss Dorothy Walker had initially made over being an adoptive mother when Jessica first came to live with her- only in public, of course. Although the woman had barely spoken to her, the public declaration of being a foster parent, which Jessica viewed as an invasion of the children’s privacy, coupled with the strangely quiet nature of children whenever she passed them, had made her suspicious of Nicole’s motives for having them and just how she may treat them behind closed doors.

Whatever. She was just glad she hadn’t been stuck in the elevator with her.

She hurried her steps towards the entrance of the parking garage, wanting to avoid eye contact as she heard Nicole Morrison get out of her car and lock it, and definitely wanting to avoid any kind of forced small talk. She heard the woman’s heels clicking as she started to walk, presumably towards the elevator or stairs, and wondered what kind of mother of six kids still felt the desire to wear high heels, and noticed that Phillip’s softer footsteps behind her had slowed in pace. She was starting to turn back towards him, to order him or tease him about hurrying up, when she first smelled the smoke.

Jessica frowned, thinking at first that either Phillip or Perfect Foster Mom was smoking, which was not only something she hadn’t though either engaged in, but was also not allowed in the parking garage, as several large signs declared. She didn’t actually see the fire until Nicole Morrison’s shrill screams pierced the air.

Jessica pivoted sharply, the tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing up in spooked recognition of what she was hearing. She recognized the sound of anguish mingled with terror. She had heard it too many times to ever be able to forget.

Nicole Morrison stood in between the rows of cars, writhing, arms flailing in panic. Her entire body was engulfed with flames, so brightly heated that Jessica could actually see hints of blue in the parts closest to the woman’s rapidly charring body. From over fifty feet away Jessica could still feel their heat, and the combination of smoke mixed with burning flesh made her cough, almost choking, before she forced her stunned, wire-tight muscles into action.

“Drop down! Stop, drop, and roll!” she shouted at the woman, but the woman was too far gone in pain and fear to probably hear or comprehend.

Jessica’s eyes darted, looking for some source of water, a blanket, a tarp, anything that might smother the flames, but there was nothing. It was a fucking parking garage, all she could see stretched before her was miles of useless vehicles. It occurred to her briefly that Dr. Heath White had also been burned to death in a parking garage, just before she sprung forward to try to help the suffering woman.

Tearing off her own leather jacket, she used it both as a protective cover for her hands and as a shroud over the woman as she pushed her down, then used her jacket to beat at the flames. It didn’t fully extinguish them, but they did reduce in volume enough for Jessica to be able to grasp the woman and roll her back and forth, smothering the rest. She choked, almost vomiting, when part of the woman’s skin peeled off into her hand, and tried to ignore the stinging burn of smoke irritating her eyes, throat, and nose. Her own hands were beginning to grow singed before she managed to fully put out the flames, but none of this was bothering her. Nicole Morrison had ceased making any sort of noise at all, not so much as a whimper, and what was left of her features and body was so horrific she barely seemed recognizably human.

Remember Phillip suddenly, Jessica tore her eyes from the woman that she wasn’t quite certain was even still living, barking out an order to him sharply.

“Phillip! Call 911, fucking hurry!”

But when she received no verbal affirmative, and whipped her head over her shoulder to repeat the direction, she saw that Phillip was nowhere within her view. What the fuck, where was he? Had he left? Had he been so frightened he bolted?

She couldn’t worry about that now. Hands shaking, she fumbled for her own phone, then, remembering it was in her jacket pocket, cursed vividly, reaching into the badly damaged garment for it. The phone cover and screen were burning hot to the touch, but otherwise appeared possibly still in working order. She dialed 911 with still unsteady hands, explaining the situation in a voice she didn’t quite recognize as her own, then looked down at the woman she was still kneeling in front of, knowing even before checking her pulse that she was dead.

Eyes tearing in what Jessica told herself was entirely due to the smoke, she stood, backing several feet away, and dialed Phillip’s number in between coughs. When he didn’t answer her, she dialed him again, then a third time, until he finally picked up, his voice almost as small as the child Phillip’s that she remembered when he said hello.

“Where the fuck are you, where the fuck did you go?!” Jessica almost screamed, the hand not holding the phone clinching into a fist and accidentally breaking the skin of the blisters forming on her palms.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice still small, shaken. “I just…that woman, and…it was just so…I haven’t seen anything like that. The way she sounded, and the smell…I’m sorry Jessie, I couldn’t deal. I couldn’t do it.”

“You ran away? You just left?” Jessica said, incredulous, although this was what she already knew to be true. “How could you just leave her dying like that?”

“I’m sorry….I couldn’t deal with it, it was….I couldn’t be there,” he whispered, taking a shaking, audible breath. “I couldn’t have helped her. I knew it, and I guess I just…I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“It’s…it’s okay,” Jessica exhaled, the action invoking another coughing fit for a few seconds before she could catch her breath enough to continue. “Don’t…don’t do that again. Just…just go back to where you’re staying, okay? We’ll have to do this hang out thing later. I have to stay with her until the ambulance come. And probably the fucking police too. Fuck.”

She hung up, breaking into another coughing fit, and leaned back against the wall of the parking garage, as far from Heather’s body as she could be while still being able to see her. Closing her eyes briefly, she fought off a threatening panic attack for several minutes before dialing Luke’s number.

“Luke,” she said, her voice hoarse and strained, and interrupted with another cough. “I need….I need you to come to my office. No, not there, I mean the parking garage to it. I’m about to be asked a shitload of questions by the police, and I may need a lawyer.”

#luke cage #luke cage roleplay #jessica jones roleplay #jessica roleplay #jessica jones

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raywritesthings · 3 years

Text

Bird in a Storm 12/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Tommy Merlyn, Athena, Joanna de la Vega, Roy Harper Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Athena was accustomed to deferring to those less skilled or worthy than her. The current Heir to the Demon was only one such example and was, in part, why she was here.

Simply put, the League was stagnating before her very eyes. She couldn’t say when it had begun. Perhaps shortly after she had joined the League when the schism between Ra’s and his eldest daughter had occurred. Or perhaps not until much later, when a girl had laughed in his face at a display of his power and he had not relieved her shoulders of her head but instead allowed her room, board, training and even his Heir’s body for her own pleasure.

Athena believed in her heart, however, that Ra’s decline had begun between those two points, with the departure of Al Sa-Her.

Never had she met a warrior so single-minded in his goal, yet all the more deadly for it. The lost man who had stumbled upon their secrets molded himself into a weapon and leader, rising through the ranks with greater speed than any before him.

But Ra’s had let his Horseman go, and had never truly recovered the loss. His leniency towards Nyssa’s dalliance with the disloyal girl in their ranks, his over-reliance on the Pit keeping him confined to Nanda Parbat more and more. Despite all appearances, he was an old man dragging them all to the end with him.

Athena had had no plans to strike against him, not until she had overheard the news on a mission to the Americas about the man the rest of the world called Malcolm Merlyn.

That such a man should fall to a poorly carried out stunt such as the news described was unconscionable to her. She could only assume he had been forced to act in a manner to protect his son, the man who now stood before her. The man she needed in order to achieve the plan that had begun forming in her head.

“Athena,” Thomas Merlyn echoed. “Is that your real name?”

“It is the only name I answer to. And before you check, you will not find me in any sort of search you might conduct on your devices.”

He grimaced but carried on. “How did my father meet someone like you?”

“His oaths would have kept him from sharing too many details of his time away, but we were part of the same League once. I served first as one of his trainers, then as a comrade-in-arms when he surpassed even me.”

“Comrade… in arms,” he repeated once again. She hoped he wasn’t truly this dim. “So you’re saying my father left me after my mom died to go train in some secret Fight Club?”

“He was preparing himself to enact justice upon the ones who took her from this world. From the intelligence I have gathered, he was very near his goal before the Triad’s contracted assassin mortally wounded him.”

The young man’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his father’s current state. “You said you can heal him. How? You don’t exactly look like a nurse.”

Athena withdrew a vial from her pocket. A vial she had taken great care in filling with a priceless elixir. “The contents of this vial will revive him. Slowly, I am afraid, but I could not secure more and remain undetected. You will need to introduce it into his system. I recommend the IVs replacing his fluids.”

Thomas’ eyes reflected a hunger as he reached out, but his arm paused midway. “How do I know you’re not lying? That this isn’t just more poison?”

Well, he wasn’t a naive idiot, at the least. “I am risking everything by changing my allegiance to your father and his kin. Should the man we both trained under discover my actions, I will be forcibly returned and executed for my disloyalty.” Thomas blanched, but she paid no heed. “Nevertheless, I believe in the cause Al Sa-Her was working towards. The evil of Starling City is too great, and must be eliminated. Surely you see that your city is slowly choking on the waste that wells up from the bottom?”

The look in his eyes hardened, and he took the vial. “How long will this take?”

“It is unclear. But in the meantime, you must lead in your father’s stead. There are others he would have recruited to his cause. We must find them out and see just where their loyalties now lie in his extended absence.”

“Wait, are you trying to say you can find out who set up the hit?”

“Of course I can.” She knew he had little reason to trust her abilities as of yet, but he would learn. And if he learned each piece in just the right order, she felt certain she could craft The Magician an Heir more loyal than Ra’s could dream of, if less adept with a weapon. But that, too, could be taught.

Athena retrieved a phone from her pocket that she slid across the desk towards him. “My number is the only contact programmed in. Attend to your father, then call me when you are ready to take up his work.”

While his gaze remained distracted by the phone, Athena slipped away as quickly and quietly as she had come, disturbing no one. Her next steps were already clear in her mind; discover the source of the contract on The Magician’s life, determine the timeline of his recovery and the completion of his plans and deliver his son to him as a dedicated disciple. All of this she was confident she could achieve.

Thomas Merlyn was less skilled and worthy than she, yes. But he held that same cold determination, that drive of his father’s. And history showed that could be molded.

---

Joanna sighed as she settled back in behind her old desk. It was earlier than her mom might have liked, but she was officially back to work.

She stared across at the empty space where her friend’s things used to be. No more Sara in her graduation cap, no more white board of targets. Laurel was well and truly gone from CNRI.

Well, not totally gone. Her protege approached Joanna scarcely after she’d sat down.

“Hey, Thea.”

“Hey. I’m so glad you’re back.” The younger girl hugged her. “How are you?”

“You know, pulling through. I guess you have experience with that.”

Thea nodded. “Yeah, well just don’t do what I did and you should be fine.”

Joanna laughed. “Alright, what have we got today? Think I read something about a deposition being filed?”

“Mm-hm.” In her work clothes and with a folder in her hand, Thea Queen looked truly different from the party girl she’d been only a few months ago. “It’s against Edward Rasmus. He stole the family’s savings, and they’re looking for restitution to help them get back on track. They lost everything in their son’s college fund because of this piece of crap.”

Okay, maybe Thea wasn’t totally different.

“Well, hopefully we can get it all back. Let me see the file so I have the details before they come in today.”

She was able to read up on the Moore’s file as well as a couple others before the family arrived. The couple had even brought their young son with them, who was adorable as he was shy. Joanna talked them through the deposition process and promised to have it submitted before the day was out.

It was the last time she spoke to either of the parents.

Joanna woke up early to a call from the police informing her that her clients had been killed in a home invasion gone wrong. Taylor had miraculously managed to escape the carnage out a window, so now she found herself playing social worker instead of lawyer as they tried to figure out where he would go in the immediate aftermath.

Eventually, they decided on a temporary placement with social services until his grandparents could return to the States. It still broke Joanna’s heart a little to watch Taylor being led away by the hand, and she resolved to check in on him at least once a day until all of this was over. Though she’d need to be careful about how to do it; she didn’t want a repeat attack. The timing of that ‘home invasion’ was a little too convenient for her liking.

She was glad to get a text from Laurel that day asking if she wanted to meet up. It really had been forever since her friend had bothered to reach out and that stung, but Joanna wasn’t going to turn her away when she actually did try.

It was still strange seeing her with shorter hair, Joanna reflected as she grabbed the barstool next to Laurel’s at the old place they’d gone to once or twice after work in the old days. “Hey.”

“Hey. My dad called and said you’d been at the station,” Laurel admitted. “I thought you could use a drink. I’m buying.”

“No, you shouldn’t—”

“I’m okay,” her friend insisted. “I’m just really sorry to hear what happened to your clients.”

Joanna blew out a breath. “So am I.” The whole thing stunk of the crap Thea had mentioned yesterday, but of course that was only a feeling she had. And she wasn’t about to bring that up with Laurel when her asking her to get the Hood’s help on Danny’s murder was what had led to her friend’s fall from grace to begin with.

Yet apparently she didn’t have to. “It was Rasmus,” Laurel said with conviction as their glasses were set down.

She nodded even as she said, “There’s no proof. And now there’s no case. I mean, the kid’s only six.”

“Where’s their son now?”

Joanna looked down. “Social services took him.”

Laurel turned on the barstool to face her. “He’s in the system? After just losing his parents?”

“It’s only for a little while. They’re having trouble getting in touch with his grandparents because they’re out of the country.”

“But the killer Rasmus hired is still out there, Jo,” Laurel argued. “He could get the information on where Taylor is.”

“I’m hoping he was only interested in stopping Mr. and Mrs. Moore. I mean, what else could I do, Laurel?” Joanna asked. “I’m still staying with my mom, and I couldn’t bring Taylor in there and put her at risk like that after everything. I talked to your dad specifically and had him put two squad cars outside.”

Laurel looked down. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to do what’s best for everybody, I just…”

“I’m worried, too. I’m going to make regular check-ins over the phone in case someone’s got their eyes on me, too.”

“That’s not out of the realm of possibility,” her friend agreed. They both sipped at their drinks for a while, neither in the mood for idle chitchat. So much for catching up.

Joanna left her things with Laurel while she went to the bathroom before they headed out. As she approached the bar, she noticed Laurel was hunched over her phone, though she straightened up as soon as Joanna got close.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Listen, we should do this some other time when work isn’t so depressing, you know?” Joanna said.

Laurel nodded. “Definitely. Maybe next week or so? I’ve got some busy nights coming up.”

“How late is that shop open?”

“I’ve picked up a couple things. Just helps to keep myself occupied.” She went in for a hug, and Joanna couldn’t help noticing how solid Laurel felt. Not that her friend had ever been all that fragile before, but there was something different to her stance, to the security she seemed to give off just through a hug. Joanna gave her head a shake as she backed off.

“Everything okay?” Laurel asked.

“Yeah. Guess I’m just thinking about how so much has changed… you’re taking care of yourself, right?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you.”

Joanna went home and ate dinner with her mother before they both kicked back to watch some TV. Nothing was really catching their interest, so her mother started channel-surfing. A picture on the screen caught her eye, and Joanna sat straight up.

“Go back, go back!”

“What, to the news?” Her mother hit a couple buttons and Green, the nightly anchor, came back on.

“—Rasmus allegedly confessed to police after they responded to reports of the Hood being spotted at the businessman’s penthouse. The hired gunman who killed Eric and Nancy Moore remains at large, and police advise all in the Glades neighborhood to exercise caution.”

“That’s the case you were working on?” Her mother asked. When Joanna nodded, her mom said, “Well, I hope you didn’t call him. Bad enough he got Laurel in trouble, I don’t need him sidling up to you.”

“It wasn’t me, mom,” Joanna assured her. But she was pretty sure she knew who it was, and she had to shake her head again. Laurel was never one to sit idle, was she?

With Rasmus in custody, Joanna decided to head to an early bed. No benefactor meant no additional hit, no additional hit meant no hitman.

Taylor would have to be safe now, right?

---

Mr. Blank had a job to finish. It hardly mattered that the target was a little boy. He had seen his face. That meant he couldn’t remain alive. It was nothing personal.

He’d already taken care of his former employer through posing as the man’s lawyer to gain access. Only one loose thread left, and he would be free to continue his business unhindered.

It had been a simple matter to get the information on young Taylor Moore’s current housing situation. He had simply called in pretending to be a representative of the boy’s grandparents seeking to confirm the child’s location for pickup. Sneaking a peek at the casefile number for Taylor had been another goal of his at the police precinct, and it aided his ruse.

A group home in the Glades was the boy’s temporary residence, and it would now be his final one. Mr. Blank parked his car on the next street over from the building, then walked along the sidewalk sure to keep his back to any and all CCTV cameras. There weren’t many in this neighborhood. Even better, he had overheard at the station that two officers that had been stationed outside had been recalled only last night thanks to Rasmus’ capture. That left him free and clear to take care of matters.

As he drew up to the steps of the building, he noticed a young woman sitting with her back against the wall of the home, head bent and blonde locks hanging in her face. A potential witness. How irritating.

Mr. Blank sighed and reached for the gun in his trench coat pocket. In the same instance, she stood up in one fluid motion and looked him right in the eye, revealing her own face was hidden partially behind a mask. Interesting.

“Somehow I had a feeling someone like you would show up.”

“I assure you, there’s no one else like me,” he told her. “But I would have expected the Hood after his intervention with Rasmus.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Her fists were balled and she had no weapons. This would be easy.

Yet as he retrieved his gun, she lunged, one hand closing around his wrist and twisting hard. Mr. Blank hissed and pulled back, the gun clattering to the ground. She kicked it further to the side and moved in closer. So it was to be a brawl.

He feinted to her left and was just barely blocked by her arm when he tried to strike her right. He grabbed her arm and yanked it to force her forward, ramming a knee into her gut.

She wheezed but barreled forward to take him with her, crashing him into the wall outside the home. Mr. Blank tasted blood when he bit down. He just barely got his guard up when she went for a punch to his face. He twisted her arm behind her back and relished the cry that left her as he closed in, the fingers of his other hand reaching for her mask.

“You’ve seen my face. Don’t you think it’s only fair I see yours?”

Her head jerked back, colliding with his chin. His grip reflexively loosened, and she spun out of his hold.

What she lacked in finesse, she made up for in sheer enthusiasm. This was a brawler, and she lived for the fight just as much as he did. He thrilled at the blood pounding in his ears, the pain in his jaw.

They both eyed the gun lying a few feet away. He dove for it. She dove for him.

Mr. Blank’s fingers grappled for purchase on the weapon as her weight fell upon him. He turned and was met with two hands forcing his arm away, just as he squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

---

He was walking home from another shift at the club when he heard a noise not altogether uncommon in the Glades: a person’s pained and heavy breathing. In the past, he might have kept on walking. But ever since his life had been saved by the Hood, he’d been trying to find some reason for it to have happened. Some reason he’d been worth it.

So Roy cautiously approached the alley he could hear the sound coming from. In the dark, all he could make out was the disheveled blonde hair of a woman leaning against the wall as she slowly staggered forward. Her head was down. She had to be focusing solely on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Hey. Hey, lady,” he said, coming forward. She hissed and drew back, but as she did her hair sort of shifted, revealing it to be a wig. And he thought he recognized the real hair underneath, short as it now was.

“Laurel?”

“Roy?”

He shook his head. “You’re the Woman. Should have known it was you.” She’d roughed him up well enough just for stealing Thea’s purse.

“Well, I’d congratulate you on your detective work, but this one was kind of handed to you,” she said, strain in her voice. She was limping pretty bad, too.

“Hey, what happened to you?”

“Got shot. Just a graze, but it hurts more than you’d think.”

“Don’t have to guess,” he said. Roy came around to stand at her side and pulled her arm over his shoulder. “Here, give me the wig.” He stuffed that in the pocket of his hoodie. Hopefully, they didn’t come across any cop cars or someone who looked at them too closely. “How far do we have to go?”

“Just a couple more blocks.”

They traveled it mostly in silence, not wanting to draw more attention to themselves than necessary. She had a place about the same size as his, though he thought her street had a slightly better reputation. Everything was relative.

“You got any disinfectant?”

“Cabinet above the bathroom sink.” She hobbled over to a little basket that turned out to hold sewing supplies. Well, at least she knew what was going to have to happen.

Roy returned from the bathroom to find her with one leg out of her leggings. He kept his gaze on the floor.

“You ever do this before?”

It took a beat where he thought she was nodding before she realized she needed to answer verbally. “Yeah. On my arm.”

“Okay. This’ll probably hurt a little more.”

She hissed when the disinfectant made contact with her skin and flinched badly at the first poke of the sewing needle. Not that he could totally judge her for that kind of aversion.

“You said a little.”

“My bad.”

Once he had finished closing up the wound, she grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch to throw over her lap which brought him some comfort. Roy sat back, watching her. “So when did this start?”

She shrugged. “A month or so back, officially. But it’s been coming.”

He thought he knew what she meant by that. The slow simmering of anger waiting to boil over into outrage at just how much everything here sucked. How unfair it was, how impossible it was for most people to escape.

“And the guy that shot you?”

Her head bowed for a moment. “He shot himself, in a way. I was trying to get the gun off him. It grazed me, but…”

She didn’t have to finish.

Roy shrugged. “Then he got what he deserved.”

“What he deserved was to be tried for his crimes,” Laurel maintained, though her shoulders slumped and she lost the haughty look. “But I can’t say I’m devastated he’s gone. It’ll keep Taylor safe, at least.”

“Who’s Taylor?”

“A kid. His parents were trying to sue a man called Rasmus for losing their savings, and he hired a hitman to take care of the problem. The hitman killed the Moores a couple of nights ago, then came back to try and finish the job.”

Roy’s fists clenched at the thought. What kind of sick person targeted a little boy for something he wasn’t really even a part of? “How’d you hear about all this? I mean, was it the Hood or…?”

She shook her head. “The Hood has his own operation going on. I’m just doing my part where I can.”

“But you know him, right?” Roy couldn’t quite keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Or you know how to get in touch. I’ve been looking for him since he saved my life.”

Laurel said nothing, only studied him.

“Do you know if, I don’t know, I could help him somehow? I know how to fight.”

“The Hood’s mission is a personal one. I’m not sure that he’d be willing to risk someone else getting hurt,” Laurel said, smirking as she added, “There’s a reason I’m on my own.”

Roy looked down. So she thought it would be a no.

“He has a team.”

The unexpected words caused Roy’s head to jerk up sharply.

“I could see if he’s in need of anyone else to provide support. That’s the best I can promise you.”

It was better than he’d had. “I could help you fight out there.”

Laurel considered him. “You have a lot of good instincts, but they’re not honed. It’s going to take some training for you to be able to do more damage to them than they do to you.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s a we’ll see. Find yourself a way to train first. I’d recommend a guy except I think he’d kill me for sending another vigilante to his doorstep,” she remarked with enough lightness in her tone to make him think she was probably joking. “But for now, you shouldn’t be out there looking for trouble.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, mom.”

Laurel shook her head. “I am not old enough or financially and materially stable enough to be a mother.”

“Yeah, neither were my parents,” said Roy. He thought he caught her smirking at that in spite of herself. “I guess I should let you sleep the pain off.”

“That would help. I’ve got work tomorrow.” She stood with a low groan, wrapping the blanket around her waist like a skirt. “That’s not gonna be a fun walk.”

“You ever think about getting a bike?” He asked. “It’d get you around faster at night. Be easier to avoid the cops.”

She frowned. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“I know a guy who sells them cheap. They don’t have all the parts, but we could fix them up probably. Or I could.” He shrugged. “Support stuff, right?”

When he chanced a glance up, Laurel was smiling at him. “That’s not a bad idea. Tell me when we can see your guy.”

Roy felt his hope reignite, and he nodded. “Yeah, could probably get us in by the end of the week. But, uh, I guess you need my number.” He grabbed a pen off her counter and scribbled it on a to-go menu. Laurel grabbed it up with her free hand, nodding to herself.

“Okay. I’ll message you so you have mine, and I’ll let you know when I’m available.”

“Daytime would be best. I’ve got this new job. A real one, at the Verdant.”

For some reason, she smirked at that. “Good for you. You should stick around there.”

“Okay.” Roy backed up towards the door. “I’ll see you. Uh, what do you go by?”

“Laurel?” She said skeptically.

He snorted. “I meant like your vigilante persona. Everybody’s got different names floating out there. The Woman, Lady in Black, Angel, stuff like that.”

“And some less flattering monikers, I’m sure.” Laurel looked off into some kind of middle distance. “I don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Maybe you should.” He shrugged one shoulder and headed out the door. Once it shut behind him, he couldn’t resist pumping his fist.

He was in with the vigilantes. Well, one of them at least. And he’d make sure Laurel felt he was indispensable so that she’d have to agree he made the cut. And then someday, she might even introduce him to the Hood, and he could repay the man who had saved his life and shown him this new path.

He was finally going to make a difference.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

Ectober Day 23: Soul- This Is A Little Bit Much Chap. 2 - Even Plains Of Reality Need Souls

Danny’s one part impossible, one part too powerful for his own good, and one part a series of existential crises.

Jack shrugging as Maddie speaks, “well it shouldn’t do anything. We never tested it out in such a way. If a ghost had any reaction they’d probably look human. Which would probably cause them to go into some form of ghost shock”, Maddie’s eyes widen, “wait, sweetie did, did someone get Phantom to use it?”.

Jack looks excited and bounces in his seat slightly, while Danny nods, “yeah and then a little after seeing him Technus apparently tried to flee. And a bunch of people were commenting that his ecto-blast was way brighter and stronger. Also, this”, Danny shoves his phone into the centre of the table. His parents giving it the single most confused expression he’s ever seen on their faces.

His moms muttering about how ‘ghosts can’t even glow like this’ and how ‘strength increasing isn’t even a possible function’. While his dad stares, thinking face on. Before speaking up, “maybe it’s showing the Ghost Zone”.

Danny blinks, mumbling around the spoon in his mouth, “what?”. Maddie also seems confused, as she raises an eyebrow at her husband.

Jack taps his chin and nods, “think about it. The Ghost Mirroring Key was designed to show a persons base ghost. And what makes up a base ghost is a persons true self, their soul. A reflection of what really makes them, well, them. The Ghost Zone makes ghosts, gives them their ectoplasm. So at their very base they’d be the Ghost Zone?”.

Maddie shakes her head, “ghosts at their base would still have to be separate otherwise they wouldn’t have a form at all. And being in a base state, if that affected strength at all, should have made Phantom weaker”.

“Well, maybe he’s more connected to the Ghost Zone like this?”.

“Being more connected with the Ghost Zone should logically just make him look more ghostly”, gesturing to the phone, “not this”.

“Maybe it just hyper-concentrated his ectoplasm?”.

“Then his skin would be green, not black”.

Danny looks down at his phone and blinks, thinking of how, exactly, he became a halfa. “What if, what if Phantom was created closer to the core or epicentre of the Zone? Had more pure ectoplasm?”.

Maddie scrunches up her eyebrows, “I’m not sure if that’s even possible sweetie”.

Jack slams his fist into his hand, “wait! Phantom’s weird, we know this. This is another example of that. Maybe Danny-boy is on to something here. Maybe Phantom isn’t a ghost in the traditional sense. A dead being that was once living”, Danny’s officially feeling nervous and regrets speaking. Then his dad throws him through a loop, “what if instead, Phantom is a ghost of the Ghost Zone itself. A personification and culmination of the Ghost Zone. It would explain him trying to keep ghosts in the Ghost Zone. That’s where the Ghost Zone would want them to be. Why he finds and rounds up ghosts, the Ghost Zone’s way of keeping an eye on and effectively leading ghosts. Why he can be outside of the Ghost Zone indefinitely, because he is it. Why he always seems to know where ghosts are, the Ghost Zone should be able to sense the location of any ghost. Maybe our sensors and barriers and weapons don’t always work on him because they’re made for regular ghosts, not an embodiment of the Ghost Zone. Why he’s so strong, he has the whole Ghost Zone at his disposal”.

Both Danny and Maddie are gaping at him. Before Maddie nods, “yes that, that would make sense. It would also mean that all laws and norms generally assigned to ghosts might not necessarily apply to Phantom. Which we already know many do not. It would also explain why he’s so human-seeming. The Ghost Zone is the other side to our world. If we were to take that further, that would make Phantom the ghost of humanity itself as well. And that would explain why he’s protective of humans”.

Meanwhile, Danny’s attempting to not have a complete existential crisis. Combining what his folks said with what Danny knew of how he half died. He was literally infused and half offed by the entirety of the Ghost Zone. His parents, they could be right. Excluding the never alive/human bit. Because really? His obsession didn’t make any sense for him to have as his obsession. He’d never been all that protective before? Or a fighter? Oh fuck, was he literally the will of the Ghost Zone? And being the High Ghost King, he literally ruled over all other ghosts. His word was basically law. So was Phantom, was Phantom literally a combination of Danny’s ghost before he became a halfa -because let’s be real, becoming a halfa changed his base ghost - and the Ghost Zone itself? Looking down at himself, if it wasn’t for Phantom, would his base ghost even look anything like he did now? Oh Ancients he needs to stop thinking. Deciding instead to blurt out, “so what you’re saying is, Phantom’s basically ghost god”, which honestly just gives him another crisis. Because what was a god? An immortal being that watched over their world, or in Danny’s case, world’s? Who possessed massive, seldom rivalled, and unheard-of power? Who leads and guided the people of their world(s)? Who could see everything from a wildly different point of view and existed in a state that was nearly unique? Because fuck, that was Danny. He was just lacking the whole omniscient and omnipresent thing....Which ClockWork did have....and he was Danny’s advisor and mentor. Danny...Danny is not sleeping tonight.

Maddie and Jack blink at Danny before exchanging a look and nodding. Maddie speaking into her hands while staring at the screen, “it would seem so. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But I wouldn’t say he’s anything like the way gods are written about in books and I wouldn’t say he truly knows”.

Danny can’t help but think, no fucking shit.

Jack nods again, “it would explain his growing too. If he was really just a teenager when he showed up. The Ghost Zone itself would only have human ageing to go off of, so it moulded its personified self after that”.

Maddie looks at Danny, smiling a bit softly, which he honestly can’t comprehend right now. He’s too busy having one crisis after another, while she talks, “teens often don’t know who they are or what their role in life is. So it only makes sense that he wouldn’t know just what he was. I suspect the other, normal, ghosts don’t know exactly either”, Maddie goes wide-eyed and asks Danny, “wait, you said Technus fled from him right?”.

Danny just nods numbly.

“What if that’s because he could see or sense that Phantom was the Ghost Zone?”.

Now Jack looks worried, “so we may have inadvertently revealed Phantom in a sense? Mads, you don’t think that could be bad?”.

Danny can instantly see both of them worrying now and looking guilty. So Danny decides he should be the only one have a mental freak out tonight, “um actually, none of the ghosts seem to view Phantom as a normal ghost. Skulker literally screams about him being unique. And people have seen Spectra mock him by calling him an unnatural freak. And-”, Danny blinks realising he was literally worshiped, like a god, “-and, I’ve heard there are ghosts who...who worship him. Call him the Great One and Saviour”. Danny’s basically whispering by the end. He’d always just passed off the Far Frozen's people’s words as fanciful compliments and shows of respect. Never giving them much thought other than the fact that it was a bit embarrassing and seemed unnecessary.

Maddie nods, looking a bit more relaxed, “that’s good then, we didn’t mess things up. I hope. But that, that just confirms it. There’s no way he’s a normal ghost at all. He’s something more. The Ghost Zone itself”, while Danny tries to not look like his brain stopped working, Maddie frowns, “but why would ghosts treat him unkindly then? Call him such things?”. Maddie sighs, giving herself the answer, “maybe he wasn’t supposed to exist. Maybe something horrible happened, something went wrong, and he came to exist. That if he didn’t exist something bad would have happened...”.

Jack rubs his temples, “maybe they resent his power or affection for humans and simply take whatever cheap shots they can?”.

Danny blinks, technically they were both right. All ghosts insulted each other. That was just a ghost thing. But his mom, well, the answer was yes. Regardless of him existing or not, Pariah would have happened. The G.I.W. would have tried to blow up the Ghost Zone. OverGrowth would have awakened. Hotep-ra would have been summoned. Nephitius would have tried to remove gravity. Phantom was needed in every situation. And when he was the one who needed to be stopped, and needed to be protected; ClockWork showed up. The world(s) were literally dependent on him, he could either destroy it all or keep protecting it. You know, after the whole ‘King of the entire Ghost Zone and ghost species’ thing, you’d think nothing could really shock him anymore. But Ancients, he was a goddamn god. The embodiment of the Ghost Zone. Personification of the afterlife. Death given form. The very soul of the underworld. But he was also alive, a person, a teenager, and perpetually in over his head. Oh, and tired. Really damn tired. And not just physically.

Danny looks at the kitchen clock before getting up and putting away his plate, “well I’m going to go to bed and pointedly not think about how our local teenage town hero, who sometimes faceplants into buildings or forgets to dodge. Is probably a godly embodiment of an entire realm and it’s will”.

Halfway up the stairs, his mom calls out, “you forgot your phone sweetie”.

Danny mutters, “oh, right”, before grabbing it and heading back upstairs.

Danny flops onto his bed and calls Sam and Tucker.

“What’s up dude? Ghosts?”-T

“What’d your parents say about sorta ghost you? Mine rolled their eyes and complained about it not being girly enough”-S

“Oh shit yeah. Mine complimented me but made me promise not to die. Three times”-T

“Come to think of it, mine didn’t ask me about that at all”-S

“Is that really surprising though? Your parents are the most selfish people ever”-T

Groaning, “tell me about it”-S

There’s a pause for a while.

“Uh dude? You’re being awfully quiet”-T

“Should we be worried?”-S

“Ugh”-D

“Okay that was more ‘I hate my existence’ than ‘my half life’s in danger’”-S

“I’m, like, eighty percent mental crisis right now”-D

“Dare I ask, why?”-T

“Did they say they’ll love and accept you if you ever became a ghost? ‘Cause yeah that is exactly the kind of thing that would give you, of all people, a crisis”-S

Danny blinks up at the ceiling a couple of times, “uh, oh yeah right. That did happen. Forgot about that”-D

“You...the guy who constantly worries about their folks not accepting them, forgot your parents accepted you? Well sorta at least?”-T

“What else happened Danny”-S

“Ugh, just belgerfuncklederck”-D

Tucker wheezes in laughter some, “care to try again dude?”-T

“Uh, in between my folks blatantly stating they expect me to become a ghost and actively wanting me to be powerful. Which just, like, what? I mean yes. Just, like, yes please. I honestly cried. Then there’s them going to call a truce with Phantom, which yay. But then it’s all ‘should I tell them?’, ‘would they feel the same?’, and...and oh Ancients they asked me not to die”-D

Tucker snorts, “little late”-T

“Were they manly tears or did you blubber like an idiot?”-S

There’s another pause in the conversation before Danny barely whispers, “is it really? Am I dead or just, like, the Zone?”-D

“Dude what? You’re supposed to say ‘hey that’s my line’. Your question doesn’t even make sense. And you ignored Sam’s jab”-T

“I thought we were already past the whole “I’M NOT DEAD!!!’ thing?”-S

“I showed my folks the photo. A photo. Image. Thing that captures our likeness to suspend it forever in existence to show off to whom ever’s willing to look at our mugs. Thingys we look at with our eyeballs, whatever the fuck. Of Phantom me all fucked up glow bug-”-D

“Uh, you know I’m not one to question your mental state. But do we need Jazz?”-T

“Tuck, goddamn fuck. Ancients and shit. Just no, fuck. Just fuck no. Ugh. Fuuuuucck. Hebergebber nerugh”-D

“This seems like an overreaction and definitely a call Jazz thing”-S

“Please don’t. I mean, fuck, uh, I’d say I’d hang up if you did but, like, fuck, how do fingers work?”-D

“I mean yours have ectoplasm in them so they probably work a little differently”-T

Danny points aggressively at the phone, though internally grateful for the slight distraction, “you. Shut the fuck up. I, uh...what? Fuck, I forgot what I was going to say. Why was I even calling?”-D

An exaggerated sigh, “Ancients Danny”-S

“Something to do with your parents, mental crisis, and you questioning your deadness. Which yeah, you were over that”-T

Danny blinks up at the ceiling, “Uuuuuuugh. Fuck yeah. That. My brain don’t feel like workin’ no more”-D

“Then stop thinking! You’re really good at that”-S

“Not good enough apparently. Look, like, fuck. So, like... fuck. The picture right. My phone and shit-”-D

Tucker cuts him off, “don’t think you actually mentioned your phone yet, so that’s progress”-T

Danny’s screws up his face and starts laughing; and he just sort of keeps laughing.

“Dude, it’s not that funny”-T

After a while, with Danny still laughing, “Uh... you okay?”-T

“You broke him Tucker”-S

Danny wheezes and flops his hand/phone down onto the bed. “Ancients fuck, holy shit. Good goddamn”, snorting and wheezing some more while his friends muffled concerned voices come through the speaker. Shaking his head, “how the fuck does mash potatoes and peas change the universe”.

Lifting the phone back to his ear, “Alright, I’m back. Not fully dead. Still fuck and, like, never going to look at mash potatoes the same again”-D

“Dude don’t do that. You know we do actually worry about you”-T

“Yeah Danny. Stitch and ditch is another thing we’ve established is bad to do”-S

“Heh. Yeah, well, you’re conversing with the equivalent of a puddle that apparently decided to eat a shift in reality for supper”-D

Sounding unimpressed, “what happened with your phone Danny”-T

“Okay fair enough on the shortness. I did kind of, uh, ghost? you there”-D

“You being awkward about puns is honestly more worrying”-S

Danny takes a deep breath and wheezes, words coming out in a rush and firmly reminding everyone that he doesn’t actually need to breathe, “my parents decided Phantom’s a literal god the embodiment of the Ghost Zone and It’s will. That he was created from the very essence of the Ghost Zone after something horrible happened. That he captures and sends home ghosts because that’s where the Ghost Zone wants them. That he’s protective of humans but earth is the other side of the coin and will become ghosts. That he’s so strong because he has access to the entirety of the Ghost Zone. That he knows where ghosts are because of course the damn Ghost Zone knows where ghosts are. And Ancients holy jerzerbelerbed. It, fuck, it accounts for everything. Except the half alive shit. But like fuck guys, I was zapped by the entirety of the Ghost Zone. Would I even look like Phantom if I had died normally? I mean fuck, you two make it clear all this ghostly crap changes how our ghosts would look. And my obsession? Where the fuck does that even come from? Why am I such a protective son of a corpse? And I don’t know if I’m just really fucking confused, weirded out, or fucking terrified. Because just what the fuck even am I? Like dead yeah sure, fucking dead. Partly. But like fuck am I really? My folks officially don’t even think so. Cause created from the Zone apparently doesn’t count as dead. And I’m literally worshiped and if I wasn’t Phantom and shit, you know how fucked we’d all be? Pariah and OverGrowth and goddamn Nephitius. Fucking Nephitius. No fucking gravity. Hurgerflebergederhurg. And, and the fucking King thing. I literally rule the whole damn place and a guy with fucking omnipresence and omniscience is my fucking advisor. I am a god. I. Am. A. Fucking. God. Like the Zone just got all up in me and decided ‘oh yeah this looks like a great place to push my will and being into!’. And I’m sitting here like what the fuck did my ghost originally look like? Did I even have one? Was I just some shell? Waiting to be filled by the void of death? Oh god that mental image! I did not need that! Oh Ancients. Aregerflagerdertic-“-D

“Danny shut the fuck up”-S

“-The Zone, fuck, it’s like the body of death and shit. So am I like the fucking grim reaper now? And oh fuck right, the, like, first fucking thing they said was ghost of the Ghost Zone. So am I even my own ghost at all? Or did like my ghost and the Zones ghost like fucking fuse. Or did the Zone fucking yeet my ghost back into me thusly making me alive again but then like, fuck, insert it’s ghost where my ghost should have been? Or did it-”-D

“Danny be quite”-S

“-make my ghost extra ghost to the point where it couldn’t possibly be fully ghost. Or maybe made my ghost so extra ghost that it literally became the Zone itself. I am I just, like, super ectoplasm absorbent to the point of just yanking it all into my very being? What the fuck am I? Like, what the fuck is up with half my shit? I highly fucking doubt Vlad half died looking like a vampire twat. But then what the fucks up with Vortex and Nocturne? The fuck are they? What the absolute fuck?!? And I am literally the strongest ghost there is. WHYYYYYY??? I’m only half one! And my core? The fuck is it ice for? Because the Ghost Zone is cold, that’s fucking why. And my obsession, my goddamn obsession! I’m not a protective person! Wait no, UGH! I uh ugh. Yes I am. I really fucking am. But just fuck, ugh. GAH! I DIDN’T USED TO BE SUCH A PROTECTIVE WEIRDASS! WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH ME! WHAT AM I!?! WHAT IS PHANTOM!?! WHO THE FUCK AM I!?! FENTON!?! PHANTOM!?! FENTON!?! PHANTOM!?! ARE THEY THE SAME FUCKING PERSON!?! AM I THE SAME PERSON AS MYSELF!?! AM I ME!?!-”-D

“DANNY!”-S & T

Deciding he really should probably just shut up,“I, um, FUUUUUUCK!”-D

“Dude it’s okay. You just unloaded a lot of shit. But dude, we’ve been over this. You are Phantom. He is you. You are yourself. And that’s fucking awesome. We all know this secret identity shit messes with you sometimes. But that’s not what this is, is it?”-T

Being a little pissy and hating himself for it just a little bit, “no Tuck, no it’s fucking not. I’m not even sure how to put it beyond, just what am I? Like ugh”, taking a deep breath, “halfa yes, obviously. Half human, half...ghost. But is the ghost half actually a ghost? Like my dead half? Or the Ghost Zone itself given form through me and thus changing me as a person in the process. I wasn’t protective guys. I wasn’t fucking protective”-D

“Alright, I’m going to try and unravel your word vomit from earlier. Your folks deciding something about Phantom doesn’t count for shit, they literally have only half the picture. They are constantly wrong about ghosts, Danny. They have made hundreds of incorrect assumptions about them that we know for a fact are wrong. So on this, what they think means nothing. It doesn’t matter. Now the idea of you, more specifically your ghost half, being the manifestation of the Ghost Zone; would make sense if you weren’t a halfa. But I’ll give you that the idea that your ghost form is a combination of both your natural ghost and the Ghost Zone’s essence makes sense-”-S

Danny cuts her off, “that doesn’t exactly make me feel better Sam”-D

“It wasn’t supposed to. Like you said, all this ghost stuff has affected our natural ghosts. Valerie’s probably isn’t the same either. But so what? That’s normal. For life to affect who we are as people. It’s just more extreme for us because it’s ghost stuff that’s happened in our lives”-S

“I think it just bothers you more because you notice it. Because you changed so suddenly. ‘Cause yeah, you never used to be such a protective bastard”-T

“Still not helping”-D

“Dude, we’re your friends and sidekicks. Not your therapist. That’s Jazz’s job”-T

Rubbing his eyes, “ass. But yeah, I know. But I couldn’t just sit on all of that and I definitively can not deal with Jazz’s psychoanalysing”-D

“That is incredibly obvious. And Danny, out of everything, your obsession is the only one that yeah, this is probably the only explanation for. Vlad’s powerful too, sure he’s weaker than you but just how much does he even use his powers? Hardly ever. Sure you could be right, but it’s not a sure thing on that. Your core is a major stretch, they don’t seem to have much of a reason to them ever”-S

“And Danny dude, so what? Even if the Zone fused itself to you and changed who you were, it made you the you you are now. So really, you wouldn’t be you if it didn’t fuse with you. And come on dude, you love who you are now. We ALL do”-T

Snickering, “shit Tucker, have you been going to slam poetry without me?”-S

“I, fuck, you’ve got a point there. But like guys, my protectiveness is, like, at least twenty-five percent of who I am now. And like the other shit? Feeling the need to send ghosts back without interfering with their ability to get back here? And come on, did I ever seem like I’d be the leader type? At all? I guess you’re right, it’s doesn’t really matter. I do love it, but it is quite literally impossible for me to have a remotely normalish life. Like, ever. You guys have that option. And okay point to you too Sam. I was being dramatic”-D

“Thank you for accepting your role as the teams drama queen”-S

“Pfft, you stage riots over what kind of oven brands stores sell”-D

“Ahh there he is. The wise cracking idiot has returned. Glad to have you back”-T

“I’m still fucked up”-D

“You, by your very impossible nature, always are. But that just makes you fit in better with us. We’re all fucked up. And dude, do you seriously think normal society could handle either of us either? And do you seriously think we’d drop this shit for normal lives? Naw man, you’re fucking stuck with us. We’ll be ninety years old, half blind and deaf; and will still be helping your ass. And then we’ll join the Zone and still help your ass. And Danny, you’ve always been the leader of our group. You’ve always fit in with and lead weird. So maybe the Zone just straight up sensed that shit in you. Knew you’d do it right and do right by it”-T

“Why, out of everything, is that comforting. Being deemed worthy by a dimension to get to become Its personification”-D

“If you blame it on your ghost pride, I will come over there and kick you”-S

Feeling the healthy amount of genuine fear that statement requires, “uh... it’s not because of my ghost pride”-D

“Good half ghost Zone god”-S

“I’m not sure if I should be saying too soon”-D

“Dude, you made dead jokes within an hour of half dying. You literally made a ectoplasm absorbent paper towel joke during your mild mental break down. If there is one thing in the entire universe that is definitively you, it’s a dark sense of humour with zero sense of sensitivity”-T

“You are on a fucking roll today Tucker”-S

“Oh shit, I totally did”-D, which just makes Danny start laughing again.

“Laughing in the face of everything is what you do”-S

There’s another pause in the conversation, as Danny mulls things over in his head.

“So just so we’re clear, my ghost half, Phantom, is at least partly the entirety of the Ghost Zone. That my obsession is a direct result of the Ghost Zone part of me wanting to keep all the ghosts inside of it aka the Ghost Zone and the Ghost Zone’s desire to stop mortals from becoming ghost prematurely. Oh, and the Ghost Zone’s desire to not be destroyed or for any of its ghosts to be destroyed. And that, due to all of this, combined with my immortality, absurd power -which is possibly because of being partly the Ghost Zone-, being High Ghost King, and how my ghost forms base ghost looked; that I am Ghost God. And that we’re all just okay with this?”-D

“Yup”-S

“Sounds about right dude”-T

“That’s really fucked up”-D

“You’re an impossible paradox and basically an entire dimension. I think being fucked up would be a requirement”-T

“Ass”-D

“You feeling less freaked out by your own self now”-S

Sighing, “yeah. Still not keen with the fact that this definitely changed who I am as a person and not just giving me some quirks”-D

“You’re still you dude. Same as you’ve always been. Just more ghostly in an extreme and very saturated way. I think the way Phantom looked kind of proved and currently proves that”-T

Scrunching up his eyebrows, “oh?”-D

“Yeah that makes sense, your ghost self looks like you Danny. If Phantom was just straight up the Zone you’d probably look wildly different. Even all, I can’t believe I’m saying this, Mega evolved, you still looked like Danny”-S

Grumbling, “could have just imprinted off my form”, defeatedly, “but yeah fused with my ghost self makes more sense”-D

“No shit. So there, no more ‘am I me’ crisis”-S

Snorting, “yeah right. Danny never really stops having his crises. They just hide away for a while”-T

“Ouch, but true. I’ll probably flip shit and turn into a mental puddle again the next time I’m being pushingly or overwhelmingly protective. Or the next time I go to the Zone and can’t help but notice how comfortable I feel. And oh fuck, how did I never think that was weird?”-D

“I thought that was just a ghost thing?”-T

“No, fuck. I got eyed-balled funny three of the times I mentioned it around ghosts. Vlad being one of them. Come to think of it, CW’s the only one to not eyeball me funny about it”-D

“Guess that says a lot about all of us that we don’t even notice weird anymore”-S

“Well weirdness sensitivity level check aside, y’all should sleep. And I should stare at my ceilings glow-in-the-dark stars until I self actualise fully”-D

“Does that include accepting and loving yourself as being a dimension and your purpose as Its defender and lord?”-T

“Pretty sure he already accepted that last bit after becoming King”-S

“But now it’s on the god level Sam. That’s different”-T

Motioning his hands around wildly, “it’s different. It’s so fucking different. And fuck you Tuck....ah goddamnit it. Ain’t I fucking, like, lording over and ruling myself then? If I’m the fucking Zone or some shit, the Zone’s soul, and ruling the Zone. Fuck, Tuck you goddamn fuck”-D

Laughter, “dude yes, yes you are”-T

“You’ve actually achieved the highest possible level of individuality and self-sufficiency then”-S

“That's our Danny, taking ‘I am my own king’ to its absolute conclusion”-T

Facepalming, “how is that not supposed to be terrifying? Fuck y’all. I’m hanging up before y’all give yet another existential crisis”-D

Danny hangs up to laughter and tosses his phone onto the corner of his bed, before turning over and growling into his pillow. Turning back onto his back to stare at his ceiling. Jabbing his thumb into his chest, “me, I am a fucking mess and I’m a fucking entire different realm of reality”. Snorting and barking out a laugh after a while, smirking, “wow the Zone really drew the short stick on Its personal meat suit”.

Staring at the ceiling till his eyes begin to unfocus and burn. Shaking his head with a slight chuckle, “but I guess I have been doing pretty well. And it infused itself into my being so easily that I wasn’t even aware for years”, shaking his head again, “Hell, I still wouldn’t be aware if it weren’t for my parents coming up with the weirdest theories. And I guess, I guess that means it really must be okay. For me not to notice. But still, it changed me into someone I wouldn’t have been. My very being, my soul, my ghost. Irrevocably bound and one with the Realm of the dead”. Raising an eyebrow before wheezing in a way that sounds almost like a laugh, “oh Ancients! I’m only half ghosts but technically I’m more ghost than any other ghost can ever be”. And oh god, ghosts are partly created by the Zone. So technically him. Does that make literally every ghost his child in a way? Ah fuck. And then, if he wants to be really dramatic about it, all living beings have their base ghost right? Technically that couldn’t exist without the Zone creating that as well. So then, every single living and dead thing was sorta the Zone’s child. His child...No wonder he was so fucking protective, goddamn. Everything was a child of his soul or part of his ghost. Or was a child of the thing, Realm, that he was the soul or ghost of. Ancients this was all so fucked up.

Shaking his head and roughly putting an arm over his eyes. Him, Danny, was just one big cluster fuck of escalations. A boy. A hunter. A halfa. A hero. A saviour. A king. A god. A universe. Was there no end to his existences surprises? He really fucking hopes so, because this? This bullshit was getting a little much. But hey, at least he was less ‘this is utterly horrifying’ and more ‘not this shit again’ now.

End.

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hiroasu-akika · 5 years

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Yo everybody, here have some VRAINS Fanfic Ideas/Prompts

I'll probably try my hand at these myself at some point, but I'm putting them out for anyone to use because I probably wouldn't write them well. Prompt #1: Yusaku can see and/or summon Duel Spirits. Just a general thing, feel free to do whatever you want with this one. Some of the following prompts are a more fleshed out version of this concept.

One of the thoughts that spawned this idea was what if Yusaku was spirit sensitive during the Lost Incident, and thus was pretty much adopted by Duel Spirits. Fast forward ten years, and he has a Jiraiya of the Sannin-level spy network without anyone being any the wiser. There was also the thought of stern and standoffish Playmaker being Soft(™) with his monsters. Animal-like and The simple machine monsters would be pets. The human-like monsters would range from parental figures, to older or younger siblings to small children. The Code Talkers would absolutely act like how medieval knights would toward their king/liege. His dragons would be the seemingly ferocious guard dogs that growl at anything within 30 feet of Yusaku, but are in reality “the attention span of a sparrow” puppies. (They are adorable and Yusaku loves them, yes he does. Firewall really is a ferocious guard dog with everyone except Yusaku tho)

You could also do a Yusaku slowly awakens to the ability to see/hear Duel Spirits mid-canon (at any point in the plot you want).

This could be funny: Yusaku being confused(™) until it makes sense, or angsty: Yusaku getting incredibly paranoid/anxious or thinking he's actually going insane while his friends/allies/fans begin to worry as he begins to act strangely.

(I just really want Spirit/Psychic Duelist!Yusaku in any form okay?)

Prompt #2: The one where Yusaku catches the eye of Stardust Dragon, and is subsequently adopted by said dragon without any say in the matter.

(Bonus if Yusei is just there and serenely lets it happen.)

Stardust: this is my son I will vaporize anything that hurts him

Yusei: yea cool guess I've got a little brother now

Yusaku: ...do I get any say in th-

Stardust: shh my sweet child I will protect you

Yusei: no not really

Yusaku:

Random Knight of Hanoi #179: *hurts Yusaku, is realizing his error* OOOOOH SHIIII-!!!!! SOL Tech: *sweats*

Note #1 - Yusaku can see Duel Spirits in this AU. They tend to materialize themselves [read: to defend their precious child] in his general vicinity whenever they feel like it. Den City as a whole is pretty much resigned to and somewhat fond/proud of this fact. (Most of its residents have in fact all adopted Yusaku as well. Tourists are usually hella confused.)

Tourist: hey does that kid have a Kuriboh on his head? Den City Resident: that's just Yusaku, don't mind him

Tourist: is that a goddamn DRAGON??? Den City Resident: *serenely, not even looking* that's normal everything is fine

Tourist: ?!??! Note #2 - Yusei can be along for the ride. If so, he and Stardust are pretty much post-5D's immortal gods that watch over mankind while the Crimson Dragon sleeps.

Note #3 - Can be cracky, serious, angsty, or anything in-between, go wild! Prompt #3: How to Train Your [Cracking/Borrel/Stardust/Sky/Winged] Dragon - The one where Duel Monsters wander freely and peacefully around VRAINS when not in use during duels, and Playmaker stumbles across an injured Cracking Dragon. Chaos ensues as he helps and inadvertently befriends the beast. Note - Could alternatively have the Duel Monster be one of Revolver's "Borrel" Dragons, Stardust Dragon, or- for the lols- Slifer the Sky Dragon or the Winged Dragon of Ra. Prompt #4: The one where Yusaku is thrown headfirst from Link VRAINS into the world of My Hero Academia, with Ai along for the ride. (Can be cracky, serious, angsty, or anything in-between, go wild!) Suggestions that don't have to be used - Yusaku's “Quirk” could be his Link Sense, only amplified to the point where he has the ability to connect to/hack the network and manipulate it however he wishes with any electronic device or his thoughts. He can also summon his Cyberse monsters by forming them from raw data. Yusaku can also turn into Playmaker to hide his identity.

Ai can either remain in Yusaku’s duel disk, or leave it in either his tiny or full sized “human” forms. He can also transform into his six-armed monster form, in which he can consume data to either save or delete it. Kaminari could possibly trigger Yusaku's PTSD with his Quirk on accident. Prompt #5: The one where Yusaku is unknowingly infected with a virus, and all hell breaks loose. Can either be pretty-much-drunk/high!Yusaku, or essentially Berserk Jinchuriki!Yusaku, or just angst. NOTHING sexual, please. Prompt #6: The one where Link VRAINS falls prey to a virus/hacker, leaving everyone currently logged in with no way to log out- including Playmaker. Basically SAO, YGO-style. Go wild with this one. Prompt #7: The one where VRAINS and the real world are merged without any warning, and Yusaku is unfortunately smack in the middle of Algebra when his Link Sense goes crazy...seconds before he forcefully glitches into Playmaker right in front of his entire class. (This one was a random thought, and can be cracky, serious, or angsty.)

Prompt #8: The one where Yusaku’s account is hacked so that his avatar has the features of Firewall Dragon, and he can’t remove them. (...It was Ghost Girl’s fault, he just knew it.) Note - Yusaku has Firewall Dragon's halo, wings, tail, and can have some of its armor. He can also have elongated canines and claws. (And yes, the original thought was Ghost Girl pranking Playmaker.)

Prompt #9: The one where Yusaku is blind or deaf IRL due to permanent damage suffered during the Lost Incident, but he has his sight/hearing while in VRAINS because it isn't his physical body. (Conversely, he still lacks his missing sense(s) even while in VR, and is just really good at hiding being blind/deaf.) Suggestions for this AU that don't have to be used:

Note #1 - Can use one of two types of damage as the cause of Yusaku's disability:

Direct Damage: Yusaku suffered damage directly to his eyes/ears, allowing VRAINS to ignore said damage and for Yusaku to temporarily recover his lost sense while logged in. Brain Damage: The electric shocks caused damage directly to the parts of Yusaku's brain that are responsible for sight/hearing, which causes the damage to carry over even while Yusaku is logged into VRAINS. Note #2 - If blind, Yusaku programs his avatar's eyes to automatically track people's movements and faces so that he can “look" at them, and his cards to either have braille text, or an audio feed that only he can hear that reads his cards off to him. May have Ai and/or Roboppi serve as something similar to a seeing eye dog. Or you could throw Prompt #1 into the mix and also have Duel Spirits help Yusaku out. Yusaku can have a specially programmed set of (Ai-themed) headphones that Ai can inhabit that allow the Ignis to speak with him privately or IRL. They are a headset in VRAINS and earbuds IRL.] Note #3 - If deaf, Yusaku knows sign and is mute as well. He has specially programmed text boxes that allow him to read everything his opponent says during duels, and follow whatever is going on easier. Yusaku can have a specially programmed phone that Ai can inhabit to send him text messages when IRL. Ai can also learn Sign.] Note #4 - In either version, Yusaku knows Morse Code and programs his avatar to have a higher sensitivity to vibrations as well. Ai is also quite a bit more protective of Yusaku.

Prompt #10: Playmaker counts out his convictions in threes for everyone to hear. Fujiki Yusaku hasn't spoken in ten years. (AKA The Selectively Mute Yusaku AU.) Prompt #11: The one where the same virus that killed Dr. Kogami traps and fragments Playmaker's consciousness data (mind) in Link VRAINS, thereby rendering him comatose, and his allies are left with no way to rescue him- save for delving into his fragmented mind to wake him up in person. Basically the Danny Phantom's-class-enters-his-mind fic, VRAINS-style. If you've ever read one of those fics, you'll get the concept, but I'll try to explain it a little anyway. [Note #1 - Suggestions for the people who enter Yusaku's mind are: Ai, Kusanagi, Takeru, Flame, Ryoken, Spectre (follows Ryoken), Akira, Ema, Aoi, Aqua, Go (hacks in), Roboppi (brought by Ai), and Kengo (also hacks in).] [Note #2 - The group has to experience Yusaku's memories as they attempt to save him- including those of the Lost Incident- in visceral detail. (I, personally, would serve still-in-his-asshole-phase-Go a nice heaping helping of #Guilt/Remorse/Horror(™) if you have him witness the memories.)] [Note #3 - The facets of Yusaku's personality are fragmented, with each being represented as their own separate version of Yusaku. Some suggestions are as follows (feel free to use them or do your own thing). Anger: Playmaker, and his eyes as well as the glow lines of his suit are red. Fear: Yusaku in his pajamas, as he was when he was shown suffering night terrors. Happiness: Six year-old Yusaku before he suffered the Lost Incident. Sadness: Base Yusaku, but he barely reacts to anything or anyone. His eyes are blue and he is constantly crying in near silence.

Hate: Think pissed off and severely injured Playmaker, but if he also had Vector(Zexal) or Lightning's twisted personality traits.

Self Doubt: Yusaku as a nervous wreck and blaming himself for everything that has ever gone wrong. Shyness: Yusaku, but if he acted like Reira(ARC-V) or Hinata from Naruto.

Confidence: Playmaker, but friendly and smiling and enjoying dueling.

Selflessness: Yusaku, but his color scheme is predominantly white. Would sacrifice himself for his allies.

Selfishness: Playmaker, but his color scheme is predominantly black. Would cast his allies aside without a second glance.

The true Yusaku can him as he normally appears, or his beat-up six year-old self just before being rescued, or a beat-up six year-old Playmaker.] Prompt #12: Dark Signer AU. The one where Yusaku didn't survive the Lost Incident, but thanks to being a Dark Signer, nobody realizes this little detail. (I need more Dark Signer!Yusaku m'kay? Nemesis by DarkZorua100 is glorious, bUT i neeD mORe) [Note #1 - Angst obviously, unless you can somehow put a humorous spin on Yusaku trying to hide the fact that he's, y'know, dead from everybody. And semi-failing. Takeru: ooooh my god he's f*cking dead yoU'RE a f*CKinG zomBIE-

Yusaku: wait i can expla-

Takeru: *illegible screeches of terror*

(i'm a terrible person who would make this funny heLP)

Can have the temperament of Yusaku's Immortal vary depending on whether you do angst or humor:

Angst: Either a complete asshole that makes Yusaku's unlife hell, or semi-benevolent. Humor: Excited puppy.]

[Note #2 - Stray thought was that Yusaku's Earthbound Immortal could be Ai's monster form? Or at least based on it. (or even be the reason Ai has it, since none of the other Ignis seemed to have alternate forms.)] [Note #3 - In my version, Yusaku was the only Lost Child to actually die. But you can have some or all of the rest of the children be Dark Signers too.] [Note #4 - Yusaku appears normal to everyone IRL- save for the facts that he-

Has no heartbeat and is strangely pale.

Exudes no body heat.

Never eats/sleeps or seems to react to pain when hurt (he doesn't bleed either).

He's a walking corpse and most people just don't connect the dots. In VRAINS, he's Playmaker as normal, but his sclera can change to, or permanently are, black. He also has a mark on his left cheek under his eye that's vaguely reminiscent of lines of digital coding.] Feel free to use any of these! Please send me a link to any stories you may write!

#vrains #yu-gi-oh #yusaku fujiki #writing prompt #fanfic #yu-gi-oh! vrains

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peterstanslizzie · 5 years

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Re-watching Lizzie Mcguire: Episode 1.5 (I’ve Got Rhythmic)

You know what this moment is? It’s Lizzie about the hit the floor from tripping

- The episode begins with Lizzie approaching the bulletin board to check what her grade is for her school English test; Turns out, Lizzie only got a ‘B’. She gets frustrated because she feels like she’s not amazing at anything when comparing herself to her peers like Gordo who is an aspiring filmmaker and Miranda who is good at arts and crafts.

Lizzie discovers her Talent

- During gym class, Coach Kelly introduces rhythmic gymnastics to the girls and Lizzie and Miranda are not feeling it. As someone who used to do gymnastics at school, I think they’re being too dismissive of the sport. I found it to be really fun and I actually enjoyed playing with the different apparatus.

- Coach Kelly asked the group of students if there is anyone who would like to volunteer and demonstrate some basic gymnastics. Miranda without thinking, blurted out a big fat “NO!” and she was subsequently chosen to demonstrate first. I don’t think I saw Coach Kelly teaching them any moves. So how is Miranda supposed to demonstrate anything? Maybe this wasn’t their first gymnastics class?

Why did Miranda throw those clubs like that? It’s like she really wanted them to be flung far far away from her

- Miranda is handed a pair of gymnastics clubs and as expected, she flopped really bad. Kate’s next and she hurts herself by dropping one of the sticks on her foot. I did not expect that; She seemed so confident. Lizzie couldn’t contain her laughter and Coach Kelly does not respond to her reaction well and asks Lizzie to use the ribbon in front of the class.

For the honor of Grayskull! Sorry, I just had to include a She-ra reference in here

- Lizzie shocks everyone by being so graceful and elegant with the ribbon. When watching this episode back then, I think I already knew Hilary Duff had prior training in gymnastics. She could do cartwheels, flips and all the sort.

- Kate who just cannot let Lizzie outshine her asks Coach Kelly if she can be given a second chance to re-do the demonstration to which she agrees and proceeds to ask her to do it again on the spot, with the ribbons this time. Kate flops once again.

Oh Kate, just give it up! You stink at rhythmic gymnastics

- Coach Kelly who was so impressed by Lizzie’s natural ability persuades her to represent the school in the ‘Rhythmic Gymnastics Regional Competition’. Lizzie isn’t so sure about it but Coach Kelly asks her to take some time to think about it.

A Big Decision to Make

- Lizzie fills in all the details with her best friends and they support her to actually go for it. Side note: the number of times they cut to the scene when Kate hurt her foot is ridiculously funny hahaha. At home, she also asks her parents if she should pursue it to which they give the generic answer of yes because that’s what parents do.

An athlete’s dream is to appear on a cereal box

- Lizzie proceeds to dream about winning a gold medal in rhythmic gymnastics and even dreams about her picture appearing on a toasted oat meal cereal box. She smiles in her sleep and I believe that is the moment when she is going to go for it for all its glory.

- The next day, Lizzie still reeling from her dream announces to Gordo and Miranda that she made the decision to be a gymnast, which surprises them both as they had mixed feelings about it.

‘Olympic’ Training Montage

- We get a special montage with a surprisingly catchy music track of Lizzie training for the competition. Here are some of my rundowns of what was shown:

1. Lizzie struggles to wake up at 5:00 am and Gordo shakes her to wake her up. Wow, Gordo is fully committed to making this documentary for Lizzie; Waking up before 5:00 am just to go over to her house to film her?! Did he stay over or did Lizzie’s parents let him in lol?

2. Her mom prepares her a cup of several raw eggs to drink. I wouldn’t dare drink it but thank goodness Lizzie poured them onto a pan to fry them. Phew!

3. Lizzie has a one-to-one training session with Coach Kelly. A super intensive one I will say. However, Lizzie seems to be managing pretty well....

...for the most part

This All Better Be Worth It

- Lizzie is found by her friends in a state of exhaustion and couldn’t bring herself to stay awake. Kate, now with a foot brace, pops up with her posse and delivers this line that is immortalized as a forever popular gif:

Remember when .coms were included in jokes?

- Gordo burns her good by asking her to repeat what she said into the camera and tells her he’s casting the part of the bitter talentless girl. Oh, snap! Kate is such a pain in this episode. Can’t she just stop being so obsessed with Lizzie being better than her in one thing?

Introducing Larry Tudgeman

- We actually got a mention of Larry in the first episode when he was caught on camera picking his nose and eating his snot by Danny Kessler. But this time, we got to actually see him in the flesh. I actually love Larry; He is kinda like Gordo but only much weirder and nerdier.

- Kate puts on her popular girl charm and asks him to do a little favor for her, which we will find out towards the end of the episode.

- Lizzie is baking cookies at home, which worries Jo because she has noticed that every-time Lizzie bakes, it’s because there is something bothering her. Lizzie tells her mom it’s because she’s stressed about competing but the truth is, she is just not passionate about the sport.

Time to Compete!

- It’s the day of the competition and Lizzie is busy warming up while Gordo is filming her and providing commentary for his documentary. He trips over a pile of gymnastics equipment and accidentally angles his camera up over to the ceiling and catches Larry doing something fishy. Lizzie’s turn is next and she starts her routine.

- He tells Miranda about Larry and they both try to help Lizzie from getting sabotaged by him. During her routine, she does a great job so far but when she tosses the hula hoop up in the air, Larry catches it with a broom. Lizzie froze a little because she did not expect her hoop to disappear but luckily, Gordo with his quick thinking throws Lizzie a ribbon and she continues her routine.

- Larry is then spotted by Miranda, who is armed with a fire-extinguisher and threatens to spray him if he doesn’t drop the hula hoop. He drops it and Lizzie manages to catch it at the right time and finishes her routine strong. Kate is stunned her plan failed.

Honestly, Kate always seems to get the funniest edit

- She then storms out of the gym and Gordo catches her leaving with his camera and she was basically caught red handed.

Smile for the camera sunshine

Lizzie’s Confession

- Lizzie wins 1st place despite the setback. That’s a little surprising considering the fact that she just started training for it but amazing job nonetheless.

- Her parents congratulates her for winning the competition but Lizzie confesses to them that she hates rhythmic gymnastics and the only reason she likes it is because she’s good at it. Her parents are supportive of her regardless of her position. Such understanding parents; My parents would have been the opposite.

Overall Thoughts

- In my opinion, Lizzie suddenly realizing she’s good at rhythmic gymnastics and actually winning 1st place in a regional competition is kind of a one-off plot device thing for Hilary to showcase her gymnastics prowess on Lizzie Mcguire. It’s just not realistic to me but this is fiction and loopholes like that aren’t meant to be analyzed deeply by people like me.

- That being said, I do really like the underlying message presented in this episode, which is we should pursue something we are absolutely passionate in and commit to it. And if we haven’t discovered what our destiny is yet, it’s never too late to figure that out.

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vanilla107 · 5 years

Text

Smoke and Bullets (Part 2)

Hey everyone! Thank you for everyone who commented and gave kudo's on my first chapter for this fanfic! Please remember to go check out @littleresalu art on Tumblr! It was her drawing that inspired it!

Just a super quick note, I am trying to make it 1920's 'Roaring 20's' historically accurate but honestly, it's driving me a little insane with all the constant research. I don't mind it, but having to check if a syringe was invented before 1920 will make you want to die after researching what women wore in that time period. I will instead use my creative license and bend the rules with regards to clothing and inventions to my will. It won't be huge hectic changes, I just want the girls to wear more lace and look more badass (sorry 1920's but those day dresses were not flattering the image of Catra and Adora).

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Stay healthy! vanilla107 xoxo

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Part 1

She Ra Masterlist

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It was a grey day in New Brightmoon and Adora and Catra walked to the bank, their arms linked together. Catra could feel the stares from onlookers and she didn’t hesitate to shoot a glare and they turned their heads the opposite direction.

“Catra, remember what we talked about,” Adora murmured and Catra buried her head into the taller girls neck.

“I know, I just....hate the stares sometimes. It’s like we’re always being judged,” Catra hissed. “Just because we’re female and together doesn’t make us any different from other people.”

“I know it’s frustrating but don’t worry, once word gets out that The Sinners are officially done, people won’t be staring because they’re judging, but because we are meant to be feared,” Adora said as she squeezed the brunette’s shoulder comfortingly.

Catra grinned and the bank building appeared around the corner. They walked into the building and walked straight to the secretary.

“Mr. Francis is expecting us. Adora and Catra,” Adora said and the secretary nodded and pointed them to the banker’s door. Before they could knock, the door opened to reveal the smiling face of the old man.

“Catra and Adora, come in,” he said warmly and Catra gave him one of her rare smiles.

Mr. Francis had been one of the main reasons Adora survived when she was let out of the orphanage. He guided her with what to do with her new found wealth as well as became a sort of father figure to her. Catra respected him for keeping her girlfriend steady while she was still in the orphanage.

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

“Adora!”

“Catra!”

The two girls embraced and Catra felt her body scream in happiness.

It had been nine long painful months but she was finally free of the orphanage and a legal adult. And she was finally with Adora, in her arms, where she was supposed to be.

Adora smelt of expensive perfume, a blend of flowers and vanilla, and there was a stark contrast to the softness of Adora’s skin to the calluses on Catra’s. The soft fabric of Adora’s day dress to the hard scratchy fabric of Catra’s threadbare shirt and pants was a sight but the feeling of euphoria was real between the two girls either way. Catra immediately noticed the old man, not standing far from them.

“Who’s he?” she hissed, her ears high on alert.

“Calm down, that’s Mr. Francis. He’s the banker who told me about my parents. He...he’s a good guy.”

Catra was not convinced and she walked up to him, her expression stone cold. Adora fidgeted nervously as she watched them from a distance.

“You must be Catra. Adora has told me much about you,” he said with a smile and she narrowed her eyes.

“How am I supposed to believe that you have Adora’s best interest at heart. You could be lying,” she said menacingly and he nodded.

“All reasonable worries but I assure you Miss Catra, that I only want the best for her. Besides being the family banker, I was good friends with Adora’s parents. It was a tragedy to see the family fall apart and...I could’ve adopted her but...I was scared.”

“Scared?” Catra repeated softly as she looked over to the blonde who was talking to a flower seller.

“I wasn’t sure if the gang would be after Adora next and I...I didn’t want to be targeted. I decided that I would watch her from afar and put her in a safe orphanage. Why do you think I put her in this tiny one right across town?”

Catra nodded slowly and looked at the man once more. She would need some time to adjust to him but she did feel like he meant no harm. His smile grew when she felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned around. Adora had bought a small bundle of flowers and handed them to Catra.

“For you,” she blushed and Catra accepted them, her expression softening.

If he really had taken care of Adora these past nine months then maybe he wasn't such a bad guy...

“Okay, Mr. Francis. I’ll be keeping an eye on you but...I think we’re going to be just fine,” Catra said and gave him a small smile.

“I know it will take time, but Adora has told me many stories about you. Let’s go back to the apartment and discuss what shall be done next.”

“Oh, but can’t we stop at the clothing store? Catra’s going to need some new clothes,” Adora said as they walked down the cobbled road.

“Adora, I’m fine. I just need to get a job at a factory somewhere and then I’ll be making money-”

“What?” Adora exclaimed loudly and the three of them stopped.

“What do you mean what?” Catra asked and Adora looked at her puzzled.

“Catra, you are living with me. There’s no way I’m going to let you work in a dangerous factory!”

Catra was happy and shocked all at once.

Adora wants me to live with her? She’s loaded after all so it wouldn’t be a problem…

But she was stubborn and a part of her liked being independent. She didn’t necessarily want to depend on Adora for the rest of her life.

“Adora, that’s sweet but...I can’t depend on you constantly. I need to play my part too, even though you are...incredibly wealthy now.”

“Who said that you would depend on me? I want you to live with me because there’s enough room for the both of us. I also...I also have an...opportunity for you and it’s risky but...I’d like you to hear me out. Can we talk about it at home though?” Adora’s tone had shifted from sweet to something more serious and it sent chills down Catra’s spine.

“Okay...but first food! I’m starving!”

“And then the clothing shop and shoe shop!”

Mr. Francis watched the two girls walk ahead and he sighed. Adora's plan seemed reckless and far-fetched but he knew he couldn't stop her.

“Adora...I hope you know what you’re doing. If this girl really is as loyal as you say she is...will she take a bullet for you?”

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

The three of them settled down in Mr. Francis' office and he shuffled some documents around to make his space neater.

“Okay, so I’m assuming you want to deposit some money?” he said as he sat down at his desk and they nodded.

“How much?”

Adora hid a smile as she handed him the briefcase and he opened it. His jaw dropped and he stared at them.

“Do I want to know which gang this came from?” he asked and they shook their heads as he counted the stacks of money.

Mr. Francis, how do you sleep at night knowing that this money could be tainted with blood? Catra thought.

“Like a baby, Catra.”

Her eyes widened as he smiled and Adora tried to stifle a giggle.

“I know that this money hasn’t come from the most...legal of situations but...I know you girls aren’t bad people. You’re not necessarily killing people for no good reason and even though God might judge me a differently when I die...I’ve lived a good life.”

Catra smiled as he closed the suitcase.

“I’ll put this in the vault. As usual, you are allowed to access it whenever you want.”

He wrote a few things in his finances book and smiled.

“I look forward to seeing you next time girls.”

The two walked out the bank, now millionaires and Adora sighed as she checked her watch.

“We still have a few more hours till the final interrogation. Let’s go to the office and get feedback from Bow and the others,” said Adora and the two walked away. Mr. Francis looked at the couple through the window and he smiled.

"I'm happy you're happy Adora. I hope that today is the day you finally get closure."

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

The crack of skin against skin was sharp and Bow winced. Glimmer was sure she was never going to get used to seeing people get tortured as she closed her eyes. It was early evening and after torturing the Sinner’s men for the past hour, it was getting tiring.

Adora gritted her teeth as she grabbed a fistful of creased white shirt and yanked Danny forward. She groaned inwardly as some of his blood flew onto her pristine white shirt and black suit. She had just gotten the bloodstains out of them last week now they had to be cleaned.

Again.

She shook her head and tried to focus on the matter at hand and got a good look at Danny.

It was a shame.

Danny was attractive enough to possibly find a good job and settle down one day but he unfortunately ended up with The Sinners.

“Where were you the night of my parents murder?” she hissed but he refused to talk.

“Catra, the pliers,” she growled and Catra grinned maliciously as she placed the object into Adora’s hand.

The blonde, who was getting incredibly frustrated, forced his mouth open and jammed the tool into his mouth. She gripped onto a molar and pulled. The man screamed in agony as she ripped out the tooth. She gave him an icy glare.

“There’s still a good mouthful of teeth, Danny. Talk if you still want to be able to chew your goddamn food by the end of tonight.”

Catra watched while she leaned against the mahogany desk, her suit the colour of the blood dripping out of Danny’s mouth. Her amber and blue eyes switched back and forth between Danny and her girlfriend. Adora’s mood change from being her lover to the stone cold crime boss she was never ceased to surprise and frighten her.

The Adora she knew was soft and gentle, like her kisses, smelt like vanilla and her voice filled with loving words only meant for her.

The Adora the gang knew was stone cold steel and if you pissed her off, God help you. Word on the street was that she smelt of the blood of her enemies, had sandpaper skin and her words could tear a human apart.

Catra still wondered how Adora could inflict such pain on a person but...this was involving her parents. The parents who had been ripped away from her when she was a child. She could’ve had a good life. Catra watched as Adora yanked another tooth out of Danny’s mouth, his screaming hurting her sensitive ears.

“Stop! Stop! Please! I’ll talk!” he said, his words partly slurred because of his bloody mouth and his swollen cheek from the punch the brunette had gotten in earlier.

“I’m listening,” Adora said as she relaxed and threw the pliers behind her and Catra caught it with ease and wiped the blood off of it.

“I wasn’t exactly there on the night! I was on look out! I didn’t get told a lot of information, see? I was still a lackey, learnin’ the ropes! But Mista Jaw said we needed to kill your parents. That’s all I know!”

Adora sighed and she walked around the room, slowly. Catra knew he was a dead man already but she watched the scene unravel.

“Do you have a family, Danny? Wife? Husband? kids?” Adora asked slowly and he shook his head.

“No...I...I don’t.” “Do you know what it’s like to lose someone?” she whispered and Catra could feel the room get smaller.

“Yeah, my best friend Glen was killed last year.”

Catra tried not to laugh. She had killed Glen last year. She had caught him stealing from their cargo ships. There was only one way to make sure he never did it again and that meant a bullet to the head.

“Well Danny, I’m afraid this is the end of the line. You were there on the night of my parents murder and you chose to let them die.”

Danny was sobbing.

“No, please! I was weak then and afraid! I’ll be your double agent! I could get inside info from Mista Jaws himself! I’ll give you anything you want!”

Adora sighed as she took out her gun and aimed it at his chest.

“Danny, you’re a well known snake. I always do my research and I know for a fact that the Sinners aren’t you’re first gang. You’ve ratted out other gangs before in favour for your own life. What gives you any idea that I would ever put my own gang at risk, hmmm?”

The click of the trigger made Danny cry harder.

“Please-”

There was a bang and Danny’s body jerked back, before his head lolled forward.

Silence echoed the room before Adora straightened up and placed the gun on her desk.

“Chris, dispose of his body. Freckles, find a mop to clean up the blood. Janny, bring up Mister Jaws from the basement. It’s his turn,” Adora said darkly and the three ran off, leaving only her, Glimmer, Bow and Catra in the room.

“Bow...take Glimmer outside. I think she needs some air,” Adora said softly, traces of the kind and sweet Adora coming back.

Bow nodded and escorted the girl out the door and the door closed with a click. Adora sat down on her comfy leather chair and Catra sat on her lap, her mouth gently brushing Adora’s temple.

“That took too long,” Adora mumbled as she gently rubbed Catra’s bruising knuckles and the feline snorted.

“Well, hopefully, Mister Jaws will have the information you need.”

“That bastard better. I just want this to end.”

“Well...what are we supposed to do after this? I mean all of our stakeouts, blackmailing, practically having the whole of New Brightmoon in out hands...what happens once Mister Jaws is done for?” Catra asked.

Truthfully, Catra had never thought of the future. She was always living in the moment, whether it was taking down other rival gangs, practicing her aim, in the boxing ring downstairs with Bow or just being with Adora. Her life had been secured around Adora’s after she had left the orphanage and she was fine with it. Adora was the reason she lived in a nice house, got to eat everyday as well as find out who had murdered her love’s parents. She had made a promise to Adora and she was going to keep it.

“Well, we continue to rule with an iron fist. We can’t back down now once we’ve crushed The Sinners. We'll still have rival gangs and go on like we used to. We’ll still have our supply lines and as long as there are customers buying...we aren’t going out of business anytime soon.”

“So, nothing will change dramatically?”

“No...why?”

“I just...had a few ideas on how we could celebrate tonight…” Catra said seductively as she ran a hand down Adora’s cheek.

“Oh? Like what?” Adora whispered, her eyes flickering to Catra's lips.

“Let me give you a hint.”

Catra kissed Adora softly, her hands gripping onto Adora’s black suit. Adora pulled away hesitantly.

“No...not here. We need to set an example.”

Catra rolled her eyes.

“You are aware that the whole gang knows that we’re together? And y'know, for someone who regularly kills people, you are such a goody goody two-shoes!”

“Still, we need to be professional, sweetheart.”

Catra grumbled and Adora quickly kissed her again.

“Once this is all done-”

There was a knock on the door and Catra sighed as she got off of Adora’s lap and stood up straight.

Adora squeezed her hand before she said, “Come in!”

In walked Mister Jaws, bloody and bruised, with three of their lackeys dragging him through the door. Freckles walked in after, quickly mopping up the blood and exiting the room. Bow walked back in, Glimmer looking a whole lot better. The lackey’s seated Mister Jaws down on the chair and secured his arms and legs to it before standing on one side of the room.

“So, Mister Jaws if you are co-operative you might just leave here all in one piece...what can you tell me about the night of my parents murder?” Adora said she picked up a knife from one of her drawers and got off her chair and walked to stand right in front of him.

He laughed, even though Catra could see it must've hurt his jaw.

“This is what this is all about? Your stupid parents?”

There was a whisper of the lackey's all inhaling sharply. Adora looked at him and she smiled, it was unnerving.

Before Catra could do anything, Adora has pounced forward and cut off his thumb of his right hand. He howled in pain and Adora had fire in her eyes.

“Yes, it’s about them. Now are you going to tell me about the night you murdered them or not?” Mister Jaws was still whimpering in pain and Adora cut off his pinkie finger in response.

“Yes or no, Jaws?” she hissed as he screamed again.

Catra had never seen Adora so angry. She didn’t blame her. All their sources said that he had killed her parents. It was finally time for retribution.

“Yes,” he said weakly.

Adora nodded,“Why did you murder them?”

He blinked as if the answer was difficult to get.

“Why did you murder them?” Adora repeated, her patience wearing thin. The knife hovered over his ring finger and he stumbled for words.

“I...I can’t remember okay! It happened years ago! They were rich and we stole from the mansion!”

Adora put the knife down and she began to laugh.

“A few diamonds and what...a couple thousands was worth killing my parents over? You sick, greedy man. I hope you burn in hell,” Adora snarled.

She walked over to her desk and unlocked a drawer and pulled out a wooden box. She sat down on her comfy leather chair and stared at the man as she took out a cigar from the box. Catra produced a lighter and Adora took it.

She lit the cigar and exhaled, the wisps of smoke making her look almost like a goddess in her leather chair and mahogany desk. Catra moved to stand behind her, her arms draped around the blonde, a grin on her face.

"What shall we do with him Adora?" Catra purred, her breath warm against the shell of Adora's ear. Adora inhaled once more before answering, their prisoner in front of them shaking in fear.

"Easy, kill him." Glimmer and Bow were quiet as they watched Adora smoke the cigar down.

“Hey, you three. You can leave. It’s going to get a little violent in here,” Catra said and the three scurried out, looking relieved.

Catra had no doubt that they were going to tell the rest of the gang downstairs. Adora finished her cigar and reached into the box once more. Bow thought she was going to get another cigar but she took out a syringe filled with clear liquid instead.

“This is one of our dear friend’s latest invention. This type of poison is so concentrated it usually kills someone instantly.”

Mister Jaws looked smug for a minute.

“Can’t even kill me yourself?” he gloated.

Adora walked over slowly, the syringe still in her hand.

“Too bad that this isn’t concentrated. You’ll die a long painful death with one drop of this in your bloodstream. I asked my dear friend to make a special batch for you. You should still be alive for the the next few hours though, withering in pain,” Adora said as she drank in the fear flickering in his eyes.

“No, you’ll regret this Adora! I swear my men will come after you-!”

“Oh you mean the men we all killed? Last night there was a raid on Dock 79. Oh wow, the colour just...drained your face. I struck a nerve didn’t I?” Adora smirked.

“You bitch-!” he screamed.

“You’re done for, Jaws. Enjoy hell,” she said coldly, as she plunged the needle into his artery and pressed down the plunger.

#catradora #catra #adora #she ra #spop #mafia au #vanilla107writes #vanilla107 writes #smoke and bullets #she ra fanfiction #catradora fanfiction

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