#thread: danny 1

[alasdairxbishop]

Entering the ballroom, Alasdair was almost overwhelmed by the amount of people chatting, dancing and generally having a good time, but he couldn't help but notice all of the slaves that had been forced to wear ball gowns rather than suits. He was so glad that Aneirin preferred to dress him in things he actually liked wearing. With a red lace shirt that showed a fair amount of skin, with a pair of red suit pants and a masquerade mask to match, Dair felt pretty good.

The one thing that he had managed to sneak out with him was a silver switchblade pocket knife that he'd found in Aneirin's suite. Admittedly, he probably shouldn't have gone snooping around his master's suite, but after the last couple of events, Alasdair wanted a better means of protecting himself should anyone try and bother him. With it tucked down the side of one of the black boots he was wearing, Alasdair made his way over to the bar, giving the bartender a small smile before ordering a drink.

Once he'd been served, Alasdair headed for the furthest corner of the ballroom, taking a seat so he could lounge and just observe rather than actually join in. He hadn't been there long when he felt a pair of eyes on him, the nephilim meeting the other's gaze with his own from beneath the red, jewelled mask. "Y'know, I can feel you staring."

@imgoin-ghost

[lostcndfound]

@mirrcrxball

Hawaii didn't always agree with Willoughby's clothing choices. Thick knit sweaters and full woollen suits didn't get along with sweat or humidity. It didn't stop him, of course, it just meant the markets were a rarer trip, and not to be worked at, only explored and scouted. Or stolen from, according to the man loudly screaming, whose shrill splitting voice was a bad combination with a growing headache and reddening face from the heat.

A badge. He saw the shine as their shoulders collide, too sluggish to avoid the man. Instantly, he sputtered out an apology only to recognize them, "Williams! Just the fellow. Think you could quiet that awful banshee up for me?" Willoughby gestured to the nearby stall owner. "Talk of my character. Inform him you're one of the local constabulary, you know how it goes. And, if you see fit, remind him that evidence is required to make accusations." Will's voice soured as he snarled out the last word. Humans weren't meant to catch him. The blasted weather made him sloppy.

[therosepetalrps]

『✣』 Belle laughed at the wee joke about his business's books, enjoying the ease with which their banter flowed. It made sense to her that he was not much of a reader. She'd gathered that his world revolved around his work, with every thought and breath. She read books for a taste of the adventure she was lacking in her life; she imagined he had excitement enough in his own.

She laughed again at what he said next, much louder and heartier than the first time. Belle could see the resemblance. Loud, explosive spitfires, the pair of them. Though, Danny seemed much more rational — comparatively.

❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐒. 𝐈'𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓. ❞

Pleased that he'd taken the book off her, she mulled over other potential titles to pass his way. She felt a bit victorious to have gotten one right, feeling like she was getting warmer in her pursuit of figuring out what he was all about. ❝ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃, 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘? 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐈 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. ❞

Belle was about to suggest a book of short stories — bite-sized, rapid-fire adventures — when she suddenly felt his hand on her waist. She inhaled sharply and audibly. Her waist. Not her arm, or hand, or shoulder. It was a simple touch, but it was also a bizarrely intimate one.

She'd already noted how ardently he spoke with his hands and that his respect for personal space was distinctly lacking. She wondered if he even realized what he'd done.

She didn't pull away, for fear that he'd interpret it as a recoil of disgust after she'd gasped so loudly. She didn't want to hurt his feelings — though she doubted his pride could be dented with a sledgehammer.

Oh god, had she been staring at him in stunned silence for twenty minutes or did it just feel like she had? It took her an embarrassingly long time to register him slagging off The Godfather and even longer to summon a coherent response.

❝ 𝐈...𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓. 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, ❞ she said, voice overly chipper, trying very hard to pretend that they were standing a respectable distance apart. ❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐌𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍? ❞

"I wouldn't mind it."

Danny was already in his head as he took the library card and pushed it into his front pocket. He couldn't help but notice the flush on the woman's face. If he knew any better from her words to him, she was trying to hide it. His hand stayed in his pocket before he noticed her coming out. "The only books I read ur my books." It was a reference to the debt he had to collect and the debt he monitored for his own business.

The man's hand pulled out of his pocket before turning his back to the woman to straighten his pants. It was inappropriate, but not unlike Danny's decision to shift himself in public. 

"Trainspotting?"

That one sounded familiar to him for some reason. As he was trying to calm himself, he tried to think of why. "Ye ur ah Begbie with nae bite!" He scoffed as he turned himself toward the woman and began to follow her. "I was called that by some fuckin' loser last week." Danny points to the book in her hand and scoffs.

"Nae bite, but he left with ah broken nose."

He snatched the item from her hand before she left him there to look over the back of it. It was a book about junkies; maybe he could learn a bit about the kinds of people who tried to fuck him over. "What makes ye think that?" Devine turns his eyes back to the woman to go after her again. Moving further into the shelves, it would seem. 

She was so enthusiastic about sharing all these works. That was a bit inspiring in different ways for the man. The second book he didn't take from her; instead, he just got close, trying to look at the item as he got up behind her. "Wait.." His free hand reached to stop her from moving, pressing against her at her waist.

In his mind, from the start, he wanted her from behind the counter for his reasons. Something that was still there, lingering in his mind, but he was trying to read what she had in hand as he kept himself close to her. 

"The Godfather is a long and boring fuckin' movie, I donae want tae read that one." 

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Marzipan Boy part 1

Tim shot a quick message to Tam, letting her know that he would be busy for a while, and then he shoved his headphones on and pushed the button to darken the windows of his office.

Tam thought he was taking a nap, and encouraged his daily hour of “dark time”.

Tim was NOT taking a nap, he was watching the love of his life play video games (sue him, he might doze off once or twice during the stream, but it wasn’t on purpose.)

“Good afternoon, gamers. It’s NightenGames here, and I have not had enough coffee.”

Chuckling at the semi-regular intro, Tim took a sip of his dark roast and settled back into his desk chair.

“Today we’re playing Elder Ring- My friend PharaohTuck finally finished setting up my mods.”

Tim wasn’t entirely sure what exactly the mods NightenGames used did, but apparently they were necessary for him to play. The Yeddit threads were full of speculation- from control mods meant for metahumans/aliens, to cheats to make the games easier.

Very few fans believed that one- Nighten died too many times to be cheating with his mods.

“Ooooh, what a fancy character creator! Alright, folks- who should we mock this time? I’m seeing a lot of votes for Lex Luthor in the chat, a few for Bruce Wayne- which, let me remind you, I’ve already done both Wayne and Luthor in the last month, so they’re out.”

This was why Tim had originally followed NightenGames- the streamer would pick a rich person and then pretend to be them for the entire stream, as if they were playing the game. Yeddit had checked- most of the quotes Nighten used were straight from public videos of the target.

“Tim Drake, huh? CEO of Wayne Industries? Isn’t he, like, the same age as me? I dunno, guys- like, nepo baby for suresies, but…”

Tim startled at the sound of his own name, and swooned a little at the way it rang out in Nighten’s rich baritone.

“You’re right, BarleyWater32, I have not picked on Tim Drake yet. In my defense… I have no defense. He’s hot and I’d smash. Don’t want to spoil my minuscule chances, right? Right. Anyways. Oh! Oliver Queen, I can do him. Well, not DO him, but- make me shut up.”

Blinking at his computer, Tim couldn’t help but flush at the knowledge that his internet crush thought he was “hot and would smash”.

Tim would smash too, honestly. He’d done his research. Daniel ‘Danny’ Nightengale was VERY attractive behind the virtual avatars he used.

“Let me pull up Ollie-boy’s avatar- ah ha! Can’t miss that mustache anywhere.”

The avatar finally popped up in the video- Nighten didn’t usually have one up until the chat had chosen a victim, even if he did have a standard avatar for after he was done gaming.

If he had to pick, Tim liked the avatar for Queen the best. He wore a silly pair of green sunglasses, and his matching green mustache twirled far beyond his face- the real Oliver would never, but the mockery was funny.

“Ahem. Yes. Hello. My name is Ollie Queen and I’m richer than anyone else in this city. Let’s get this bread!”

Elder Ring went well- through some chance Nighten picked an archery build for his run through, which Tim thought was quite ironic- and the stream went on for a whole hour before Nighten switched to his standard avatar.

“Okay, folks, I’m going to shut down now- and Tim Drake? If you’re watching? DM me.”

Nighten chuckled a little, like he’d made an impossible request, but Tim was vibrating in his seat, reaching for his phone to DM the streamer.

The video ended abruptly, and Tim’s autotimer on the darkened windows ran out.

Tam was standing expectantly outside of the door, smiling serenely in- but her arms were full of folders that she undoubtedly need signatures on.

With a sigh, Tim took off his headphones, dropped his cell on his desk, and waved her in. Work waited for no man.

~~~

“Danny, are you sure you don’t want me to make you an avatar for one Tim Drake?”

“Positive, Tuck.”

Tucker pouted and draped himself over the back of the couch, leaning his head into Danny’s space as he worked on his essay.

“It would give you an excuse to watch videos of your cruuuuush!”

Danny felt his face go hot, and he shoved Tucker’s face away from his ear.

“Get off, man. I have to finish this paper before midnight.”

His friend stood straight, presumably looking at the clock on the oven.

“Oof, bro.”

10:30PM wasn’t a great time to be writing an essay. Danny knew he should have done it earlier, but, well. He had to film and edit a video for his second channel. UTube wasn’t earning him money yet, but hopefully soon?

Who was he kidding? He would probably have to go back to Vlad for money soon, and he hated the thought of it.

It was hard enough to live in this ramshackle Gotham apartment with both Tucker and Sam, keep up with UTube and streaming, and get through school, without having to cater to Vlad’s whims on top of it.

Sam had only promised to help with his portion of rent for two years, and he was almost hitting that deadline. He hated taking advantage of her guilt for getting him killed in the first place, but she had insisted, even if she couldn’t sustain it for their whole college career.

Danny groaned and turned his attention back to his paper.

11:15 rolled around, and Danny finished checking his paper for mistakes before sending it in. He shut his laptop, planning to brush his teeth before crashing out on the couch.

Tucker had already gone to bed, and Sam was out on an internship trip for the week, so he didn’t have to worry too much about being disturbed after he fell asleep.

His phone chimed with a donation notification and he lazily opened the message.

Tucker came running out of his and Sam’s bedroom, wrapped in a bathrobe and wielding a Creep Stick at Danny’s resulting screech.

“TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS? FROM TIMOTHY DRAKE-WAYNE?”

[flwrkid14]

omg what about rockstar Danny who has this huge concert and the Wayne family gets tickets so they all go but Danny and Tim have been dating for a few months and Danny was able to break all of Tim’s walls. So we have a petty and pissed off danny who thinks Tim should abandon the bat family and join Team Phantom. In his last song for the night he plays “Cupid’s Chokehold” by Gym class heroes and reveals their relationship when it gets to “Take a look at my girlfriend” at 1:07 and batfamily is just shocked. Anyways no pressure, just thought it’d be a fun ask. Take your time and prioritize yourself!

hi anon! tysm for the ask <3 and wow this is such a brilliant idea! though it was a little tricky to convey in writing.. but I hope you like it!

The Wayne family gets tickets to the concert of the year—Danny Fenton, rockstar enigma, the ghostlight darling of the music world, is performing live in Gotham.

He’s known for a few things. One: his stage presence is unearthly. Two: he’s never once done an interview. Three: every song he writes sounds like it was bled out of someone’s soul.

(And Four: no one really knows who his music is about. The love songs, the heartbreak, the fury—it’s all so personal and yet so vague. A mystery Gotham’s tabloids would kill to solve.)

So when Bruce hands out the tickets, it’s treated like a normal outing. A night off. A nice show.

Tim doesn’t say much. Just, “Yeah. Sounds good.”

And for most of the show, it is good.

Danny is electrifying. His voice hits like a tidal wave and his lyrics—god, the lyrics. Furious things wrapped in velvet; love songs that ache like broken ribs. Songs about being pushed aside. Being invisible. Giving and giving until there’s nothing left.

Cass tilts her head, listening harder. Dick glances at Tim, who’s sitting very, very still. Bruce doesn’t notice anything yet—too distracted by the crowd. Jason is squinting at Danny like he’s seen a ghost.

And then it starts.

The final song.

A new one. Unreleased.

“I wasn’t gonna play this one,” Danny says, voice sharp with something bitter under the surface. “But I think I changed my mind.”

He nods at the band. They start playing.

The melody is upbeat—light, familiar. It’s Cupid’s Chokehold. People cheer. Some move to the melody.

And then—

Take a look at my girlfriend… She’s the only one I got…

Danny’s eyes flicker, sharp and glowing. His smile twists.

Not much of a girlfriend— I never seem to get a lot…

He stops singing for just a beat. Lets the music carry. Lets the tension build.

Then, clear as a bell:

Take a look at my boyfriend—

Spotlight.

It slams onto the VIP balcony. Onto Tim. Who freezes like a deer in the headlights.

He’s the only one I got.

The entire arena goes silent for half a second.

And then it erupts.

People are screaming. Phones come out. Tim is suddenly the most photographed man in Gotham. Jason shouts. Dick physically chokes on air. Steph screams “I KNEW IT!” while Cass just beams.

And Bruce? Bruce is staring at the stage like the math isn't mathing.

Danny doesn’t stop. He leans in.

He sings the rest of the song with so much love it’s almost cruel—every lyric like a thread being pulled.

He rewrites a few lines on the fly, just subtle enough:

She gets out when she wants ‘cause she’s strong like that He doesn’t need a cape, doesn’t need a mask— He’s already saved me just by being who he is.

And it’s not just a love song.

It’s a declaration. A confession. And, if you’re listening closely, an accusation.

Because every heartbreak song that came before it—the ones filled with rage and soft, splintering grief—suddenly make sense.

They weren’t just about some vague lost lover.

They were about Tim. And the family that never really saw him.

All that fury? That loneliness? That ache that threaded Danny’s albums?

It was theirs. Their behavior, their neglect, their silence. Turned into art. Turned into fire.

And Danny—Danny Fenton, whose voice can shake the world—just handed it back to them, live onstage, with a kiss blown to the boy sitting under the spotlight.

Tim covers his face with one hand. He’s laughing and crying and blushing hard.

Danny’s last note rings out, final and sharp. And the lights go out.

Backstage, later:

Tim shoves into Danny’s dressing room like a man possessed. “What was that?”

Danny’s taking off his mic pack, cool as ever. “Soft launch,” he says. “Or maybe the opposite.”

“You just outed us to the whole city.”

Danny shrugs. “They deserved to know.”

Tim sighs. Collapses into him. “You’re impossible.”

Danny kisses his temple. “You’re mine.”

And Tim—who clings to Danny like he was stitched into him—doesn’t disagree. He just holds on tighter.

Because the bats might be his family, sure.

But Danny? Danny’s home.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #2

The Phantom Affair started as a tweet.

One blurry photo. Midtown High’s parking lot. Danny Fenton and Peter Parker sitting shoulder to shoulder on the curb, sharing a burrito, looking like two tired teenage boys who had absolutely trauma bonded over AP Physics and probably something illegal involving lasers. Danny had one arm lazily slung over Peter’s shoulder. Peter, red-faced, was clearly mid-whine.

The caption?

“FENTON-PARKER IS REAL. MY GAY NERD SONS. I WILL FIGHT FOR THEM.”

And from there, it spiraled.

Danny was already public knowledge. After “Phantom Planet,” the entire world knew the pale kid from Amity Park was Phantom—half-ghost superhero, savior of Earth, general menace with bad hair. What they didn’t know was that Peter Parker, sweet, awkward Midtown science student with tragic eyebags and a mild vitamin D deficiency, was also Spider-Man.

But what the public did know was this:

1. Phantom and Spider-Man were attached at the hip. Fighting together. Flying together. Flirting mid-battle.

2. Peter Parker and Danny Fenton were inseparable. Studying together. Walking to school together. Literally sharing a dorm, thanks to Tony Stark.

3. Danny Fenton and Phantom were the same person.

4. Peter Parker and Spider-Man were not the same person.

Cue the chaos.

It didn’t help that Danny and Spider-Man were caught mid-air in a very compromising position—Danny flying backwards with his arms full of Spidey, who was clearly laughing like a Disney princess while twirling his web around Danny’s waist like a lasso. It was broadcasted live during a ghost attack in Queens. The internet lit up like the Fourth of July.

“DANNY FENTON-PHANTOM CAUGHT CHEATING ON BOYFRIEND PETER PARKER WITH SPIDER-MAN?”

“LOVE TRIANGLE OF THE CENTURY: GHOST, SPIDER, AND THE BOY NEXT DOOR”

“WHO DOES DANNY FENTON LOVE MORE?” with a dramatic black-and-white photo collage set to Lana Del Rey.

Thus began: The Phantom Affair.

The world divided into two camps.

Team Parker: loyal, nerdy, wears mismatched socks. Probably bakes. The “true love” since high school.

Team Spider: hot, athletic, mysterious. Definitely leaves hickeys and emotional damage.

The hashtags trended hourly.

#GhostSpider vs #FentonParker

#HeBelongsWithSpidey vs #PeterHasHisHeart

#LetThemAllDateEachOtherHonestly

Talk shows invited “relationship experts” to weigh in on the psychology of dating a ghost and/or a superhero. Morning news anchors were screaming about betrayal and interspecies romance. One tabloid cover showed a badly photoshopped image of Phantom crying while Peter and Spider-Man had a slap fight in the background.

BuzzFeed did a quiz:

“Are You Team Parker or Team Spider?”

Danny took it. He got “Needs Therapy.”

He called Jazz.

At Midtown, things were worse.

Posters started showing up in the halls.

• “FENTON, PICK A SIDE.”

• “SPIDER IS JUST A PHASE.”

• “PARKER DESERVES BETTER.”

• A single one that just said: “POLYAMORY IS VALID.”

Peter accidentally walked into a student-organized debate club arguing which one of them had better chemistry with Danny. One girl tried to defend Spider-Man by referencing the velocity of Danny’s blush during live battles.

“HE GLOWED, MRS. WARREN. GLOWED.”

Peter screamed into his locker and left.

Meanwhile, Tony was having the time of his life.

“I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous!” He laughed, kicking back in the Tower and flipping through Twitter threads titled things like Body Language Analysis of Phantom When Standing Next to Peter vs. Spider-Man. “This is better than Twilight. This is fanfiction-level drama.”

Happy groaned. “Shouldn’t we, like, fix this?”

“No.” Tony said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “We let it grow.”

Back at school, Danny wasn’t helping.

“Wait, wait…” He said during lunch, twirling spaghetti and pretending not to notice the entire cafeteria watching him. “So they think I’m dating Peter and Spider-Man?”

Peter looked like he wanted to die. “Yes, Danny. That’s the problem.”

Danny grinned. “They think I’m a ghost with two boyfriends.”

“You are a ghost with two boyfriends. The boyfriends are just the same person.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s a mental breakdown.”

Someone across the room yelled, “TELL PETER THE TRUTH, YOU COWARD!” and threw a napkin. Peter caught it mid-air like a ninja. He deserved a Grammy for Best Performance in a Romantic Crisis.

Things hit a boiling point during the Midtown Spring Fling.

Danny showed up in a black suit with green trim. Peter, flustered and adorable, wore a bowtie. The minute they walked in, the room exploded in flash photography. Someone was live-streaming.

“PARKER’S HERE. WITH FENTON. WHERE’S SPIDER-MAN?”

Two hours into the night, the lights flickered. Green. Eerie.

Ghosts. Obviously.

Danny went full Phantom in five seconds flat, eyes glowing, hair flaring, looking like the cover of a paranormal romance novel. He turned to Peter, who sighed, yanked his phone out, and whispered, “Happy’s gonna kill me,” before vanishing into the crowd.

And then ten minutes later—

Spider-Man.

Swung in through the ceiling. Landing in a crouch. Doing a dramatic flip off the refreshment table.

People lost their minds.

“HE’S HERE! SPIDEY’S HERE!”

“THEY’RE GONNA FIGHT!”

“OR KISS!”

What followed was twenty solid minutes of Danny and Spider-Man fighting ghosts back-to-back while whispering furiously to each other like a married couple mid-argument.

“Why did you swing in like that?!”

“You LEFT me to deal with the punch bowl poltergeist!”

“You were doing fine!”

“I was sticky!”

“Well I’m always sticky!”

When the fight ended, they stood in the middle of the gym. Dusty. Glowing. Glorious.

Someone yelled, “KISS HIM, SPIDEY!”

Danny blushed a bright green.

Spider-Man waved awkwardly and ran.

The next morning, the internet exploded.

“Phantom Fights For Love: Team Spider Dominates With Surprise Appearance.”

“Peter Parker Was There Too. Sad.”

The memes were relentless. Edits. Fanart. POVs. Dramatic TikTok transitions.

One viral post:

“Fenton with Parker in the library vs Phantom with Spider-Man mid-battle. Choose your fighter.”

Danny texted Peter at 2am:

Danny: I love you. You. Just you. All of you. The nerd. The spider. The panic. The allergies.

Peter:

Danny:

Peter: … even the spider thighs?

Danny: Especially the spider thighs.

Peter: okay. okay I forgive you.

Danny: for what?

Peter: I don’t know but everyone keeps saying you cheated on me with me and I’m upset about it.

Eventually, they cracked. At a press event where both Phantom and Spider-Man were invited���by Tony, obviously—Peter accidentally yanked his mask off in a moment of frustration while yelling, “I AM ALSO PETER PARKER AND I AM DATING DANNY FENTON-PHANTOM. THERE IS NO LOVE TRIANGLE. WE ARE JUST TWO DUMB BOYFRIENDS WITH IDENTITY ISSUES.”

Danny, in the background, raised his hand. “Can we still sell the merch though?”

The world imploded. Again.

People were angry. People were delighted. Tumblr rejoiced. Twitter died. A new hashtag was born.

#PhantomArachnid

BuzzFeed did a follow-up quiz:

“Which Version of Peter Parker Are You?”

Tony sold limited edition plushies. They sold out in three minutes.

But in the middle of it all, in between the media frenzy and the fandom wars and the paparazzi hiding in the trees, Peter and Danny sat on a rooftop eating pizza.

Just them. No secrets. No masks.

Peter leaned into Danny’s shoulder and sighed. “We really should’ve told people earlier.”

Danny shrugged, mouth full. “I don’t know. I kind of liked being in a love triangle with you and you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Danny kissed his cheek. “Yeah. But I’m your impossible.”

And somewhere, miles away, Tony high-fived himself.

[boosandbirds]

rating: teen

ships: dead serious

.

Danny is tired.

He's been fighting this for four years at this point, dodging his parents and government agents as much as he dodges ghosts. His grades are mediocre at best, he doesn't know what he wants to do after school, and fuck, Danny doesn't even know if he can get out of this town. Not without setting off a dozen sensors and having to go on the run.

The thread he opens is a random one, supposedly visited by villains and the like. Danny- Danny doesn't know if he's a villain, doesn't know what to call himself, but he knows what people say about him. And they aren't entirely wrong.

--

In which, Danny makes the fatal mistake of opening up a forum for villains at four in the morning, accidentally goes viral, and gets the attention of one Damian Wayne.

[tatzelbookwurm]

DPXDC Scum Villain Self-Saving System crossover prompt:

Dash Baxter's Self Saving System

Danny Phantom exists in the DC universe. . . as a TV show. Robin grew up watching Danny and identifies strongly with the young hero. It’s fun escapism! One night after patrol while ranting online about how stupid Phantom Planet is as a finale, how many dropped plot threads there are, how so much of the rich worldbuilding is just throwaway lines that are never explored again, Robin triggers the Transmigration System and gets isekai-ed into Amity Park. 

Now Robin is trapped in the role of Schoolyard Bully Dash Baxter and must fix the plot and avoid OOC behavior in order to return home.

Which Robin is it? I can see this going several ways: 1) Tim Drake: Already canonically a huge nerd and would absolutely hate being stuck in the role of mean dumb jock. Would manage to become best friends with the everlasting trio as soon as he got the OOC function turned off. Tucker would love geeking out with Tim over tech, and Sam would pick up on his gothic Bat vibes. He transmigrates because a combination of sleep deprivation, untreated injuries from vigilantism, compromised immune system from lack of spleen, and an unhealthy dose of caffeine cause him to keel over and die like Shen Yuan. With Dash’s natural athleticism and Tim’s ingenuity he could either cobble together or get his hands on some anti-ecto weaponry and become Hunter to Val’s Huntress. Would definitely trigger a whole new plotline around clones. Meanwhile back in Gotham Batman is going off the rails after a second Robin dies on his watch. 2) Jason: Gets isekai-ed during the explosion in Ethiopia. His revival is predicated on him completing the plot in Amity Park. UTRH is subverted by his quest to get back to Danny/bring Danny to Gotham. He's learned better coping strategies from Jazz. Sneaks into Fentonworks and steals a bunch of weapons immediately. Shoots Spectra in the face with the Fenton Bazooka the second she shows up. He'd love having Mr. Lancer for English. 3) Dick: Recently took up the mantle of Nightwing and broke away from Bruce. Does not enjoy being a teen again in high school (with normie parents! ugh!!). Actually doesn’t have a difficult time adjusting to Dash’s social life since he’s a natural leader and very charismatic, and unlike Dash isn't cruel and violent. Absolutely has a difficult time adjusting to Dash’s physique because it is *not bendy enough* and he keeps on pulling muscles. Returns to Gotham to discover Jason’s death and calls in a favor from Danny to find his brother’s wandering spirit. 4) Stephanie: Trans Dash Baxter with Stephanie’s personality actually sounds amazing. I think she’d still pursue Jazz like Dash did, but with a much higher rate of success. Not sure if it would be fair to drop someone as hot as a trans version of Stephanie in Amity though, she would become the main character and everyone would forget the ghost boy. 5) Damian: not sure where I’d go with this, but it could be fun. He’d probably stab Vlad, which I would enjoy. Might also stab Star and Paulina, which would get him nerfed by the System. Would probably first seek out Vlad to obtain weaponry comparable to Huntress' and manipulate him into believing they shared a common goal, then betray him at a key moment. He has lots of experience dealing with megalomaniacal rich men from his time with Ra's and the League. Would get on great with Dani. 5) Jarro: Please please please someone write this I have no idea how, but it would be hilarious and Jarro would be seriously weirded out by having a human body. Whether this is a ship or platonic relationship depends on the pairing I think.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #26

(I'm feeling angsty today.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Going Supernova

The GIW have discovered his identity, and they don't waste time on using this knowledge to their advantage. They spent the last six months creating a weapon that not only hurts ghosts but absolutely obliterates them down to their very cores. After testing it for so long on minor ghosts and then discovering the local ghostly menace's secret, they have the bright idea to make an example out of Danny.

They ambush him as he's fighting the invading ghost of the day. Their first shot misses and hits the ghost they're fighting. As soon as the shot lands, the ghost freezes in place with a look of dread and horror.

They look up at Danny with tears in their eyes and has only a few precious seconds to say, "Run," before their skin cracks and they shatter, the miniscule shards evaporating into nothingness.

Danny is petrified and grief-stricken over what he just witnessed that he doesn't have the time to even twitch before the GIW lock their sights back onto him and shoot him in the back.

Agony consumes him. His chest burns, and his ribs rattle with the effort it takes for him to breathe through the pain. The civilians who were still on the scene gasped in horror as they watched their local hero's chest start to crack and glow from within.

What the GIW didn't know was that Danny had just recently elevated to Ancient status due to helping Clockwork with the timestream. That and with his status as a halfa, what they did will end in nothing but disaster. (1)

Danny spots his parents, sister, and friends in the crowd. His parents watched in awe and excitement while his Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked at him with horror-stricken disbelief. Knowing what's to come and not having enough time to explain, he gives them a wobbly smile.

"I'm so sorry."

He whips around and rockets straight up into the sky. He breaks through the atmosphere in a matter of seconds and continues to fly at breakneck speed away from the little green-blue planet he calls home. He has to get away. He can't destabilize so close to them. He has to go even further.

His form is steadily breaking off into pieces as his human and ghost half fight and fail to keep him together. He can feel his human half dying and his ghost half barely holding on by a thread. He can't stop, though. If he stops here, the Earth will be destroyed from the backlash.

He had no worry for himself. After all, stars die all the time. That doesn't mean that's the end for them. They just take on a new form or even help breathe new planets and galaxies into life.

'A star's death is not the end!' He comforts himself.

He only makes it a few light-years further before his energy fades out to nothing, and he slows to a halt. It's only then that Danny starts to panic alone in the vacuum of space. The furthest he's even been from home and the comfort of his friends and family.

"No. No, no, no, no." He repeats over and over. "Not far enough. Not far enough! I'm still too close!!" (2)

His stuttering heart rabbits inside his chest along with his crumbling core. He hugs himself tight with the false hope that maybe that would stop himself from falling apart. He cries for his family, his friends, his planet. His life and lives he's about to take through no fault of his own.

Because for a star to give life, they must first destroy. (3)

"I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry! Please!"

He sobs into his hands as the light of his core pulses one final time.

"Please." He whispers brokenly.

His core shatters, and he screams for the entire cosmos to hear. His form expands with immeasurable force and shakes the very foundations of creation. His desperate attempt to spare the Earth from his self-destruction was in vain as the waves of his shattered core ravaged the solar system and destroyed everything within its path.

The countless people and other creatures on Earth didn't even have time to blink before they were completely eradicated. Quick and painless but nonetheless gone.

It took centuries for everything to settle again.

It wasn't until countless millennium passed that the solar system began to take shape again. However, everything was reshaped and put back together as though with a child's memory of what it used to be from so long ago. Some things were bound to be different, like how Mars gained its own population of intelligent humanoid creatures. How Earth's own population started to develop extraordinary abilities and magic was able to be used more freely outside of supernatural species.

Soon, there were heroes popping up all over the universe of all shapes, sizes, and species. Some people were even reborn. They started remembering a life that, as far as they knew, never actually existed. How could it? None of the people they were before showed up in any records. There were records, of course. They just, unfortunately, no longer existed.

No one knew why, either. At least not until a magic user stumbled upon a tome belonging to what they knew as the Underworld. It told the story of a young boy who died too young and was destroyed from what he became afterward. How his destruction also destroyed the world despite the boy's efforts to save it.

This story was shared with the masses of people experiencing these memories of other lives, including the heroes who took up the mantle of keeping the Earth and other corners of the galaxy safe. They mourned the loss of a life so young, so bright and full of potential. They hoped that wherever the child ended up, that they were at peace.

Little did they know, the child was part of the universe itself, his very being woven into the fabric that makes up the night sky and everything that lays beyond. They can't see or hear him, but that precious child--the Ancient of Space--laid curled around the Milky Way itself with Earth cradled gently in his trembling hands.

✦

(1) Because of his status as the new Ancient of Space and the fact that he is half human/alive is the reason his destabilization took longer than the ghost he was previously fighting. An Ancient has immense power of the aspect of reality they control, and his human half was desperately trying to keep him alive. He can't live without his ghost half, though. It was also the power of his Ancient status that made his destabilization so explosive and damaging. However, him being a halfa is also what saved his existence in the end and allows him to still continue to be the Ancient of Space, as Space itself is always in a state of dying and rebirth. It just took several thousands of years to pull himself back into a semblance of what he previously was, but obviously irrevocably changed.

(2) According to scientists a supernova would have to be within 30-50 light-years to trigger a mass extinction on Earth. To be actually completely safe from one, however, it'd have to be 160 or more light-years away. Danny didn't even make it to 20 light-years before his core self-destructed, which is why he was panicking.

(3) As I'm sure most of you know, supernovae are essential to creating life, but that life is preceded by the death of said star.

(*) I haven't really thought of who would be reborn into which character. I originally thought of Jack Fenton being reborn as Bruce Wayne, but Bruce only disguises himself as a himbo while Jack actually is one. The only reason I thought it would work out it because 1) Jack's paranoia about ghosts and translating into Bruce's own paranoia 2) him regaining his past memories would explain his propensity to collect black-haired, blue eyed children because of his loss of Danny and 3) him and his relationship with Jason after he came back as Red Hood.

Other than that, I can't think of who any of the other characters might be. You can decide!

[puppetmaster13u]

Thinkin of @radiance1's Prompt & the Threads that @hdgnj joined in on. And got inspired by them alongside *insert a drumroll please*

Merfolk.

It is Mermay after all lol. But anyway!

Danny? Can't remember why he reincarnated, or quite how old he was when he died a second... third... fourth... however many times. He thinks he was an adult- or adult adjacent? But now he's not.

In fact? He's tiny, with pudgy little hands that press against glass and it's weird how he's somehow breathing in the liquid which is freezing. Which is what honestly drives him to hit it- and it shatters.

Which brings him to realize? He has no legs. None. Nadda. He's like, like some sort of seal-person, if they had stripes and spines and a too-long tail. And some medical equipment still attached that he practically rips away with a jolt of terror, even if he isn't sure why.

He's in a hall or room, with lots of other tubes, some empty but most... not. Most have things in them, things that look sort of like him but also not... He tears his gaze away from them, already knowing they're dead even before reading the terminated in front of them.

Oh. He has... information? Information in his head, downloaded into it almost like burning a CD. He's a clone. No, not a clone, it's something more like... a test tube baby? Three donors, though he isn't aware of what their names mean.

If it is names and not like, codenames or code words.

His movement is so very slow, it's obvious that while he's able to go on land he's very much not designed to do so. But eventually he makes it somewhere, not an exit but something he's so very happy to have not missed.

There's another alive person, labeled 1 instead of 9 and bigger than him but missing the spines he has. A sibling. A brother. And he's going to get the both of them out of here- there's water tunnels, he knows that, it's part of the information in his head.

.... Okay it's not fair that he has a scruff he can be grabbed by. Like that's so not fair. Look, they have to go that way if you want out, c'mon.

Extra Info? -Technically the merfolk of the world are more akin to selkies, able to take on a human form via shedding their skin -Danny & Match aren't aware of this, hence why they don't just start walking -Around 2/3 of the entire world is merpeople or other similar fantasy creatures -Yes, this is after the not-sidekicks break Superboy (#13) out & before the episode where he learns about Match

[gildedphoenix]

During the great depression, somebody made a wish. Fueled by desperation, powered by the pure dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time to be heard by an ancient Djinn (it was totally Desire) with a sense of humor. 

After the wish, everyone had a red string hanging off their left pinky. It dangled down a few inches and then just faded into non-existence. Nobody knew what it was for a few years but then stories started coming out. People finding their perfect match after feeling a tug at their string and following it. The string would twist and twine and lengthen as you got closer to your fated mate, your strings eventually connecting together. 

Most people’s strings just hung limp. Maybe listing in one direction or another. But 8 Billion people in the world and only one is your soul mate? Most people didn’t meet theirs. It was true that your soulmate was always within 10 years of age as you. But 10 years older to 10 years younger still gave you a 20 year range to work with. Everyone’s string appeared by the time they were 10. Some babies were born with their string already spun, a small red thread fading off into a wisp after a scant inch. 

Nowadays, it was common to go on a “string chase” vacation after graduating high school. Some people were close enough to their soulmates that they could just follow the leadings of their string, which would become longer and more opaque the closer you got to your mate. If your string gave you no leads, there were all kinds of "methods" to help pick which direction you should go.

Tucker and Sam were determined to go on string chase journeys post graduation. Tucker because he loved the excitement of an adventure, Sam to find someone who would truly understand her.

Danny was not so hopeful. At one point they'd all agreed to go together, but Sam felt like she was being led to the west coast while Tucker was just going to start in Metropolis, the nearest big city and go from there, hopping the next train out of town after a few days if he still had a slack string.

After a lengthy discussion of pros and cons, they decided that Tucker was more likely to get himself into trouble than Sam, so Danny found himself packing light and on a Greyhound to Metropolis. It was a shitty trip. Objectively the worst way to travel. Walking, or even hitch hiking would have been more pleasant. The bus was late. They had no way of making their connection in Chicago, and the vent fan in the bathroom was broken, making the bus reek of sewage.

Danny has shit luck and just doesn't believe he'll ever find his soulmate. The universe just doesn't like him that much.

Jason has, somehow, always had a leading direction on his string. When he was younger, there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had baggage and didn't want to pursue romance or relationship. (Even though he's a total sap for soulmate meet stories)

While in Gotham, both their strings keep tugging and lengthening and then falling slack again.

----

I know this isn't much but I promised myself I would post whatever I had and it's almost 1 am. So there. There's that fucking thing. I'll try to flesh it out more tomorrow, Enjoy red ♥️🧵♥️

[polo-drone-070]

Golden Army vs. Pachy Pack 

(This is a collab, done with most of Management :@brodygold, @polo-drone-084, @goldenherc9, @polo-drone-001, @polo-drone-110, @danielgold-16. Special thanks to @polo-drone-050 for sharing his expertise on Hockey to proofread and improve the story, and to @polo-drone-151 for helping with a difficult picture. Results and MVP were based on activity in match preparation. Thanks to all the bros that participated.)

First Period

The arena was alive with energy as fans packed the stands, waving banners and chanting for their teams. On one side, the Pachy Pack’s supporters, clad in grey and white, stomped in unison, mimicking the rumble of an elephant herd. On the other side, a sea of shimmering gold erupted in deafening cheers as the Golden Army players took the ice. Their energy was matched by Maximus (@polo-drone-070) as a The Gold Knight and Leander (@leander-gold-88) as Dorado, who dashed along the sidelines in their mascot uniforms, rallying the crowd with every dramatic gesture.

Xavier (@polo-drone-039) stood at the edge of the Golden bench, leaning on his crutches. His presence, despite his injury, was a beacon of inspiration for his teammates. "Oi, lads! Let’s show these tuskers what we’re made of! Gold doesn’t break!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

The players lined up for the opening faceoff, Herc (#9, @goldenherc9) , the Golden Captain, standing tall at center ice, locking eyes with his counterpart Devlin Quinn (#8), Captain of the Pachy Pack. The puck dropped, and the game began.

The Pachy Pack’s Stampede

The Pachy Pack came out strong, immediately showcasing their physical dominance. Sloan Ivanov (#99), known as “The Crusher,” made his presence felt early with a devastating check on Brock (#46, @brockgold), sending him into the boards. Standing back up, pissed at the clearly missed penalty from the refs, Brock shook it off, but the message was clear: the Pack wasn’t here to play nice.

Viktor Makarov (#21) barreled down the ice, his massive frame plowing through Chevy (#63, @chevy-gold) and Briar (#50, @polo-drone-050) as if they weren’t even there. He launched a blistering slapshot, but Daniel (#16, @danielgold-16), the Gold Team’s goalie, made a brilliant glove save, locking down the puck and ending the pack’s play, drawing cheers from the crowd.

“Nice one, Danny!” Xavier hollered, pumping his fist from the sidelines.

The Gold Team struggled to find their footing against the Packy Pack’s relentless pressure. Magnus “The Tusk” Johansson (#12), the Pack’s goalie, was a wall, blocking early attempts from Max (#32) and Grayden (#84, @polo-drone-084). Despite Herc’s best efforts to rally the team, the Pachy Pack’s “Tusk Wall” defense seemed impenetrable.

The First Goal

Midway through the period, the Pachy Pack struck first. Devlin Quinn orchestrated a smooth play, threading a pass through Gold’s defense to Viktor, who was parked in front of the net. Viktor muscled past Brock and Chevy, tapping the puck past Daniel on the rebound.

The arena erupted in cheers from the Packy fans as the scoreboard lit up: 1–0 Pachy Pack.

Herc skated to the bench, his jaw tight but his eyes blazing with determination. “Keep your heads up, lads. We’re not letting them get another one,” he said, his voice steady.

The Turning Point

With under two minutes left in the period, Grayden found himself in a one-on-one battle with Sloan along the boards. Sloan, ever the enforcer, attempted to shove Grayden off the puck with his brute strength, but Grayden used his speed and agility to slip away. The crowd roared as Grayden fired a crisp pass to Herc in the neutral zone, sparking a counterattack.

Herc weaved through two Packy defenders with effortless precision, closing in on Magnus. He faked a slapshot, drawing Magnus out of position, and snapped the puck into the top corner of the net.

“YES, LAD!” Xavier shouted from the bench, his crutches clattering as he cheered.

The arena exploded with noise as Herc raised his stick, his teammates swarming him to celebrate. The scoreboard now read 1–1, and the Gold Team had found their spark.

End of the First Period

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the period. The Gold Team skated to the bench, their confidence renewed. Maximus waved his sword dramatically, whipping the Golden fans into a frenzy. Dorado, ever the showman, performed a mock joust with the Packy mascot, drawing laughter and cheers from the stands.

In the locker room, Herc addressed the team, his voice calm but commanding. “We’re in this, lads. Keep pushing. They might be big, but we’re smarter, faster, and hungrier. Let’s play our game.”

Grayden, still catching his breath, Thought of Sloan’s frustrated figure back on the ice and smirked to himself. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. 

With the score tied at 1–1, the stage was set for an explosive second period.

Second Period: A Golden Turnaround

The Pachy Pack charged into the second period with the same physical dominance that defined the first. Sloan Ivanov (#99), the Pack’s resident “goon,” wasted no time throwing heavy checks and stirring chaos on the ice, making it clear he hadn’t forgotten his rivalry with Grayden (#84). Viktor Makarov (#21) continued to crash the net, relentlessly testing Daniel (#16) with shots from every angle.

Despite the Pachy Pack’s aggression, Herc (#9) kept his team focused, his booming voice cutting through the chaos. “Stay sharp, lads! Play smart, stick to the plan!” Herc barked, his commanding presence grounding the team and keeping their discipline intact even as Sloan tried to instigate further.

Packy Strikes First

Four minutes into the period, Devlin Quinn (#8) took advantage of a sloppy turnover by Darryl (#62, @darryl-gold). With a burst of speed, he deked around Briar (#50) and slid a backhand past Daniel, putting the Packy Pack up 2–1.

The Packy fans erupted as Devlin skated past the Gold bench with a smug grin. Sloan added to the chirping, sending a hard check into Grayden, who stumbled but refused to fall.

Brock Steps Up

The Golden Army refused to back down. Herc’s leadership shone as he pushed his players to dig deeper. "Come on, Brock! Show them what you’ve got!" he shouted, clapping his stick against the ice.

Brock (#46), filling in for the injured Xavier, rose to the challenge. Moments later, Alex (#64, @polo-drone-151) set him up with a clean pass at the blue line. Brock wound up and unleashed a blistering slapshot, the puck deflecting off a Packy defender and into the net. The crowd roared as Brock tied the game 2–2, throwing his fist into the air with a triumphant yell.

Grayden vs. Sloan

The turning point came with just over five minutes left in the period. Sloan, growing frustrated, delivered a reckless hit on Grayden, sending him sprawling to the ice. The referee’s whistle blew, and Sloan was sent to the penalty box for boarding. Herc skated over to Grayden, helping him to his feet. “You good, lad?” he asked. Grayden nodded, fire in his eyes. “Yeah, Cap. Let’s make ‘em pay for that.”

On the ensuing power play, Grayden showed why he was quickly becoming a key player. In a dazzling display of skill, he weaved through the Packy defense and fired a perfect pass to Herc, who slammed the puck past Magnus “The Tusk” Johansson (#12). Herc’s second goal of the night put Gold up 3–2, and the Golden fans went wild.

End of the Second Period

As the horn sounded, the Gold Team skated to the bench with renewed energy. Herc’s steady leadership and the team’s resilience had turned the tide. In the locker room, Herc kept the momentum alive.

“They’re cracking, lads. Keep up the pressure, and this is ours. Stay focused, play for each other, and let’s finish this strong!”

Grayden, still seething from his clash with Sloan, smirked. “We’re not letting them off easy.”

The Gold Team was ready to finish what they’d started.

Third Period: Unstoppable Gold

With the Pachy Pack growing desperate, the Gold Team capitalized on their frustration. Herc’s leadership was in full effect, directing plays and keeping his teammates calm under pressure.

“Stay tight, lads. Don’t let them back in,” Herc said, his voice clear and commanding.

Ezan Shines

Early in the period, Ezan (#1, @polo-drone-001) made his mark. Picking up a loose puck in the neutral zone, he powered past two defenders and ripped a wrist shot over Magnus’s glove, extending the Gold lead to 4–2. Ezan skated to the bench with a confident grin, bumping fists with Herc.

Briar’s Moment

With just over six minutes left, the Pachy Pack launched a ferocious push, determined to claw their way back into the game. Viktor Makarov (#21) thundered down the ice, barreling toward Daniel (#16) with Devlin Quinn (#8) flanking him. It looked like a guaranteed goal.

But Briar (#50) read the play perfectly. As Viktor tried to drive to the crease, Briar stepped into his path and delivered a bone-crunching check, sending Viktor sprawling to the ice. The crowd erupted as Briar scooped up the loose puck and cleared it out of the zone.

“Atta boy, Briar!” Herc shouted, skating by and giving him a hard stick tap. The play killed the Packy Pack’s momentum and drew chants of “Briar! Briar!” from the Gold fans.

Grayden Seals the Deal

With less than five minutes remaining, Grayden delivered the dagger. Breaking free from Sloan’s shadow, he dekes past two Packy defenders, pulls Magnus out of position, and roofs the puck into the net. The crowd erupted as Grayden celebrated, pointing to Herc and Xavier on the bench in acknowledgment of their leadership and support.

Sloan, furious and embarrassed, took another penalty for slashing Grayden after the goal, effectively ending his night.

Daniel’s Final Save

The Pachy Pack mounted one last push, but Daniel was a wall in goal. In the final minute, Viktor blasted a slapshot from the blue line, but Daniel dove across the crease to make a spectacular glove save, preserving the 5–2 scoreline.

Post-Match Celebration: A Golden Playoff Victory

As the final buzzer sounded, the arena erupted in cheers, the Golden Army celebrating not just a hard-fought 5–2 victory, but a ticket to the playoffs. The Gold Team flooded the ice, their golden jerseys shimmering under the lights. This wasn’t just any win—it was the win that would send them to the Cup.

Herc (#9), the heart of the team, stood tall at the center of the celebration. His leadership had held the team together on and off the ice, pushing them to excel when it mattered most. “We’re goin’ to the Cup, lads!” Herc shouted, raising his stick to the roaring crowd.

Brock (#46) was swarmed by his teammates, his breakout performance earning him chants from the fans. Grayden (#84), one of the night’s stars, skated over to him and said, “You earned this, bruv. Proper legend tonight.” Grayden himself had overcome the relentless aggression of Sloan to deliver game-changing plays, his rivalry now firmly settled.

Xavier, still on crutches, joined the celebration, his voice hoarse from cheering all game. “Oi, lads! You smashed it out there!” he called, grinning as Herc pulled him into a one-armed hug.

Behind the scenes, Briar (#50), ever the strategist, had been pivotal in organizing the defensive plays that turned the tide. He had kept the team focused under the Packy Pack’s pressure, ensuring every moment on the ice counted. Herc caught his eye during the celebration, giving him an approving nod. “Solid work tonight, Briar. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

On the sidelines, Maximus as The Golden Knight and Leander as Dorado kept the energy alive, leading the fans in chants as they waved the Golden Army flag. “Oi, Gold’s goin’ to the playoffs!” Maximus bellowed, earning deafening cheers. Leander capped it off with a final playful face-off against the Packy mascot, sending the crowd into hysterics.

The Pachy Pack skated off defeated, their physical dominance undone by the Gold Team’s skill, strategy, and unshakable unity.

Back in the locker room, the celebration continued with cheers and popping champagne. Herc raised a bottle high. “To the Gold, and to the Cup! This is our year, lads!” The room erupted, every bro and drone united in one purpose: to bring the Cup home.

__________ To join the Gold Army, contact one of our recruiters @brodygold, @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001.

[phantomrose96]

Hello! I dont go to the DP fandom but sham sacrifice rocked my world!! Jumping off a previous ask from a different anon... so they eventually put two and two together and realized Danny's ghost form is pretty much a palette swaped Danny? Did that also just rock their world? Or maybe, collapse what was left of it??

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2)

Thanks!!!

Yeah the way I see it, if Danny's identity is still secret it is hanging on by the most precarious thread of denial.

My personal headcanon for "Danny looks almost the same in ghost form and human form how do people not notice!?" is because no one has any reason to look at a ghost and go "what if this ghost secretly has a human form and is in school with us right now?" like the fuck? What ghost works like that?? We all know some person who totally kinda looks like some celebrity but no one goes "what if that person is genuinely really that celebrity???" because there's no reason at all to honestly believe some shmuck you know is actually doing an elaborate identity-hiding ruse and is moonlighting as a famous celebrity. (Hannah Montana fans don't interact. ...Or do, since I think Miley's secret works by the same logic.)

So Danny's secret was protected because there's literally been no reason at all for anyone to look at this 14-year-old kid and go 'hey what if he's actually dead somehow and died in a horrible and specific way that kept his ghost attached to his body and so now he can assume either form and is moonlighting as Amity's ghostboy due to the very specific fucked up freak of nature he's become?"

At least there wasn't a reason. Before now...

[melanieph321]

Mason Mount x Black Reader - The Mountain To My Heart Part 1/3

Part 2 Part 3

Okay, okay. I guess I can see the appeal now hahhaa. It was definetly last weeks game that did it for me. 🤭❤️

You match with Mason Mount on TInder, however he is definitely not your type. Or so you think.

Enjoy! ❣️

Mason Mount.

Ma-son Mount.

Never in your life had you dated a guy named Mason, and to top that off his last name was geographically known.

"At least he's cute." Said Danny, who took the liberty to scroll through the Tinder thread between you and this Mason Mountain guy. She lay on your bed, looking impressed with what she discovered. "Why did you tell him that you like dogs? You hate dogs."

You gasped "I do not." 

"Y/N, don't lie."

"I'm not." You put down the make up brush and spun around in your chair. "I'm terrified of dogs, that doesn't mean that I hate them."

Danny chuckled. "Well this Mason guy thinks you love them. What if he plans for your first date to be a walk in the park or something. What then?"

"I'll tell him to leave his dog at home."

"What about your dog?"

"Huh?"

Danny turned the screen, zooming in on the evidence. "Yesterday, at 11.07, you told Mason that you had a dog named Jimmy?"

You shrugged. "It's a little white lie, so what? Everybody on these dating apps lie. People will say anything to get laid these days." You returned to face your desk mirror, resuming to do your makeup.

Danny spoke up behind you. "So you're planning on fucking him?"

She caught your smirk in the mirror. "I mean apart from his ridiculous name, he's kind of cute and we sort of hit it off. I don't see why sleeping with him would be off the table?"

"Uhm, maybe because you haven't slept with a guy for over three months. Do you even remember how to?"

"Yes." You hissed. "It's not rocket science. My three months of celibacy was just an era. A temporary face while I healed my body from all the terrible memories of being with Jay."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." You said, raising your chin to dab some power onto your throat. "I've moved on from him and anyone like him. That's why this Mason guy is perfect. He's not like anyone I've dated before."

"You mean white?"

Your eyes rolled back in their sockets. "No, Danny."

She put down your phone and sat up in bed. "I dunno Y/N. I've never seen you as much as bat an eye at a pretty white boy before. Not even the ones that work with you at that fancy art gallery downtown. But all of a sudden you reactivate your Tinder profile just to swipe right on a bunch of Nathan's and Steve's."

"Okay, fine." Once again you put down the brush and spun around in your chair, putting your hands up in defence. "I'll admit that I'm taking a bit of a different route this time around. God knows why? Maybe I'm just trying to protect my heart from breaking again."

Danny's arms folded, she was not convinced. "And you don't think that this Mason guy could do it?"

"Do what, break my heart?" You scuffed. "I'd like to see him try. If he does I'll make sure to break his first."'

Part 2

Part 3

[britcision]

FRIENDS IT IS HERE. As promised even! We are technically just under 20k for this chapter, but still not small enough that cutting it in half has stopped it from brutally murdering the app, so…. We’ll see how this posts! 😅

I did myself a whole honkin’ reread on the whole thing too, refreshed my lil reminders of what I named things and all the lil threads I was playing with… and hot damn it’s a beast huh?

The good news is, although we are getting into plot, we are getting out of the heavy stuff, at least for the next little bit! Back to our silly happy fun times with the boys 🥰

And, y’know, dealing with Jason’s death and first transformation and all. Totally all fine! Nothing to worry about! 😇

Today’s chapter is a lil Bruce-heavy in this front half because the main thing stopping me was that I got most of the way through before I realized I needed to rewrite Jason’s entire first scene, but I’m a lot happier with it now 😁

First Chapter and AO3:

Previous Chapter:

——————————

The Finished Core part 1

When it finally happened, Jason’s core coming in was pretty anticlimactic. For all they’d worried it might trigger a transformation, rile up the pit, or even have a physical shockwave… the event itself was almost disappointing. Buried busily in some paperwork for the library, Jason himself hadn’t actually noticed.

He’d already started feeling what he thought might be his core over the past few days; like a vibrating ball of energy, usually in the middle of his chest (although it wandered in all directions). Which would make the knot of tension that sometimes sat in his gut and sometimes went as far up as his throat… probably Pitty.

Not fun having a distinct sensation that went along with everything else the Pit was. Did nothing at all to ease his worries about what the hell would happen when they were both actually completed.

But when the day finally came… yeah, nothing. The soft, warm glow in his chest when he thought about the project had grown steadily stronger over the week and a bit he’d known Danny at that point, so he hadn’t really paid enough attention to notice a change.

They’d still been seeing each other every day, although now that the new school semester had started up it had slowed down to a couple hours in the evening. Jason had dived headlong into his restoration project both on Frostbite’s advice, and to keep himself from counting the hours. Which, apparently, worked?

The biggest disruption was actually Danny blasting in through the wall not a minute later, invisible until he dived through one of Jason’s freshly legal goons and almost knocked the table over. Luckily there were no actual Red Hood links lying around - Catherine’s name was staying clean, which was for the best since Jason still hadn’t thought of a way to bring it up.

Even now, back from another appointment with Frostbite to confirm all was well, Jason didn’t actually feel any different? It was official though; both cores were complete, and now all they had to do was wait until the pit matured enough to actually leave Jason’s body and do its own thing.

Now that he didn’t have any choice but to confront it, he couldn’t have said what he’d expected anyway, but… well, surely there should have been something? More energy? More corruption? Hell, even increased ghost senses or some indication that the powers would be coming in.

According to Danny, intangibility usually came with the pit dropping out of your stomach and feeling floaty. Accidental floating came with a head rush or feeling like falling. Invisibility just fucking happened.

All he felt was weirdly normal? The fancy ecto ice was working, and his little ghost succulent - that or all the time with Danny; even Pitty’s flares of emotion were manageable. The green haze hadn’t come back since meeting Lady Gotham.

And okay, maybe he was pushing that by going right back to the manor the next day, but listen. Frostbite had reminded him to do calming tasks, since Pitty should start being more aware of their surroundings now.

Baking with Alfred was as calming and soothing as Jason could imagine, without stapling himself to Danny in classes. And sure, he’d helped with Danny’s homework the past couple nights, but the guy would get sick of him eventually. Faster if they stayed attached at the hip.

(And that had been another “fun” tidbit Frostbite had dropped on them; if they were actually making their own ghost baby, they’d have been able to trade the core off between them. Jason hadn’t thought anything could make that idea sound appealing, but if he coulda just stuffed Pitty into someone else… well, he probably wouldn’t actually wish its corruption and constant tantrums on anyone else, but having a break woulda been nice.)

Now that his core was done, technically the daily hanging out probably wasn’t as necessary. So long as Jason had some backup plans to keep himself calm and in control. Which should mean that they could go from hanging out as a necessary chore to just… friends.

And since no one in the city wound Jason up like Bruce, if he happened to also be at the manor he’d have a trial-by-fire for his shiny new core. He’d kept his word and tapped out of patrol since meeting Lady Gotham (and apparently Harley had taken the manor in fire and glory the night after and locked Bruce… somewhere for two full days), so he’d not heard from B since.

According to Tim, Constantine hadn’t returned to Gotham at all.

The thought of their names only stirred angry bubbles from Pitty, and Jason absolutely wasn’t self destructive or a masochist, so he was just testing to see how far that’d last. How careful he’d need to be, and how aware the little guy was.

So obviously he wasn’t even all the way into the manor before he ran into the man himself.

Stopping short, Jason’s fist clenched more from force of habit than any actual desire. Sucking in a deep breath, he thought of his ghost succulent (which had started glowing faintly blue a couple nights ago, which was hopefully a good thing?) and carefully unclenched. Nodded a little stiffly.

This would be the first time they’d been alone together since… shit, he didn’t even know. He hadn’t seen the guy without the buffer of at least one other bat in months.

“Bruce,” he said warily, half hoping the man could just… be normal. For once. Nod, say hi, fuck off about his own business. He couldn’t still be on his anti-Danny crusade, could he?

The man actually flinched, face twitching through a couple of expressions Jason couldn’t even guess at. A sudden urge between his shoulder blades did nothing to help, distracting him long enough for everything to be smoothed under the usual masks.

If Bruce just had a damn aura… okay, that’d be one change with the completed core. All of his attempts to reach out with his own aura before had basically involved his whole body actually leaning in the same direction.

That… urge, itch between his shoulders, if that had been his aura trying to reach out, felt more like an entirely new muscle group. Curiosity won and Jason focused, trying to follow the urge and reach out… and wasn’t sure it had worked at all.

Because all he could feel was sorrow and regret, and that didn’t sound like B. At all. His compartmentalizing was out the ass, sure, but what the hell would he actually feel sorry for?

“Jason?” And from the sound of it, not the first time he’d said his name. Great.

Shelving the apparently-faulty aura for now, Jason frowned back.

“I’m here to see Alfred.” It wasn’t exactly a warning. Wasn’t exactly a threat, although it carried the possibility. Meant that if B pissed him off enough to leave, he’d face some British disapproval.

Bruce’s shoulders sagged just a little, and then he drew himself up, his face firm and resolved. Jason tensed automatically; if he actually tried to bar him from seeing Danny face to face, would he still be able to walk away?

That was why he’d brought the glacierfrost. Slipping a hand into his back pocket, he crushed a crystal quickly before the man could open his mouth. Wintergreen mint burst across the back of his tongue, another brief flicker of distraction that, for some reason, came with another pang of sorrow.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason nearly stumbled, and he hadn’t even been moving. Bruce looked… tired, all of a sudden. More tired than he could remember ever seeing him.

“Wait… what?”

Bruce gave him a sad smile.

“It’s been brought to my attention… multiple times… that you should have heard that from me alone first. And then I kept adding more and more to be sorry for. And I know you don’t want to see me, so now seems like the best time to start.” It was jerky, and awkward, and probably the most uncomfortable Jason had ever seen Bruce in a conversation.

Which only served to confuse him further. Bruce overplanned everything; he never acted without at least two layers of backups. It was why he had a million plans for every possible micro-scenario. He didn’t do spontaneous.

“What are you even talking about?” He asked, half exasperated, and Bruce’s smile widened a fraction. That only made it more self deprecating.

“There are too many things to count, but… Jason, I’m sorry I sprung the apology on you at the gala. I thought having the world as my witnesses would show you I meant it, but I should have asked first. I should have apologized first, to you. Alone. I’m… aware what it says about me that I couldn’t.” He was almost wearing one of Brucie’s self-deprecating smiles now, but the edges were raw. Unpolished. Certainly not camera ready.

Real?

Jason’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his brain entirely short-circuited. Of all the things Bruce could have said to him… of all the things the man might apologize for, he’d honestly forgotten all about the damn gala speech.

Forcing himself to focus, he folded his arms and regarded his former father figure warily.

“Sure, that’s a place to start,” he agreed, more sarcastically than he’d meant to. But he couldn’t take it back.

There was another moment of stiffness, and then Bruce’s shoulders sagged as well as he breathed out, still looking… well, so much more human. More breakable, more fallible. Or was that just from hearing him admit he’d been wrong?

“I do mean it, Jason. I did mean it,” he said softly, piercing blue eyes unusually gentle as he looked him over, and suddenly Jason knew what was bothering him.

The mask. The iron mask of Batman, the bumbling shield of Brucie. B always had a mask, over every interaction. Every situation, every possible scene, B always had a character to play. And he played them well.

That was what looked wrong about him. He wasn’t… intentional. His posture was open and unthreatening, his face lax in a way it never was while he held every muscle in check.

This was just actual, sincere B.

Jason wasn’t completely sure why that made him want to run or cry, but it said a fuck of a lot about him too.

More that he just couldn’t bring himself to return it.

Sucking in a sharp breath, seriously considering grabbing for another crystal, he nodded sharply.

“Okay. Now what.” Because that was the thing; Jason had never wanted B to be sorry that he hadn’t come for Jason. That he finally hadn’t been on time to save him from himself.

He didn’t want the apology, he wanted things to change. To be better. For Bruce to accept that it had happened, and Jason was who he was now because he’d decided to be, not the pits or Tallia or the Joker.

He wanted so many things.

Bruce was searching his face, eyes sharp even as he consciously kept the rest of the expression open. Jason could see the tick of muscle in his cheek. Fuck, was it that hard for Bruce not to put on the act?

After a moment, he spread his hands. A gesture of peace? Not holding a weapon, not tensed for an attack?

“That’s all. For now. I just… wanted you to know. I’m sorry. And I’m…” the expression pulled a little, becoming pained, “I have been told I am overreacting to the news from Amity Park as well. I should trust your judgement. So I’m pulling myself from the case to focus on the Anti-Ecto Acts.”

This time Jason’s jaw just dropped. B… Bruce never. Never pulled himself from a case. Not for broken bones, ruptured organs, not even if he’d died.

It was almost worse than the rage; all of a sudden he was lost at sea, the one grounding, immovable rock in his life swept away. Part of him was even angry at that - at B suddenly deciding that now, this time he was going to be reasonable.

When all Jason expected from him was judgement, antagonism, stupid overbearing demands and being held at arm’s length, now all of a sudden the Bat was human.

It was too late to pretend the moment hadn’t happened, to completely hide his shock, but he also couldn’t stop the bluster from rising. Not the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously, even when every part of him that had been Robin desperately hoped this was real.

“And what the hell brought that on?” Not the accusation in his voice, although for once Bruce didn’t rise to it. He just chuckled dryly, like he’d been expecting Jason’s reaction.

“Because you were right.”

And now Jason was fully on edge again, scanning the man more closely for any signs of hypnotism, mind control, that this was a clone or a replacement. A trap or a trick. Because B… Bruce would never…

Bruce raised both hands quickly, possibly expecting Jason to just… jump him. Which, to be fair, would have been a more normal interaction.

“You were the one who brought the Amity Park situation to our attention. And you’re right, that I can’t expect your doctor or any other ghost to come here to help you until it is safe for them to do so,” he added quickly, and Jason rocked back onto his heels.

Of course, the caveat. That made sense, bitter in the back of his throat as it was. Just an inarguable set of facts.

Not like he’d ever actually admit that Jason’s judgement was reliable or anything. Folding his arms again (partly to stop his fists from clenching), he gave Bruce a sceptical look.

“Right, so what finally yanked your head out of your ass about it?” He asked sharply. Bruce gave him that same wry smile.

“Diana. And Harley. And Alfred. And Selena. I have been… extensively informed I had my head up my ass. So. I’m sorry for that too. I just wanted to tell you before I left, since I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

And it shouldn’t have been funny that he actually looked more pained talking about this, admitting a mistake, than he had when nursing broken ribs in the infirmary. Than he’d looked during any of their fights, than when Jason had all but grabbed his face and forced him to see that it really was him, that his dear little Robin came back wrong.

But dark humour was a refuge for all the bats, and if Jason didn’t laugh he had a horrible feeling he’d cry. All that tension, all those days he’d worried about what he’d say or do when they came face to face again… he’d never have imagined any of this.

Could imagine another bloody battle before imagining Bruce saying sorry.

All of a sudden he was just tired. Ha. Dead tired.

Nothing drained the life out of him like dealing with Bruce.

“Great. So where are you going?” It was almost a rhetorical question; he didn’t really expect an answer.

Should have, though. Obviously B had to stick his foot in it again.

“Amity Park. As Bruce Wayne, not Batman,” he added quickly when Jason’s head snapped up, glare sharpening, “it seems the logical place to begin work on the acts.”

And alright, Bruce didn’t sound defensive. He never did; just obstinate, which meant so many things that guessing when it meant what was a losing game.

Jason groaned loudly, raising both hands to scrub down across his face. Because of course all that weirdness hadn’t changed a damn thing. B was gonna B, creepy and intrusive and all.

“And look into Danny.” He said flatly, locking eyes with Bruce in time to see his expression twitch. Was he actually gonna lie?

Apparently not. Bruce sighed and nodded.

“My focus will be on establishing a connection between “Brucie” and the Anti-Ecto Acts, and investigating the GIW. Danny has been involved in both, and Zatanna has requested the elder Fentons provide me with protection,” he said like it was anything but a weak excuse.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, and then figured fuck it. Actually telling them before he left was technically still an improvement, and Danny and Jason were both well aware that there was gonna be some nosy bullshit.

He’d warned Danny this was gonna happen, and Danny had said it was fine. That he didn’t care about anything Batman might find… and knowing just how badly the Justice League had fucked up was going to eat the asshole alive. Which he could have avoided just by listening.

About to just walk away, Jason hesitated. There was actually one thing… technically not a necessary for a halfa, but fuck it. Might as well get B used to some ghostly etiquette early.

“Have you asked Danny?”

Bruce stilled, giving Jason a complicated look that mostly felt like judgement. Like Jason should know better than to ask.

“I was under the impression that removing the Anti-Ecto Acts is a priority?” He said stiffly, all awkward tension again.

Jason really did roll his eyes this time.

“Sure, but you’re going to his haunt. You text Superman before investigating in Metropolis.” Which technically hadn’t even been true when Jason was actually Robin, but B did text Clark before getting caught investigating in Metropolis. By anything but Kryptonian hearing.

The protocol basically only applied whenever another hero wanted to operate within Gotham because only Batman cared, but it was on the League’s books.

Bruce had picked up the wording though, because of course he had.

“His haunt?” He asked carefully, that tiny tick between his brows that meant he was processing starting up.

Jason rolled his eyes harder. For emphasis. Had JL Dark actually missed this part of the briefing? He was so not writing up Ghost Etiquette 101 for the league. No way.

But. It. Might be kinda cool. To have for himself. Especially since it was gonna be increasingly relevant.

“He’s a ghost hero, B. He died there, he protects the city. He’s like, the only one who’ll actually get your territorial crap, because in his case it’s part of his makeup.”

Actually, might be part of B’s too. Danny hadn’t said how liminal Bruce in particular was, but it really wouldn’t surprise Jason if claiming a haunt was part of it. Or if Lady Gotham had already picked out a spot for him.

That thought stung, so he dismissed it immediately and turned towards the kitchen. Hell with the brownies he’d been planning, he was gonna need something much more complicated to keep his mind off the latest wave of bullshit.

Alfred liked soufflés. Jason could activate the house defences to keep the little gremlins out until they were done.

“Just fucking text him, B. Entering a ghost’s haunt without permission is declaring intent to throw down, and that’s a fight none of us need.” No matter how much he might like to watch B go up against the ridiculous power-set Danny was packing.

Sure, the Bat went toe to toe with the gods, but that was with plans, tech, and often, backup. Apparently he still didn’t know shit about ghosts, so it’d be fun to watch him try and adapt on the fly… especially when even Danny wasn’t sure how many actual powers were on the table.

**

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, looking at Jason’s retreating back.

That had gone… frankly he did not trust his own read on Jason enough to tell. Neither of them had yelled. He’d said what he was prepared to; he was still working on the appropriate format for the rest.

Jason… hadn’t reacted. Not with anger, which was a blessed relief, but not with anything else either. Except disbelief. Exasperation. Shock.

Not really any aggression, though. That had to be a decided improvement. And while part of Bruce suspected he’d been told to inform Danny so the boy could hide anything unsavoury….

He’d known that was likely to happen when he told Jason his plans. Jason would tell Danny; his allegiances there were firmly (and worryingly quickly) established.

Telling Danny himself… there was a chance that Jason had been serious about it being a matter of protocol. A formal request, for contact with an inter-dimensional entity.

Despite that entity being present and active in Bruce’s own city without so much as a nod to the Bat. But then, Batman was not a ghost, despite what the goons liked to suppose.

Firmly marshalling his own suspicions, Bruce pulled out his phone to message the youngest Fenton.

Stopped.

Bruce Wayne didn’t have the boy’s number. But Danny knew at least Nightwing’s identity; it was possible he knew them all.

He was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not Batman. But Brucie Wayne had no way to get the correct phone number. Unexpected contact from Batman was… well, expected, to an extent.

And his investigations would be handled and presented as Batman. Surely no one would challenge Brucie Wayne to a fight?

Mind made up, Bruce took his vigilante phone out and did a quick scan through his childrens’ updated contact lists. Most of them seemed to have been enjoying the company of the Amity Parkers; it wouldn’t be hard to get Danny’s contact information.

**

So. New year, new problems. Danny used to say it as a joke, but this year it was looking pretty darn literal.

Last year, for example, he hadn’t had to worry about his parents finding out about his supposed “love life” from a magazine (that Jazz must have sent them after they’d gone back to Amity Park, the traitor), and calling to hound him for details.

He’d managed to talk them out of driving the GAV straight to Gotham to threaten Jason into “treating him right”… which Jason thought was funny solely because he still didn’t actually know how large Jack Fenton was, nor how intense Maddie could be.

He still thought of them as civilians, and maybe a little less than competent, thanks to the database and their zero capture record.

Maybe Danny was cultivating that ignorance specifically so he could watch the moment of truth in person. Sue him, it was funny.

Unfortunately, since the magazine had also included that the gala they’d been “hooking up” at had been to celebrate Jason’s return from the dead, his mom had reached the halfa conclusion on her own. Danny had wanted to let Jason decide when to tell her, but that very first phone call the first words out of her mouth had been “Daniel James Fenton, have you met another halfa without telling us?”

And Danny had been so taken aback by them actually noticing anything (it was to do with ghosts, of course they’d noticed, he’d kicked himself for days after) that she’d taken his speechlessness as confirmation.

So.

They had that out of the way before they even said hi.

Despite Danny’s firm assurances that he and Jason weren’t actually dating, the papers were making the whole thing up (the photos hadn’t helped, but his dad seemed to buy that he’d been. Trying to help Jason fix his shirt. After the rogue attack, y’know), his parents had insisted on another call with Jason.

And Jazz. Because he had to introduce his sister to his new boyfriend too.

Jason had… taken it well? Hadn’t gotten much of a word in edgewise, around Jack Fenton’s boisterous laughter and insistence that he come around some time soon. He’d agreed with Danny that they definitely were not dating, which.

They weren’t.

They just weren’t.

They were just. Friends. Who hung out after classes in the evening. And texted all day. And told each other their deepest darkest soul secrets in like, a week after they’d met.

Danny’s mom had seemed a little more convinced by the end of the call, but still insisted Jason should come down to Amity Park anyway, to get to know the family.

Danny was still in denial about it being even a little bit helpful, but Jason had decided to drop the Fright Knight bomb right away. It was the actual real reason they were so close now, so it made sense as an explanation that wasn’t them being partners or whatever.

(Danny still hated it. Resented he couldn’t be trusted to just… have a friend. It always had to be something stupid and dramatic.

And he was totally offended by how immediately relieved his mom had been that he’d have someone “looking after him”. Like he wasn’t a whole ass adult for years already, and the king of a realm for longer than that.)

And now he was gonna have to call them back, and probably get a message to Fright Knight, because Danny’s newest problem was that Batman now had his phone number.

And was asking his permission to go to Amity Park to deal with the Anti-Ecto Acts.

(“Brucie Wayne” was officially the one going for the Acts, the message only said that Batman would be escorting the billionaire and gathering evidence separately, but Danny wasn’t fucking buying it.

And since Batman had his phone number and had used it, Tucker could technically get into Batman’s phone and prove it. Like Constantine showing up at Wayne Manor left a shadow of a doubt.

But noooo, Danny knew all about dramatics and billionaires and their sketchy underground labs. He could play along.)

Which, technically, might wind up solving one of his biggest problems.

It was also gonna completely ruin all the work he and Jason had done persuading the Fentons they weren’t dating; he could already hear his dad booming delightedly about meeting future in-laws. Because why else would Jason’s dad go to visit?

Not like there were actual laws on the books declaring Danny as a mandatory extermination target. Or like the Justice League might finally have gotten their thumbs out of their asses and want to check in.

Clearly Danny’s love life was the only thing that mattered.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that crap from Frighty; all the ghosts were gonna know all about Danny and Jason’s soul resonance (be still his beating fucking heart that was still ridiculous). He would have to let him know a superhero was gonna be in town though.

Actual ghosts weren’t likely to mistake Batman for one of their own and these days most of Danny’s rogue gallery was cool about not picking fights with humans without Fenton tech, but Danny figured better safe than sorry.

And.

Maybe.

Really wanted to see Batman and Fright Knight hang out. They were gonna totally love or totally hate each other, and either way he was a little sorry he was gonna miss it.

Unless he gave in and took time off class, kidnapped Jason from whatever work he did, and made the trip home… because he’d been direly warned that if he did show up without Jason, Jack Fenton would drive him back to Gotham personally. So, no. Nope. Not happening.

The long and the short of it was that instead of being blissfully free of his parents nagging him to visit until the summer, he was now fielding calls and texts demanding he come back home for March Break, at the latest. And bring Jason.

Mom wanted to “assess him”, which was fucking terrifying and the more Jason didn’t take it seriously the more Danny was tempted to actually make the trip. It would at least come with a defined end date. And force Jazz to take a break if she wanted to come too.

She at least had been less insistent on calling him every single day to bug him about it; probably because she was busy frying herself to death at university. She’d apologized for missing the group chat too, and the first family phone call, but it wasn’t a huge surprise.

Jazz had had the helicopter parent firmly knocked out of her by double majors, which Danny used to think was a good thing. Now he considered it might actually be a sign she was… not cracking under the pressure? But not taking care of herself.

Hopefully it wouldn’t return full force once she got some actual sleep and decent food in her.

Honestly, Danny wasn’t unaware that this was the most normal his problems had ever been. Just a few years ago he’d have done anything but wish to Desiree that his biggest problem would be “my parents think I’m dating one of my friends”.

Right now it was looking pretty good too, actually. Because at this precise second, Danny’s biggest problem was that he was running out of excuses not to talk to Nocturn.

***

Tim was beginning to think he had a bit of a crush on Tucker Foley. It was a surprise to him as much as anyone else; normally the kind of fawning adoration that tech geeks usually followed him with was an instant turn off. There was just… no point getting close to people who saw him as an idea, not a person.

And, frankly? The mere existence of Timblr probably would have been a red flag for anyone else. Sure, Tucker had closed it down, but it still existed - and Tucker Foley could have taken care of that easily.

The thing was… even under the hero worship he’d caught in Tucker’s eyes when they were first introduced… well, Tucker wasn’t exactly respectful to his heroes. That did tend to follow along with a friend in a teen hero career; everyone else was instantly less cool by association.

Tucker just plain wasn’t a good fanboy. He hung on Tim’s every word, right up until they started talking tech - the subject he most admired Tim for. Didn’t admire him enough not to cut him off half way through an explanation, call an idea “archaic”, or ask if Tim was serious.

(And okay, once or twice he hadn’t been; just testing his technical chops.)

The thing was, Tucker wasn’t only a genius with regular technology, he was a prodigy in an entirely new field of software and occult collusion, and he knew it. He was delighted to upgrade Tim’s systems (although Danny would still need to do the full ecto-infusions; Tucker could interface, but didn’t produce his own ectoplasm), and more than happy to point out everywhere they needed improving.

Tim genuinely respected his opinion, which wasn’t a distinction he gave to many people who’d never worn a cape; he’d already cc’d the other, Lucius Fox, into his and Tucker’s email chains. (Lucius was very enthusiastic about the oncoming apprenticeship - for him.)

And Tucker was funny, allergic to personal privacy, and… well, Tim was pretty sure he’d felt those first twinges when, as promised, he tagged Tucker in to help interrogate the Riddler.

Digitally, obviously. With Tucker’s classes starting back up and the New Years hangovers finally clearing the board, the next time they saw each other in person might be upsettingly far out. But Tucker had cheerfully hacked his way into Gotham PD’s systems and made himself comfortable while Red Robin and Batwoman waited for Riddler to be brought in.

Tim had so few pure pleasures in his life, but watching Kate try to keep a straight face when the interrogation room’s speakers began blasting what was essentially a stripper theme perfect for Eddie Nygma the second the door closed?

Riddler had been utterly baffled as well, talking over the beginning until they reached the chorus, where the singer practically spelled out his name. His stunned silence had given way to a burst of offended protest that was entirely undercut by the way his fingers kept time.

As the teen hero in the room, Red Robin was allowed to snicker at him, but Batwoman had to pretend to be an adult about it.

And when the first song ended, silence had fallen for what must have been a perfectly calculated fifteen seconds, and then the Jeopardy theme began playing.

Of course, soundtracking hadn’t been Tucker’s only contribution to the interrogation, just Tim’s favourite. Red Robin had the tablet from the gala back from evidence, from which Tucker had cheerfully admitted in Matrix style scrolling green text that he’d been the one back-hacking Nygma’s files… and locking him out of them.

And replacing every single link Nygma had clicked from the night of the gala to the day Batwoman hauled him in to a random page from Riddles.com, which Riddler had declared a new vendetta against every time anyone would listen. It was beautiful.

Robins were professionally annoying, it was part natural talent on all of their parts (except Damian) and part intensive training on how to disrupt thought patterns and push people into mistakes. Tucker could have led the class, and Tim had been overtaken by a powerful urge to kiss the smug grin he could feel through Tucker’s text straight off his face.

Of course, Tim had a boyfriend. And had been overtaken more than once by similar urges for almost every one of his friends, when they did something brilliant.

Steph called it oral fixation, Tim preferred positive reinforcement. Conner found the whole thing extremely funny, especially since Tucker still stumbled over his words if Conner was so much as looking at him.

Which made all of his siblings trying to tease him about Tucker’s “crush” on Tim look ridiculous, by the way. Tucker Foley was not a subtle man; he couldn’t even string a sentence together around someone he actually liked.

He could string plenty of sentences together around Tim, the two of them could finish each others’ half the time.

(He wasn’t upset about Tucker’s obvious interest in Conner either; Tim knew damn well his boyfriend was an incredible catch and he was lucky to have him. Tucker’s crush was just… peer review.)

Already he was counting down the days until March Break, when Tucker was going to visit in person again. Honestly, he might push to get a zeta put in nearer to MIT in the meantime.

It wasn’t like the institute was never targeted by supervillains, it would just be practical.

But Tim himself couldn’t suggest that now, because then all of his siblings would jump on the Tucker thing and he’d never hear the end of it. It was a dilemma… because even if Conner or Danny could just go and pick him up again, zeta was just faster.

It had nothing to do with missing time that Conner and Tucker were bonding, or being a puppy waiting for his master to come home, whatever Steph said.

(And honestly, Tucker Foley? Not exactly commanding “master” material. Until he was talking about his area of expertise. Then he was certain and confident and got this really attractive gleam in his eye…)

The quickest solution would be getting all of Team Phantom officially involved in the Justice League, of course. Then he wouldn’t even need to suggest it; close zeta access was vital for all of the heroes.

But Team Phantom couldn’t join the League until Phantom’s existence was no longer illegal. So they had to dismantle the Anti Ecto Acts. Bruce was investigating the GIW, and planning what he probably thought was a secret trip to Amity Park, but none of it was happening fast enough for Tim… because it probably wouldn’t be done by March Break. In two months.

He’d broken more than just the American government in two months; all it took was the right leverage. And a complete lack of self restraint.

So, y’know, Tim had a new side project in and around his other Gotham cases. All he needed was a house and then senate majority, and they could get those laws repealed the second the government came back from break.

Lois Lane was already working on the story, Clark would probably join Bruce in Amity Park (whether he knew Bruce was there or not) for interviews. There was only so much public pressure could do though, and that never worked fast enough either.

Not compared to Tim’s preferred methods. He liked the personal touch.

****

Fun fact, slower core formation? Had not meant slower ghost powers. Not in Jason’s case, anyway; not even a week after his core came in, a coffee cup had slipped straight through his hand and shattered on the floor.

He’d stopped handling Alfred’s good china that day, mindful of Danny’s many horror stories about the school lab’s glassware. Alfred hadn’t actually questioned it, although he’d gotten a couple of raised eyebrows when he slid a junk mug toward the kettle.

It was just a good thing he’d already cut down patrolling; he’d been planning to take a step back anyway for a while. Just until he got the balance right between being Red Hood and the newly resurrected Jason Todd.

He’d had to stop entirely, at least until he got the intangibility under control. Sure, becoming temporarily impervious to weapons would be convenient when he got to choose when it switched off or on. Phasing various limbs half way through solid surfaces and getting stuck though?

No.

Not a chance in Hell. That was not an acceptable risk.

Invisibility had started not long after, which had definitely complicated his trips to the manor; all the bats were good, but vanishing completely out of the blue? That would raise comment.

The good news was that the glacierfrost seemed to be helping there too; either because of the ecto in the ice, or just keeping his emotions regulated, which kept the powers from acting up. Jason wasn’t taking unnecessary risks, but he’d noticed that for at least a couple hours after a hit, he was in more control.

Intentionally turning the powers on was still a struggle, but apparently that’d just get better with time. And probably fighting - that was the common denominator under all his ghost problems.

Ghost Fight Club was officially starting the second he’d got the transformation down, but how exactly they were going to try and trigger that in a controlled environment was still… less clear than Jason would like.

They’d have to work it out soon though; the only other ability that was likely to kick in before he could transform was flight, according to Danny. Time was a-tickin’.

And… alright. It wasn’t like Jason was sat at home every night; that was what he and Danny were doing after school now that they’d cut back to at least a couple days a week. A little practice on budding ghost powers, with backup.

“Surveying his haunt” was what Danny called it, but it basically meant Danny going ghost and Jason putting on a domino he claimed he borrowed from Dick, and the two of them bouncing around the Alley. And occasionally Danny pushing him off roofs to see if flight had kicked in yet.

(It hadn’t, but he still had his grapples, and refused to let Danny rescue him from his own bullshit.)

Sensing the city’s natural ecto had gotten much easier with his core fully developed, and Danny was teaching him how to mark it with his own. Pitty’s ongoing corruption was fucking it up though; it was still producing corrupted ectoplasm, and actually more of it now that they were both whole.

(Jason had started sleeping with Frostbite’s ghost succulent next to his pillow. That was how he’d noticed the new blue glow, which he still meant to ask about. It was still firm and strong, and it… didn’t feel sick?)

Corrupted ecto reeked so strongly of that corruption that it was completely useless for anything else, apparently. So until they finally finished purging Pitty, what all their little adventures actually amounted to was tagging.

Danny made them special ecto-spray-paint, and they spent the nights finding weirder and weirder corners to spray a little mark onto. Jason would have liked to use something to do with Red Hood, for the symmetry, but. Well. He hadn’t worked out how to have that conversation yet.

He’d been making do with little ghost doodles. It had been years since he’d done any real graffiti art, but it was like riding a bike, and the ecto sprayed really well. A cartoon ghost wasn’t all that hard anyway; an elongated little blob, occasionally with little fangs or unattached clawed hands.

He’d been going for something like an Among Us bean, but Danny had declared that he was drawing Pitty, and well… it stuck. Doodling little Pit ghosts was the order of the day, ranging from cute little Pittys (modelling good behaviour, Danny called it) or vicious little bastards, depending on how both Jason and Pitty had been that day.

Because that was definitely one piece of good news, in with all the bullshit new ghost powers was causing. Before he’d felt surges of rage, the moments where the Pit was reaching out and trying to affect him. Universally bad, aggressive, and violent, pre-Danny.

He could kinda feel it all the time now, like a heated scarf draped over his body, or the constant breathing of a dog just behind his ear. It was quiet mostly, and he was beginning to suspect it had cost more energy than he’d ever expected for it to reach out to him at all.

For all that he’d worried about it being too much like raising a kid, it… well, the nice way to say it was probably that it wasn’t that bright. It could talk to him in ghostspeak, kind of; most of what he actually heard felt like emotional reactions, closer to speaking through auras than words despite how much it’d felt like it was crawling up his throat.

The Pit could handle basic concepts, recognised Danny’s name, but other than that? It mostly seemed to follow Jason’s emotional lead… and then dial it up to eleven. Which, yeah, was exactly what he’d been scared of when he thought it might be like, a whole ass person. Toddlers were terrifying little sponges.

Jason’s experience of kids wasn’t exactly what he’d call normal, sure, but Pitty was reminding him less of a kid and more and more of some kind of small and bitey animal.

Which, y’know, was a relief. Sort of. It wasn’t like he could fuck up an animal in the same way as he could a kid. Nowhere near the same level of responsibility.

Just. When he thought about the pit rage, the idea of it being attached to something which literally had fangs and claws was not exactly reassuring. Even at the size of a chihuahua.

A little impromptu art therapy while they marked his haunt wasn’t exactly helping with that part, but it wasn’t hurting. And he was trying to explain that feeling bad was not actually dangerous or harmful… via spray paint.

He was only about 70% sure that Pitty could see.

But it got him out and about, kept him in shape at least for swinging from roof tops, and gave him an excuse to hang out with Danny. It did involve actively avoiding anything he’d normally investigate (at least until he had a reasonable explanation… or brought up the Red Hood thing)… but it felt good. It was soothing.

Even knowing full well he’d made plans, prepared extensively, still had his guys making sure the Alley was safe and all was well, he still found himself itching to patrol on the nights he stayed in.

He could only assume that was part of the whole Haunt thing; he had good people working under him, and a couple of bright lieutenants that while he’d never let them wear the hood, he was comfortable giving them some solo enforcement missions to keep the fear of Red Hood in everyone’s hearts. All relevant parties, anyway.

Luckily he still had the library project as a convenient excuse for the bats. It kept them off his ass, and Jason could admit that it probably wouldn’t have taken much to persuade him to take a night run.

And get his ass stuck half way through some fucking wall somewhere, or lose a foot to a rooftop, and need to break himself free or call Danny in the fucking suit. Nope.

(He’d been tempted to let his family think he was saving his nights for Danny, which wasn’t even completely untrue; Danny wasn’t over every night anymore, not with his school schedule, but if he wasn’t over they texted.

Jason had begun saving a meme folder just for things to show Danny, which had quickly absorbed his full folder for death jokes and just kept going. Danny was going to be a very supportive “father” for their fake pit-kid, and had clearly been stockpiling dad jokes to send back.)

Honestly though, Jason was just relieved he’d already planned to slow the vigilante side for a while in the wake of his official revival; there was a lot that had to be done to come back from the dead, and a lot more he could do with official Wayne backing for areas of Crime Alley that Hood couldn’t touch.

He’d even let some of the bats in on those plans before Danny showed up; it wasn’t a surprise that he wasn’t patrolling. They were mostly leaving him alone about it, although Dick had offered to pop his Red Hood gear on and run a couple of patrols if things got too rowdy.

Jason had told him to fuck off, then got his street kids spreading the rumour that Hood was gearing up for something big. Let people think that the momentary quiet was just the first rumbles for an oncoming storm.

Hell, let them think Hood was in cahoots with Jason Todd-Wayne; that or preparing to run him out of the Alley. Let both of his lives work together for a while. The rumours shut half the fucking low-level dealers up; no one was pushing anything within three blocks of his territory, in case Hood was planning an expansion.

That’d boil over after a while and bite him in the ass if he didn’t go and kick something down, but for now it worked. He had so much to do for the library, for the new shelters from the Wayne foundation, for the soup kitchens. He actually was pretty busy, even on his nights in.

Fuck, he’d even taken time to hang out with the actual Alley kids, as Jason and Hood. The mouthy little shits kept him grounded, and maybe he’d tried it as a trial run for Pitty, but since that wasn’t gonna be the same problem he’d kept it up as a test of his own patience.

Which had. Very abruptly. Become the cause of one of his biggest concerns. Because the biggest change since his core came in had actually taken him a couple more days to notice.

Because now, Jason could see the fingerprints of the new entity.

That hadn’t been fun to work out; he’d been intentionally taking it slow until his core formed. Part of him had been sorta hoping to be able to just avoid anything that might set them both off until the Pit was ready to pop out on its own. Nothing related to the new case he couldn’t start, nothing related to the Joker or pits or any of that shit.

So when some of the kids had been showing up with some weird shadowy smudge on their clothes, he’d assumed it was the usual Gotham grime. They claimed not to see it, he threw them at the laundry room and cussed them out, it always came off.

Now the Curse, the Curse was staying out of Crime Alley entirely. He’d seen it during the day once or twice, a shadow attached where it shouldn’t be, a flicker over Damian or Tim’s shoulder. He always knew when the Curse was around now, a frosty fog filled his lungs whenever it was close.

(Danny had called it his “ghost sense”, which was lame but Jason didn’t have a better idea.)

And those smudges didn’t have the same kind of ozone-aftertaste that the Curse left in his mouth.

And then one of his girls, maybe seven years old, had come in with that same kind of smeared shadow sticking through soft black hair. He’d had some sharp fucking words with the older kids about that, he didn’t expect them to stay pristine at all times, but for fucks sake it was clumping.

Basic hygiene fucking mattered on the street, none of them could afford a proper de-matting or even a decent razor to shave their heads, so Jason had instilled the importance of bare-minimum finger combing in every one of them years ago. You could live with a fucking rug dragging at your skull, but it made absolutely everything harder.

He’d sat the girl on a stool and washed her hair in a bucket himself, while repeating the same fucking lecture to the other girls. Noticed half way through that while the sticky shit was indeed washing out of her hair, it wasn’t being broken down by the soap.

It was clinging to him instead, seeping into the creases of his fingers and under his nails. He’d tried not to visibly react, giving her a last rinse and wrapping her hair in a towel-hat that she didn’t stop touching for the next forty minutes, fucking it up a dozen times.

The smudgy crap had washed off his hands eventually, but when he saw Danny the next day he’d visibly backed up a few steps, then given Jason about six shots of ecto because his was apparently rancid again. No prizes for spotting the connection, and from there it was obvious.

And then he’d seen Harley the next day, that same smudgy crap a handprint around her fucking throat, and he’d seen red. Hot, angry, blood red, and it not being green had startled the life out of him.

(Harley noticed. Duh. It was her thing. And while Jason couldn’t just tell her some malevolent fucking entity made from her shitty ex was crawling through the city, he’d been as honest as he could be.

Harley definitely couldn’t see the smudges. Danny hadn’t had any answers or way to make it stop fucking touching people.)

Hypothetically, this was all gonna be good in the end. It’d make things easier, being able to see and track this shitstain’s work.

It did not feature in his “don’t get pissed off or think about work” plan.

It was just faintly possible that obsession, self flagellation, and a desire to be personally responsible for fucking everything might be more than just Bruce’s problem. Could maybe be a family affair.

Jason made more pies. Occasionally narrating what he was doing aloud, half for Pitty’s benefit and half for Danny’s when the little shit was crashing on his couch.

It was fine. He was coping. Another couple weeks, Danny reckoned, and Pitty would be out of his body and he could get back to his fucking life.

With a pet Pit ghost in tow, apparently, but if the worst came to the worst he could fucking soup the thing once it was outside him.

(He was also going to teach Danny to make soup. Proper soup. On principle.)

**

Preparing for his trip to Amity Park had taken longer than Bruce had expected. Not least because Alfred had finally run out of patience, and sentenced him to bedrest for the next 12 hours after he returned from the Justice League meeting lest he unlock the tranquilizer guns and give his children free reign.

In the old days, when he’d just become Batman, Bruce had assumed Alfred would never be able to catch him anyway. He’d been cocky and confident in his skills, and often ignored Alfred’s demands.

And yet the man always seemed to know, raising a disapproving eyebrow at Bruce every time he’d slipped back into the room just before Alfred made his rounds.

And then Steph came into his life, and Bruce learned all too fast that Alfred had merely been waiting for appropriate safeguards. That was three kids along of course, but by now Bruce knew exactly why it had been Steph Alfred had waited for.

His relationship with Dick was too tumultuous. While Dick never feared Bruce and was perfectly happy to join Alfred in nagging and bossing him around, by the time Dick moved out Bruce had half expected to only see his son at Justice League meetings, if at all.

They were different men, and Dick had always had an anger in him that Bruce couldn’t fathom. He’d mastered it, his control very rarely slipping, but… Bruce had trained Dick himself, and he was one of a very short list of people that Bruce had no concrete backup plan for.

Nothing but hope to make him cocky with the first attack, and pray the second caught him off guard.

His relationship with Dick hadn’t improved until Tim came into his life… and helped him get his head out of his ass.

Jason? Jason had been an angel. A scruffy, beaten down angel with badly bruised wings when Bruce first picked him up, but he’d flourished in Wayne Manor. He’d taken to Robin with joy and enthusiasm, but had more devotion to his studies than any of Bruce’s kids before or since.

He’d even stay in to study for tests, and if things had been different… perhaps he’d have been the one to break Bruce’s obsession with his night life.

But Bruce had begun taking that good heart for granted, pushed when he should have listened, and sent Jason to his death.

Tim had a hard enough time keeping Bruce from killing himself, along with anyone who stood in the way of his mission. He was a solemn, serious little boy from the start, and though Dick took a more active role this time around and declared himself a big brother (possibly to spite Bruce)… well.

It had to be Steph.

Steph, who would vehemently deny being one of his from whoa to go, was just like all of his children; a feral little gremlin. But Steph had that one more element too, the one which young Dick had had in spades but pulled back from with Bruce years before.

Steph liked to have fun.

Tim treated Bruce as a mission just as much as Gotham was Bruce’s, and Dick had never forgiven him for Jason. Or the fights that went before. Neither could pick up a Nerf gun and hunt him through the city in pure play in those days.

Until Steph gave them the guns, of course. Now any and every one of his children would happily take a tranq gun from Alfred and merrily stalk him through the manor and city at large, and even to the Watchtower if he tempted fate (and Tim).

Bruce was powerless against them, although pride warred with frustration every single time one of them managed to drug him to sleep. He’d trained them well. Well enough that they’d put what was right over what he wanted, that none of them were even a little afraid of him.

He’d planted the seeds of his own destruction.

So when he’d seen Duke and Dick hanging “casually” around the halls while Alfred escorted him to bed, he’d resigned himself to twelve hours of rest.

He’d slept for sixteen. And woke feeling much better, to his own chagrin. His head felt clearer, the migraine almost gone, and the sudden swoops of nausea had finally begun to pass.

He still had odd moments, especially when he’d been on the computer planning the trip to Amity Park for too long, but he’d reluctantly agreed with Alfred. He needed to fully recover from his concussion; that meant rest. And taking days and weeks instead of hours.

Amity Park would still be there, after all. He couldn’t get back the years they’d been late. He’d had to concede another two weeks.

Zatanna had also demanded an explanation for why he was suddenly interested in the town - luckily the Anti-Ecto Acts provided a sufficient cover. They were even most of the reason he was going.

She could also see the gravity of the situation, and offered to put him in touch with some local specialists who claimed to have tech that would keep him from being possessed. Specialists named “Fenton”. Because of course they were.

She’d offered him a ward as well, but mostly in jest. She knew how Bruce felt about magic, and had told him science was on the table almost immediately.

Bruce knew full well it wasn’t a coincidence. Formerly regarded as quacks, the Fentons had been featured prominently in all of their Amity Park news sources. Usually as menaces and a hazard to society, which aligned with what the Mansons had told him.

Still, their actions had nothing to do with the character of their son. Danny Phantom had been Amity Park’s protector for six years, although he’d not had many serious ghosts to fight for the last three.

As Foley had claimed, the ghosts seemed to have settled into a status of local nuisance that was oddly aligned with the Fentons senior; loud, intrusive, and often an inconvenience to your day, but not the threats to life, limb, or infrastructure that had characterised the first years after the portal opened.

Amity Park’s general consensus seemed to be that Danny Phantom had tamed the ghosts, won over the Fentons, and quite efficiently saved the day. He hadn’t been sighted there much in the past year, but that was because he’d been in Gotham.

In school. Finally being able to study and look towards his future.

His main heroic endeavours in the last three years of his career had involved the same GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward that Foley had told Tim about. They unfortunately had not followed the general trend of de-escalation… although they had been rather subdued in the last year.

It felt different to Bruce, though. Incidents were less frequent, but those occurrences where they did find a ghost had become markedly more violent. The decreased frequency seemed to have lulled the townsfolk into believing they were also less of a threat, but the problem with pushing your enemies into a corner was how much more dangerous a cornered animal became.

There was something worrying happening with the GIW, that would have borne looking into even if he wasn’t also looking to understand Danny better. Preparing everything he’d need for the official investigation was most of what had slowed him down.

Of course, he was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not as Batman. Vlad Masters’ friendship was going to help him there; the man had been delighted to invite him down for the weekend when Bruce had reached out.

A little faked enthusiasm for football and interest in Vlad’s favourite team and he was a seemingly completely open book. He was more than happy to give Brucie the grand tour of his little town, and even promised a personal escort from the airport.

Bruce was beginning to suspect that getting away from the man might be more of a challenge, although he was another potentially useful source of information on the Amity Park situation.

Not that Masters was a particularly high priority source. But Bruce could admit he may have been hasty to dismiss his views on Danny as being biased, and as mayor he should know something about the GIW operations in his city… and given how many contracts with the agency could be traced back to his companies in the early days of the agency’s formations, he would be a much more serious subject for investigation than a source.

The good news was, everything was now in place. He had Danny’s permission and would be flying down to Amity Park in a matter of hours, and had already bought out the entire top floor of a local hotel, so he should have plenty of privacy to operate from.

With any luck, being able to set things in motion to repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts could also be a first step towards patching things up with Jason… and with Danny. No matter what conclusions Bruce came to in Amity Park, the Justice League owed Danny Phantom a serious apology, and the Infinite Realms some swift action.

Their negligence could have sparked an inter-dimensional war, and nearly had cost a young man his future. Bruce was self aware enough to admit that the guilt of that knowledge was a major factor in why he hadn’t spoken to Danny face to face again.

Yet.

At least Danny had given him permission to visit and explore his haunt. That had to count for something.

He was going to apologize. Probably after giving Jason the proper apology his son so richly deserved. Perhaps Jason would even be willing to help him work out how to properly apologize to Danny too; Bruce wasn’t good at apologies at the very best of times, but Harley had made it explicitly clear that he was going to be getting in a lot of practice.

**

Now, ya can call Harley Quinn a lot of things (and people definitely have), but one thing she ain’t despite the goofball act? Stupid.

Somethin’ was up in Gotham, somethin’ one heck of a lot weirder than all the weird shit that had marked her time in the city.

Oh, she’d gone an’ had another word with Brucie after Waylon told her how Jason’d had to leave through the roof after his talk with Constantine.

(She’d hunt Johnny-boy down later too, probably just after he decided she wasn’t gonna come for ‘im and stopped hiding, but odds on? Brucie’s fault, and Connie was just his unfortunate messenger.)

The thing was, he’d decided to sicc Johnny on poor Jason before they’d had their little talk, so by the time she caught him again he was already all downcast and shamefaced. Already admitting he done fucked up.

And it just wasn’t satisfyin’ to kick him while he was down, an’ while he was already tryin’. He’d even decided on his own to leave both boys alone for now, to let things cool down before tryin’ again.

Now, Mama Quinzel didn’t raise no dummy, she could see a million ways ol’ Brucie’s plan to go and try an’ fix Amity Park for Danny was gonna go wrong. But she wasn’t an expert at this ghost business, so she didn’t pretend to be.

She did exactly what she’d told Brucie to do; consulted an actual expert.

She asked Sammy and Jazzy, Danny’s big sis who was just a real darlin’, in their group chat (which had been popping off since Sammy was a lil sweetheart and set it up for ‘em; Jazzy-boo was of doin’ all kinds of neurological shit but she’d read some psych textbooks in her day, and Harley loved watching a self taught student grow). An’ then she hunted down Jason and Danny, to ask ‘em directly.

Which had been when she’d got her first clue that somethin’ was up; when Jason looked at her like she was still wearin’ a certain other clown’s paint, all stiff and locked up and full of anger.

See, that’d happened before. When they first met, him fresh outta the grave, her fresh outta Hell. When he’d asked if she and Joker were really through, an’ she’d told him hell yeah.

When he’d asked if she’d get in his way of killing the asshole.

That anger, all tight an’ tense an’ burstin’ had been wrapped around his throat then, chokin’ him on it. It was cooler now, more human, more like somethin’ the sweet lil sunshine child who could melt her heart with his tears could feel.

It still wasn’t, ya’know, in the vague vicinity of healthy, but she’d seen Jason Todd about to lose his shit before. An’ his hands shook when he touched her, when he asked what the hell she’d done to her neck.

Harley’d taken a good long look in several bathroom mirrors since. There was nothin’ she could see there, but Harley Quinn had been a short term guest in more than one Hell. There was plenty of shit she was all too happy not ta see.

Then there was ol’ Harvey. She’d run him down faster’n the bats, because she wasn’t also chasin’ Riddler, Great White Shark, at least three new plots from ol’ Pengy, or a suspiciously quiet and freshly escaped Scarecrow.

Two-Face had been all quiet an’ polite since his heist on the young Mr Todd’s party went tits up, so he’d flown under their radar.

Not hers.

Harley always made time for her old friends.

And Harvey had been weird too. Twitchy, on edge, jumpin’ at shadows. That happened if he thought the ol’ Bat was after ‘im, but he’d had no reason to think that. An’ for all he’d flipped his little coin and played up the bit, Harley knew when her friends were off.

Something had put Harvey on edge. Stuffed a bee up his ass and made him all snappy.

He’d even tried to pull a gun! On her! His sweet, darlin’, perfectly loveable and innocent Harleen!

So, ya’know, when she’d touched ground again an’ he’d run outta bullets, she’d knocked it outta his hands before he could reload and reminded him there were more than just Bats to fear. There was also her bat.

An’ by the time they were both all tired out and slumped against each other to order smoothies, he’d admitted he didn’t know why he’d decided to go fer young Jason. To attack their buddy Brucie’s boy.

Now, Harley wasn’t sure Harvey knew silly ol’ Brucie was the Big Bad Bat. She suspected he did, somewhere, in the part of him he hid from all the unpleasantness.

If he knew, he was repressin’ it real deep.

But he’d seen word of the gala, an’ something inside him went dark, and he’d flipped a coin. Got all sorts of plastic explosive of all things ready to really give Gotham a show they wouldn’t forget.

An’ then when it was time to roll out, nunna his cars’d start. An’ he’d flipped the coin again. And stayed home.

She snagged the detonators on his explosives on the way out, on principle. There were some rules after all, and while the Bats could certainly handle anythin’ ol’ Harvey could build, he shouldn’a shot at her.

Harley Quinn was officially out of the rogue game, but that had nothin’ ta do with shit disturbing. She was beginning to wonder though.

Somethin’ was weird in Gotham, a kinda energy in the streets that wasn’t the same black stubbornness she’d known and loved. Somethin’ that felt a little nastier. A little closer to biting.

Now, Harley Quinn was a lotta things. She also wasn’t a lotta the things everyone else thought she was.

She was no quitter. She was no fool. She was no coward to turn tail from some nasty vibes. She might still be a teensy weensy bit mentally disturbed, as you say, but she had her shit together.

An’ she knew when somethin’ else was tryin’ ta play with her head.

Much as she loved Gotham like a second home, she was beginnin’ ta wonder if she shouldn’t head back to Pammy an’ let their mystery of who was givin’ Coney Island a hard time sit with the Bats.

——————

The song Tucker’s playing for Tim and Nygma is here:

Tag List - @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence e @skitscratched @blackroserelina a @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin n @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 7 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson n @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this s @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

IMPORTANT NOTE! Since about half the tag list no longer links to a blog, I will probably be retiring it for chapter 20, so either comment and let me know you still wanna be on it, or proceed on over to AO3 for alerts!

Part two:

[lovemyths]

i'm like #1 believer than yuta and danny have an incredibly compelling dynamic bc imo like most great wrestling pairs it feels like their characters are in conversation with each other thematically even if they don't physically interact.

i think danny's trajectory since he re-signed has been interesting (if underexplored). like, in his interview with renee he questions whether or not someone has to sell their soul to succeed in aew. and ofc a lot of the rhetoric of the jack perry feud was about whether or not he was willing to do what it took to be champ. hell, even though him getting booked against babyfaces during his reign was disappointing, in kayfabe i sort of see it as his current character valuing these concepts of honor, fairness, and goodness and fighting under those values.

and obvs post wrestledream when he called yuta a coward in his ig comments also goes along with this. danny sees yuta as in the wrong, and with the way the deathriders treat yuta at this stage, that's not a terrible assessment (we'll see what happens when yuta stands up for himself eventually). but at the same time, danny's attempts at goodness fail him too. in the cole match i thought it was interesting that he kind of started working more aggressively / heelish for this, like he was losing the thread of his own morality there.

how do we break out of our own cycles when every solution we come to only digs us deeper into them, how to cope with us being mirrors of each other's capacity for both goodness and evil, etc.

(TK would never capitalize on this but let's dream)