Ameliandil

Tucker has seen him missing a good chunk of his shoulder. Sam's stitched up his wounds; jutting slashes of his stomach before finals. Jazz has seen the worst— the wounds inflicted by their parents— and her fingers only shook minorly while applying ecto-burn cream.

No one outside of their friend group really notices. Long-sleeved shirts are shields and his reputation is his wielded weapon.

He just... kinda assumes it's the same everywhere as it is in Amity Park.

When Danny is forced into a Wayne gala as a begrudging plus-one to Vlad, and Sam weasels into joining them through pure spite and manipulation.

It's downright miserable, especially since he and Vlad had duked it out barely minutes before they stepped through the extravagant doors. Their usual spat made him feel weak and his hands and arms were stinging like crazy, even in human form.

Sam drags him into an empty room the moment she sees him, and only then did Danny notice that he's bleeding. His clenched fists had hid it initially, but now there's red and green tinged blood spreading and smearing on his hands.

"Where am I bleeding now?" Danny questions, almost sounding like he's whining. It's deeply resigned, exasperated, and definitely frustrated.

It's not the first time where he has millions of cuts or injuries and he doesn't know where he's bleeding from.

He instinctually removes his scratchy dress shirt to see if there's more damage on his arms. Scars criss-cross around his entire upper body, and there's more serious burns and cuts than he'd assumed from the fight with Vlad, but neither of the fifteen-year-olds are disturbed.

Why would they be? He's Phantom, and they've done patch-ups everywhere, dozens of times.

Dpxdc

When Danny transferred to Gotham University after finally solving the whole ghost problem back in Amity Park, he had big dreams for his new, totally normal life. You know — good grades, a decent job, maybe some hobbies, and actual friends who didn’t try to exorcise him.

He nailed almost all of it. Grades? Great. Job? Got one. Hobbies? Sure. Friends? …Yeah, about that.

Apparently, “making friends” in Gotham was harder than fighting a ghost invasion. So Danny, in a stroke of questionable genius, decided to just gaslight people into being his friends. Step one: convince them they’d met before. Step two: keep acting like they were old pals until they actually became friends. Easy.

Meanwhile, somewhere across campus, Tim and Duke were losing their minds trying to figure out why neither of them remembered their best friend. Because clearly, they must’ve accidentally messed with the timeline again — there was no other explanation.

———————-

Danny’s plan started on a Tuesday. Because, in his experience, disasters had a thing for weekends — Tuesdays felt statistically safer.

He was hauling a stack of textbooks across the quad when he collided, hard, with someone coming around the corner. Books went flying. So did his soul — almost literally.

“Oh man, sorry—!” He dropped to help pick them up, then froze. “Wait. Tim? Dude! Long time no see!”

The guy blinked, all sharp eyes and caffeine exhaustion. “…I’m sorry, who?”

Danny laughed, easy and bright. “Oh, come on, you’re still doing that bit? Pretending we’ve never met? You haven’t changed a bit.”

The stranger — Tim, apparently not in on the joke — frowned slightly, like he was trying to scan Danny’s face for a memory that wasn’t there.

Before he could say anything, another guy showed up. “Hey, Tim, everything good?”

Danny lit up instantly. “Duke! Wow, both of you? This is déjà vu squared. What, did you plan this little act together?”

Duke blinked. “Uh—”

“Wow, you’re even doing the confused faces,” Danny said, shaking his head with mock admiration. “You guys really committed this time.”

The two exchanged a look — one of those silent conversations where entire theories were forming without a single word.

Danny could practically feel the gears turning. He recognized that face — the “there’s something bigger going on here” look. He’d seen it a hundred times from people who’d stumbled into ghost business. Except this time, he wasn’t the weird one. Technically.

He smiled wider, pretending not to notice their suspicion. “Anyway, it’s good seeing you again. You two still hang out at that café on Fifth, right? The one with the bad espresso?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “You know that place?”

Danny shrugged, casual. “Sure. I used to third-wheel you guys there all the time. Guess some things never change.”

A pause. Both of them were staring at him now, still saying nothing — just watching, analyzing, wondering.

Danny clapped his hands together. “So! Coffee? My treat. It’ll come back to you once the caffeine hits, promise.”

Neither agreed, but somehow, five minutes later, they were all sitting at a café table. Danny stirred his drink, perfectly at ease, while Tim and Duke kept stealing glances like they were trying to solve an equation that refused to add up.

Danny smiled into his cup.

“Man,” he said softly, “it’s really good to see you guys again.”

Vampirism. Lycanthropy. Cheap spells gone wrong. A woman brought in for her prenatal has to be told her baby is a lindworm. Someone is literally being followed by the anthropomorphic personification of the Black Death.

Like, a big fight. Parademons, alien invasion, full arkham breakout kind of fight. All hands on deck, no backup, all in kind of fight.

And then comms just come on and Danny is there in a hero’s body like “hey, soo… is now a bad time to be soul switched?”

And every listening hero has this sudden stomach dropping horrified reaction, because oh my god, this is almost certainly a civilian, on the battlefield, where are they, who were they fighting last, they’re gonna die, oh no, who’s closest go save them NOW.

And then danny’s like “oh cool a sword i kinda know what to do with this.” (Canonically he has fought with a katana before)

Okay, hes got some training, just keep yourself safe we’re coming

And then ten minutes later Dany’s back on comms like “Great news guys! Some of my power is attached to my soul so I can use it even in this body! Fun.” (If its a hero who has been in contact with laz water he’s draining it to fuel his ectoblasts)

Another two minutes go by and now its just “oh, who’s a big eldritch soul-eating puppy dog? You are! Yes you are, good boy!”

The hero in danny’s body is having a full blown panic attack, trying to contact their team, trying to figure out where their soulmate is, if they’re okay, how to help them, and when they finally get eyes on the situation danny is just-

Charging into battle on Cujo’s back, weapon raised, manic glee and lazarus glow in his eyes and a war cry on his lips as he completely crushes anything in his way.

Sam: yeah thats what I thought he’d be doing

Tucker: he’s surprisingly adaptable

it is beautiful rolling hills just stuffed to the GILLS with hobbits

including BABY HOBBITS

HOBBITS BUT SOMEHOW IMPOSSIBLY EVEN SMALLER

and yeah the adults might be fairly wary, but we see in the first movie that the kids come running immediately to see gandalf in hopes of seeing something magic

and now??? here is LARGE PERSON??? who can play swords and toSS THEM REAL HIGH UP IN THE AIR AND CATCH THEM???

the idea of a hobbit mama scolding her faunts not to get too rough with "nice mr. boromir" as this man is exactly where he wants to be being dogpiled by giggly bb hobbits who absolutely "defeated" him in "combat"

warrior hands that have seen so much violence SO gently holding a TEENY TINY baby hobbit he was handed to let a papa hobbit track down his wayward toddler

(boromir fighting back tears because THEY COME THIS SMALL??? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE???? THE BABY FITS IN ONE OF HIS HANDS???) (baby yawns and snuggles their lil cheek against his thumb and this man is nearly brought to his knees)

Official Manager Of Lifting Big Things

boromir accidentally joining a hobbit stitch and bitch club because someone's gammer asked him to carry her yarn for her to the meeting and he didn't know how to leave after he was greeted and handed food and tea

the club is actually fun, and the hobbit grannies respond to his tales of politics and battle with the same sympathetic clucking that they do to rivals stealing recipes, including his hand being patted sympathetically

(five of them are holding up boromir's shield and can't see past it) (they will charge headfirst into a tree) (they will learn nothing from this experience)

boromir having to learn how to do the cat owner shuffle because there are always faunts underfoot (usually trying to catch a lift on his feet because he can step SO high :D)

@little---furnace

oh my god cultural misunderstanding of

in gondor: constantly at war, awareness of supply use, the polite thing to do is to ask for more if you want it but to always have finished what's on your plate when you're done.

in the shire: with hobbit appetites, a fully empty plate means a guest needs more. no one wastes a bunch (leavings will be fed to the pigs), but good manners to show you've had enough involves leaving just a bit to show you were well-satisfied and completely full. an empty plate means you need more to fill up the corners.

so boromir is trying to be done, but the hobbits just keep putting more on his plate, and it turns into a feedback loop of politeness that ends with boromir eating more than he ever has and still being stuck at this tea party two hours past when he first tried to leave.

I wanted to make a wiki about it but I don't have time for it.

The point was to try to encompass every "superpower" I could think of into a magic system.

You can check it out here !

The writing part is done, and I've done enough spells to provide an example for each element. The goal is to fill up that huge array eventually! >:]