Multi-fandom blog

Danny gets invited to join the Justice League. He’s a bit skeptical because it’s he’s pretty new to this universe and hasn’t had the chance to scope out the heroes yet. Eventually, they settle on letting him meet the team and join in on a couple meetings to get an idea of their morals and values. However, as soon as he arrives at the Watchtower, he zeros in on their resident demigod.

Danny: Soooo… does this universe not have child labor laws?

Batman: Excuse me?

Wonder Woman: I can assure you that we do not permit children on our team.

Danny: I am looking at a child right now. That, right there, is a child.

Captain Marvel: Uh you must be mistaken, Mr. Phantom, Danny, Sir. I am very much an adult.

Danny: …That kid hasn’t even hit puberty yet.

Flash: What? No we’ve have records of Captain Marvel going back centuries.

Captain Marvel: Exactly!

Batman: *Staring suspiciously* Hmmm

Danny: *Squints his eyes* No his magic is ancient, but he’s practically a toddler

Captain Marvel: A toddler?! I’m 10 and a half!

The rest of the League: …

Captain Marvel: I uh… I mean i’ve been around for hundreds of years

Batman: Marvel.

My first illustration for my typesetting of the amazing fic I wish you were my husband 🤭

When Danny moved to Gotham he needed a way to feed his obsession to protect others while also keeping a low profile. He really couldn't afford getting any unwanted attention at the moment. Which led Danny to becoming a bus driver!

It's perfect in almost every single way. He not only gets paid for his work, he gets to help someone almost every night. Danny never would have thought about how much a bus driver could do for people before this; especially when it comes to Gotham.

Now Danny has denied many people from stepping foot in his bus for a multitude of different reasons. He just didn't think Batman would ever be one of them.

It was a slow night for him, bus currently empty, as Danny approached the next stop on his route. He noticed two figures standing by it, and it isn't until the door opens does he realize that the two figures were Red Hood and Batman. The two clearly weren't happy with each other if the yelling was anything to go by.

Danny planned to just close the doors and continue on his way, when suddenly Red Hood is turning towards him and stomping his way onto the bus. Taking a seat right in the front row. Batman, of course isn't done talking to Red Hood yet and tries to step on the bus after him when Danny puts a hand up to stop him.

He can't even believe his words as he says them, "Sorry Batman, but I can't allow you on if your only going to cause problems with the other riders."

The first time this ability shows it's usefulness is when he's just starting to memorize his routes. It was late at night and he only have a few passengers onboard.

A couple climb up. Danny sensed something wrong about the man but it also feels like nothing. The female is acting just fine which actually raises several red flags. Then came the ghost. He's old, with a lighter color signaling that this is one of those that died peacefully but choose to remain on the living plain for some reason. He's brutish, the definition of a biker. He's big, hairy, and angry, very,very angry.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PRINCESS YOU **** "$&@&-$/*)(++@& JUST LEAVE HER &#--$-#(@))$(+_!';+#)2+-283($ ALONE AND -2++$+'++2+(_)'8!#(_($+ "

This is the difference with 'kind' ghost. They're more like guardian angels. They can't really affect anything other than perhaps, the vibe of the room, the date, destination and decision. They can't carry objects, but they can roll pencils and other actions like it. But they're the only type of ghost that can give minor blessings. Such as, lucky penny, never falling for a day, peaceful rest, and languid work shift.

The biker dude continues to scream and shout to the man, but he's a ghost. No one can't hear him or even see him. But not Danny though.

"Please just leave my Life alone..."

The man said as he hovers around the girl.

"Stop hurting her, stop using her, stop drugging her, stop filming her, she doesn't know. She's innocent. She's a good girl. So please stop taking advantage of my baby girl"

And that's Danny locked in.

"Sir, I need you to get out of the bus."

"Haha, I'm sorry, what?"

"Why does my boyfriend need to go out? We're just going home, Sir. We're not going to do anything bad..."

"HE'S LYING STAR SHINE, HE'S LYING!!! HE BROUGHT ANOTHER ONE AND PUT IT IN HIS COAT POCKET! I SAW!! HE'S GOING TO DO IT AGAIN!!"

Hearing that, Danny grab the man by the coat and grab said drug. Gothamites aren't clueless, it's something included in their curriculum, to distinguish between existing drugs. This one is nothing safe or prescribe easily by the pharmacist. A drug clearly bought under the table.

Silence. It was silent.

"Can you... Can you hear me?"

"Why do you have that?"

"It's nothing Love, it's, it's, it's really nothing! I just have trouble getting to sleep lately so I bought this one from my friends!!!"

"Can you... see me?"

Danny gave a nod as an answer as the couple starts fighting in front of him.

"DO NOT make me an idiot, Jacob. YOU DON'T HAVE FRIENDS!!! You have ACQUAINTANCES!!! At BEST!!!"

"NOW LISTEN HEAR, Woman. You don't get to talk like that to me. If you want to fight then wait until we get home. Just (sigh) ... Look Honey, there's people on the bus. You're really acting up here? Of all places? I know you have the tendency of being brash, but aren't you embarrassed?"

"Please check his phone, he's texting the people he sold my daughter to. Please do it. Please save her. Please condemn him. Please, I'm begging you. Save my baby, please. Just show her the proof. My baby is brilliant. She'll handle the rest. Love may consume her but she'll never let it blind her! He's just to good at being fake. She's strong, she once punch my teeth out! Please just check his phone, I know his password!"

Amidst all that, the couple is still going at it. They talked back and forth. Thankfully not getting physical just yet. Until, the guy actually dropped his phone without him noticing. Danny picked it up and like one mischievous devil, the Biker Dad whispers the evil man's password. It's quite long and a bit tedious to type.

The Biker Dad continue to whisper where to see the videos. The dude is quite smart, not gonna lie, he at least know how to hide his deeds. Unfortunately for him, a vengeful father memorizes everything he does just for a chance to save his daughter.

And so Danny, with no experience in hacking, bypass everything that keeps the rotten eggs and without even a minute, saw just how rotten the eggs are.

He grab the man by his neck and smash his face with his knee. He then kicked him down and put his foot on his back. He give the phone to the girl before tying the man in the front seat of the bus.

He then face the few passengers and the crying lady.

Part One:

Bruce didn’t mean for it to happen like this. Not that he’d thought about it many times before — don’t listen to his kids; they exaggerate how much Bruce overthinks things. But if he’d been asked and he had felt the out of character urge to share, he would have said that it would probably happen after a particularly difficult battle, with one or two close brushes with death, emotions running high, adrenaline crashing through their bodies — do Kryptonians have adrenaline? He mentally adds it to the list of biological questions he can now probably ask without it being too weird — resulting in a desperate crushing of lips in a dark corner of the watchtower. 

Not this. Not Bruce Wayne “tripping” into Superman’s arms after a textbook recovery of “Brucie” after his 501st kidnapping. Clark’s “Mr Wayne, we have to stop meeting like this,” a line he uses all the time, in and out of the suits with Mr Wayne swapped out to Batman and, on rare occasions B, the same nickname his sons use causing a traitorous skip of his heart every single time. 

And Bruce is just so happy to see Clark; it hadn't been a hardship per say being kidnapped this time, unless you count being talked to death by the Riddler for the last six hours, which Bruce is pretty sure he'd take being tortured over having to endure that again so he was pretty damn happy when Clark had come crashing through the warehouse roof to rescue him. 

Bruce had fallen into Clark's rather sculptured arms and he had said that stupid cheesy line and Bruce just hadn't been able to stop himself from leaning up and planting a kiss on those plush lips. Which upon parting in surprise Bruce deepened the kiss to probably a level of inappropriate for public, not because of scandalous reasons, that would in fact work for Bruce's alter ego, but because even though it was a first kiss, it didn't feel like it and to an astute onlooker might seem too familiar for rescuer and rescuee. The way their tongues danced and breath synced spoke to the years they'd spent working alongside each other. How well they knew the other move was obvious in the coordinated waist grab and fingers tangling in the curls at the back of Clark's neck, anticipating the next step exactly how they would during a battle; with unspoken agreement, a slight tensing of muscle, the quite exhale of breath. When Bruce finally pulled back, Clark looked dazed, a similar to the look "Brucie" usually displayed when wanting to come across to people as dimwitted. 

Bruce extracted himself from Clark's grip, straightened his crumpled suit and with a wink said, "A pleasure as always, Superman," Before disappearing into the growing crowd of Gothemites. 

Little did Bruce know, Clark used that line on most people he'd saved at least three times. And while he took special pleasure on using it on Batman because the man's usual brooding exterior would sometimes crack just a little to let out a huff of annoyance with the smallest hint of amusement and Clark coveted that. 

Clark had certainly not expected Bruce Wayne to take it as sign of familiarity enough to kiss him, but what a kiss it had been, Mr Wayne was known for his …uh …dalliances and they had resulted in a man who knew how to kiss. Clark had forgotten where he was and almost his own name until Bruce had smugly winked and called him Superman. Right, people were watching, expecting the usual hero schtick. He let out a laugh, aiming for golly but defiantly leaned a bit too hysterical, "Not an ever day thank you, that's for sure." 

When none of the gathered people laughed, Clark awkwardly cleared his throat, "Right, well I should get going, people to save an all." And with that Clark leaped into the sky and if he almost flew into a plane because he was so distracted thinking about the kiss that was between him, the pilots and the 300 and something passengers that got a fright. 

Disciple: Head Disciple Shen should watch who he associates with. I've heard that Shen Jiu has been going behind the sects back to fuck whores

Shen Yuan: Well if Shen-shidi is fucking your mother, then maybe she'll end up giving birth to a better son!

My crack-ish headcanon is that heavenly tribulations have to be done in a certain way - like if you manage to kill a powerful ghost but do it by burning down the village you're supposed to be protecting, that kinda goes against what the heavens had in mind, right? So imagine Xie Lian saves a village from a powerful ghost and everyone crowds around, thanking Daozhang for his help, and he just gets this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he really messed up this time.

And so, he sighs heavily and squares his shoulders. He lightly punches a random grandpa. Gently elbows a lady in the face. Steals a mantou from a child right in front of the parents. Yells random swear words at everyone. And just bolts for the treeline, stolen mantou stuffed in his mouth, screaming apologies the whole way.

He's left about 30 villages with weird stories like this not even a decade into his banishment. He's not even sure that's actually how these things work but he's NOT risking passing a heavenly tribulation no matter how many years pass so he keeps doing this shit just in case.

Then eventually the heavens get tired and go "Oh for fucks sake, fine! You're ascending for uhhh... scrap collecting. Yup. You're just so good at it. There."

Anyway, here's some SuperBat crack, the morning after.

The next morning came with the sound of knocking at the door.

"Father, I won't come inside. Tell the alien breakfast is ready. Todd prepared it"

He looked down to a pair of blue eyes looking up at him amusedly. Bruce laughed against his chest. Clark closed his gaping mouth with a click.

"So. Are you hungry?" Bruce laughed once more.

Bruce had the AUDACITY to leave him alone to get ready. The man had barely put on some pajama trousers and an open robe before unashamedly leaving the room, not even covering the hickeys on his neck and shoulders.

Clark wanted to scream and run away.

He could hear them as he came down the stairs.

"Did he HAVE to stay the night, Bruce?" Clark recognized Dick's voice "I mean. He's nice, and all. But, come on! Really? Couldn't he just, I don't know, fly away before breakfast, or something?"

"You're not suggesting for him to have his fun with dad and then just leave?" That was Tim.

Geez. Was the entire family home this morning? Clark palled.

"NO!!" He heard a giggle at Dick's outburst. Cassandra. Yes. The entire family. Great.

"He better not. I have no issue killing aliens"

"Jaylad..."

"I second Todd"

"Ok, maybe not murder. But we can scare him away"

"No, Dick. Nobody is scaring Clark away"

"So killing it is"

"Tim. No. No murder. No scaring my..." Clark's hearthbeat spiked in his chest. "My... Friend away, either "

"Friend, he says." Clark could imagine Jason's scoff "No friend comes in the middle of the night just to fu-"

"JASON!!"

"Oh, come on, Dick. They are big enough to understand"

"A little bit of respect for Bruce!?"

"Thank you, Dick"

"He lost his respect on Clark's di-"

"JASON PLEASE OH MY GOD!!"

"Hello" Clark jumped at Cassandra appearing in front of him with a smile. He allowed himself to get pulled to the kitchen area "Brought Superman" She smiled innocently to her family.

Bruce smiled at him. "Hey" His eyes crinkled at the corners, the sunlight hitting the corners of his face, making it look softer than normal. He had a tired, but soft expression. One hand hugged his cup of coffee, the other under his chin, with his elbow over the kitchen island. His hair was wild. The border of his eyes caught the sun, turning the pale blue even paler.

The scene was so domestic it made Clark's breath catch.

If Clark survives this morning, he's so asking Bruce to marry him.

"Jesus. He's disgustingly in love with pops" And Clark was back to reality.

"Jason, oh my god. Can you not ruin this?"

"WHAT?!" Jason pointed at Dick with an espatula covered in scrambled eggs. "Just a few seconds ago you wanted to kick him out"

"I STILL DO! No offense, Clark" he lifted an open hand to him, quickly turning to face him, before returning to Jason "But I also want Bruce to enjoy these moments"

"Thank you, chum. But I'm good"

"AAAAH OH GOD I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" Tim screamed against his hands. "I can't believe I'm going to be stepbrothers with Conner!!!"

"Oh, god"

"Well, legally -" Clark froze at the six pairs of eyes staring at his soul. He swallowed "Legally he's something closer to a brother than my son"

Jason cackled "Heard that, Timbo?! You could be dating Bruce's brother in law!"

Cassandra nodded "Keep it in the family "

"CASS NO!"

"NOOOOO! Where did you- Noooo"

"Oh god, Cain. No"

"That is so many levels of wrong ..."

Clark watched as they bickered. Bruce tiredly grunted at his cup, but the soft smile never left.

"YOU DO KNOW I'M DATING BERNARD, RIGHT?!"

"Who?"

"Did Conner change his name?"

"Ber-what?"

"Guys, come on!"

"Then why would you care if he was your stepbrother?"

"I might not be dating him, but I had in the past"

"Wait, you what?"

"WHAT?!"

"I can't tell if you guys are messing with me or... Anyway. That would also make things awkward for Cass"

Everyone (but Bruce) turned to her. She just shrugged.

"You've got to be kidding me"

"Oh. My. God"

"This family NEEDS to stop sharing exes"

"OH. MY. GOD"

"I thought you guys knew... Aren't you all dete-"

"With all due respect, shut up, Clark" Dick threw a piece of bread at his face.

"Why are you still here, alien?"

"Damian..."

"What? He should be able to read the room, father"

Bruce sighed and turned to him "Don't pay attention. Come sit." He pulled the chair next to him away. "Jason cooked, and he's amazing at it"

"If you think you can convince me to serve him food just by merely complimenting my cooking..." He placed a plate in front of Clark "Then you're absolutely right- "

"Jason..."

"Todd..."

"The betrayal..."

His eyes immediately find Derek. He’s on the side of the couch closest to Stiles, leaning against the armrest with his head propped up by a fist. Derek’s eyes don’t leave the TV as Stiles enters, but Stiles can tell from his body language his attention has shifted to completely focus on him, and he can feel that Derek’s pleased at his arrival through the mating bond. It pulls a smile out of Stiles.

Isaac, who’s lounging on his side in front of the TV, glances at him over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, man. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Boyd lifts his hand with a smile in a quiet hello from where he sits on opposite end of the couch. Cora, who’s sitting sideways in the loveseat, just glances at him before looking away.

“Hey, loser,” Erica greets cheerfully as she enters the room from the kitchen. She has a few beers held between her fingers in both hands while she hugs a bowl of popcorn to her chest.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Why do you guy even drink if you can’t even get drunk?”

“Does it matter?” Cora drawls.

“I like the taste,” Boyd answers.

Erica sighs. “I like to hope.”

Isaac shrugs. “I do it because everyone else does. Peer pressure and whatnot.”

Stiles eyes the TV that sets the dark loft aglow as he crosses the space. “What’re we watching?”

“Something dumb,” Isaac mutters.

“You’re dumb,” Erica throws a beer at Isaac that he easily catches. “Buffy is culture.”

“It’s a little on the nose.”

“Oh, come on. None of the stuff in there is accurate. Just watch it like any other fictional show.” She settles into a spot on the floor next to Isaac, but rests her back against the couch between Boyd’s legs.

“Exactly,” Isaac says, grabbing a greedy handful of popcorn from the bowl and shoveling it in his mouth. “The werewolf representation is just terrible.”

“It’s a show.”

“He’s a ginger!”

While Erica and Isaac argue, Stiles moves to settle next to Derek on the couch. Derek watches him with the intensity that he always does, but it still has the back of Stiles’ neck heating.

Derek subtly spreads one of his legs out a little more, invitation obvious, but Stiles purposely sits next to him rather than on him.

And despite the fact he settles so close that the entire left side of his body is in contact with Derek, from shoulder to knee, and despite the fact that Derek immediately has an arm resting on the back of the couch around Stiles, displeasure still ripples down the bond.

Stiles rolls his eyes as he snags one of the beers next to Erica. Dude, I’m not sitting on your lap.

Why not?

We’re in front of everyone.

And?

No!

It’s fine, Stiles. It’s normal for werewolves. Erica’s all over Boyd, no one cares.

I’m not a werewolf, and I’m definitely not Erica. It’d be mortifying and I’m not doing it.

Derek looks at him with something distinctly unhappy on his face, then grabs Stiles’ thigh and hooks it over his own.

Stiles shoots him an unimpressed look, but Derek looks right back at him with a raised eyebrow, satisfied pettiness echoing down the bond.

Stiles rolls his eyes and shoves his beer into Derek’s chest. Open this.

You can’t? Derek asks, but still easily flicks the cap off with his claw, letting it clatter somewhere behind the couch.

I can, Stiles grabs it from him and takes a sip. But why would I when I have a werewolf to do it for me?

He thinks Derek tries to seem annoyed with him, but his small smile is just a little too smug to sell it. It doesn’t help that Stiles can feel the ripple of pleasure Derek always gets from doing something for him. So stupid, Stiles thinks, trying not to smile himself.

“Hey lovebirds,” Erica kicks Stiles’ leg, startling him. “Cut it with the creepy mind shit and pass the remote so I can hit play.”

“Please,” Cora grumbles with disgust.

Derek grabs the remote off of the side table and chucks it in her direction without looking. Erica snatches it out of the air and points it at the TV, settling back between Boyd’s legs. Isaac’s busy shoveling more popcorn in his mouth as he lounges across the rug, and Cora settles back further into her chair.

The episode begins to play, recorded on the DVR at some point from a replay channel, likely by Erica. Stiles has no idea what episode it is, but it’s clearly well into the show.

Isaac and Erica make comments as the episode plays, sometimes to the TV, sometimes still arguing with each other.

Boyd is playing with Erica’s hair. He runs his fingers through the dyed blonde strands, sometimes braiding it, all the while his gaze stays focused on the screen.

The rain gently patters against large expanse of window panes to his right, as well as the skylight above him. It’s dark and stormy, and the only light in the room comes from the TV in front of them, casting a colorful glow against the room as the episode plays.

Stiles closes his eyes and sighs, sagging into Derek a little more. He’s warm, he smells good, and the chatter is nice. There’s a very good chance Stiles falling asleep here.

Stiles taps into the bond as he takes another sip of his beer, enjoying the waves of emotion that gently lap over him. Derek is pleased at having Stiles so close and pressed against him. He likes having his pack around him, too — relaxed, happy, laughing. Something distinctly alpha in him is soothed by all of it.

Stop snooping, Derek tells him, completely amused and not actually meaning it.

At the time, it was just another senseless tragedy in the misery that was his life. He was too wrapped up in his grief for his parents and his planning for his mission to really think about what it meant when the words on his wrist drained of color.

Later, he would wonder about the person he had been fated to be with and how they died. Secretly, guiltily, Bruce was relieved that whatever had happened to them had happened before they met. He wasn’t sure he could take another tragedy in his life.

—————

Even his rogues, at least the ones with enough sanity and self-preservation, were helping. Ivy’s vines speared through invaders and trip up their war machines, setting them up for Harley to smash through with her giant hammer. He had seen Bane earlier, tearing the head off an alien war-beast.

An unknown wasn’t unwelcome but he didn’t like not knowing. He quickly catalogued their appearance for later, despite the camera hidden in his suit that would have captured the whole thing.

The hero glowed with a faint, white light that reminded Batman of the Lantern corps, but there was no power ring visible and the symbol on their chest wasn’t one of theirs. Shock-white hair floated about their head like it would underwater. There was something about them that felt unbounded and empty, as if gravity simply didn’t hold them. Impossibly pale skin, almost see-through. In fact, it was see-through, because Batman could see the faint silhouette of the invader attempting to charge them.

He reacted, pulling a batarang from his pouch and throwing it like a discus. It lodges in the extra flesh of the monster’s chest and detonates on impact, throwing it back and off the edge of the building. He hears it slam into the concrete below.

“Oh, thanks! Heh, came down here to help you out but apparently you had it covered!” They have an easy smile filled with glittering white teeth and sharply pointed canines. Fangs? Supernatural creature, maybe, or alien.

Their eyes were green. But not. Not green in the sense of a forest or seafoam. Green like something toxic, something inhuman. Otherworldly. They stared down at him and he felt his soul laid bare. He couldn’t quite look away.

Vaguely, he wondered if this was some low level compulsion—perhaps an involuntary aspect of their powers.

Or maybe he can’t stop staring because they are beautiful. Like some kind of deity descended, free and uninhibited, they glowed with an assurance of protection and safety. Bruce took a quiet, shuddering breath and forced himself to blink.

“Batman,” he rumbled, nodding a greeting.

The being looked confused for a moment before the expression cleared.

“I know. I’m Danny. Or Phantom if you want. Secret identities don’t really matter when you’re mostly dead.”

They said this with a wry smirk, like they’re sharing a joke.

Mostly dead. Undead creature? Specter, poltergeist. Hell, it’s in the name. Phantom.

He couldn’t tell their age or gender. They were long and lean and stretched languidly in the air. There was something timeless about their face. Unbound from aging by death. Something welled in his chest, but he doesn’t let it show on his body. Couldn’t let it affect him.

Danny did not seem upset at the mention of their death. To show pity or remorse for them would be. Rude, he thought.

Batman grappled down from the rooftop. He was quietly pleased when Phantom followed. They fell into an easy rhythm; they had already displayed unnatural strength, and they had occasion to show off a powerful energy blast. As one might have expected from a ghost, he was capable of going invisible and intangible. Batman directed him like he would Martian Manhunter and the specter followed his orders without quibble.

They seemed content to defer to him. That was good, and not necessarily a given among other heroes. It took a big personality to put on a colorful suit and wear a moniker. To make oneself into an idea and reinforce it with one’s actions.

How did Phantom come to be a hero as they are? What pushed the dead to rise and fight for others when anyone would say the fight had finished for them? Was Phantom a hero before their end and simply refused to quit?

He didn’t ask those questions. There was work to do, people to save, rescue efforts to bolster and lead.

When the Justice League called for his help, he was strangely alright with leaving Gotham in the hands of his children, their allies, and this ghost of a hero.

————

The next time Bruce saw the ghost hero, Phantom, it was in a fuzzy, staticky image from the suit cams. He had not managed to speak with them before they disappeared from the battlefield, gone as quickly as they’d appeared. Back to wherever ghosts went when they weren’t saving lives, probably. He had heard from his children how Phantom raced to their aid whenever they needed it. They displayed far more abilities than Bruce had considered when he contemplated the nature of a spirit. Duplication, cryokinesis or possibly a thermokintetic ability if the ghostly flame they could conjure was not an illusion.

Tim in one video asked for the Phantom’s pronouns.

“He/him is fine.”

Bruce made a note in the file.

Phantom was effortlessly open, quick with a joke or a helping hand or a kind smile. Bruce took a screenshot of the image of Phantom’s smile as he helped them Spoiler to her feet. He dragged it into the file.

He took stills of each power use when possible. The way he held firm under an energy shield while Jason poured bullets into a war-beast made Bruce feel a little flutter somewhere in his stomach.

He frowned at himself and shook his head. He wasn’t stupid; he could recognize attraction when he felt it. He just wasn’t sure if was a good idea given their relative states of living.

Mostly dead, he’d said. His brain whispered, like a traitor, ‘Mostly Dead’ could mean ‘somewhat alive’. Haven’t we all died at one point or another?

Something on the screen caught his eye. Phantom dove in front of an energy attack aimed at his youngest, Robin. If he’d been closer, he could have grabbed the boy and gone intangible. He wasn’t, though, and had chosen to put himself in the line of fire instead. Foolish, reckless, but Bruce couldn’t help but feel overwhelming gratitude.

“Tt. I could have gotten out of the way,” Robin declared from behind the camera.

The spirit laughed a delighted laugh. “I’m sure you could have! Sorry, little guy, instincts took over!”

Danny’s suit and skin had been damaged in the blast. Bruce watched in interest as the skin began to regenerate, blackened flesh flaking off as new skin emerged beneath. The suit he wore was growing back too, almost like it was a skin as well. Bruce still managed to make out the shape of a tattoo. Or maybe a.

Bruce froze the screen. He stared hard at the flash of pale, pale skin. The black and blue image of a bird in flight, ringed in green that he could swear was glowing though it emitted no light.

Bruce yanked off his glove and stared at his wrist, where the image of a bird in flight stained his skin, black and empty of any color.

A soulmark.

His soulmark.

His soulmate who had died when he was seventeen. At the time it had been just another senseless tragedy in his miserable life. He had been too wrapped up in his own grief to think of the pain of losing a soulmate. It had almost been a relief to think at least he wouldn’t lose them after they met.

It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.

Bruce was trembling.

“Phantom,” he whispered, tasting it on his tongue. “Danny.”

Mostly dead.

Partially alive?

————

Alfred found him like that, staring at the frozen image on the screen, holding his bare wrist in the other hand.

Well, now, he thought.

He would have to prepare a room for Master Phantom.

prev au

Just a silly mermay AU where Anakin is an octopus merman and Obi-Wan is a siren (and a bird).

A bit more details is under cut

Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.

It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.

The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.