So Many Fandoms

Traps

Although I don't know if Grace knows how to build them, he could explain that humans developed the ability to find paths animals use or learn the best lures/baits to lure and catch animals by surprise. Some times leaving traps alone for days for better chances (if Rocky thinks sight is weird, imagine what he thinks about smell and how to counter it).

They might watch Home Alone to get some ideas.

Pack hunting

Seeing how social eridians are, it wouldn't be hard for them to grasp that humans hunt in groups. But they'd loose their minds while hearing about the previous work that can go behind the hunt, specially during old times when humans had just sticks and stones (really pointy and sharp ones though). Planing according to the terrain and the animal, the communication before and during it, the kiiling blow...

Not to mention that humans are not even the first nor the only species on Earth that do that. We had to survive OTHER pack huntersa and even incorporated other animals to our groups to increase the hunting success.

Although I can imagine this could backfire (positively) for Grace if his pebbles learn about this and are able to visit his biodome. I can imagine Grace trying to escape a bunch of pebbles while having the time of his life.

Weapons

Because if something has shaped humanity it is weapons (among other things). From the first sticks and stones, to projectiles, to explosions, to war machines, to radioactive weapons of mass destruction. At first used for survival, weapons have been an important tool in our development, allowing us to take larger prey and from a safer distance, as well as increasing the efficiency of the hunt.

Did I mention interspecies relationships?

Yes I did, but I can't shut up about it. It's something I just love about humans. We looked at some animals and said "you want to eat that, I want to eat that too, let's make a deal" and created so many different relationships with a variety of animals that shaped our whole cultures, created new animals and modified some to an extreme.

In some places, the water mammals help us catch fish. In others there are birds that had learn one specific song to lead us to beehives. Birds that kill other animals for us. Cats that guard our food and homes against pest. Dogs breeded for each tasks we wanted them to do, although most are now just another family member. Animals whose purpose is mostly provide us a continuous supply of food (or are taken care of until they become the food without the need for hunt them anymore).

so the idea of an animal/predator that follows you slowly until you have no choice but to risk sleeping or die from exhaustion is basically the eridian equivalent of a campfire story

Grace: *screams back*

Rocky: *screaming some more*

Grace: oh my gosh you're gonna pop my eardrums. Calm down, I was watching you sleep.

Rocky: how did you find me? I was perfectly camoflagued in these rocks.

Grace: Rocky. These rocks are yellow.

Rocky: What is importance of yellow?

so the idea of an animal/predator that follows you slowly until you have no choice but to risk sleeping or die from exhaustion is basically the eridian equivalent of a campfire story

so there's a mini fic under the cut I smashed out in like an hour. kinda low effort but whatever. might keep it going on ao3 with more little experiments

Endurance runners

Based off this post by @7-inches-of-satanic-panic

[᭙𝓲ꪶᠻꪮ𝘳ᦔ 𝘴𝓽𝘴𝓽ꫀ𝘴.]

[She hands Syenite to Simon.]

unless it’s itself enough

to get haters, so

Bruce calling up Clark like

Bruce: I am currently in the process of breaking into a government facility in order to dismantle their operations.

Clark: Okay? Do you need... help?

Bruce: Yes.

Clark: Sure, I'll be right there.

Bruce: Not that kind of help. Oracle is sending you the files now. I'd like you and Ms. Lane to make these people wish they were never born.

Clark: [speed-reading the documents] Oh yeah, can do. This is truly disgusting. If the public is half as outraged as I am, we'll get this sorted as fast as the courts can manage.

Batman clears his throat. "Your highness, If you don't mind can I ask you something in private?"

Danny blinks out of his dazed questionnaire with some of the space traveling heroes. "Oh? Yeah sure, of course Mr. Batman sir!"

Clark reaches over long enough to give Bruce a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, already knowing what his friend was thinking.

Batman nods and leads King Phantom to his private office and sits in a chair. Phantom politely glances around while Bruce gathers himself. Normally, Bruce wouldn't actively seek someone else's advice when he can look into things himself, especially someone. But he didn't have many sources to seek out answers either.

"Is it common for people to come back from the dead?" the question froze Phantom. Curious. it seemed to have triggered him on a personal level.

"W-why do you ask? I mean if you're wanting to bring someone back I dont think I-"

"No it's not that."

"..."

"...My son. My second oldest. He was dead for a number of months before suddenly coming home. Alive, and very angry.."

"...Red Hood right? I mean, I've heard rumors about him. There are quite a few fans of his in the Realms, avenging a lot of them. He's pretty much a Protection Spirit in his own right."

Well that was surprising news to Batman. "Yes.. He.. wasn't happy with me at first.. He's still kind of mad, but we've gotten better."

"I'm not sure why you think I can help with that??"

"No, sorry I'm not-" Bruce sighs, why was he going so off topic with this? Probably just the lingeing fears.

"I discovered the acts and the GIW because, they captured him.. We were unaware of the.. changes due to his revival. He's still recovering."

"Oh.." Phantom looks far too sympathetic for someone he hasnt met. The ghost rubs his palm for a moment, hands curling close to his chest, almost in a defensive posture.

"Humanly, we arent finding anything wrong aside from the obvious wounds. But there is something impeding healing the process. And we arent sure how to treat the more ectoplasmic side of his health. Is there anyway you would be able to help him?"

Phantom gazed at Batman for a long moment. "From what I've heard, you arent a man to easily trust strangers, especially ones with the potential to be major threats. There was once a time someone used your plans to nearly take out the enitire Justice League. Your own friends. May I ask why you have such plans?"

"Power is.. easily misused.. Especially against baseline humans. I seen how fear can lead to.. abusive situations. In my city alone I have several rogues who use methods of psychological warfare to control people, I've seen alternate timelines where my friends or even myself has fallen from the morals we hold in this time. The plans I have vary from restraint until they come to their senses, or in the worst case senario.. something more permanent.. But in this instance I am out of options, our magic users aren't particularly specialized in medical practices other than surface level treatment. My child is in danger. And if it's for my children I'm willing to do anything."

He expected the young looking man to glare at his opinion, like most of the league did. They didn't understand his paranoia, too set in their current self to imagine such downfalls..

But Phantom, he smiles "Understand that to a point. I was tested once, thrown into a timeline where my loved ones were taken before their time... In my grief I made some.. Poor decisions.. ended up fused with someone I've disliked for a long time. The being that came from that was made of pain and anger, and destroyed most of the world.." Phantom's gaze was distant now. "His timeline dosen't exist anymore, but he lived on outside of it due to being locked away. He has a second chance now, a new family to bond with. A new reason to keep going.."

Batman was surprised the king was willing to share that much, but then again Bruce isnt normally this open to strangers either, but it is for Jason's sake.

"I'll be honest with you Batman, I'm still fairly new to Rule, fairly new to being dead. And I'm still learning all the in's and outs of what I am or am not allowed to do with my powers. Including cultural niceties."

Bruce felt his chest tighten.

"But! I do happen to know a very good doctor who has experience in treating patents who are still partially alive."

He had to reel in his hopes HARD, wary. Constantine always cautions that interactions with the Other come at a price. "And If you could get them to help, what would you ask in return?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You've already taken care of the biggest problem we were fretting over. Also you're placing a lot of trust in me to help even though I have done nothing to earn it. Besides."

Phantom lowers himself to stand on the ground, bright lights pass over him changing his colors and clothes. Before him stands a typical human teenager in comfortable Star Wars printed sleep pants and a well loved NASA hoodie. Breathing, alive.

"I understand what its like to tread both worlds yet know nothing about them. Seems like most ghosts that form have like an instinctual instruction manual that I didn't get. And they gave me a lot of trouble for it. It'd be nice to talk to someone who understands. If it's alright with you, maybe he could like, join some of the classes Gram-my mentor gives me about the realms if he's still curious? The rest of your family could come too if they want, Gramps loves to teach." Phantom chuckles softly, almost shyly.

Danny’s got the easiest job in Gotham.

He works as a fry cook at a shoddily-run, independent burger joint. Hardly anyone comes in, despite prices being criminally low, and portions insanely large, and while the manager looks like the average tough-as-nails ex-con, he lets Danny mess around in the kitchen whenever the place is empty. (Which is often. This place has to be the city’s hidden gem or something!)

Mr. Manager’s the only one ever there with Danny, except for sometimes when his buddies come over to smoke and play cards. Danny would find it shady, except part of his job is not to ask questions. Literally, he was told during the interview.

(It was a weird interview. Why would they need to hire someone who’s been in a gunfight before? Like, he has, but Gotham’s idea of “hirable qualities” is so bizarre.)

So instead he whips up some killer burgers with the frozen ingredients, and basks in the praise as the guys tell him he shouldn’t have, he does too much for this joint, ain’t that friendly!

Now, Danny’s a chef on the newer side. As a teen he’d preferred the look of Nasty Burger over anything with Michelin stars, and he only really took up cooking after Jazz moved out for college. But just like ecto-exposure used to turn the groceries sentient, Danny’s low-level ecto signature imbues all his food with something historically haunted Gothamites just love! And Danny’s never been one to half-ass a job when it makes people happy.

With fresher produce, real meat, Danny’s sure he can take his dishes to the next level. It takes a couple months of badgering, but his manager finally agrees to contact the mysterious store owner, who keeps the place going, despite profits Danny knows have to be in the red.

Danny spends the morning prepping. He pours his heart into his food, eager to impress. The big boss will be here soon, and he wants to prove that despite the dangerous location, this place has real potential!

It’s Criminal Enterprise 101: If you don’t want the op busted come the first tax season, you better be keeping that cash clean. Ergo, money laundering.

There’s a collection of small Alley businesses who’d happily take a bribe, or whose loyalty Jason had won through years of going up to bat. They wouldn’t mind fudging their numbers. Unfortunately, the idea of a good family sinking for him burns like bathroom hooch.

Instead he sets up his own quick series of shops and restaurants, selling stupid things for stupider prices. He hires folks with reputations that say they can either take a hit or don’t care that they can’t. Smart enough to improv when the cops come knocking, but not enough for ambition. The right kind of greedy. The minimal amount of nosy.

He ends up finding Danny.

Technically the hiring process is handled by his lieutenants, but Jason would argue semantics. As the biggest fish in the Red Hood pond, he can take as much credit as he wants.

‘Course, he doesn’t meet the guy until a few months after he’d been hired. And the only reason he does is because the restaurant he’s cheffing at— a redecorated burger franchise whose Gotham location failed after a couple drive-bys— has requested additional funds.

In emails he’s CC’d in, his finance guy messages back, “Why?”

A reasonable question. Jason would like to know, himself.

Burger manager responds, “Quality ingredients.”

… Huh.

Finance says, “Why would you need better ingredients?”

Burger says, “Our cook’s pretty talented. He says fresh ground meat could take us next level.”

In a second email, almost as if he’d forgotten, Burger adds, “Samples so far taste great. And it’d turn us a real profit!”

That is… not what a money-laundering crime front is for.

Jason wonders if his lieutenants need a more clearly-defined list of ideal candidate qualities. Namely, one that differentiates “manageable ambition” and “oddly directed ambition.” Maybe also one that defines “smart.”

The thread continues almost all day, with burger guy insisting they gotta try it to believe it and finance guy growing a headache. (No clue what this legendary fry cook has achieved to get someone Jason knows is a hard-ass to vouch so hard. Maybe this is the result of a few too many decades of concussions? Or maybe the cook’s sneaking uppers in the seasoning.)

But hell, he’s been meaning to show some face. He’ll have to go when store hours are over, because it’s senseless to make a front only to openly affiliate it with his nightlife. But going to meet the underlings is good for the brand. Keeps ‘em in line. Before patrol, he’ll pop in for a bite.

In red hoods paper: restaurant that is a front

Danny’s got the easiest job in Gotham.

He works as a fry cook at a shoddily-run, independent burger joint. Hardly anyone comes in, despite prices being criminally low, and portions insanely large, and while the manager looks like the average tough-as-nails ex-con, he lets Danny mess around in the kitchen whenever the place is empty. (Which is often. This place has to be the city’s hidden gem or something!)

Mr. Manager’s the only one ever there with Danny, except for sometimes when his buddies come over to smoke and play cards. Danny would find it shady, except part of his job is not to ask questions. Literally, he was told during the interview.

(It was a weird interview. Why would they need to hire someone who’s been in a gunfight before? Like, he has, but Gotham’s idea of “hirable qualities” is so bizarre.)

So instead he whips up some killer burgers with the frozen ingredients, and basks in the praise as the guys tell him he shouldn’t have, he does too much for this joint, ain’t that friendly!

Now, Danny’s a chef on the newer side. As a teen he’d preferred the look of Nasty Burger over anything with Michelin stars, and he only really took up cooking after Jazz moved out for college. But just like ecto-exposure used to turn the groceries sentient, Danny’s low-level ecto signature imbues all his food with something historically haunted Gothamites just love! And Danny’s never been one to half-ass a job when it makes people happy.

With fresher produce, real meat, Danny’s sure he can take his dishes to the next level. It takes a couple months of badgering, but his manager finally agrees to contact the mysterious store owner, who keeps the place going, despite profits Danny knows have to be in the red.

Danny spends the morning prepping. He pours his heart into his food, eager to impress. The big boss will be here soon, and he wants to prove that despite the dangerous location, this place has real potential!

But maybe the place is too new? Or maybe the last however many cooks were terrible cooks? And now, he's got someone who apparently can cook, who is asking for better quality ingredients? And he's so excited because maybe they can finally get feet in the door.

[᭙𝓲ꪶᠻꪮ𝘳ᦔ 𝘴𝓽𝘴𝓽ꫀ𝘴.]

[She hands Syenite to Simon.]