Star’s Obsession Pit

The Lazarus Pit may have healed his amnesia, but ever since then he’s been seeing… things.

Shadowy figures flickering in the corners of his eyes. Sometimes when he looks in the mirror, for just a moment he can see his corpse staring back at him, wounds from the Joker’s crowbar still fresh. Then it’s back to normal.

Other times they’re more… persistent. Illusory corpses rest in places they have long been removed from. Or sometimes just pieces of them, often random splatters of blood. The blades he fight with become soaked in it, forever tainted red with the blood spilled on them. He takes to cleaning them relentlessly, never able to tell if there’s actually any grime left under all the red.

People were starting to worry. His men when he feverishly scrubbed his knives after every mission, even when they didn't need it. Civilians he rescued when he would narrow his eyes at an empty ally too long. Other bats when he stared at his gloved hands like he was searching for answers in the threads.

But what they all noticed? How *differently* he looked at weapons. Used weapons. His eyes shone in a way that made the others take a second glance- trying to see what they missed, what they overlooked that made their boss, the heroic Crime boss, their brother, their son, react that way.

But no one else saw it.

Jason never mentioned it, and other people just dismissed it as them being silly. Of course there's nothing there- what would be there? Jason was just a little odd, nothing more.

-Cue Jason sitting in his apartment with the curtains closed, and towels over all his mirrors using plastic cutlery and only mugs so he wouldn't see his reflection in anything-

After a patrol, Jason was doing his -now ushual- routine of washing his knives, scrubbing his boots, and changing his gloves so he could wash the other pair.

"Why does he do that?" A relativly new goon asked.

"I think he has OCD." Another replied.

"Eh, whatever. dosnt really matter." A third goon glanced out the window of the warehouse base they had set up. Nightwing. Oh, crap. Nightwing was outside.

"Hey, boss? One of your viglantie buddies is outside."

Jason looked up, glancing down at his knives. He had washed them a few times, and the water was...

He squinted his eyes.

...Clear. Good enough.

He holstered his knives, and turned around to face his men, who were doing basic matinace of their own weapons, and patching themselves up.

"Which one?" Jason asked.

"Nightwing."

He sighed in response. "Allright. Dont wait up for me, go home when you're done."

He got a series of "yes, sir."'s and "yes, boss."'s from his guys as he climbed out of one of the high up wearhouse windows.

He pulled himself onto the roof of his warehouse and looked around, quickly spotting the viglantie.

"Jaybird!" Came a familiar voice. Jason hopped onto the building the blue-clad vigilante was standing on.

"What do you want?" Jason asked, cutting right to business. He didn't get visits without reasons.

"I came to check up on you. You haven't been very active the the Batchat lately."

"I'm never active unless it involves me."

"I know, but... you seem off."

Jason rolled his eyes. RIght. Of course he did. He was going insane and hallucnating. But he couldn't just tell him that.

"Well, I'm fine."

"You've been acting weird, and we all know it. I would've said something earlier but I thought you would want me to stay out of it. But it's been 3 months. What's up?"

Jason's eyes lowered to a small puddle of rainwater on the roof. A dead, bloody, pale, beat-up teenager stared back at him with glossy eyes.

"Jaybird?" His brother asked, concern laced in his voice.

"It's nothing. Get you're nose out of my business." He snapped, anger sudden but not new.

"...let me drop you home at least?"

Jason huffed. Of course he wanted to drop him home.

"Yeah, fine- not. No." He had almost forgotten about his apartment. Dick couldn't see it. He would call him crazy. Maybe he was crazy, but that wasn't the point. He'll just play it off as being scarcastic.

"Of CoUrSe YoU cAn CoMe To My hOuSe WiTh Me"

He watched dicks eyebrows furrow. Maybe this was too much?

"...I'm coming back with you, Jaybird."

"No. You're not. You need to respect my privacy." Shit

"I've been to your apartment before, I already know where you live."

"So? If I don't want you to come over, you need to respect my decisions."

"Jay- that's not-"

"I don't care, and I don't want your excuses. Go home, Dick."

The vigilante frowned at the crime boss. But they both left separate ways.

~~~~~~~

When Dick got back to the cave, he found 2 of his brothers and his father waiting for him.

"How'd it go?" Tim asked.

"Why is Todd acting oddly?"

"It went... poorly. And I don't know. He wouldn't even let me take him home. And he had... a weird look in his eyes."

"Does Todd not wear a helmet?" Damian countered.

"Yes, but... I could sort of... feel it? His eyes wandered more than usual."

Tim nodded. "I get it."

Damian rolled his eyes. "I do not."

"He was defensive of his apartment... I think he's hiding something there." Dick mentioned, a little hesitantly.

They all exchanged glances.

"You three can NOT break into your brother's apartment when he's acting strangely. Especially if he doesn't want you there. It's his safe space- we can't ruin that for him." Bruce warned.

~~~~~

Dick pulled the window open, pushing past the curtains covering it. They couldn't see into the apartment at all; there were curtains at every window. Which only added to their suspicion.

"I'm convinced there's something here. You check the bedroom, I'll check the kitchen." Dick nodded at times words, heading towards the bedroom.

The windows were predictably covered, but what he didn't expect, was his mirror to be covered as well. Why would he cover the mirror?

Digging around a little more, he didn't find much out of the ordinary. Books neatly on shelves, a mug left on his nightstand, and several hidden guns.

He moved on to the bathroom. The mirror was also covered with a towel. Beyond that, there was an oddly high amount of cleaning products. He recognised them as batmans go-to for cleaning off blood. That... is probably not good. The bottles were almost empty, and the whole room reeked of chemical cleanliness. It made Dick's nose wrinkle.

He checked the under-the-sink cabinet. There were more bottles. More than Dick would keep stocked to last him a year and a half. He frowned, and exited the bathroom to meet Tim in the living room.

"...What did you find?" Tim asked.

"His mirrors are covered, and he has talked up a... deep cleaning habit. His bathroom smells strongly of chemicals and he has way too many bottles of cleaner."

Tim hummed. "He doesn't have any metal or glass in the kitchen. He only has mugs and reusable plastic utensils- like what young kids would use. He even has plastic, but thee weird, painted kitchen knives."

"Why did he make thee changes? What do all of those things have in common?" Dick asked.

"Well, the windows, cups, and mirrors are all made of glass. Not sure about the plastic cutlery..."

"Those are all reflective," Dick provided.

"Yeah... and metals spoons and such too. But what about the chemicals?"

They thought on it for a few moments.

"It could be not related? Like, it could be something else."

"Maybe. And... you said that his eyes were wandering? Do you know what he could have been looking at?"

"There was.... a puddle on the ground."

​yeah that ectoplasmic residue thing was my original idea! The shadows in the corners of his visions would be brief glimpses of the weak ghosts/shades of Gotham, and the corpse-y stuff would be caused by his mind’s interpretation of the ectoplasmic stains left by deaths.

Though guilt and other nonmagical mental health issues can absolutely factor into it too ofc!! His issues can be multifaceted!

…Never mind, he was absolutely not ready for this.

He was just getting used to ghosts, and now one of his schoolmates is apparently half dragon?? And not like, ghost-artifact-dragon like he’s seen before with Dorothea; his ghost powers haven’t gone off, and from what he’s heard being said, Ruri Aoki has an actual living dragon for a father (though an absentee one).

He should probably still keep her and his parents from meeting though, just to be safe. She seems pretty chill, so it hopefully won’t be too hard.

…oh no, he just jinxed it, didn’t he.

Walker is a Demon hunter, specializing in beasts. He wrote everything he knows in his Beasticon, and treats it like Law. He uses his crow to help him hunt, and his weapon of choice are silver tipped arrows.

One day he came to Amity in the hunt of a werewolf. He asked the Fentons for some assistance, but they were too busy solving their Demon problem to help. Danny heard Walker describe the dangerous beast and decided to look for it.

Wulf is a werewolf. He has been one for long enough that he can stay in his wolf form indefinetly, and he has compleatly cast aside his humanity for this freedom.

When Danny finds Wulf, the latter is agitated and attacks. Danny is still unused to his powers, so he is easily defeated. He decides that they need an expert for this. The next day in human form he asks Walker to let them assist in his hunt.

Armed with silver tipped arrows, they look for the werewolf. Sam is reading through Walkers Beasticon, but gets the feeling he isn't trustworthy. After a while Walker thinks he hears the beast and takes off into the woods. When the group tries to follow they get split up.

Suddenly, while he is alone Tucker is attacked by the beast! It snarls and bites his arm, but to Tucker's confussion the werewolf let's go almost immediatly and flees. When he finds the group again Tucker hides his injury from Walker. Sam insists the 3 head to her cabin so she can treat Tuckers arm with a healing balm.

When she enters she is shocked to find the werewolf! Danny tries to defend his friends, but Sam stops him. The wolf seems afraid and in pain. Getting closer they discover he has a silver collar that is causing him pain.

Stealing the key from Walker they free Wulf from the collar. While Sam treats both Tuckers arm and Wulfs silver burn, the group discovers Tucker can understand Wulfs speech. He bit Tucker because he thought it was Walker, and apologizes. He just wants to be free, but Walker wants to cage him. The group agrees to help Wulf escape from Walker who has been hunting him for years and tortured him with the collar for months.

Following their dream, Jack and Maddie thought they had figured out how to create a portal to the Underworld. A summoning is a one way ticket, so the research was long and neccessary.

But it didn't work. They left, angry and frustrated. Neither parent noticed that Danny had followed them, worried for their safety.

Seeing that his patents had left the circle unattended, Danny went back to get his friends to help him clear the circle away, believing it to be dangerous. Remember, demons are known to be real. They arent seen as myths.

As Sam pulled a knife out of the ground, she accidentally cut herself. Having the blood of a witch, it activayed the circle.

Danny was standing in the middle of it. He never had time to react.

The portal activated, turning Danny into a demon.

Once the portal powered down, Sam and Tucker rushed to Danny's aid.

A lot of Jason fans fall for this claim, but let's see what exactly is Jason's request regarding the subject:

Batman: Under The Hood

"[...] not talking about Cobblepot and Scarecrow or Clayface. Not Riddler or Dent..."

"Just him [Joker]."

"[...] because he took me away from you."

And there we have it. UTH was never about Bruce killing his adversaries after all, at that precise point it's not even about Bruce killing his adopted son's murderer. What Jason aims with his actions is to question Batman's methods, to confront his adoptive father on his inaction, and to ask for him to finally make a choice:

Batman: Under The Hood

You either let me kill my murderer, or you kill me. Choose which one's the hardest for you to live with.

Is that a reasonable request? That's subjective, and perhaps that's the point. He's a master strategist, trained, ruthless, cunning, the comic proves all of that explicitly; but he's still human, young, victim of murder, and someone's son. Even a master strategist is allowed to be unreasonable, to be emotionally raw, to be emotionally involved.

So what's wrong with Bruce from Earth-51? He did make a choice, but what was it? And what's Jason reaction?

Countdown To Final Crisis

"[...] I wasn't just taking revenge... I was going to war."

"[...] I've got friends up there! You think I'll just sit on my thumbs while they fight and die?"

"He [Earth-51 Bruce] couldn’t deal with my death and turned rogue. You just turned away."

For Jason, it's not about killing any and all villains.

What is it about then? Practicality.

It's not about giving up entirely on justice and people's rehabilitation and ressocialization, it's about being capable of putting a definitive end to the suffering and losses when they reach a certain unforgivable point. But commit no mistakes, nothing and no one gives Jason (or any other character for that matter) the "right" or "authority" to decide who gets to live and who gets to die. That's hardly a question that matters though. Nobody cares, just like nobody cares who gives Batman or any other superhero the "right"/"authority" to do what they do. Jason believes it needs to be done, and so he steps up, it's as simple as that.

That last line about Earth-51 Bruce turning rogue and our Bruce turning away, that's the crux of the matter that most people ignore. Jason doesn't want and never wanted Batman to become a rogue, a villain, a mere executioner. UTH is more than just Batman killing or not, it's about a son wanting justice served by his mentor, teacher and father, it's about a child wanting his unfair and cruel death to mean something to the only person it could've meant anything at that point.

Post-death Jason is, first and foremost, I would say, the Batman mythos' absolute judgment. The dead come alive to judge Batman's actions. He sees what was done for his victimhood using the Bat's MO, and he harshly disapproves of it. Points it out in a way no other character can quite manage because none of them are Bruce's adopted son, Bruce's family, Bruce's responsibility, that he let die, that he distrusted without proof (read: The Diplomat's Son and Consequences), that he marred the name of immediately after his death despite his biological mother using her dying breath to praise his goodness.

Jason is, secondly, I would also say, a counter-argument to Batman's methods. Everyone knows his limit, everyone can and do play with it, everyone knows he won't ever put a definitive stop to it, so what's the point? To make them afraid? They're not afraid. They know nothing he does will stop them forever.

So to conclude this needlessly long ass post (I love writing sorry), Jason isn't being a hypocrite for the simple fact that he himself doesn't want to kill all villains/rogues, doesn't see a need for that unless they step over the line (and yes, it's a nebulous, malleable line based on personal principles, which adds to the complexity (or perhaps mundane humanity) of the character). Not just that, but also because Earth-51 Bruce killing Joker wasn't about his love for Jason nor for justice, it's merely a symptom of his own mental instability (and your usual "Batman won't stop killing if he kills once" narrative that DC loves for some reason). Jason doesn't want that, he wants to matter. Most of all, he wants shit to change. Enough weak excuses against killing homicidal bastards. Enough making killing rogues about the heroes' feelings and/or lack of spine and not the suffering of the people vulnerable to their actions. He wants victims (himself included) to get their justice/revenge (and yeah, I think for him those two things can mingle and may just be one and the same in some cases).

Tl;dr: Earth-51 Bruce is sort of the opposite of our Bruce. Where our Bruce's sins lays in his inaction and ineffectiveness, Earth-51 Bruce's sins lays in his extremist actions and principles. Jason cares for neither, he cares for practicality and justice for the ones who are cruelly victimized like he was.

It still felt far too real.

Stumbling out of bed, he began to make his way towards the bathroom. Washing his hands would help the sensation dissipate sooner.

As he walked through the darkened house, he reflexively lightened his footsteps to be near-silent. He didn’t actually need to sneak here, but old habits die hard. Only once the bathroom door was closed behind him did he flick on any of the lights.

Green eyes met his from across the small room.

Danny stumbled back with a yelp, crashing into the wall behind him. Then, finally, his mind caught up with him.

It was just the mirror. The green was only a brief illusion from the light reflecting off his eyes—a phenomenon that has occasionally occurred ever since the portal incident. Damian isn’t there.

The familiar sounds of a lock unlatching and the electrical fizzle of the ghost shield shifting to adjust sounded from the door as a tray of “food” was slid through.

After a few moments, he pushed himself to his feet with a grown and plodded across the cold cell floor to pick up the tray. As horrible as the slurry of who-knows-what he was given tasted, he did need to eat.

But as he considered the bowl, he paused. He hadn’t even touched its contents yet, but a feeling in his gut told him something was different this time.

He lifted the bowl to take a sniff, and noticed a small scrap of napkin that had been hidden beneath it.

Looking closer, he noticed the scrap had something on it. Writing. Tiny, but legible.

‘Added E.Dejecto. Will briefly disrupt shields tonight. Good luck. I’m sorry’

With every word he read, Danny’s eyes widened more and more. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt a flicker of hope.

Cautiously, he took a small sip from the bowl, and felt some of his strength finally returning to him.

The writer had been telling the truth. There was no faking that feeling blooming in his core. This was real. He wasn’t dreaming.

He fought to prevent a grin from stretching across his face. He couldn’t risk giving anything away yet, not when he finally had the possibility of escape within his reach.

For now, he just sat the tray down in his lap and leaned back against the wall, feeling the hum-buzz of the shields within. He had no idea what time it was or how long it’d be until nightfall, and he didn’t want to risk the Ecto-Dejecto wearing off too soon.

So he would wait.

Ending the ghost king had changed some things for the better. The lower level ghosts were too scared of him to harass amity anymore.

But the damage to his schooling was already too far gone to recover. Between the years of bullying and the year of hell that was his first year as a ghost, he would graduate with very few prospects.

Vlad was ended when he released Pariah. He was officially considered missing, and his personal assets were frozen until he his status was resolved. His company had been forcibly split by investors, and was apparently under investigation.

But...

Pariah's attack had accelerated anti ghost sentiments and completely turned the town against them. The GIW got official government support. His parents were even more manic as Jasmine got into a university far away from Amity. Sam and Tucker had been taken from Amity after their respective possessions.

He flips the coin, his last gift from Clockwork after the truth was revealed.

Danny Fenton didn't really exist in this world. He was a stolen embryo to create the perfect weapon against Pariah. Placed in the perfect world to prepare him for the challenge. Stolen from a soul that was breaking from grief. Grown from the dna of a dead boy.

All he had to do was snap the coin and he'd get to meet his mother, who'd apparently managed to pull themselves together after their mad science breakdown.

He was struggling to find a reason to stay.

He plays with the coin, bag phased into his body, and grabs each half.

AKA "Danny moves to Gotham. 2 weeks later, the Riddler blows up his apartment. The bats now have to contend with a very petty civilian who is determined to make the Riddler's life miserable." DPxDC prompt idea! TW: Discussion of a bomb, no injuries.

Okay, so, walk with me: Danny moves to Gotham to attend Gotham-U and finds a cheap apartment on the border of Crime Alley. He's due to start college in a month and he's orienting at his new job at Batburger (surprisingly, it has good benefits and a fair wage, courtesy of one philanthropist Bruce Wayne). He's actually having a really good time in Gotham - he's made his first apartment a home he's where finally comfortable, finally safe, and he's proud of it.

And then he comes back from work one day to... nothing. His apartment building just... isn't there. There's a pile of crumbled debris, half-melted steel beams, and the general impression of what was probably the first floor. Danny is absolutely devastated. His first apartment, not even 2 weeks in, and it's gone. He hadn't even known. (He takes a moment to mourn his greatest possession: Franke-Nin-Fen-Do, his specially made Fenton-tech-approved Nintendo. He, Tucker, and Sam spent months putting her together - she was the best creation he ever made. She shall be dearly missed.)

The news comes out that it was a bomb set by the Riddler in a ploy to make Batman choose between his newest Robin's life and Danny's apartment complex. The bats evacuated everyone in the building, but the bombs still detonated and left dozens of families without shelter. Thankfully, Gotham-U offered to house all affected students in their campus dormitories and Bruce Wayne found housing for the rest. Still... Franke-Nin-Fen-Do has to be avenged.

Over the next couple of months (since Danny started school and had to multi-task between college classes, working at Batburger, and vengeance), the bats are notified of increasingly worrying threats being sent to the Riddler. The latest? A bright screen sticky note with chicken-scratched Sharpie.

Dr. Edward Ngyma, I'll never forgive you for taking her from me. You're a homewrecker and the worst type of human. I'll show you what it's like to lose something you love. - Dr. Frankenstein

More writers have to think about ghosts as the persecuted minority they canonically are, and think about how Danny, as someone who passes for human, might not be totally cool with telling people he’s one of them- even if we as the writer might think we would do that in that situation, tell the authorities every minute detail, that’s never what anyone does and it’s not something that someone with severe trust issues like you’re going for would do.

“New assignment from the higher ups.”

Flipping through the first few pages, the engineer suddenly paused at the words in the headers. “Turing implants? Seriously? What, we’re chasing conspiracy theories now?”

“Is it really that much crazier than ghosts?”

“We know ghosts exist. I think I’d’ve heard if the Russians managed to make telepathic super-spies,” he replied drily.

The agent smirked and tapped the papers. “Evidently they got a lot further than you’d think.”

He sighed. “Ugh, whatever. Fine. But even if they were onto something, what’s that got to do with our work?”

The agent shrugged. “I wasn’t told too much about the specifics. Something about trying to tap into the signals used by ghosts to communicate?”

“But ghosts aren’t sentient, so why would we particularly care about whatever gibberish they spout?”

“Look,” the agent replied, a little forcefully. “It’s your assignment. Just do it. Read the file, and get back to me with whatever material requests you’ll need later. Okay?”

“Alright, alright,” the engineer replied, raising his hands placatingly. “I’ll take a look.”

Okay, so, to explain what I’m referencing:

The Turing Implant was a device from the comics that was designed by the Russians to allow people to intercept and hear all sorts of radio signals and even read people’s thoughts. It did sorta work, but it had pretty serious shortcomings and the only survivor of the project was a woman named Isabelle Cheranova (who’s a minor villain in at least one Batman comic).

Also the device couldn’t isolate the signals on its own, meaning the user would be constantly bombarded with an endless cacophony of noise unless they had an additional other device to solve that, but I’m not really touching on that aspect here.

Danny shuddered involuntarily as he stepped out of the plane and onto the soil of Gotham City.

Mentally, he was already crossing Gotham University off his list of potential colleges. He wasn’t even into the city proper, and he could already feel that there was something wrong with this place.

But he had promised to check the place out, so he couldn’t turn around just yet. ‘Plus,’ he thought sardonically, ‘It’s not like my ticket leaves yet anyway.’

Exiting the airport, the feelings only strengthened. His breath caught in his throat, his ghost sense almost but not quite going off. Or maybe that was just the air pollution he’d heard rumors about.

If it was the air, getting into a cab didn’t make the feeling subside in the slightest. Though luckily it didn’t make it worse either.

After he told the driver the address of his hotel, the ride began to pass in silence. Danny was thankful for the driver’s choice not to attempt to strike up a conversation, though the absence of music was a bit more awkward.

And then he started to hear whispers.

“What was that?”

“Huh?” The driver glanced back at him. “Didn’t say anythin’.”

“Never mind.” Danny replied, then mentally added, ‘Guess I’m just going nuts, then.’

He turned to look out the window, and nearly jerked back in surprise. He hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings, but at some point they’d entered an area almost filled with pale, translucent figures.

Yet no one else seemed to react to them, or even to notice their presence at all. Cars and pedestrians alike passed through them as if they weren’t even there.

Were they ghosts? But if so, why were they so… lifeless? The ones he’d fought in Amity were all so animated, absolutely filled with the emotions that drove them. Yet these figures barely seemed to move at all, their voices speaking only in whispers. He couldn’t quite make out what any of them were saying, but it their words seemed almost rhythmic, like they were repeating the same phrases over and over again.

Maybe he really should have turned around and left immediately, promises and plane tickets be damned. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to get these memories out of his head.

If batman and Danny phantom were in the same universe Jason Todd would fall head over heals in love with mr lancer

The man swears in Jane Austen novels and has a level of weird tolerance that pushes even bat limits.