Post Final Battle, They're Recovering. Al, Instead Of Coming Back To Amestrias, Ends Up In Ra's Al Ghul's

“Are you busy today?”

Danny looked up from his phone, where he’d been messaging Jazz. She’d been pestering him to be more social again. Damian had been getting progressively more twitchy recently and he couldn’t figure out why. So, he figured, why not?

“Not really,” he answered after weighing the pros and cons of his answer.

“Good,” he said. “You are coming to dinner with me.”

Danny blinked once. Twice. Damian didn’t change. He still stood, somewhat stiff and formal and agitated in front of him. “What?”

“I am bringing you to my family dinner. Tonight. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

Danny wasted approximately thirty seconds of those five minutes staring in shock, before remembering that Damian could and would drag him out the door sans shoes if need be. He’d done it before. Given they went to school in Gotham, that had meant that Damian had carried him over his shoulder to his car and thrown an ugly purple pair of crocs at him before Damian had dropped him off at his study group. He bolted to his room to grab his wallet and a jacket, then slid into the kitchen to grab an ecto blob boba smoothie and a piece of meat.

Damian grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the fridge, sans meat. “Time’s up,” he said.

“But my snack-” Danny tried…

“You will be fed,” was snapped at him as they left their apartment. “If you must have a snack, I’m certain one of the heathens has left something in my car you may have.”

'Well, shit,' Danny thought. 'Guess I’m gonna need to have that meat for a midnight snack.'

_______

Danny sat at a dining room table full of rich people in their own house and wondered briefly how this had happened. Damian had dragged him into the house as if he thought the halfa would run away given half a chance. Which, he wasn’t exactly wrong, but still. He had refused to let go until he’d forcefully sat Danny down in a chair and introduced him to the room at large as “my roommate who refuses to feed himself properly and is trying to burn the building down by incorrectly using the toaster.” Which, rude.

"How do you do that?” the blonde, who he thinks was introduced as Brown, asked curiously.

"He puts raw meat in it,” Damian growls.

Everyone in the room turns to Danny at once.

“Why?” one of the two largest men, this one with a white streak, demanded. “Even I knew better as a kid, and I didn’t even have a toaster.”

Danny blinked at that before replying, “Well, the toaster at home was the only appliance that didn’t reanimate food. Ever. The oven was guaranteed to do so and the few times we had a working microwave it was Russian Roulette of the end result being animated, electrically charred, glow in the dark radioactive, or actually cooked through.”

“Oh my god, is that an actual reason?” someone whispered.

Damian just looked betrayed. “Why?”

“I did tell you, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure I told you,” Danny said confused. No realization dawned in Damian’s gaze. “My parents are ecto scientists? I know I changed my last name when I came out here, but I was pretty sure I told you about that.”

Damian’s eye twitched. “The crazed, zealot, mad scientist Fentons?”

Danny sunk into his chair with a sigh, resigned. “Yeah, them. After the Justice League took them in, I’m pretty sure they put my sister, friends, and I on some kind of potential rouges watchlist because of it. I’m just glad they managed to close the portal and confiscated all the weapons blueprints from them and the GIW.”

“They only took the weapons blueprints?” Richard asked.

Danny shrugged. “They took all of them, but the weapons were getting really dangerous. They kept upping the sensitivity so they targeted more and more liminals, ecto-contaminated people. I know how to make everything because I had to sabotage or fix everything so it wouldn’t target me.”

"Why would it target you?” Bruce asked, concerned.

Danny stared blankly at the man. “Do none of you follow the news? My lab accident was used as evidence of human experimentation at their trial. The whole house was an OSHA violation. The only reason their ecto levels were as low as they were is because they wore specialized hazmat suits twenty four-seven. That whole thing is why my sister and I changed our last name. So we could avoid,” he waved his hands around, “this.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat quietly brought the questions to a stop. Danny looked over at the man to give him a relieved smile, which grew truly grateful as the butler placed a plate of spaghetti in front of him.

Once everyone was served, Danny dug in. 'Damn,' he thought, 'steak cuts in spaghetti? Must be a rich people thing.'

With the butler, Alfred, if he remembered correctly, standing by the door, no one focused their questions on Danny, for which he was very grateful.It also took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that no one else’s spaghetti had steak cuts. In the meat. He carefully chewed the next bite of meat and sank down in his chair with an embarrassed groan.

“Is there a problem?” Damian asked, a smug, knowing glint in his eyes.

“I made a bet with my friends that I could last at least a semester without anyone figuring out this,” he gestured at the very delicious spaghetti. “I owe them phone numbers now. I don’t suppose you know where I can find Dr. Pamela Isely?”

“And who else’s number do you need?”

“Tim Drake, can I pass your number to my tech friend so he doesn’t remotely brick my electronics?”

A string of startled laughs erupted from the table at the question.

Danny needs a few...odd things. A few dietary and emotional requirements unique to his physiology. Meat is one of them.

But like, raw meat. He doesn't have to eat it often, maybe twice a month, but it does need to be completely raw.

He also needs to eat non-sentient blob ghosts, which are very different from sentient ones. Same amount, maybe twice a month.

He's weak to hot temperatures, where most humans require some sort of positive contact he needs to fight, if he gets too much sunlight his dopamine levels drop, and oddly enough as he got older milk or products with a lot of milk started to affect him like alcohol affects humans.

Now that he's made it to college, hiding most of these things is easy enough.

He chose Gotham, because of minimal sunny days and naturally cold weather. He regularly goes for walks at night, to fill his need for fighting. He says he has a milk allergy, and avoids milk products.

The blobs and the raw meat are a little uh. Those are a little hard.

He's taken to ducking into a bathroom stall to just swallow the blobs whole. But the meat...

He decides to sear the outside and leave the inside entirely raw. Does this detract from the nutrients by cooking them off? Yes. Does it mean he needs to eat raw meat four times a month instead of twice? Yes. Does it mostly hide that he's doing this in front of humans? Kind of.

Until he got a vegan roommate.

Said roommate is far too sharp-eyed for his own good, and now the guy is being weird.

Or: Damian's roommate is a meta who clearly has dietary restrictions outside the norm. It's fine; Damian understands that like animals in the wild, people have different diets. But the cuts of meat Fenton is eating are...subpar. Damian isn't sure how to be...civil, or appear polite, or not be a "snob" if he suggests Fenton allow him to procure farm fresh cuts of steak from cows raised in an open pasture and were well taken care of.

Soul mark au

Humans have soul marks, a picture on their skin representing the one person who compliments them, helps them grow, keeps them safe. Some people have multiple soul marks, some only one, and some not at all.

Ghosts have Fraid marks, images or features in their appearance that reflect the members of their Fright.

Danny has had his soul mates, Sam and Tucker, for years. Sometimes, he'll find an odd colored bruise that lingers and doesn't hurt, but he doesn't think much of it.

Then he dies. His ghost form only shows his face, all other skin hidden away. It takes a while before he can bring himself to check that his soul marks are still there. It takes longer still to learn about Fraid marks.

"Why does everyone here wear sashes anyway?" Danny asked one day, while stopping by the Far Frozen.

"We are a Fraid. We are all similar in many ways, so we manifested another way to show our inclusion in other Fraids," Frostbite responded easily.

"What do you mean?" Danny asked, confused.

"Our Fraid marks," Frostbite said, indicating his own, "Many beings of the Realms have their own way to show their marks, but we have no skin to show, and not all of us appreciate colored fur. This might be our Lair, but we have our own predators here if we aren't careful."

"What are Fraid marks?"

"Marks that show our allies and allegiances. Your human friends may even have their own marks."

"Sam and Tucker are my soul mates. I've had their marks forever. My sister, Jazz's too. But I haven't gotten new marks since I became a halfa."

"Didn't you notice?" Frostbite asked, amused. "You are a human ghost with fangs, pointed ears, and claws. You are here to check on other physical changes. Many of your friends in the Realms are not human, or have a very distinct non-humanoid form. Fraid marks are much more versatile than human, or even liminal, marks."

Gotham is full of flame actives. It is, in fact, rare to find someone born in Gotham who isn't flame active. There are a few sky lines, but most big names have some cloud or mist.

The Court of Owls has most of Gotham's sky flame users, which doesn't help.

After this, someone gets the idea to put the card on a lanyard. Whenever Danny is in an environment where he might get comfortable to sleep, or he hasn't slept in days, he can just throw it on. It's custom made with cartoon ghosts, tombstones, and zzz's.

Hearthcore needs a home. The Pit Rage was a consequence of being denied a home. Talia's manipulation made it worse. Bruce sets off the Pit Rage because paranoid and emotionally constipated. The manor being home and Bruce being himself send complicated signals to his instincts which, you know, sets him off.

Personally, I think it would be funny if, after this gets cleared up, Danny starts purring when he's comfortable around Jason. Maybe even just making ghost sounds that remind Jason of small animals calling for parents or packages.

I can just imagine, a Bat or Bird breaking in to find Jason and startling Danny so bad he makes scared baby ghost noises and Jason comes barreling into whatever room gun draw and eyes flashing, bundling Danny into a blanket as he points the gun at whoever had the absolute *gall* to scare the baby.

Jason's roommate is strange.

dp x dc promp

Jason Todd rented a small apartment, he has a roommate in it. This dude pays half a rent. But Jason almost never fucking sees him.

Danny is working strange shifts, was the explanation.

And one day Jason comes home and Danny sleeps at the kitchen table. Or at least Jason thought he was sleeping, but he was dead.

Then while Jason checked what could have happened, Danny opens his eyes says good day and walks away.

That happens around three times, and Danny at some point just started walking through the walls, since Jason knew something was off anyway, so no need for hiding his powers.

So Jason's roommate is Strange.

But Danny would say the exact same thing about his roommate. This Jason dude was really strange.

2 ideas:

1st - Different Dead have Different "lifespans". I don't have to research for accuracy or realistic information so...

Also, baby ghosts Must Be Protected. How long is a Realms Being considered a baby? 3-1,000 years, give or take. Some other versions of dead aren't even considered babies! They just form/revive at peak.

So the Must Protect for baby ghosts is an impulse for all Realms Beings and Adjacent. This leads to some interesting found families with various lifespans.

Like how sometimes in nature animals with cross species adopt. Wolves will adopt humans, for example. I've read before about a kid growing up with dolphins or gazelle/deer.

So, for the dpxdc tag, Jason the Revanent Adopts Phantom the Halfa. Only, instead of recovering normally in his Haunt, Jason got stolen away and dumped in foreign nasty ectoplasm. So his core didn't grow right and his instincts are messed up. This is the Pit Rage.

So, now you've got 2 dumbasses because Halfas don't have the full set of instincts either. :D

2nd head cannon - How a ghost dies has an effect on how their core forms. Usually, it's not an issue, just has an impact on power levels, future abilities, weaknesses. But sometimes, it has a huge effect on the core itself.

Danny died in the formation of a portal to the Infinite Realms. He died by electricity and was revived by ectoplasm in an endless cycle of pain for seconds to minutes. His core formed and was destroyed in an endless cycle of reliving his death exactly as he died until he fell out of the portal.

He has severe core trauma from the moment he died and doesn't know how to find help. His instincts are buried under Death Trauma and Fear, because all he knows about ghosts is his parents' very biased opinions.

When the ghosts start coming through, he has No Context and plenty of fear. Other ghosts, given the context of what they learn about his life, through context clues or Vlad hiring them, should ask questions. 'This electric attack looks like it causes extra pain. Have you seen a doctor to make sure your core is fine?' 'Oh, your parents are hunting you too? Exactly how long have you been dead, that they don't know?' 'How you return us to the Realms, if your parents are hunting you?' 'I've seen you in your parents' lab when I've come through. Do you live there? While they're hunting you?!'

Because they don't, they have no right to complain about anything he does. Skulker and Technus, if I remember right, have both been hired by Vlad. The Vultures too. So, given gossip, all of Danny's regulars really should have suspicions.

Frostbite doesn't leave the Far Frozen, so he can be forgiven his ignorance. Somewhat. When helping with his ice powers, he probably checked on his core and saw how bad it was. And assumed he'd gotten help for it already. Because that's reasonable. But did he ask Danny, 'hey, your core is in bad shape. You're seeing someone about that right?'

Culture of the Ghost Zone

SO! This is less of a full on prompt, and more of an opportunity.

I've been in this Fandom for over a year now and over that time I've seen so many little bits or lore and headcanons about the Ghost Zones Culture, but I've never seen a single post put them all together.

So, here I'll try to write down as many as I can think of, and anyone else can add their own Headcanons, or add to whatever I or someone else writes!

...

So! My personal Headcanon is that when a Ghost Passes on, it's a thing to be celebrated.

Ghosts are Immortal Beings, holding onto a desire or unfinished business that tethers them to the Mortal Plane. They live, because they are Unfulfilled, unable to accomplish the task that would allow them to Pass on, and be at peace with themselves.

So when a Ghost manages to fulfill their Obsession, manages to Pass On to the After? It's something to CELEBRATE!

Like when a Viking would die, you don't just mourn their death, you celebrate their Life! A Ghosts Passing On is much the same. When one of them manages it, there are parties across the Zone of people who knew them, or people who didn't but still want to celebrate! It's a Joyous thing when someone you know was able to find peace!

...

Ghosts socialize through Battle.

Ghosts are Immortal, Superpowered, and Stuck together for Centuries. They are going to fight, and they are going to love the thrill of it!

From the freshest of Newborns to the Oldest of Ancients, All Ghosts love the thrill of Battle. It's one of their defining traits! They have Centuries of nothing to do and energy to burn, and they devote it to the art of Combat!

And it's not just Brawls! Some Ghosts prefer to battle with Swords alone, others with their Fists and no Powers, others with their Powers and no Fists, there are entire communities of Ghosts who have specific Rules, or Customs for Combat!

In one part of the Zone, it may be common to Tackle any Ghost you see and instantly start to fight them, but in another? That would be seen as Rude, you need to throw down your glove in front of them to request a Battle!

Or in another section of the Zone you may be forced to battle without Weapons whatsoever, in another it may be Without Powers whatsoever, or with ONLY Powers!

The Fight Culture stretches far and wide, no two parts of the Zone are exactly the Same

...

Art is highly Valued.

Of course not all Ghosts are entirely focused on Battle, and even the ones that are like to focus on something else from time to time. Some of those Ghosts were Artists when they were Alive.

And they continued to make Art in Death. But this Art is Special, with all the Time in the World, a Ghost can spend Decades or even Centuries on their Magnum Opus! It would be their Life's Work, something they dedicated their entire Afterlives to!

So of course, it is respected. Ghosts know better than to ruin or destroy another Ghosts work or Art. Be it a Statue, a Painting, a Song, or a Theater Production.

...

I think that's Good for now, what do you think? Anything to add to the points I written down? Any entirely new points to add?

Go ahead!

In a safer city, Tim Drake would have been a teen detective. Like Kudo Shinichi (case closed), Nancy drew, boxcar children, or any of a dozen others.

i do love the idea of the Justice League finding out Batman’s identity and the fact that he’s actually just a tired vigilante dad and immediately discrediting his spooky-scary-intimidating reputation, and Bruce just being devastated about it. he worked so hard on that reputation, on that respect, and it’s all down the drain just like that. nobody flinches away from his glare anymore, because they’ve seen him glare at Red Hood and get a spoonful of mashed potato flung into his face for the effort. nobody cares about his threats anymore, because he tried to threaten Red Robin to go home and rest one time and Tim just giggled at him deliriously before mocking his tone and stealing his coffee. they’ve seen him pick a splinter out of a whining Nightwing’s finger mid-meeting. Damian once called him a condomless harlot to his face when he told him not to bring his swords onto the watchtower. he’s lost control.

he decides he wants the fear factor back and in all his brilliant genius, he decides the best way to go about that is to invite the league round for a fancy dinner party, specifically so he can use all his ‘brucie wayne’ acting skills to channel the essence of every creepy-rich-guy-in-haunted-manor movie he has ever seen in his life. it is the only time his kids have been fully onboard and willing to contribute to one of his plans without any complaints. they almost seemed more eager to pull it off than he was.

they spend the entire day making the manor look old and slightly abandoned, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and ensure that the only lighting is a fuck ton of candles, just enough to light the halls while leaving the corners and edges shadowy and ominous. Damian is allowed to have some of his more ‘skittery’ pets roam the manor freely for the night, causing occasional scritches and scratches to come from the ceilings. all of the kids dress in their best funeral attire, apart from Jason who gleefully pulls on an old white shirt stained with blood from when Tim crashed through his window with a stab wound, requesting a medkit.

when the league arrive they’re greeted by all the kids lined up on the staircase, staring at them blankly and ominously, while Bruce gives them all a large grin and ushers them into the creepy looking dining room. the league are somewhat nervous.

during the dinner the kids act completely different than the league have seen them in-mask. polite, cordial, and refusing to show an ounce of emotion. they pick at their food and only speak in vague sentences that refer to various horrific events of their past. Bruce has never been prouder.

the first close call they have to breaking character is when Bruce presents a bottle of red wine without any kind of label. as he pours a slightly disturbed Diana a glass, she asks where he got it from. Bruce happily gestures to Jason as says ‘my second eldest procured it especially for you, earlier today.’

Diana looks across the table at where Jason is grinning eerily at her by candlelight, still visibly stained with blood, eyes glowing slightly green. she pales, and Tim knows he can’t watch her shakily lift the glass to her lips without bursting out laughing. he refuses to be the one who fucks up first, so he dramatically stands up and declares he must ‘go feed the experiments’ before storming out the room. ‘the experiments’ are in reference to the pen of rabbits outside that glow in the dark because Damian rescued them from a testing facility, but given the environmental context it sounds much more sinister.

Jason joins him by the pen to also start wheeze-crying in private about 20 minutes later, because apparently after Oliver Queen had finished with his bbq rib, Damian had leaned over and without blinking stared into his eyes to blankly state ‘i would love to feed your bones to my animal friends, if you don’t need them anymore.’ and from the other end of the table Jason had snorted wine up his nose from how hard he was trying not to break.

amazingly, they never break character, although it came pretty close when after hearing another skitter from somewhere above, Stephanie climbed up from the table into the crystal chandelier and deftly returned to present the table with a large tarantula cradled in her hands, to which Damian stood up and declared, ‘ah, dessert! i will help pennyworth prepare it.’ before taking the animal and leaving to put his beloved spider back in it’s enclosure. the league genuinely seemed to be under the impression they were about to be served a tarantula-based desert, and upon seeing their faces at this realisation Dick had to pretend he’d dropped a fork on the ground so he could duck by Bruce’s chair and stuff a napkin in his mouth while he got his laughter under control. Bruce pats his shaking son’s back below the table cloth, determinedly staring at their guests with that same creepy-grin he’d kept up the entire night.

every member of the league makes their excuses to leave early, much to Bruce’s exaggerated disappointment. the second the last of them is out the door Alfred turns to face the family and says ‘mission accomplished. now get this manor back to it’s proper state.’ and they have the spend the rest of the night cleaning.

totally worth it, in Bruce’s mind. none of the JL will look him in the eye for weeks afterwards, and it was honestly the most successful attempt at family bonding they’d ever had. he wonders if they should make it a monthly thing. It’s also how they find out Damian’s a fucking theatre kid with a gift for the arts which is another revelation in of itself

Looking for a one shot where everyone thinks Izuku's hero name is Problem Child, because that's all Eraserhead ever calls him.

Fenton parents make an invention to reverse a ghost's evil impulses!" It actually brings a ghost's instincts forward. The effects last about two weeks.

The Fentons are in Gotham when they get the chance to use it on Phantom.

Good news: it happens near the Bats, so he's quickly rescued.

Bad news: baby ghost instinct wants parents and turned human to get reassurance. That did not happen and now Red Hood has a crying, keening teenager shaped leech.

Random linguistic worldbuilding: A language with six sets of pronouns, which are set by one's current state of existence. There's a separate pronoun for people who are alive, people who are dead, and potential future people who are yet to be born, and the ambiguous ones of "may or may not be alive or aleady dead", "may or may not have even been born yet", and the ultimate general/ambiguous all-covering one that covers all ambiguous states.

The culture has a specific defined term for that tragic span of time when a widow keeps accidentally referring to their spouse with living pronouns. New parents-to-be dropping the happy surprise news of a pregnancy by referring to their future child with the "is yet to be born" pronoun instead of a more ambiguous one and waiting for the "wait what did you just say?" reactions.

Someone jokingly referring to themselves with the dead person pronouns just to highlight how horrible their current hangover is. A notorious aspiring ladies' man who keeps trying to pursue women in their 20s despite of approaching middle age fails to notice the insult when someone asks him when he's planning to get married, and uses the pronoun that implies that his ideal future bride may not even be born yet.

A mother whose young adult child just moved away from home for the first time, who continues to dramatically refer to their child with "may or may not be already dead" until the aforementioned child replies to her on facebook like "ma stop telling people I'm dead" and having her respond with "well how could I possibly know that when you don't even write to us? >:,C"