Conner Phantom, Learning To Live

Captured King Snippet

DPXDC inspired by this post by @mokulule

It's probably going to be one long one shot when it goes up on ao3, but here's a little less than 1k of the beginning (by snippet I do mean most of what I have written so far lol)

Phantom had been quiet since he was apprehended.

Silent in a way that someone who needed to breathe, someone with a beating heart, could never be, and Batman could tell it had Superman on edge as he stared through the one way glass into the interrogation room. But then the uncanniness of the young man they had captured was probably a minor stressor compared to the concern of what would happen if Phantom got loose, his arrest had been brutal. Clark shouldn't even be in the observation room, any fight that left him as battered as he was should land him in the Fortress of Solitude's medical facilities, but getting that through to him when Phantom was still present was a losing battle.

So many of the League's heavy hitters, including dipping into Justice League Dark for magical support, and Phantom had danced around them.

The only reason they had been victorious in the end was because-

~~~

After several failed attempts at capture based on power match ups leaving the league member unable to land a meaningful hit, or arriving too late to stop or catch him, an ambush had finally been successful.

The ambush location had been set up for them, pending inspection by their team, based on Phantom's history and pattern of attack.

A pattern that was too aggressive, to recent for Bruce to have time to investigate to his satisfaction before action was needed.

The research facility had been pre-cleared of civilians and intel, the latter of which irked Batman. Every instance of a League member beating Phantom to a facility location ended with Phantom fleeing, if only to return later. So why would the GIW need to clear their servers to the degree they did.

Each member of the ambush team chosen with the utmost care, carefully strategized, every outcome accounted for, and in the end-

The why was unknown, but Phantom couldn't use his intangibility on Captain Marvel, leading to Marvel turning the fight into a one on one grapple despite the close quarters limiting how much help the rest of the team could be.

Phantom had barely made a sound most of the fight, ignoring the team's attempts at communication, he'd barely hissed at the brutal slash Wonder Woman had landed, barely a grunt at Superman's blows, dancing around Green Lantern's constructs, a motley of growing bruises on his skin and seeping wounds. And Phantom had reciprocated in kind, Diana had come out of the fight bruised, but largely unscathed, but Green Lantern was only 'standing' due to his ring and will, and whatever Phantom had done to Superman's ribs wasn't healing without attention, at least Clark Kent calling in sick to the Daily Planet would help his cover.

But Phantom screamed when Captain Marvel called down lightning on him. Broken, and bone chilling even through the comms, the volume deafening. And Marvel had read the seizing muscles followed by going completely limp, the uneven and new breathing, the tears, the presence of any reaction at all as landing a disabling blow.

Phantom took advantage of the lowered guard, but then at their proximity, it probably wouldn't have mattered lowered guard or not. And Phantom reciprocated in kind.

Phantom's eyes shot open, glowing bright in the night sky, energy arcing off of him as he sent Captain Marvel's lightning back through him.

Captain Marvel's cry cuts off sooner than Phantom's had, quickly replaced by Billy's, having been so close to him when he transformed, Phantom catches him quickly, instinctively, as he begins to fall. Cyborg's drones catch Phantom's expression as he processes what just happened clearly, eyes widening, mouth opening slightly, shock shifting to horror as he stares crestfallen at the boy in his arms.

"We're too high up." The first words anyone on the Justice League had heard him say, despite the GIW claiming he had a reputation for chatting nonsense incessantly. "The atmosphere it's, the air is too thin, too cold, he-"

"Phantom." Superman's tone is unyielding, firm, Phantom's eyes dart to him, "hand him over."

Phantom stares at Superman for a long uncomprehending moment before startling into action, "right, of course," drifting closer to Superman he carefully places a stirring Billy in his arms, as soon as Phantom lets go Green Lantern wraps Billy in a force field.

Billy takes a deep breath, eyes shooting open, twisting in Superman's arms his eyes snap past Phantom, but the warning his glance gives the ghost isn't enough.

Cruel, was not a word that could ever apply to Diana. Ruthless however, was an apt description, her lasso wrapping around Phantom's throat, he didn't need to breathe, but it would prevent his sonic attack, and provided her leverage to swing him around like a dog with a chew toy, diving towards the Earth she slams him into the ground, creating a crater at his impact, and holding him still long enough for Zatanna to swoop in from where she lay in wait to contain him.

~~~

Because something wasn't adding up.

The petition for help from the US government had made Phantom out to be a recurring issue, yet hadn't reached out until his most recent attacks.

Research notes going back nearly a decade, tied closely with a branch of the U.S. government none of them had heard of before.

Laser focused on his target unless absolutely forced to shift his attention.

And it took a lot to draw his attention, he displayed a worrying number of powers and abilities, skilled in evasion and combat, he didn't hesitate to match any of the league blow for blow until he-

Phantom's face when Captain Marvel had transformed played over and over again in Bruce's mind.

There was a difference to him in fighting Captain Marvel, the Champion of Magic, Earth's Mightiest Mortal, and Billy Batson, the 14 year old out too late on a school night.

As there should be.

But there wouldn't have been to the menace the GIW had described.

The GIW would be expecting an update soon.

The league didn't have one for them.

Batman refused to have one for them until he had more information.

Unfortunately their greatest source of information was tight lipped and unresponsive.

I can't remember who started it, but this is based off of the post of both Danny and Tim Drake being mutually obsessive and possessive of each other.

So what if, while a ghost doesn't often talk or admit about their obsessions out loud, that doesn't stop others from learning them. Especially when they're so open about it.

Many of the ancients have obsessions that are obvious, but when their obsession is pointed out, there is a feeling of pride and satisfaction that others know what their obsession is. It is like confirming who they are and what they are and will be known for. It's very rare for a ghost not to have their obsession known in one shape or form. Whether it's their name, attire, or what they do on a daily basis. A mixture of all three and thar spells trouble. Many are fine with their obsessions being known, but it's when you try to use it against them when it becomes a problem.

But what if they were obsessed with a person? Whether alive or dead, the feeling of obsession over the ecto could lead them to what most humans believe to be stalker like behavior. But for people from the ghost zone, it's perfectly normal.

Think of Johnny and Kitty. Together in the beginning and in the end, and no matter how many fights and break ups, they still return to each other. Because they are obsessed with each other in all meanings of the word. Sure, the love is there, but it just makes the obsession burn brighter. But if you didn't die together and you were obsessed with another ghost? It's very different as the obsession can turn down the ghost, which could either send the ghost spiraling or worse. Which is something that happens more often than not, leading to many fights and wars throughout thr ghost zone.

But a ghost obsessed with the living? An ecto being from the realms that feels all emotions falling for a mortal who can't feel the feelings? It can lead to disaster. Think of Vlad and Maddie: his obsession that has been rejected since even before his turning has lead him to a darker and darker whole.

Of course, over time Amity Park became like the ghost zone. Many of Amity Park's occupants becoming more comfortable or upfront with their talents, Hobbies, or possible love interests. When any of them are complimented or given any sort of positive reaction, there is always the look of pride on their faces when pointed out.

All of that just to build up to Danny becoming obsessive with his DC love Interest to the point they think he's stalking them (he is).

When they call them out on it, they say something like, "You act like you're obsessed with me." And to which they are shocked to see Danny grinning and jumping for joy as he screams, "I am!".

Batfamily x Danny Phantom AU

Parts:

1 (Batfam meets Danny part 1)

2 (Batfam meets Danny part 2)

3 (Justice League meets Danny)

4 (Sleep or else)

5 (Batfam game night)

6 (Jason and Danny after patrol)

7 (Harley and Ivy meet Danny)

8 (Batfam pizza night)

9 (Jon meets Danny)

10 (Danny's not-so vital signs)

11 (Legal name change)

12 (Bruce vs. the English language)

13 (The Wayne-Kent family dinner part 1)

I've decided to reboot this AU here's the link to the new master post

Actually writing something based off of this post. Y'all really seemed to like it and I got scared LOLOL

(How it will probably go (written poorly written cause it's almost 7AM and I haven't slept yet) . Also I have no idea what I'm doing. This will be rewritten better in a fic maybe.)

Jason sighed as he made his way into Gotham University's gym. It was the middle of the day and Jason was there at a Startup Event posing as a guy who was interested in what people had to offer. He had only had maybe a total of four hours of sleep since he had patrol the night before. Granted, this wouldn't have affected him as much if he was more mentally prepared to be awake. The only reason why he's out here was because Bruce had woken him up an hour ago to tell him a little last minute about what he needed to do today. Originally, the plan was to do absolutely nothing. But now he has to investigate a guy that Bruce had his eye on as of lately.

The person he's looking for is a man named Danny Nightingale. Apparently he's been in Gotham for a couple years and only recently started making a mess of things. How it went under Bruce's nose is beyond him considering how freaked out Bruce was once he did find out.

Apparently, the guy has been making life changing machines. Little mechanical bees have been flying around Gotham really just sucking up all the pollution in the air and just depositing it somewhere. According to the media, they go back to some headquarters and into a bee hive looking structure to deposit all the pollution and sludge. From the photos shown, it's actually pretty impressive. Some guy actually making a change around here.

For Bruce- no. For Batman, this is just highly suspicious. Why would some guy make these positive life changing machines? For the better? No. No genius with the power to change the world would do it for the better. There's got to be some ulterior motive behind it.

At least, that's what Batman thinks.

Jason thinks it's all interesting. Maybe there is an ulterior motive but even then, at a scale so large that it's literally affecting the city in a positive way? You've got to be literally more insane than the Joker if you wanted to plaster your face everywhere at an event like this. Everyone else at this event seemed to show promise but compared to Danny Nightingale's company? They're literally all small fry.

Surprisingly enough, however, no one else seems to be at Danny's booth. Not even Danny. Jason frowned as he approached the booth and just looked at the machines on them. The Bees are kind of just flying in place and the moment that Jason even looked at them, the Bees immediately got to work. They flew around him like a puppy with wings, nuzzling against him and bumping into him so dumbly. And honestly?

It was actually kind of cute. You would think that being on such little hours of sleep and being grumpy the whole morning would really affect the pits inside him but no. He's surprisingly calm.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! They don't usually act like this," a voice stuttered out. A man hastily walked towards Jason as he gently plucked the Bees out of the air and brought it close to him.

"Uh, don't worry about it. I thought it was kind of..." Jason trailed out before locking eyes with the man who spoke.

This was Danny Nightingale. He was much shorter than Jason, only standing tall at 5' 5". His hair was fully black with only a white money piece right on his bangs. And his eyes? An alluring blue with only a hint of green at the center of his eyes. Honestly, the sight of Danny just about took Jason's breath away.

There was a subtle glow to him, almost making Jason think of there being some sort of meta activity going on but looking around the people in the area, no one but him seems to notice. Danny was concerned about Jason, that much is obvious. The way his eyes burrowed in concern then into confusion. It's strange why just looking at him made Jason's heart skip a beat, even though in hindsight, Danny looks much worse off than Jason.

That man looks like he hasn't slept in 3 weeks. But even then he was...

"Cute..." Jason finally finished his sentence a little too late.

Danny blinked in confusion, tilting his head to the side. His bangs fall freely over his eyes. Just the sight of that almost made Jason blush. "My bees were cute?" Danny spoke, the tone of his voice (very tired) sounded like a sweet harmony in Jason's ears. "Oh! You're interested in Nightech? No one else seems to be interested in my stuff yet. I can tell you all about this company and how it works? I put in a lot of work and love into these little guys and I'm sure you would love them too!"

Blah blah blah. Proper name. Place name. Backstory stuff.

Nothing of what Danny is saying is registering in Jason's brain right now. Maybe some. ("I... Love... You...")

"I love you too!!" Jason blurted out.

Danny blinked before widening his eyes. "Wh-What...?" There was that look of concern again but now there's another look. Recognition...

Whatever. None of that right now. This is embarrassing!

"I-I said I love your company. Uh. Do you have a business card? I can let Bruce Wayne know about this."

Wordlessly, Danny gave an information card to Jason before that poor brick of a man just ran out of there, not once even looking back. Honestly, from the way it's playing out in Jason's head right now, he feels like a princess running away from her prince at the stroke of midnight. The earpiece crackled before a voice started to speak.

"Jason? What the hell was that?" Bruce's voice questioned.

It was only when Jason left the gymnasium that he answered, "Me digging my own grave for the second time, old man. Let me go die in peace."

"No, no," Dick's voice chimed in, "Only after we replay that very short conversation about 50,000 times. Thank you very much."

Jason only groaned in response.

Danny, back in the gymnasium, only stared at the door that Jason left from in horror. The only way for people to react that way to him like that is for them to be dead or liminal. Now he has to figure out a way to tell Bruce Wayne that this person that he seems to know is a little bit dead!

This actually is a part of whatever the fuck I'm writing. I'm still thinking of a fic name. But all of the random posts go together in some way.

8k, tomarry, fluff, time travel, murder mystery with magic, MOD HP

(or) Tom Riddle keeps stumbling over things that don't make sense, until they do. There is a magical cat, an antique shop and a string of murders, when life has been nothing but boring lately. (Chaos ensues).

There was a one eyed cat sitting on the still of Borgin and Burke's.

It looked up lazily, sleepily as Tom's shadow obscured its form where it sat against the rotting black wood Burke refused to replace no matter how many times it fell apart, only to be reluctantly stitched back together with magic and intent alone.

One eye had been meticulously shut with care, the scar leaving faint grey lines against its skin. The only one eye visible was as green as an emerald and so intense Tom had the brief unwelcome thought of carving it out with a spoon to make a pendant for himself.

The black cat cast a singular penetrating gaze at him and seemed to find him lacking, as it resumed the meticulous grooming it had been adamant on doing since before Tom arrived. Being dismissed by such a small creature felt like a personal offense somehow. Tom readied a mild hex at his fingertips.

One tail swung back and forth, agitated, before splitting down the middle into two long wispy tails made mostly of black smoke. There was an old japanese tale, he recalled, of cat spirits who possessed two tails (they also consumed human meat, and were said to be rather malicious in nature). They could also summon magic with their tails and had a particular affinity for necromancy .

"Move then, I need to open the shop." Tom sidestepped the cat once it scooted towards one side and took out a big ring full of long skeleton keys from the pocket of his coat, knowing from experience the lock refused to settle for only one key, no matter how many times it was changed over the years. The door knew too, that making Tom try more than two keys each morning would lead to a flammable disaster.

The door opened on the first try.

Tom turned to look back at the little creature still sitting on the still.

It held no collar and no identification he could see.

"Well?" He prompted, holding the door open with his shoulder as he looked down. "Are you coming in or not?"

~

There was a new store on one of the few unnamed side Alleys that branched off of Diagon.

It sat by the end of a cobblestone street, alone. Most of the surrounding shops had closed or given away to rot or decay, the war with Grindelwald stretching far and wide and making more and more people flee in hopes of finding a home away from War.

The shop had a front entirely made of old oak wood, dark and polished as it curved over the entrance door like an archway come alive right out of a renaissance painting. Below, a dark green wooden door with four little glass windows awaited, a sign painted in delicate strokes indicated the shop was open.

The only window visible from the outside was filled to the brim with plants, from big ones to smaller ones, from cactus to succulents and all the range of interior plants in all shapes and sizes, climbing up and down the wooden frame of the window like vines. One would think, perhaps mistakenly, that it was a herbology store.

However, inside was absolutely crowded from top to bottom with an innumerable amount of... things .

It was an antique shop.

~

Abraxas had been against Tom working at Borgin & Burke's for the longest time.

As much as the shop had a frequent clientele of Dark Witches and Wizards of all origins and held the most foul and interesting objects one knew to find in a decrepit corner of Knockturn, it was also terribly unsafe.

Tom was meant for grandness . Not... whatever this was.

Abraxas had begged and pleaded and tried to reason with Tom, to drag him out of there and into his Manor countless times. He had sat and talked to Orion Black about it more times than he cared to mention, only to be turned back and again by the cold freezing silver eyes each time he brought it up.

"It's his choice." Had been Orion's only answer, the second time Abraxas had tried to reason with him.

' His choice ' he'd said, but was it really?

Tom had always been a man striving for the top, he never contented himself with anything less than exceptional and he was not a man so prideful that he would not accept help from the outside.

And yet.

Yet, there he stood, behind the counter of Borgin & Burke's each morning, shadows pulling at his blue eyes and curls falling just over his nose, hair the longest Abraxas had ever seen him wear.

He was, perhaps perplexingly enough, speaking to a cat.

He looked up as Abraxas approached, blue eyes as intense as ever.

"Tom." Abraxas side eyed the black cat sitting on the counter, knowing from experience animals had a blatant dislike for him. He looked back at Tom, who wore a rather indulgent look about him so out of place in the decrepit shop that made Abraxas remember mornings spent bent over cauldron's and shared breakfasts at the Slytherin table. That look had been rather absent as of late.

Tom hummed in greeting, long fingered hand petting the black cat from head to tail.

The cat had only one green eye, looking down at Abraxas like he was a particularly nasty bug and was weighing the pro's and con's of eating him whole.

An impossible notion, surely .

A shudder went through him. Perhaps best not to test it.

"We have been invited to the Samhain gathering." Abraxas took a step down the counter, trying to get away from the cat as he took an envelope out from the depths of his robes. The hellish creature followed him with its unnerving eye, pupil slimming down to a thin long line in the center.

"Who is hosting this year?" Tom waved a hand and the envelope floated up and away from Abraxas, seal breaking and opening before him.

"House Lestrange." He answered back. Tom pulled a face, before closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. Abraxas felt much the same about the whole situation, already dreading the long hours of having to deal with the new Head of the Family without the possibility for an escape.

Sadly, as much as the invitation was that, an invitation to attend, they could not be absent.

"Orion?" Tom asked, letting the envelope fall and taking a step back and away from the polished wooden counter, arms crossed over his chest.

The cat turned towards him, forgetting Abraxas entirely as it stretched towards Tom with languid movements. Tom indulged it a bit, one hand reaching out to rub against its cheek and up an ear. The cat leaned into the touch, purring loudly, the sound not dissimilar to the Draught of Living Death boiling on a cauldron top.

Abraxas watched the exchange with wide eyes, before remembering himself.

"Attending. Lord Black has been more and more insistent he start to take more responsibilities as the Heir." He could remember both Lucretia and Orion standing side by side as they walked behind their father on their way to a Wizengamot meeting. Orion was burning two silver holes on his Lord's back, while Lucretia walked a half step behind him, an old anger pulling at her features like a vulture.

Lord Black had picked Orion over his twin sister for the Heirship, and neither sibling seemed to be particularly happy about it.

Since then, Orion had more or less disappeared from their lives entirely.

"It'll be a while before he retires." Tom stated, eyes looking to a point far away, considering.

And it certainly would. They both knew Lord Black would not cede control of the Black Estate to anyone if he was not on his deathbed. Far too many hands were reaching out and hoping to take the Lordship, but Arcturus was nothing if not tenacious and particularly immune to poison.

If it were anyone but Arcturus Black sitting at the Head, Abraxas was sure the House of Black would have fallen in the same fate House Lestrange currently faced.

Tom sighed. His hand fell away from the cat, leaning one arm on the counter to gaze down at the offending letter.

"Let's meet at Black Manor." He said, his tone clear that Abraxas would be the one to inform the Blacks. "Salazar knows I can't stand Callum Lestrange speaking anything more than a greeting."

"Hopefully his wine will be poisoned." And hopefully both Abraxas and Tom would be far enough away from the power vacuum when it happened.

A slow smirk made way on the other boy's face. The cat let out a discontent sound, clearly put off by the lack of attention.

"Oh, Abraxas. It'll certainly be a show worth watching. "

~

Unbeknownst to most of the residents of Diagon, the antique shop had been one of the first buildings to appear in the Alley. Of course, it had been a different time, and the streets were not shaped quite the same.

As time went past, new shops had grown from the ground up like tenacious weeds around the shop, warping and changing the map as they pleased.

The antique shop, of course, had not always been an antique shop. It had started out of all things, as a library .

A public library for all witches and wizards who desired knowledge and craved stories from somewhere deep in their hearts. Only those curious enough would find themselves obscuring its doorstep.

The library had been home to countless books and grimoires, plants that crawled between shelves and faires that made houses out of sticks and notes left forgotten on tables. Despite its deceptively small exterior, inside it was a whole world on its own.

Floor upon floors of knowledge harvested through the years by peers from all over stood on shelves, or stacked on top of one another on tables or on the wooden floor, and even hanging from the ceiling.

The little haven was open at all hours, if not always manned by someone up front. The lights were scattered throughout, coming from oil lamps and candles and small magical fires, all perfectly safe to be within a library, as was standard after the burning of Alexandria.

Some people only found the library once in a lifetime.

Others would come across it quite often.

Some others, the ones who did remember a time where they had entered such a place, vowed to stay between its books the next time they encountered it. As such, it was not strange to find people making a home for themselves between the shelves, transfiguring armchairs and tables into beds and tents to sleep in.

The air inside was cozy and warm, filled to the brim with magic and in the background there was always a lonesome tune coming from a piano abandoned somewhere on the third floor. Sometimes, if people came across it, they would sit and play to their heart's content, and the piano would play something cheery and joyful for days after, before remembering its loneliness and playing mournful tunes after. Someone at some point had thought to leave a plant to keep it company, and ever since then the music had been less melancholic and more something along the lines of classical tunes. It always depended on the mood and tilt to the leaves of the plant, that over the years had grown exponentially under the care of the piano, and reached across the floor towards a window quite easily.

However, curiosity and creativity in all its forms seemed to die a slow painful death in Britain.

From countless Wars, to witch burnings, to the Great Depression, made the library literally inaccessible to the average witch or wizard just going through the motions of life hoping for better days ahead.

After all, if one didn't seek, one wouldn't find.

The library and its occupants remained alone for a long time.

Soon enough, even those who had ventured into its depths forgot such a magical place existed.

~

Someone was trying to kill the Lestrange Head before he even made his introductions, stuttering and twitching, glassy brown eyes moving from place to place as he motioned for Lord Black and his wife around the parlor.

It was not the fact someone was so blatantly trying to kill him (as that was rather usual) it was the dark threads woven around his body like a particularly dark marionette moving him around like a fool. It was rather distasteful.

House Lestrange would be a case study for historians to come, that was for sure. After Corbin Lestrange had fallen prey to Dragon Pox a year prior, the continuity of the legacy of his House had been put to question. After all, the man had no children to call his own.

What followed had been a bloody path of betrayals, murders, back stabbings and public executions that left the House a fraction of what it once was.

Hence the fact that Callum Lestrange, a boy two years his junior and barely reaching the eighteen years of age required to take up the Lordship was being displayed like a marionette. His older brother, who had been Tom's classmate and a fellow Slytherin, had taken one look at the bloody throne and had let the Lordship pass down to his younger brother. Corvus was no fool, and yet, if his little brother fell he would be sure to follow.

Whoever was behind the fall of House Lestrange would not be content to leave anyone alive, it seemed.

The threads around the Lord —a boy really— wavered and tensed as his body was moved. Lord Black was growing increasingly irate at the whole display, and simply scoffed as Callum's bottom lip wobbled as he showed them towards the ball room with stiff and violent movements.

The ambient magic around them suddenly became oppressive, heavy and thick. Malicious and void-like. The threads tightened around the puppet's neck like a noose. A warning for others to not intervene. The boy choked and reached for his neck with desperate hands, only to be stopped by the very same threads, a whimper fell from his lips as the noose tightened and closed off his air supply.

Tom watched with dispassionate eyes as the show continued. He wondered at what point the Aurors would be called in.

Then, a single movement came from the heavy magic that had settled around them, distinctively different from the one surrounding the threads around the boy. It wavered in the air, there and gone again in an instant.

All the strings holding the boy were cut, the magic snapping back like a sling towards the caster. The boy fell with a thud, unconscious.

Somewhere deep in the ballroom, someone fell to their knees with a scream.

"How unpleasant." Lord Black murmured, eyes on the fallen boy. He walked towards the ballroom with his wife, not looking back.

Tom looked around for the one responsible, but no one was anywhere near the entrance, all the attending parties more than put off by the offending display of power.

Tom peeled away from Abraxas and Orion, who both stood gazing down at Callum, half tempted to help him.

A witch appeared from between the crowd in the ballroom pushing people out of her path, robes fluttering about as she made her way towards them with purposeful steps.

She wore a look so angry and violent Orion took one look and grabbed Abraxas to move him out of her way.

Cassiopeia Black kneeled by the unconscious body, uncaring for her pristine black robes and started casting diagnostic spells around, all the while cursing and bad mouthing people left and right.

Orion stood by his cousin's back and waved them off, knowing the whole process would take a long while.

Cassiopeia's wife walked sedately towards them, a put off look on her face that signaled she might have puked somewhere along the way.

Tom left them to it, steps taking him away from the entrance towards the main room where music was playing in the background.

He let his magic reach out, trying to find the threads of magic of the one that had so beautifully snapped the strings like they were made of paper.

He found a man –a boy really, going by the baby fat clinging stubbornly to his cheeks– stood by himself in a corner, dressed in a black robe that touched the ground each time he moved. Dark grey antlers had been stitched on his back, curving delicately up and over his shoulders like a necklace.

A glass of wine was dangling from one slack hand, gaze set somewhere far and out a window that looked to the gardens below.

He turned to Tom as he came to stand by his side. His eyes were as green as two emeralds, and a scar in the shape of lightning ran down one side of his face from temple to cheek. The hairs at his temple where the scar began, along with the eyelashes on the same side had turned white.

He was beautiful .

His magic felt more tame now, less hungry.

"You shouldn't have." Tom prompted as a way of greeting.

The boy smiled, indulgent as he turned to face him. The grey antlers stitched in the fabric that extended from his back ended somewhere around his chest, from where leaves of dark green and yellow dangled down his front like vines.

"Shouldn't I?" He tilted his head, and curls fell over his forehead as he looked up at Tom. A small smile played at his lips.

He smelled like vanilla and roses.

"I'll be sure to have consequences." He leaned forward a bit, into the boy's space, trying to get a feel of both his magic and sweet scent.

" Will it? " A real smile stretched then, full of teeth.

Samhain at Aviary Manor was terribly dreadful. He had known it would be since he accepted the invitation.

In fact, he was sure each family that had been invited knew it would be a shit show, and yet not one of them had come forward to take the host mantle from the Lestranges.

To be sure, no one wanted that kind of family drama in their own homes.

On top of that, Tom was growing rather bored of the stagnant conversations floating around, every single guest present trying to one up the other with useless accomplishments, or new positions within the corrupt Ministry, or new houses bought on foreign land for an extraordinarily inflated price, and so on and on it dragged on.

Finally, when he thought he wouldn't be able to stand another story about a breeder who liked to sell Kneazles bred with Wampuses (and what dreadful creatures, so wild they would bite the hand that fed them) , a hand gently laid on his back.

He turned his head to find two green eyes curiously gazing up at him, a knowing look about him that said he knew he was interrupting and he just didn't care.

The boy leaned in to whisper in his ear, standing on the tips of his toes and using his arm for balance in a display not often seen in the crowd Tom was used to frequent. Too close. Too improper .

"Do you dance?" His voice was breathy and playful, their faces close together.

"Obviously." He muttered back, face turning to lock onto green eyes.

" Obviously . " The boy repeated back, expectant and unabashed at his own forwardness.

Well. Dancing certainly seemed more entertaining than standing around listening to people trying to tilt their noses any more closer to the ceiling.

He adjusted the arm the boy was already touching, prompting him to hold on.

"Let's go, then."

He dragged the stranger somewhere towards the outskirts of the dancing crowd, grabbing onto his cold hand and turning him about. He guided him to hold onto his shoulder, while his own hand settled right above his hip.

"They really don't know when to let it go, do they?" The boy mumbled, gaze locked towards the direction they had just come from. "I swear this looks like a dick measuring competition."

A startled chuckle left Tom's lips.

"What, you didn't want to join?" He couldn't help himself, even if he tried.

"Do I look like someone who would want to– don't answer that ." He cast a suspicious look up at Tom, green eyes narrowed. "Do you like to watch the dick measuring?"

A smirk stretched across Tom's face.

"I'm not opposed." And Salazar knew just how far Tom had gone in the past to get the things he wanted. The amount of things he had to stand by and shoulder just to get a glimpse of what should have been his in the first place. He didn't lower himself quite so hard as of late, more than angry enough to strike if looked at with even a hint of contempt in the faces of his peers.

"Of course you aren't." The stranger shot back, aggravated.

"Are we still speaking of pricks? " The smile on Tom's face was somewhere between predatory and entertained.

The boy tilted his head to the side, green eyes framed by silver wire glasses glinting with mischief. Up close the scar looked more like a natural discoloration of the skin rather than a carving down his flesh. Tom could count the white eyelashes obscuring one green eye with how close they stood together.

"Dunno, are we?" There was a hint of teasing in his tone, light and airy as he leaned a little into Tom's space.

Tom retaliated, and grabbed onto his waist more firmly, arm going all the way around forcing the boy to take a step (a stumble) towards him.

The boy scoffed, a look half offended crossing his face. His nose scrunched up and the light dusting of freckles across his skin moved in unison like stars reflected on water.

"How about introductions before you insinuate yourself to me?" Tom settled on, as he moved them from side to side, steps easy and measured.

"Is that what you think I was doing?" The boy muttered back, eyes falling towards their feet, trying to find the rhythm. He took a stumble and a sidestep, almost stepped into Tom's shoes twice before he leaned more heavily onto him.

"Weren't you?"

" You're the one who approached me in the first place!" He looked contrite and impossibly offended, an impatient hand moving the curls around his face back and away before settling it back on Tom's shoulder.

A smirk broke onto his face before Tom could think to stop it.

"Perhaps I was the one doing the se–"

"Harry." He interrupted, before Tom could continue. "Well. Hadrian , technically." He clarified, an uncomfortable shift to his step letting Tom know he didn't like the form of address. "Peverell." He added, more as an afterthought than anything.

"Tom Riddle."

" I know ."

"Oh?" Well . Wasn't that interesting? After all, Tom knew little to nothing of his surname. He was sure, however, he'd heard it somewhere. Perhaps a foreign name?

"You came with Lord Black." Harry said, as if that was any form of explanation.

"I did." Tom's tone hinting at Harry to continue, but the boy only looked away towards the dancing crowd.

"I can't believe they let them Host with the smell of cooling bodies in every corner of the Manor. They even planted roses at the front, the disrespect." He spoke in a low voice, only meant for Tom's ears. He was looking towards the entrance door.

Indeed, in the front garden white roses had been planted besides the main path, unusually in full bloom for the time of year, too late into fall for them to be so full of flowers. The sickly sweet smell of roses had almost made Tom gag as they approached the front door.

"Why roses?" He couldn't help but ask, as the boy seemed impossibly offended by this fact alone.

He looked back at Tom, green eyes searching for a moment. He answered back slowly, carefully and with a patient tone about him that said he knew much more than he let on.

"It has been described to me, multiple times and on countless occasions, that death smells sickly sweet ." He said, with a put upon look that said it was all bullshit. "It really doesn't. It smells foetid, sour and pungent. Meat is meat, after all, and death comes whether or not it's a muggle or a witch or a rat. The bitterly sweet smell of vanilla and flowers is to cover it all up. But you can definitely tell it's not just the roses up at front."

Tom hummed, swaying them gently away from the warpath of a couple intent on twirling out of orbit.

"They really are smearing their name through the mud. Soon enough there will be no one to sit on that god awful throne, and the vultures will pick at their bodies like a feast."

The infamous throne sat in the corner of the ball room. It was tacky, Victorian in nature. Multiple ravens crawled on top of one another made out of metal and glass. In some parts it was rusting, and hints of red here and there could be caught in the light of the candles.

"Another show." Tom agreed, as soon as House Lestrange fell, another would take its place. It was a matter of survival.

Harry sighed in his arms, dragging Tom away towards the edge of the crowd as the couple circling around had once more almost bumped into them.

"Enough of that. What about you, Tom Riddle?" There was an air that said Harry had much more to say about the Lestranges, but he withheld his tongue.

"Shouldn't you know? You knew who I came with, after all." He teased.

"Excuse me, I don't pretend to know every single one of Orion's little friends." He had the vague notion that he'd never been referred to as such.

"I resent that."

"Good." A mischievous smile settled on the curve of Harry's lips.

"How do you know each other, then?" A groan left Harry as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling, exasperated beyond measure.

"Lord Black invited me over for tea last month, he tried to coax me into a marriage with his daughter—"

"To Lucretia?"

"–I should have known, really." He continued, as if he hadn't interrupted him. However, the pink tint to his cheeks betrayed him. The freckles became more prominent against his blush, going from beneath his eyes all the way up his temple and around his nose. "After I told him I really wasn't interested he changed tracks and started on about how Orion would be an excellent match and–"

"To Orion? " Harry turned impossibly redder.

"– shut up! Anyways I barely escaped that conversation, only for him to try and corner me to introduce me to his son on each and every place we cross paths–"

"Terribly dreadful." He mumbled beneath his breath, however Harry was on one track and speaking a mile a minute.

" Isn't it? I can't even look at the twins in the eyes knowing their father is trying to set us up–"

"Do you want to be set up?"

" No! It would be like... marrying into my own family, I don't know." He grimaced.

"That isn't a deterrent to most people in this room." Tom threw in, just to watch Harry glare back up at him. When Harry noticed the playful gleam in his eyes he tossed his head back with a groan.

"Don't play into it too." He whined, hitting the back of his hand lightly against Tom's chest.

"Why not, darling? You look possibly entertained, dare I say." Tom swayed them from side to side at the rhythm of the music, a possessive hand still curved around Harry's waist, keeping their bodies flush against each other.

"Do you want me to marry Orion?" There was an accusing tone somewhere deep in there.

"You would make a dreadful consort." Tom said, poking at him a little.

The whine Harry let out in response was truly delightful. He leaned forward into Tom's chest, hiding his red face somewhere in between the lapels of his robes.

"You're awful."

Tom bit his lip, endeared beyond measure and terribly fascinated.

"I've been told. Many times ."

"I'm sure you have."

They danced for a while, sharing comments on the dress of some or another, critiquing a Lord who was way too drunk for the time of night, or the god-awful wood one of the witches at the far corner called a wand.

Tom wasn't blind to the looks they were getting as more and more time went on, when neither of them changed dancing partners.

Lord Black looked personally offended by the whole thing.

Harry was an easy weight on his arms, comfortable and self assured as he found his footing in between their steps, following along both Tom and the music as they moved across the room.

Their dance was interrupted just as Harry was starting to slow, clearly tired of going around in circles. Tom had wanted to ask if he wanted to sit down and eat, but he didn't get the opportunity to do so.

Orion appeared by their side like a particularly uninvited dark cloud. Harry turned away to hide his face on Tom's chest, far too improper and impossibly amusing.

"Would you like to dance, Hadrian?" Orion asked in the most monotone Tom had ever heard him utter out. He looked as enthusiastic as Harry at the prospect. He was only being polite for the sake of his father, Tom knew.

It didn't make the curl of anger and jealousy any less intense.

" No ." Harry mumbled against the fabric of his robes, face still buried.

"I could get you a drink, perhaps?" He continued, as if Harry hadn't spoken.

Harry only grabbed tighter onto Tom, and if he had been anyone else but this endearing boy he would have cursed them black and blue.

Orion looked at him in the eyes and took a careful step back. He wouldn't want to step on a serpent ready to strike, after all.

"How about a walk outside?" He said. But he was not addressing Harry. The question was turned to Tom, begging him to get them away to have an out of the situation just so Lord Black wouldn't come breathing down his neck again.

Tom nodded, prying Harry's hands away from his robes as he walked them down towards the gardens.

"They really don't know when to quit, I swear." Harry mumbled as they lost sight of Orion and the surrounding crowd.

Tom wondered what made Harry so special Lord Black wanted him in his family by unbreakable ties so insistently.

~

The Library had fallen slowly to decay, after a time. The books remained unread, gathering dust and magic, forgotten where they sat for years and years and years. The armchairs remained unused, moving from side to side of the library wondering why no one would come in.

A ghoul had moved in at some point, and after the last of a long dynasty of shopkeepers died in their sleep, it took over manning the desk.

The ghoul didn't much understand the concept of time, and much less the use of Wizarding money. But it kept the shop clean of other plagues, such as insects and rats and the occasional ashwinder , a magical snake that grew from the everlasting magical fire by the corner of the main floor when the ghoul wasn't looking.

For a brief period of two years, a kind witch had tried to convert it into a cozy little coffee shop. As one can imagine, it didn't last .

Both the ghoul and the magical fire had refused to leave, the books had been crammed into the attic one on top of another and the armchairs reluctantly repurposed.

Yet, the buildings falling apart around it, and the fact that the little side alley's entrance, branching from Diagon, was covered by bigger, flashier shops made it impossible for the café to survive.

Years went by, and the building sat sad and (mostly) empty.

Then the Childe of Death came along.

~

The smell from the gardens at the back of the Aviary Manor was less intense than those at front. It probably had something to do with the lack of rose brushes set up on every inch of the path leading up the front door. It had clearly been a statement, for those who knew to read into it.

Like Harry.

Tom spied at his companion from the corner of his eyes, from his slim build to the dark circles most people would cover behind a glamour. It was clearly intentional on his part, as he seemed to leave nothing for speculation.

His hands were covered in silver rings carved with runes and stones inlaid in between, and pendants and piercings hung from his ears and glinted in the moonlight every time he turned his head.

He wondered what the antlers at his back meant.

Everything about him was slightly dark, and he carried something heavy with him Tom could not name, but he could feel deep within himself.

A sense of uneasiness, despite his rather cheerful and harmless demeanor.

A mask of sorts.

It felt like a pull, as if Harry was a black hole and Tom nothing but a dying star waiting to be sucked in, stardust and magic wavering between them, dancing around just as their bodies had, not a moment before.

Harry looked up at him from beneath his bangs, green eyes curious.

They were finally far enough for the music in the ballroom to be nothing but a murmur in the night.

The Estate where the Aviary sat was within a valley split by a roaring river flowing from the surrounding mountains, water clear most of the year, except for a few weeks where rainstorms fell with the fury of gods seeking vengeance, water tearing apart stones and earth in it's path down the mountain, dark and muddy and dangerous.

The water was clear now, a mirror of silver flowing calmly and without rush.

A wooden bridge had been erected at some point, curved over the river bed. On the other side there was a long stretch of green tall grass, seemingly unaffected by the cold.

Tom and Harry walked close together, shoulders brushing as they made their way down to the water.

Harry slipped a hand on one of his robe pockets and pulled out a brown piece of paper that was crinkled at the edges. The strong smell of dark chocolate reached Tom's nose before his eyes could settle on the dark treat between Harry's hands.

A smile had settled on Harry's face when their eyes met, and he offered up a piece without being prompted.

The bittersweet taste, mixed together with the feeling of Harry's heavy magic made Tom sigh and close his eyes as they walked down the slope of the hill. The calming sound of the water and the chill feeling of the night made the knot stubbornly sat between his shoulder blades, tighten and let go.

Harry slipped his arm on the crook of his elbow and leaned towards him a little, just resting his weight as they walked down in tandem.

"Do you think either Callum or Corvus will be dead by the time we walk back?" His voice stretched far in the night.

"I don't know." Tom responded, a lightness to his tone he hadn't had in himself in a while. "Depends on how much time you want to spend out here with me." He teased. "An hour? Perhaps two?" He let a beat pass between them. " Three days? "

A startled laugh left Harry, light and fleeting in the night.

"An eternity ?" Harry shot back instead, green eyes looking far into the night sky. The stars seemed to twinkle in answer.

"I can deal with that."

~

The antique shop was filled to the brim with objects.

Just as the library had, the items had been collected from hand to hand and passed down a long line of people to reach the shop.

The shelves that had once made up the library had been repurposed with loving hands, and narrow paths stretched between them as they stood side by side. If a person were to enter they would have to dodge items that refused to stay on the confines of the shelves themselves, sometimes on the floor or floating around trying to find a spot to call a temporary home.

Not one item was the same as another, on the main floor. From priceless heirlooms of long lost families, to stones and jewelry lovingly crafted by Goblins, to paintings and statues on all shapes and sizes.

The top of the shelves themselves acted as a middle floor, between the main floor and the first one, connected by planks of wood and ladders to open a path between each section. Even more objects had been placed there, and the plants hanging from the ceiling looked down with apprehension as people walked on the precariously placed paths on top of the bookshelves. Little kids, as usual, loved to climb.

The second and third floor functioned mostly as the original building had intended: a Library. The books had been more than pleased to be put back on the shelves, on the floor and tables and even windowsills. Muggle records and books had been added, and even if they didn't hold any magic themselves, they soaked the ambient flow around them like sponges, filling up to the littlest atom with magic. The surrounding books found it funny, so they let the muggle things stay.

The armchairs moved from place to place, and sometimes they even came down to the main floor and helped people along the shop like particularly enthusiastic puppies.

The ghoul still manned the desk sometimes, but more often than not it sat behind it by an open window that was sunny year round, a couple of plants had been placed by it's stool and it grumbled and grunted from time to time to remind the rude people that visited the store, it was still very much alive (as much as a creature such as this could be) and would not hesitate to being harm if they were being disrespectful. The plants around it seemed to agree with the sentiment, and they would curl around the shoulders of the shop owner with a possessiveness not seen anywhere else in Britain.

The basement had been a new addition.

It was not easily accessible for those witches and wizards that came from the world above looking to buy or sell, looking to read and wander.

The basement was a transition place for some.

A train station for others. A pit stop on a long ride that would take them elsewhere.

Sometimes it served as a tea house, or a coffee stop, or even a forest.

For Harry, it was the place where he saw the most people come through.

Somewhere simply lost and trying to find their way back, even if their souls told them they had to go on. For others, it was a place to share tea and stories and wait for just a little more. They were not ready yet.

Sometimes all they needed was an ear to listen. Someone to tell all the troubles they'd had in life and still wrapped around them in death.

Some were angry beyond measure, and they would lash out and try to find a way out to hurt the people above. Harry could not let those go.

The ghoul manned the desk for days and days after the angry ones visited. An impatient and concerned tone to its grunts that informed the local shoppers it was not to be aggravated too much, lest it would attack. The plants sometimes had to hold onto it for good measure.

Most of all, the shop was filled with magic. And stories. And the occasional ghost.

Harry was quite proud of it, even if it wasn't the life he would have envisioned for himself once upon a time.

Sirius' death during his fifth year, and the consequent hunger that had haunted his every step had been more than enough for Harry to take the wrong train one night.

Enough to end up in the tea house below an abandoned library-turned-shop.

Death had been more than pleased at the company.

~

Harry stepped first into the wooden bridge, and dragged Tom by the hand until they stood together in the middle.

The calming sound of the water was a balm to his soul. He had seen way too many shadows clinging to people for one night. He didn't need to know exactly how many people would obscure his doorstep in the next few months, thank you.

He turned to the boy by his side.

Tom Riddle both looked so much like the shadow of the Diary he had met in his second year, and yet nothing like it. He looked older, and a tiredness that could not be fixed by sleep or rest pulled down at his blue eyes. His hair stood long in loose curls, the point between having to cut it or commit to a ponytail not far now. He looked pale and a little hollow, and yet he stood tall by Harry, and impossibly warm.

He was half a Soul now, he knew. It should not be possible for this boy to stand as warm and as sane as he did.

There was a void in the tear of his soul Harry had felt as soon as he had stepped on the dance floor. It sucked light and magic with a tremendous pull, and Harry wondered how it was Tom hadn't noticed.

His magic worked overtime to fill the void that would remain open like a wound left to fester and crawl with foulness if left alone.

Harry turned to face him, eyes closed and hand resting somewhere in Tom's chest.

He could feel it even now, trying to pull his own magic in the black hole in hopes it would fix it.

The amount of magic required to keep it going made Harry intimately aware he stood beside the most powerful wizard he had encountered, ever.

A second coming of Merlin, perhaps. If only he hadn't been so foolish to think a simple Horcrux would be enough to stray Death from his path.

Half a Soul was half the magic, after all.

It was impressive the only tales of soul sickness were the dark circles and the pale complexion. It spoke more about his strength than Harry was careful to admit, even to himself.

He let his magic be sucked by the boy, and he felt more than heard the sigh Tom let out.

They were standing already very close together, but Tom brought him even closer by putting an arm around him.

When he lifted his head he found two dark intense eyes gazing down at him, perhaps a little perplexed at the mystery package that was Harry himself.

He couldn't help the hand that moved the curls away from Tom's handsome face, a thought between grabbing a pair of scissors or using magic to get rid of the extra length.

Tom must have sensed his intentions, as his eyes turned a little mischievous.

"I know." He sighed, put upon.

"Yet you let it get this long." Harry tugged a curl down and stretched it as far as it could go. It reached somewhere around his chin. "Either commit to it or cut it. Terribly improper of you to go around with a mop for a head full of hair."

A sharp smile was all the warning he got, as a hand tugged down the satin piece of fabric holding his hair in place and mostly away from his face. Black curls settled around his face like a mane. There was a reason Harry didn't wear his hair down without an excessive amount of hair products. His curls were not soft and tame like Tom's, rather they stubbornly wanted to fit one on top of the other in tight circles and twists. It had been worse when he had short hair, as the ends spiked every which way they wanted.

"Hey!" He went for the cloth with small hands, even as Tom held it out of reach and above their heads.

"You are one to talk about cutting down hair."

"Don't you dare shame me for my hair, Tom Riddle. It was all well and good before you got your hands on it!"

Perhaps Harry should have worded it differently.

Hands sunk into the back of his hair, warm and big and playful. They tilted his head back and Harry had no choice but to meet Tom's hungry gaze.

There was no question needed between them, no confirmation for the next step in their dance.

Tom's lips met his in a slow kiss, languid and wet and right .

Harry sighed as he leaned more weight onto him, knowing his hands would hold his body firm and the warmth of their magic met in the middle, in all the points where they touched. His hands went from Tom's chest up his neck and up his cheeks.

Tom's hands traveled down his back to his waist, and held Harry more firmly in his place against him.

Tom Riddle smelled oddly sweet. Like a half blend between vanilla and chocolate fighting for its life, a hint of bitterness and spice making its way in between.

It reminded Harry of the times Remus Lupin had slipped pieces and bits of chocolate into his hands for all of his third year, between classes and recesses and times when Harry stared a little too hard off into the sky with words stuck on his throat.

Oddly enough, the House Elves had taken it upon themselves to leave handmade (homemade) chocolate carefully wrapped in paper in between the lapels of his robes, in his pockets, in his trunk. He often found the pieces when he least expected it, and when he most needed them. Like at the Dursleys during the long summer months, or when he went on walks along the forest and found his hands reaching for his pockets, or more often enough: when he was sad and in need of a pick me up.

(Fifth year had him eating chocolate every day, enough to make him sick more than once. Madam Pomfrey had huffed and puffed at him for such an unbalanced diet).

(Luna, oddly enough, seemed to be the only one to notice, the only one to not shy away from his anger or look away at the depth of his sadness. Somewhere in December that year she had slipped a potion to the House Elves to mix with the chocolate so it wouldn't upset his stomach).

(He doesn't think he deserved the kindness, but Luna had only smiled at him as they sat between the herd of Thestrals and ate their chocolate).

They kissed for a long stretch of time, the river and the stars their only witness.

Harry had the question at the tip of his tongue.

Tom bit down on his neck with hunger, leaving bruises and kisses on his wake.

At some point his hands wandered even lower, and two big hands grabbed onto the back of his thighs prompting him to let himself be lifted or fall backwards.

Tom grunted against his mouth at the added weight, but stood sure and still as Harry wrapped his legs around his middle. The hands on the back of his thighs hugged him beneath his bottom and let Harry sit a little higher.

He sighed against Tom's mouth, leaning back a bit and trusting his hands to hold him up.

Tom's eyes were two black holes as they looked up at him. His gaze was half lidded, hungry and wanting. His magic seemed to simmer beneath the surface of his skin, calling out to his own magic and awaking it in a way nothing had before.

He desperately wanted to ask. He wanted to drag Tom home and never let him leave.

An explosion at their back startled them enough for Tom to take a hurried step back, turning them about so whatever had caused the ruckus would hit Tom head first.

Harry was deposited back on the ground before the wave of magic could reach them. Both of their wands dropped on their hands.

A fire started somewhere deep in the Manor and climbed up with a hunger that said it could only be of magical origins.

The shape of a Phoenix eating smaller birds could be seen through the flames.

Someone had cast a fiendfyre inside a small space crowded with the most influential people currently in power in Britain.

It was an act of War.

They waited for half a heartbeat.

Then they ran towards the fire.

(OR) the horror and the wild on AO3, 21k words, two shot, completed

Kon has been kidnapped alongside a civilian by cultists. The civilian is really, really annoyed.

Also, it's the strangest kidnapping Kon's ever heard of.

The cultists have locked them in a room with pizza, the latest video game consoles, the most comfy bed Kon's ever sat on, the fastest wifi he's ever seen outside of something Rob made, and a button for them to request like, anything.

And Kon tested it.

He asked for a puppy.

The cultists literally handed him one less the seven minutes later.

The whole reason Kon hasn't burst out is because he's curious.

He wants to know what the hell is going on.

"So..." he turns to look at the civilian, who was clearly the actual target.

The civilian doesn't move from where he's laying on the ground and glaring at the ceiling.

"Why?" Kon asks, using one hand to motion to the room as the other one gives belly rubs to KingKon, the newly named puppy.

"Because certain assholes don't know how to take no for an answer."

Oh, well if it's a creep creeping on a teenager then Kon isn't sticking around.

"Do you mind watching my new puppy while I go beat them up? What's their name?"

The civilian turns his head to look very dubiously at Kon. Which. Rude.

Kon could beat up a creep.

Kon beats up creeps all the time.

"Pariah Dark, Tyrant of the Dead."

Okay that's a little bit of a tall order.

"Why does Pariah Dark want a teenager?"

"Because I beat him up and now he wants to adopt me, so he keeps trying to win me over."

Oh! Okay. Totally different situation.

Still weird though.

Finally Getting Help masterpost

(On Hiatus for the rest of the month while I work on other things)

Soon after Danny takes two of the failed clones into his body his parents let Vlad take him to a Gala in Gotham. When the Bats clock that he is pregnant they work to get him away from Vlad, find out how and why this happened to him, and fix it.

Danny is just relieved to finally have some adults on his side, and be able to relax and focus on himself and the babies.

Part 1 - Gala and discovery

Part 2 - confronting Vlad and calling The Guy

part 3 - Research and meeting Zatana

part 4 - Raiding Amity

part 5 - Jazz and Danny reunite

part 6 - Jazz's power point

part 7- Damian and Danny bond and Jason comes back

Part 8- Jason meets Jazz

Part 9- Jason meets Danny (finally)

Part 10- Danny calls his friends

Part 11- First date (part 1)

part 12- first date (part 2)

Part 13- Danny's doctors appointment

Part 14- Jason and Danny go camping

Part 15- Vlad crashes the party

Part 16- Frostbite comes to give various check ups

Part 17 - meeting the Justice League

Too many people very kindly asked to be tagged so I've made a master post people can subscribe to! I will reply to this post to inform anyone subscribed about new chapters. Thank you

Please don't reply to this post!

Dp x Spiderman x DC prompt

"Danny Phantom and Peter Parker Aka Spiderman are sent to the DC universe and they will make that everyone's problem."

For whatever reason, whether to protect him, because he loves chaos, or just because he was bored, Clockwork sends Danny to another universe even if Danny doesn't agree with it. Anyway, now Danny is stuck in the DC universe, and he's drawn to a city dripping with ectoplasm and crime, and looking for a way to get home or whatever Clockwork wants him to do, Danny heads to Gotham City.

At the same time in another universe, as a last resort and to protect his universe and his loved ones, Spider-Man, Peter Parker is erased from everyone's minds and his world, so he is sent as a last act of kindness and gratitud from Doctor Strange to another universe so he can start over. So Peter awakes in another universe and new world, one where super heroes exist but no person he knows has ever existed and where there are no records of his own existence, and to make matters worse, he's 14 now and he's in a city infested with criminals, villains and pollution. Seriously, not even New York is this bad.

Looking around for how to survive, a place to stay and how to get home, Peter's spider sense alerts him of a powerful presence approaching, and Danny flying through the city while invisible is paralyzed in mid-air when a boy wearing a suit under an oversized coat looks directly at him, as if he could really know he's there, and after hesitating for a couple of seconds he becomes tangible and the other boy's eyes widen comically in surprise, and they both take a defensive stance. They have a staring standoff for a couple of minutes in which they determine whether or not the other is a threat, and when that is resolved, Danny and Peter meet. Quickly after an exchange of information, they discover that they have a lot in common, they're both young heroes, with more responsibilities and power than they could ever expect, underestimated and misunderstood teenagers, geeks, with a similar humor, show true interest in each other's tastes, and are stuck in another universe with no way to return home, oh and they share the same principles and morals, so naturally they become best friends and decide to survive together.

Danny really likes Peter Aka Spiderman, it's the first time he's met someone in his age range who really understands what he's going through. But that's not just why he likes him, Peter is funny, smart, kind, sweet and genuinely a good person, and a kid, one who in his short years of life has already been through too much, (they did trauma dump on each other) and Danny and his ever-evolving ghost core who is now obsessed with protecting children, wants Peter safe and happy, and by their side, so considering that Peter's universe and the people in it no longer existe for him, they both emerge with a plan, they are going to stay together in this universe for now and then find a way to leave together to Danny's universe, and for that they come up with the idea of ​​building a portal. They trust that they can do it, they're smart and have enough knowledge to maybe and by putting both brains together, they can decipher travel between universes, or at least to the ghost zone. But for that they need equipment, tools, materials and a safe place to stay and be able to start working, and with an established plan, their journey begins.

They find an old building, house, warehouse (it doesn't really matter) and they take it as their new home, and it's perfect, it's in fairly good shape, it's safe and secluded enough that no one will bother them while they work, it's away from most of the criminal gangs, gang territories, and off the territory and radar of the local vigilantes, vigilantes that Danny and Peter were quickly aware of dominate the streets of Gotham, and don't accept people with superhuman abilities on them. They still have to go out into the streets to get supplies and materials to build the portal, and because being two young superheroes they can't help but fight crime for a long time, and in fact they make a good team. Who would think their skills would work so well combined? (I did. I actually thought about it quite a bit, and I could have a whole conversation on this topic alone.)

There are two new vigilantes in Gotham and they are metas, that's what everyone talks about in the streets, and it's what the bats and birds have seen, and they are concern. These meta vigilantes don't seem remotely affected by Batman's rule of no metas in Gotham, but that's not what's relevant to the Bat and the Bat Kids, it's how young they are, not much older than Damian or Tim, with flashy uniforms and even flashier powers, if not dangerous, they're reckless, and their origins and reasons for being in Gotham are unknown. They know that they must approach this situation delicately, if they don't want it to get out of hand. And since they are in the streets and seem friendly, the bats try to get closer and get information, they try on different occasions and with different methods, but they don't obtain great results from any of the encounters. If the new young vigilantes don't escape and disappear completely just by noticing the presence of the bats or birds (they always know where they are no matter who or how stealthy they are), they respond with jokes or sarcastic comments to any question, sometimes insults if they are not in the mood for an interrogation, they never fight or attack but they refuse to have a relationship with the local Gotham vigilantes, and after two months of this all they know is that the one in red and blue is Spiderman and the one in black and white is Phantom, and that's driving them all crazy, especially when in the few times they've faced them (they tried to capture one of them, it doesn't matter who, it's not a good idea) they have shown that they know how to defend themselves and that their abilities should not be underestimated, and if you try to go after one of them, the other will go against you with everything he has (I like to think that Peter and Danny would be overprotective of each other since they are the only thing the other one have in that universe and they are not going to lose their best friend if they can help it). The bats learned this the hard way and now know what to expect from each one of them. At the moment, the one who has shown that he could have the best chance of being a real threat in the future is Phantom, who managed to give a good scare to Nighwing and Red Hood and everyone who was around to witness it when the vigilantes were very close to capturing Spiderman, but as long as you don't touch his friend he's harmless (although there are suspicions that Phantom fell into the Lazarus pit, a classic), but Batman learned that if you try to hurt or capture Phantom, Spiderman will have no problem crushing you and breaking your ribs, again (first time was an accident, Peter felt really bad about it), he just didn't do it a second time because Robin was present and stopped himself so the little kid vigilante wouldn't be scared of him, so Batman knew from experience, although less scary and calm than Phantom, Spiderman is a time bomb and it's better not to give him reasons to explode.

So the bats keep their distance, as long as the new vigilantes don't hurt anyone or commit any crimes they decide that they can coexist in Gotham peacefully, and maybe collaborate if the opportunity arises and they need extra help. But then things start disappearing from Wayne Enterprises and some hospitals, and blackouts are reported, and strong shocks of static energy shake the city (Danny and Peter have begun their research and experimenting with the new technology they have in this universe, they're doing their best). None of Gotham's villains or criminals are responsible, so the main suspects soon become the new and enigmatic vigilantes. Now the real game begins, imagine the efforts the Batfamily would go to to obtain information and slowly gain the trust of Danny and Peter, all the interesting situations and interactions we could get out of this, I don't know, I think we could get at least 6 different stories out of this idea with all the juicy stuff a crossover likes this can offer.

Tim: I've come to you in a time of great need. I need Dick and Bruce to get off my back.

Danny: I see and what's it worth to you?

Tim: A date.

Danny: Deal! Show them this movie. Got it from a neighboring universe.

Tim: What's it about?

Danny: A little girl who has a chronic illness and is slowly dying while her neglectful parents abandon her to be raised by her older brother who is bearly older than her. He hates and resents her but she never hates him because she relies on him to survive and feels like that's love enough. She is treated like a burden by her parentified brother who takes care of her until she dies in her sleep after telling him that she will always love him. It's the perfect movie to fill your family with guilt and I use it on Jazz all the time. It will make you want to curl up into a ball and cry though.

Tim: That's evil. I'll take it.

Waiting... Waiting...

So... This was inspired by listening to EPIC (FREAKING LOVE ALL THE ALBUMS, SO GOOD) and by @noxcheshire post of Tim being Odysseus reincarnated and Danny (maybe also reincarnated) being his Penelope (Here) so I had to turn it into a Dead Tired idea.

The song The Challenge is the main one here. (Cause I LOVE that song... along with Would You Fall In Love With Me Again)

So WHAT IF Danny IS the reincarnated Penelope, after becoming the Ghost King Danny's memories of his past life as Penelope returns and remembers how before dying/ or being reincarnated both Penelope and Odysseus promised to find each other in their new lives, no matter who they are, what new form they take, they will find each other.

So Danny/Penelope, just like before waits for their Odysseus to return to them, but also tries to find him in their new life (CW is laughing whenever Danny asks for hints and gets a 'In due time, just wait' answer, ugh Danny wants to smack CW for that)

However just like in his previous life with being in a high position of power, Danny is being pressured to marry/take a spouse (now its not just men/males though so its a huge headache, I head canon Ghosts don't care much for gender preference) mostly by the dang eyeballs that Danny is still trying to find a way to get rid of without upsetting the Infinite Realms dedicate (but slowly healing) balance even if Danny wanted nothing more than to punch all of the suitors out.

So Danny decides to play the long game again.

And waits for their Odysseus return.

Danny's wait is over when they suddenly feel the Realms shift one day, as if welcoming someone familiar home, and the same feeling Danny had when he had been Penelope and saw the storm that was sign of Odysseus coming home, Danny decides its time to bring out The Challenge once again. (CW gifted Danny a few things from his past as Penelope as a coronation gift, like Odysseus's bow (now enchanted to be unbreakable), a painting of when he was Penelope, with Telemchus, and Odysseus, and the Marriage Bed/Olive Tree, AND the Palace Odysseus made that Danny takes to being in over being at Pariah's Keep)

-x-x-

Meanwhile

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, always had strange dreams as a child.

War, Death, Monsters, Gods, Goddesses.

His dreams were more like nightmares, haunting him and he sometimes woke up in cold sweat.

He hated storms. Hated being in the water for to long. Hated how he felt both tense but also at home when around Greek heroes, as if he was afraid to 'disrespect' them (Cassie was the only one he didn't feel that way around, mostly cause they had been somewhat friends before their heroing since their parents knew each other) but also knew how to appease them should he insult them. He also had a strange hatred for the CoO with a burning passion because he felt like they were mocking real Owls.

The worst part of nightmares that always pop up are of what feels like should be his home is being invaded by unwanted guests (they aren't guests), how they are angry over trying to string a bow and shot an arrow through axes, of the terrible terrible things he hear them saying they were going to do to his loved ones (two names that keep getting muted out).

How it ends in bloodshed with echoing of begging, pleading, mercy, and screams.

However in those nightmares at the end. He also finds himself looking for something in them.

Or rather he always found someone waiting for him at the end of the nightmares. Calling him by the wrong name but it sounds just right coming from them.

The dream always ends with the person asking 'How long has it been?' and before he can answer he wakes up.

So yeah Tim has horrifying nightmares/dreams he could never explain.

And the urge to find someone. To go home to them.

It isn't until he and his friends from Young Justice are hit by a spell from Klarion (who may or may not had a visit from a certain chaos encouraging Time Keeper) and sent to a place called the Infinite Realms in the middle of their fight, that Tim is hit hard with déjà vu when he spots a certain Palace in the distance and overhears some of the 'people?' (they glow and float and some don't even look human?! where are they?) talk about how the 'King' has issued a new 'Challenge' for his 'suitors'.

A Challenge involving a bow, and axes.

And Tim, feels like he knows this all too well and needs to do it.