(i Had This All Written Out, And Then The App Broke On Me, So Here's Take Two)

(i had this all written out, and then the app broke on me, so here's take two)

Ghost Writer was somewhere between relieved and pissed. Only so many words translate correctly across languages, but none of them can accurately describe how he was feeling.

The Realms had been in chaos for both days and eons. Their King, the child they had raised, had been taken from them. He had been taken from their reach, hidden from their sight. The Realms would not rest until he was back safely in her arms.

John Constantine was a man who was known throughout the afterlives connected to this specific Realm of Reality. He was known as a con man and a thief. Ghost Writer knew him as an ally. A tentative ally, but an ally nonetheless. John Constantine turned over old tomes of magic and Magiks that he deemed too dangerous in the hands of humans and human adjacents to Ghost Writer in exchange for a single favor.

Based solely on the man's reputation, Ghost Writer had assumed the man would attempt to turn the deal around on him. He was glad he was wrong.

"Child," Ghost Writer sat on the wooden stool beside the bed, "They will no longer harm you."

Phantom had been conscious when Ghost Writer had arrived. The child had watched he and John Constantine move into and about the room. Now, under the Concept's gentle hand and careful watch, he allowed himself to sleep. His Obsession would help him heal, but it could not do so alone.

John Constantine ran a hand through his hair in lieu of lighting the cigarette he held between his lips. "This is who you all were looking for, right?"

"That is correct." and fairly obvious.

"Who is he?"

Right, this man had been to an afterlife, but he had never died. He had never become one of Phantom's people. "He is The Great One, The Protector. He is Space, he is Balance. He is the Realm's Child. He is our King."

John was impressed, but he didn't announce that other than a dip of his head in a bow to the Child King. Then, he said, "I don't trust human doctors to be able to help him. I don't think he'd want to be anywhere near a human doctor, actually. Will you call a Healer for him?"

"I already have." Ghost Writer laid his hand over Phantom's, reassurance to the child that he is not alone. He is safe now.

"You have?"

"Indeed." There were not many Healers in the Realms that would heal living beings. There are fewer still who would willingly heal those of this Realm of Reality for what they had done to The King. They would all make an acception to help their King. "He is The King's Healer."

John Constantine is a man who makes it a point to remind living beings of their mortality. There are many who claim immortality, but he knows that there is no such thing. The only beings to achieve true immortality are the ones who have died and the ones born with and from Space and Time. He is very aware that he is in a room with two extremely powerful beings. He knows that a third one is on the way. The power from one of them could bring a weaker man to his knees. And John Constantine is about to be in an enclosed room - in space - with three of them.

"What's the damage?" the occultist asked the Concept given form, "What's going to happen to the people here?"

A deep voice tore through the air, opening a rip in the middle of the room as it spoke. "Those who did this will be punished."

"All who worked at the facility," Ghost Writer continued, "all who allowed and promoted their work, and all who supported them will be put on Trial within the Infinite Realms."

The yeti was now fully in the room, the Rio closing behind him. "They will be sentenced to Punishment for whatever time remains of their natural life."

"When they die, they will be sent to the Void." Ghost Writer whispered, though his voice carried as though he'd yelled.

"A place of existing without existing. A paradox." The yeti growled, "A merciful end for the likes."

"Frostbite," Ghost Writer greeted, his eyes leaving Phantom, "You will heal him?"

"Of course," Frostbite said, "I will do what I can here, but he will have to be taken to the Far Frozen so that I may help him properly."

"This world has heroes, did you know?" The Concept moved to sit on the foot of the bed, his hand moving to rest on Phantom's ankle so that Frostbite could examine him.

"Other than Phantom?" Frostbite asked, "I did not know."

John felt as though the weight of the Sky was dropped on him, but he didn't stumble. He knew that showing weakness to beings and entitles stronger than him was a good way to get killed slowly and painfully for their enjoyment. He spoke anyway, "Phantom-" He cut himself off at the glare from Ghost Writer and Frostbite. "King Phantom," he amended, "was- is? was a hero here?"

"Yes," Frostbite smiled smally, "He was born here, he was raised here, he lived here, and he died here. He is Balance. He is The Protector."

"He protects the living from the dead and the dead from the living." Ghost Writer said.

"And the living fucked it up." John finished. He sighed. "I'll alert the others to your decision. They won't interfere."

"Good," Ghost Writer stood and looked John in the eye, "Keep your favor. You have earned it." Then, the three beings were gone.

John Constantine is a man who is consciously aware of how easy it is to die. He knows the different afterlives and those who run them as well as he knows his own past.

The Justice League will keep out of the way of supernatural affairs. They will warn against getting in the way of the Ghost's Retribution. They will turn a blind eye or they will die for complacency.

John leaves the room and lights his cigarette, rules be damned. He's used to cleaning up messes, but this is of a scale on its own.

Don't know why but I kind of want to use that one scene from Prince of Egypt where the Nile turns into blood with like the Lazarus pits turning the blood after the Giw kidnapped Danny like the pits and Lazarus Island are just turning into dark red blood and we'll be like this until Danny's returned back as their King like every place that has like a high level of death energy now has things turn into like locus or like ancient curses until Danny's returned

Also every ghost acting like a feral monster cuz the king is gone and that means they're stableness is gone with the King

Oh interesting.

The world was in chaos. No one knew what had caused the change. But suddenly supernatural entities and forces everywhere were causing chaos. Batman had been in the cave when the Lazarus Pit turned blood red. Shortly after he heard reports from Crime Alley. Hood had flown into the worst murderous rampage yet. The two incidents were clearly linked. He is to sedate Hood to stop his rampage. H was currently in an induced coma.

Jason was hardly the only one affected. Everyone he knew that had been revived by the pits? Were more angry, rash, prone to violence. Talia had called as well. Every put under the control I the LoA? Were affected the same way. Then he got the calls from Constantine and other members of JLD. Ghosts everywhere were causing massive amounts of damage. To both people and property.

Any people who were sensitive to death magic? Were either angry, depressed or in pain. Something he happened. But they were at a loss as to what. The fact they were compromised wasn't helping. He could feel his control sipping the longer this went on. Robin had been benched. He was currently far too likely to cause damage.

Then they found the starting clue. A city in Illinois was under constant attack by ghosts. Amity Park had been evacuated now for the most part. One facility seemed to be the focus of the attacks. Whatever was causing this? Was likely being held there. The government was being obstructionist at best. And with their collective patience being stretched to the limit? That wasn't going to keep them out of that facility.

Listen to me,

we will NOT be bullied out of our own fucking tags by those spam bots.

Don't start using new tags. These are our tags. Defend them!

Coworkers are here. They don't understand why we're here so early, either. I'mma go now

(04:31)

I can't sleep and the near constant notifications from Tumblr aren't helping.

(No, I can't turn my phone on vibrate because too many people in my family are sick and I'm the only one who wakes up to my phone ringing more than I do my own alarm)

So, I've given up sleeping for the night. I have to wake up in like...two hours anyway. (Shift starts at 4, we leave the house no later than 3:15, my alarm goes off at 2:00 so I have time to get ready)

I've been awake since 11:15 May 1st with only a three hour nap on May 2nd. My shift is 15 hours (4:00 to 19:00)

I've got a Mountain Dew, a Powerade, and 2 Rockstar to keep me awake for the shift (and food)

...sigh

At least the pay's decent. Our highest paying venue at $16 and hour

Danny smiled from his place on the clocktower roof. He'd been in Gotham for a while now, two years to the day exactly, but he'd never get tired of the view. Sure, he hated not being able to see the stars at night, but there were worse things. He did make sure to leave the city every night to see them, though.

He liked being up high. It reminded him of, not simpler times, but times when he wasn't as alone. Jazz had made her way to Harvard, Tucker was MIT, and Sam was at Pomona. Danny was nowhere.

They say after he turned fourteen, he died. It, to say the least, wasn't a pleasant or painless death, though it didn't hurt past the initial shock and revival. When he was sixteen, he realized he wasn't aging. Sure, Danny Fenton aged until he was sixteen, but Danny Phantom stopped at fourteen. Good for keeping a secret identity, but horrible for wanting to half live normally.

The day after he turned eighteen, exactly four years after he died, Danny disappeared. He left everything behind and hid out in the one place he'd always said he'd avoid. It was the one place no one would look for him. The one place where he was just another face in the crowd.

Gotham City allowed Danny the anonymity that normally came with death. Instead of just another headstone in the graveyard or a body in the harbor, though, he was just another kid on the streets in a busted hoodie and jeans. No one looked twice and no one asked questions.

In the two years he's spent on the streets of Gotham, he's learned a lot. Survival was something all humans are born with, but growing up with neglectful parents amplified that instinct. Dying and becoming an unwilling hero honed those instincts. Living in Gotham gave him a chance to learn more.

Learning the lay of the land was another thing he learned very quickly. Batman is over all of Gotham except for Crime Alley. That's Red Hood's haunt. Gotham Proper was split into blurry lines and shared between Batman and Robin, Red Robin, Orphan, and Spoiler. Nightwing is over Gotham's sister city, Bludhaven. Signal is the only day shift, so he had the most ground to cover in the least amount of time.

Of course, the Rouge's all had their own territories drawn with hard, barely flexible, lines. Black Mask was really the only one to breach those lines by trying to take Crime Alley, but Red Hood had been keeping him in check.

Learning the rules for each territory and how to interact with each person, Rouge or Vigilante, took time, but he managed. His own experiences had probably helped with that.

The next thing Danny had mapped out was where the neutral stations were. Every territory had them. They were places no one attacked because the important ones have standards. In Crime Alley, it's The Club. In Penguin's area, it's the Iceberg Lounge. Ivy marked off Robinson Park. Etcetera. The Joker is really the only major Rouge without a neutral mark on his map, but that's because he's more of an asshole than the rest. An asshole with standards, but an asshole nonetheless.

Very few of those neutral areas were available to spend the night in. Even fewer we're hiring. So, the homeless population of Gotham City stuck to the streets and back alleys.

However, there were two places Danny knew he could go where he'd be safe from scrutiny if someone looked too close at him. The Club in Crime Alley where all the working girls and boys checked in and reported any Bad Johns or Bad Janes, and The Iceberg Lounge in the richer parts of Gotham.

The clocktower was where Danny liked to spend his nights when the streets were too loud and the lights too bright and the fights too close for comfort. Oracle, who was Batman's eye in the sky and ear to the ground, worked from the clocktower, but he made sure to avoid her. It wasn't easy with what's basically super hearing that he can't turn off, but he found a spot near the very top where he could block out all Bat Business. Plausible deniability and all that.

Danny misses the stars. He misses being able to peek his head out of his bedroom window and name of each constellation he could see. He can't do that in Gotham because of the light pollution that clung to the sky like black mold. It was part of the reason he'd sworn to never go to Gotham.

There are Shades in Gotham. Shadows of people who have died but aren't quite ready to move on. He helps them as best he can, but there's so many that he sometimes feels like he's cutting off a Hydra's head. He gets to see results, though. Some days the parks are more colourful, the clouds have drifted enough to let natural sunlight through, and the graveyards are buzzing with thankful energy.

Danny forwent the thought of trying to get a job a while ago. As far as the world is concerned, Danny Fenton is missing, likely dead. Being dead, in case it wasn't well known, is a legal barrier. Sure, most jobs in Gotham didn't do background checks, but Danny didn't really want to join the Goonion. He's just fine living on the streets.

Ectoplasm is scarce compared to Amity Park, but that's to be expected. Besides, the miasma crushing the city like a weighted blanket was enough to sustain his basic abilities. Food was a bit harder to come by, but, like sleep, he could survive longer without it than a living being can. If anyone were to ever ask - though the likelihood of anyone even finding out - how he was alive, his answer was "Photosynthesis, but for ghosts."

Danny liked being just Danny. No name, no responsibilities outside of keeping himself alive.

Danny Fenton, the loser nerd who fell to the bottom of all his classes, who's obsessed with space and everything in it, who could tell you exactly how long it would take to get from Earth to Betelgeuse and back, is dead. He died the day after he turned fourteen.

Danny Phantom, the hatefully loved vigilante who appeared with the throngs of ghosts, who grew more powerful with every fight, who won more fights than he thought he could because there was no other option, is gone. He disappeared after exactly four years.

Danny just exists. He lives on the streets of Gotham City, staying away from trouble because he learned how to recognize it as soon as he could walk. He loves space and finds every opportunity he can to get out and watch the stars and moon and planets. He likes heights because being up that high reminds him of when he was living and not just surviving. Was there really a difference anymore? He hangs out in graveyards and the docks because the dead are so much more tolerable than the living.

Danny liked being just Danny because Danny doesn't have the world of Infinite Realms and Possabilities on his shoulder.

Danny likes to be able to just be for once.

Storyboard Part 2

"If I turn around and there's a hero, vigilante, anti hero, villain, anything or anyone related in anyway to the Justice League, I'm going to fucking lose."

It was quiet for a second, then, "Don't turn around?"

Red fucking Robin. "What did I just say?" Phantom turned on his heel to face the young vigilante.

The kid threw his hands up, "I told you not to turn around!"

"And yet here we are," he crossed his arms. "The hell do you want?"

"You seem awfully snippy today."

"Seeing as you and everyone under the sun has been stalking me, trying to get answers to questions I'm not going to answer, I think you can excuse my attitude."

With a huff, Red Robin also crossed his arms. "How do you know what I'm going to ask if no one else has been able to talk to you?"

"Because living beings are all the same. Curiosity of the unknown drags you around by your ear." Phantom turned back to continue walking away, "Now go away."

The kid matched his pace. "No way,"

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "I have a meeting soon, kid. You can't come along." That was a total lie. He had nothing going on that demanded his attention now that Constantine had ditched him after getting the demon under control. Maybe he could drop by Fawcett and visit Billy?

"No you don't." This damn kid-! "You've been wandering aimlessly for the past hour."

Phantom turned again to face the vigilante. "First of all, stalking people is hella creepy. Second of all, my schedule is none of your damn business."

"Careful there, kid," Red Robin smirked, "You'll get scolded for having a potty mouth."

"I'm thirty-fucking-eight!"

"You're literally fourteen."

Phantom closed his eyes. "Nocturn give me patience," he then looked Red Robin directly in the eye, "We've had this conversation. I'm dead. I don't physically age. That doesn't change the fact that I have walked this planted for thirty-eight years. Is that simple enough for you to understand or do I need to dumb it down for you?"

Red Robin blinked, his mouth agape. What? Did he just- The nerve! The audacity! "I'll have you know," he huffed, "I'm smarter than Batman."

"He tell you that himself?"

"Yes." It was one of the only times Batman had ever praised him, so that interaction was held particularly close.

Phantom looked Red Robin up and down, his expression reading both 'are-you-serious' and 'what-do-want?-a-medal?' Without a word, he turned back to his path and began his march anew. Any attempts at conversation from Red Robin was ignored, much to the younger's chagrin. Maybe he'd go away if he ignored him long enough.

Phantom and Red Robin wandered for the better part of an hour, not so much as a word passing between them. Neither stopped for any reason, and neither broke the set pace. It could almost be considered a friendly stroll through the city, if one ignored the slight apprehension surrounding the two.

Red Robin took this time to observe Phantom. He'd never spent too much time around anyone from the JLD who wasn't Raven, so he took the opportunity to get to know another on the team.

Phantom insisted that he was thirty-eight, not fourteen, and that the reason he looks as young as he does is because he looks like he did when he died. Not a comforting thought in the slightest. He knew that, though, when B had briefed him on all the members of or associated with the Justice League.

His powerset was almost completely unknown. They'd all seen him use a flight/levitation ability, as well as some form of density shifting and a healing factor, but Red Robin was more than sre that Phantom had more up his sleeve than that. He worked as a part of the JLD team, so he had to have some magical understanding or capabilities. But Raven wouldn't tell him if she knew, no matter how much he pestered her.

Looking at the kid now, Red Robin seriously wondered if Phantom had a civilian disguise. Ether white hair, toxic green eyes, the glow he seems to give off, and the contrasting bright white and vantablack suit and gloves he wore could not be easy to hide.

There was also a slight sense of unease Red Robin felt when looking at or being around Phantom for a long time. He hadn't noticed it before, but now it was as obvious as a neon sign. It was a strange mix of Uncanny Valley and sinking horror. Why was he feeling like this?

Phantom stopped in his tracks in a dead end alley. Without turning around he said, "Alright, spit it out. What do you want to ask?"

Red Robin hesitated for a moment. Surely it couldn't be that easy? Was Phantom really going to answer his questions? He shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"Come on, kid," Phantom pulled a piece of chalk from his front pocket. "I don't have all day."

Red Robin wanted to scoff because he most certainly did have all day. But, he pushed it aside. He was about to get answers that not even the Justice League could get! He decided to start of easy. "When did you die?"

"Try again." was the growled response.

"What?"

"I said 'Try again'."

Okay, okay. Touchy. "Why'd you join the Justice League?"

"I was bored." It was clipped. Phantom's on edge. Why?

"What're the rest of your powers? I know you have more than what you've shown everyone."

Phantom walked to the wall and started to draw a door on it with the chalk. "Next question."

Red Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine. How did you die?"

Every movement from Phantom froze. Every minute, involuntary twitch, even the telling signs of breathing. For a long minute, nothing happened and Red Robin had the dawning sense that he'd just asked something he really shouldn't have.

Phantom drew a circle in the rectangle he'd drawn on the wall, completing the door. "I'm going to give you a piece of advice that you seem to have completely glossed over." The piece of chalk was hidden away as he gripped the now 3D door handle. "If you value your life, don't ask the dead how they died." He opened the door and stepped through before looking back at the red clad vigilante. "They won't be so nice about it." Then, the door closed and the chalk erased itself.

Part 6 Part 8

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My dad is watching a video that I've tuned the majority of it out.

Y'know how most (if not all) women say that they'd rather face a bear in the woods rather than a man in the woods?

The video my dad is watching is this guy absolutely trashing on women and basically saying "A bear in the woods would attack you. A man in the woods would help you."

I had mom go in and have him turn it off or, at the very least, down.

I don't want to hear that shit. I've never had to fight a man off, but I have friends who have. All of them, including myself, would rather face the bear because the bear would have a reason. The bear would back off if it was a false charge. We wouldn't have to face the bear after the fact.

And my dad wonders why I don't talk about certain things with him.