Core Gems
So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.
Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.
Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.
However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.
In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.
Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.
The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.
Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.
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I'll never write it so gonna post the abandoned idea for it here (also as a reminder, all my fic ideas are for grabs unless stated otherwise so if someone wants to pick it up, be my guest)
Red strings of fate/Soulmates AU
You are connected to your soulmate by a red thread only you and your soulmate can see and touch (and cut). When your soulmate dies, the thread solidifies and becomes heavier, as long as the distance between the soulmates was the time one of them died — almost like a chain.
Jake and Bradley find out they're soulmates early on in flight school — it's hard not to when the thread pulls tauter and tauter until they finally meet in the same classroom and they can see the other end of the thread for the first time.
There's fascination, there's the thrill of sneaking around (they should disclaim it, as soon as they learn, so it can be put in their records, but they never do) and everything is new and bright. They start to treasure the string, turning around their fingers and finding joy in noticing the other end twitching and pulling — with time, they notice the motions translate over the tread no matter how far away they are.
They make up a system of pulls and tags, using Morse code and it becomes something else, they become something else — in the air, wordlessly in sync, on the ground, talking to each other whenever they want, during sleepless nights and separate schedules and long-distance deployments.
Until.
Things start getting complicated. Bradley has commitment and abandonment issues, Jake's an all-or-nothing type of guy and just being soulmates isn't enough.
They go their separate ways. Bradley still, sometimes, when he can't sleep and the night makes him feel like nothing has a sense or a purpose, sends little messages down the thread. He never gets replies.
The day they meet again at the Hard Deck, Jake suspects Bradley is coming for the same assignment. The string’s been getting lighter and lighter the whole night, dropping down, no longer stretched to its limit.
They try to ignore the string the whole time the training goes on, but Mav still suspects. He doesn't say anything, but he feels like history is repeating itself.
When Mav and Bradley are arguing in the debriefing room and Warlock comes in, he doesn't say anything but Mav looks down at his own wrist and his face turns white and Bradley knows at that moment.
(Whether Mav and Ice are soulmates and married or they are soulmates but Ice still married Sarah, that's up for discussion).
During the whole funeral, Mav rolls the invisible thread around his wrist, moving onto his arm when it's not enough.
It's at that moment — Bradley decides Jake will never have to do the same.
The minute he turns around for Mav, he makes up a plan in his head.
They find each other in the snow, and argue, but by the end of it, Mav is making up a crazy plan and they'll try to return in one piece. Try being the keyword.
He pulls on the string, the thread between his thumb and index finger.
Mav frowns. "What are you doing?"
"Sending a message before we go."
He repeats it, just in case Jake hasn't realized in time to catch the whole thing at first. And then he starts looking through the pockets of his life vest.
“He’s not walking around with a dead man’s chain, Mav.”
Mav tries to stop him the second he realizes what Bradley is going to do but it's too late — with the same knife he cut his parachute off, he cuts off the thread, close to his wrist, letting it fall limping into the snow, red almost looking like droplets of blood.
It takes Jake a minute to realize that the tagging is a physical feeling, not just wishful thinking formed by his imagination.
The carrier deck is a mess, the foxtrot teams returned, Phoenix is now arguing with the admirals about Rooster's position — he might not be dead, sir — and the ringing in Jake's ears doesn't stop until he looks down at his wrist, and sees the string moving, the pulling a rhythmic, well-known motion.
Aloud, breaking up the vivid discussion about Maverick and Rooster's status, he says, “Rooster is alive, he’s—he’s talking,” and it almost feels like it's someone else using his voice.
“What do you mean, Hangman? His comm is silent.”
“Can feel it on the string, it’s still red and he’s— he’s tugging in Morse code,” he says. He closes his eyes and lets himself be pulled by the wrist. “S-O-R-R—Sorry, he’s—sorry and—and—I-L—Shit, no.”
I-L-Y
The string flops down, loose. “No—”
He cut it. He cut it because it's still red and not gray but still too limp and he knows it. His wrist feels too light, too free.
When Bradley lands on the carrier, his wrist is bare and the thread pools around Jake's feet. It doesn't magically reconnect when they touch, when they shake hands.
Jake tries to desperately find the other end, carrying rolls and piles of it with him as he follows Bradley to the med bay.
“Jake, just—just cut it,” he tells him. “It’s going to connect you again in a day or two.”
Jake ignores him, pulling miles and miles of the thread into circled piles next to Bradley's bed. He can't see the floor — it's just red and red and nothing else.
“No,” is all Jake says. “Not to you.”
It'll find him a new match, connect the thread to someone else, to someone who isn't Bradley.
"Bring me some scissors," Bradley says. He almost feels bad, when Jake's gaze turns up to him, glaring with shiny eyes. "Just do as I say for once."
Wordlessly, looking like it pains him, Jake brings him disposable scissors.
Bradley grabs his hand before he can move away, pulls about three feet of the thread from the pile, and cuts off the excess on the floor.
He wraps it around his own wrist, the string thin and soft, and a little clumsily ties it into a loop over his arm. When he leans away again, the thread takes a second, taut, and then stretches with the distance, like it has always done.
Jake stares at it, too focused and too absent. "That's the shittiest knot I've ever seen."
Bradley huffs. "Well, you gotta learn to live with it."
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