Prompt 65
“Oh what the fuck-”
It was supposed to be a quiet night- no breakouts in Arkham and for once the asylum is actually full of most of their rogues. And the others were already taking care of Scarecrow and Penguin was- as far as he knew- doing legal things at the lounge at the time.
So somebody tell him why there’s this giant… thing that could give Grundy a run for his money in should be dead a thousand times over was pulling itself out of a sewer tunnel. Like seriously, he can see the blood and infection and whatever else dripping from honestly filthy bandages all on its arms that look a hint too long the more he looks through the binoculars, and it’s glowing this sickly green that reminds him way too much like the Pits.
That isn’t even getting started on the mouth- the only part visible of their face due to the wild mane of what might be white hair but was hard to tell under the amount of blood- that stretched far too wide. He even swore he could see fangs!
Not to mention the cloak that he wants to say is a knockoff of B’s, but honestly he can swear he sees it moving, twisting like lashing tails of shadow, or like Ivy’s vines. Its hands are long and gnarled, tipped in claws that dig into the concrete as it pushes itself to a frankly horrifying height.
And oh fuck, not only did it have some sort of giant sword, but there was a small child sitting on its shoulder without any sign of realizing the danger they were in-
Danny is having fun, his ghost-mom Amity is out on a date with another city spirit, Mr Bludhaven- so he gets to hang out with grandma? grandpa? (honestly who has time for gender when there’s curses to beat back!) Gotham!
It would perhaps be better if he wasn’t unknowingly making said city spirit visible to those who aren’t death-touched or liminal… Oh well!
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“You didn’t ask for all this,” Izzy sighed, eyes cast out over the indigo horizon. It made it easier. “I know I’m... Hard to love.”
Sam sat up straighter beside him, pinning him in place with a gaze that pierced right to Izzy’s bones.
“Who the fuck told you that?”
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Thinking about that theory...where in the BP cutscene, Venti is the first heir who became the queen of the kingdom of darkness, and Paimon was the second heir who will actually accomplish seeking the Genesis Pearl
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Dead Language Expert
Danny never thought that he could "major" in languages, and get a job as a translator. But apparently knowing all the dead languages by default and being able to time travel with the help of your ghost tutor was pretty useful outside of Amity.
It happened purely by chance, he was walking through a museum and started laughing because of a mistake in one of the sentences that completely changed the meaning of the text. The museum manager, of course, did not believe him, since many people had said that the piece was "impossible to translate". But he study it anyway.
Days later they were looking for him to translate all the things from that time. And he just carried on with it, in many more civilizations. In some cases he even asked for a few trips to the past to Clockwork to verify.
It got to a point where the wizards, heroes and villains over the world knew him as "the translator of dead languages" and some of them even tried to kidnap him to perform a summoning ritual. Danny rolled his eyes and easily freed himself, but the League assigned him an "escort" anyway.
Exasperated, the halfa escaped from his escorts and continued his work as normal. Superman almost fell out of his chair at the Watchtower meeting when he was informed that the boy had translated the language of Krypton and other missing planets. Besides having managed to lose both the Flash and Green Latern, what the fuck?
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Prompt 169
Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever.
It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident.
It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine.
He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages.
He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely.
Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings.
Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh.
Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case!
The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…
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Sam coming to sit beside a suffering, seasick Izzy, silently taking his hand and pressing his thumbs into the pressure point on his wrist, massaging firmly, steady and warm beside him while he rides it out until his stomach unclenches and his brow smooths and he just barely slumps against Sam with a sigh.
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The thing about TMA is that if I think about Sasha James too much I will cry and if I think about Michael Shelley too much I will cry and if I think about Agnes Montegue too much I will cry and if I think about Jonathan Sims too much I will cry and if I think about Naomi Herne too much I will cry and if I think about Gerry Keay too much I will cry and if I think about Tim Stoker too much I will cry and if I think about Jane Prentiss too much I will cry and if I think about Martin Blackwood too much I will cry and—
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