#dps oneshot

[heliads]

LISA REQUESTS ARE OPEN AHHHH!!! I have been waiting for this moment!!

Could I pretty please request Steven Meeks (my beloved) with a female reader? The reader is a student at Welton who’s disguised herself and pretended to be a boy at her family’s request since Welton doesn’t accept girls but she was smart enough to get in and her family wanted her to have a good education. Since she’s friends with Neil and Charlie, she gets invited to be a part of the Dead Poets Society, and because of that she gets to know Meeks and gets closer to him, but she feels terrible about lying to him. So one night at a Dead Poets meeting, she stands up and admits to being a girl, and though she’s terrified about them reacting badly the other Dead Poets promise not to tell anyone because she’s their friend (except for Cameron, obvs, but the others kind of bully him into promising). And then afterwards she has a one-on-one conversation with Meeks where she tells him how she feels and he admits he feels the same (and maybe he even felt the same about her when he thought she was a boy but was scared to say anything) and it’s just really cute?

Of course, if you don’t wanna write this that’s totally cool!! Thanks in advance, and I hope you’re doing well, beloved!! <3

'the secrets that we keep' - steven meeks

masterlist

a/n: in the fic, b/n stands for boy name. since reader is pretending to be a boy, you need a boy name for Vibes and Plot

Although dutifully called on by schoolboys to change the age-old protocol, Welton Academy has never admitted a girl to their brilliant ranks. For reasons of religious purity, single-minded pursuit of study, and otherwise knowing how easily distracted teenage boys are by a pretty face, the doors of this bright school have shut in the face of willing and able female candidates for years. It is a long-standing rule, as familiar as not running in the halls or sneaking off campus to engage in underage drinking. Similarly, this rule is about to be ignored by yet another student, and this one is you.

Headmaster Nolan firmly intended to maintain this rule. Your parents wanted a good education for their daughter. Never before has such a violent clash rocked the hills of Vermont. Not in a while, at least. It took many, many heated arguments and a good deal of defensive letters, plus a promise to secure an internship at a nearby hospital for the son of Headmaster Nolan’s good friend, a certain Mr. Perry. Also, you would have to promise to keep the whole girl thing under wraps.

This may seem impossible, but they were the terms of your acceptance to the prestigious school, and you were willing to live by them. No doubt Headmaster Nolan would be watching you like a hawk for even the smallest of slip ups, but you don’t intend to give him even a second of victory over you. You’ll play according to his rules, and you’ll ace your classes at the same time. Wouldn’t it be funny if one of Welton’s brightest pupils was a girl?

These were the sorts of thoughts that helped tide you over the summer until your first day of school. When that inevitable day came around, though, you couldn’t help but feel paranoia wrap around your stomach with cold, digging claws. This whole idea seemed impossible. How could you possibly pretend to be a boy the whole time you were at the school? You could cut your hair short and deepen your voice, stomp around the halls and act as if you were just like the rest, but what a thing to do. Still, whenever you think about quitting, you think about the triumphant expression on the headmaster’s face, knowing he’d assigned you the one task he thought impossible. If you were going to do anything, you could at least prove him wrong.

With this mindset in place, you move your belongings into Welton. You’ve been given a single room, as the headmaster decided that having a roommate would only complicate things. Smart move there; it might be difficult to hide your evident lack of masculinity from someone who’d be with you around the clock.

There are plenty of singles in the Welton dorms, the students placed inside for various reasons. It’s nothing uncommon. Still, it does draw a fair amount of attention during move-in, as students pretend not to openly stare at you while you’re unpacking your luggage to see what kind of kid could manage to pull the lucky slot of a dorm room all to themselves.

One group of boys in particular seems keen on making your acquaintance, although their attention, unlike that of many of the other students coincidentally passing by your door, seems pleasant instead of demanding. Their apparent leader, Neil Perry, drops by to say hello. Always glad to see a new face, or so he’d claimed.

Neil was the first, quickly followed by his new roommate, Todd Anderson, plus Neil’s best friend, Charlie Dalton. An additional entourage of Gerard Pitts and Steven Meeks joined them soon enough, and a redheaded Richard Cameron followed up the tour, although judging by the not-so-subtle hostility in everyone’s glances his way, Cameron would be the least favored of the whole group.

At first, you’re terrified to have that much attention directed your way. Your goal was to skate under the radar, only making friends when you absolutely had to so you could both avoid detection and focus on your studies. Although it might make for a lonelier experience, staying undercover was far more important. Your parents were sacrificing a lot to keep you in Welton’s halls. You couldn’t afford to disappoint them by getting caught all because you started feeling alone.

However, none of the boys seem to notice that you’re not what you claim. They take up your explanation of having recently moved there readily enough, as it would explain why they’d never heard of your boy name before. You picked that one out earlier that month as if it were a new notebook or yet another school supply: B/N. It’ll be tricky to remember to respond to that name, but no trickier than any other part of this little scheme.

Besides, once classes start to kick up, all of you have far bigger fish to fry than unraveling the precise identities of the latest addition to the friend group. Soon, questions about where you grew up and how you managed to get yourself cast down to Hellton are replaced with frantic trig study sessions and grievous Latin complaints.

If there’s one class none of you seem to mind at all, though, it would be English. The other boys heard rumors that you’d be getting a new teacher, but none of them knew a thing about this Mr. Keating. The general consensus is that English this term would be no different from English at any other time of year; plenty of assigned readings, loads of essays required to be written under short durations, and all of the other joys that a required literature course often brings.

This, however, was not to be the case. From the moment Mr. Keating opened his mouth, all of you knew you’d be in for a treat. Some of you were less hesitant to embrace Mr. Keating into your hearts, namely Cameron, but the rest of you have been quick to appreciate what you have. For once, you’re having fun in class. Who could have an issue with that?

And, when Neil swoops by your seat and asks you if you’d be willing to engage in the first meeting of the new Dead Poets Society out in the woods that evening, you know that the impact your new teacher has on his students is far more drastic than even you’d envisioned. You agree readily, and the rest of your friends look pleased with themselves for managing to boost their numbers with such an agreeable fellow.

If there was one boy who looked the happiest that you’d be joining them after hours, you’d have to say that it was Steven Meeks. Although he may not be the loudest of the set, Steven has quickly been rising through the ranks in your mind. He’s been working on this radio set almost nonstop with Pitts, but every time Steven accomplishes even the smallest of achievements, he immediately has to put everything aside to rush to your side and tell you all about it. It’s wonderful to watch him, how his eyes light up as he talks, hands waving wildly in the air while he talks about receiving signals and communication potential.

You should know better than to get attached. There is a significant chance that your whole ruse will be revealed sooner rather than later, and you’ll be unceremoniously removed from Welton, never to speak to any of these boys again. Still, watching Steven’s ginger curls fall messily about his bright eyes, tracing the path of his hand absentmindedly combing back the strands so he can focus on repeating the information he’s just learned, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this one connection wouldn’t be so bad. Your friends wouldn’t turn you in.

Besides, cutting yourself off from Steven sort of feels like chopping off a limb. When the lot of you sneak out from the dorms that evening, running and howling through the forest, Steven stays by your side the entire time. Dry leaves crunch underfoot, and the moon hangs low and bright overhead. Your heart beats erratically from its cage in your ribs, and you wonder how you could ever have been afraid of something like this. This is living, you decide. You and Steven in the endless night, laughing like crazy, more free than you’ve ever been even as you live your greatest lie.

The first meeting of the Dead Poets Society is a wild success. You take turns reading off various stanzas and prose, alternating between oohing appreciatively at a particularly good turn of phrase and teasing each other wholeheartedly whenever someone provides the opportunity. Despite the jokes, the atmosphere in the cave is reverential, almost. Everyone believes in the strange spirit that’s bewitched all of you, the knowledge that what you’re doing here will make you gods of men. It’s entrancing and awe-inspiring and the first thing you ask the next morning is when all of you will be meeting up to do it again.

Charlie breaks into raucous laughter. “See, that’s the spirit we want! Even B/N here wants more. We’re high off poetry, imagine that.”

You scowl at him, even as the others laugh along. “What do you mean, even B/N? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Nothing, honestly. Just that you didn’t seem all that inclined to hang out with us at the start of the semester, that’s all. We got worried you didn’t like us so much, but obviously that’s not so anymore.”

You arch a brow incredulously. “Of course I like you guys! Would I put up with Neil’s monologues if I didn’t? Or Cameron’s bullshit? Or all of you howling in a cave past midnight so we can pay homage to dead poets worldwide?”

Steven snorts, more at the disbelieving look on Cameron’s face than anything else. “Now that’s a vote of sympathy if you’ll ever get one. I, for one, never doubted you.”

Charlie scoffs loudly. “Of course you didn’t, Steven. Anyone who listens to you ramble on about the benefits of the modern radio as much as B/N would have to be your best friend. Honestly, I’m surprised that didn’t scare him off more than anything else.”

Steven’s face falls, and to cover up for it, you say quickly, “I don’t mind the radio talk. Honest. It’s interesting.”

“Sure it is,” Charlie says a little too loudly, “So’s the company. Anyway, B/N’s right. How about tomorrow night for another meeting? Bring your best limericks, I want to be entertained.”

Neil breaks into choking laughter. “Absolutely, your highness. All your jesters will do their best to make you crack a smile.”

“It’s an honor and a privilege, you know that,” Charlie defends himself.

As you watch the friend group devolve into cackling laughter, you can’t help but meet Steven’s eyes across the table. Instead of getting caught up in the mock argument between Charlie and Neil, he hasn’t lost focus on you for one instant. When he catches you looking, he smiles quietly and mouths, thank you. You smile back.

The meetings of the illustrious Dead Poets Society carry on for weeks. As they go, you realize that you’ve never had friends like these, and it feels as if you never will. They’re the best, brightest bunch of boys in the world. You trust them more than you do anyone else. Those sacred spaces in the caves off campus, baptized by moonlight and wild imagination, make you feel more like you than anything else.

Except, of course, for one secret that still hangs in your way.

You haven’t told anyone that you’re a girl. Your silence carries with it the weight of your studies at Welton. If you want to stay, no one can know. It’s as easy as that. Still, in the quiet, happy moments when the wild laughter fades and you’re left looking around at the faces of the boys who have become your brothers, you can’t help but wonder if maybe you could tell them after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they knew. Maybe they would even help you maintain your cover.

It would be nice to have a little bit of this burden off of your shoulders, after all. It feels as if every waking moment not spent studying is chained to making this lie work. Every time someone talks to you, you’re certain they’ve figured you out. This sort of paranoia is driving you mad, and being able to finally share the secret feels like a relief akin to offering a drink of water to a man dying of thirst.

The opportunity to share comes up sooner than you expected. At one of the Dead Poets Society’s meetings, Neil turns to you with a slight frown when they’re asking around for someone else to share a piece.

“B/N, do you want to go next? You’ve been quiet all meeting, I don’t want to speak over you accidentally.”

You shake your head a little too quickly. “No, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”

This, more than anything, attracts attention. Charlie grins, leaning over to you dramatically. “Thinking about what? World domination?”

You snort. “I’ll leave those plans to you, thanks.”

“Come on, B/N, talk to us,” Neil urges. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. This is it, your chance. They’re all here, all willing to hear you out. If not now, then when?

“Alright,” you begin, “There is something I do need to say. I’ve, uh, been keeping a secret from you. A pretty big one.”

Charlie arches a brow. “A big secret? Let me guess, you’re secretly a teacher in disguise sent to keep an eye on us.”

This would usually elicit a laugh from you, but tonight you’re so worried about getting this right that you can’t even muster up a weak chuckle. “Not quite, Charlie. I’m–” The words dry up in your throat. How do you say this, after all this time?

The other boys stare at you expectantly. You’ve started now, you can’t back out anymore. “I’m a girl,” you say in a rush. “My parents wanted me to get a good education so they sent me to Welton. The headmaster really didn’t want to let me in, but he only allowed me to enroll if no one knew I was a girl. He said he didn’t want to mess with his pristine record of only letting boys inside or something. It’ll still show up on my college record that I went here, and he wouldn’t have to handle the difficulty of more girl students. I’ve been pretending to be a boy this whole time, but I’m not. I’m a girl.”

The words hang in the air. For once, the cave is absolutely silent. You can hear quiet breathing all around you, nothing more. Your eyes are fixed on the stone in front of you, resolutely refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. You’re certain that if you were to look up, you’d only see disgust or disbelief on their faces. This was their sacred space, and you’ve broken it to bits with your secret. You never should have told them. You never should have thought you could pull this off in the first place.

Just when you’re debating the merits of running for the dorms to get out of here, Charlie starts clapping loudly. You jerk up, expecting him to be mocking you, but instead his expression is celebratory. “Let’s go!” He says. “I’ve been waiting for a girl to go here forever. Of course Headmaster Nolan would be an asshole about it. Wow. Can you get more of your friends to enroll, too?”

You stare at him incredulously. “You’re not mad?”

Neil breaks in. “Why on earth would we be mad? That’s totally cool. You’re like a spy or something. We should write a poem about it. Maybe even a play.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “It would be an honor to be your muse, Neil. But seriously, you’re all fine with it?”

“Of course we are,” Charlie assures you. “Jesus, have you really been worried about that? What were we going to do, kick you out? Your secret’s safe with us. We’re not rats.”

“We’re not?” Cameron chooses this moment to pipe up.

Immediately, he’s hit with death glares from every other boy in the cave. “No, we’re not,” Neil says firmly. “And if anyone even hints to an administrator or other student that B/N’s not a boy, they’ll get their ass kicked. Is that understood?”

Cameron nods, not meeting your eyes. Still, you have a feeling he’ll keep your secret.

Pitts raises a hand. “If you’re not a boy, is B/N your real name?”

“No,” you answer him. “I’m actually Y/N.”

“Sick name,” Charlie comments.

You swat him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Charlie.”

“Nuwanda,” he says in a dramatically injured tone.

Just like that, the tension is diffused. Once you’ve been assured a few more times that no one will say a word about your inherent lack of boyhood, the agenda turns back to poetry more. It’s like nothing even happened, except everything did. Your friends still support you. You feel more free than you could have even imagined, knowing that everything worked out.

On the way back to the dorms, you hang back a little, wanting to take in the events of the past hour by yourself. Steven notices and joins you.

“So,” he says quietly, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” you affirm. “It’s not too weird, is it?”

“Trust me, it’s not,” Steven says. “This actually answers a lot of questions for me.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

It’s hard to tell in the darkness of night, but you swear his cheeks have started to heat up. “Well, I realized– or, I thought, really, I was sort of still deciding that for myself, I mean– Well, Y/N, I think I love you.”

Silence in the forest. “You love me?” You ask cautiously.

Steven scratches his head. “Yeah, I do. Hadn’t really admitted it to myself yet because I thought you were a boy. There was a lot of reflection going on. This makes a lot more sense, though.”

You can’t help it, but break into laughter. “I’m fascinated by that. What have the past few weeks been like for you?”

“Very confusing,” he answers. “Still a lot of questions left unanswered.”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Like if you like me,” he says quietly.

You smile again. “Well, I thought that one was obvious. I love you too.”

Steven stops walking completely. “Really?”

“Really,” you laugh. “Now come on, we have to get back to our dorms before an administrator notices we’re gone.”

Steven sighs dramatically. “The administrators are the last thing I want to talk about right now.”

You think your smile might never fade. “Me too. We’ve got plenty of time for that, though.”

Plenty of time indeed. The rest of this term, then on and on until both you and Steven can sum up perfectly what it feels like to be absolutely happy. For now, though, you think you’ll let the sensation of him taking your hand for the first time to lead you back through the forest do the explaining for you.

requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!

dead poets society tag list: empty for now!

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#steven meeks #steven meeks imagines #steven meeks x reader #steven meeks oneshot #meeks #meeks imagines #meeks x reader #meeks oneshot #dead poets society #dead poets society imagines #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society oneshot #dps #dps imagines #dps x reader #dps oneshot #dead poets society meeks

[escelia]

This is a follow-up/one-shot based on the fic I wrote here, which was based on the prompt by @ghostreblogging

I'm really having fun with Big Brother Danny AU~ big thanks to everyone taking the time to read it!

Not So Normal

Daniel Fenton-Wayne had been with the family for a while now. To say that he was odd would be an injustice because he wasn't really. At least, not compared to the rest of the costume wearing vigilante family. Danny was a civilian, albeit a strange one. Danny and Damian were close in age, and everyone could tell that Danny wanted to be a good big brother; he'd never had the chance to before. The strangeness came in when Damian brandished his many weapons toward Danny, and he... caught him mid launch. Just snatched the little bird out of the air for a hug. Damian had thought he was putting up a fight, but it was clear that Danny wasn't struggling. He seemed so casually unbothered by Damian's behavior, but he was normal, ya know?

Damian sneers and waves his fork menacingly at Danny during dinner?

"He's fine! He's like, what, 10 years old?"

Damian growled that he was clearly 12 and threw himself over the table at him.

Damian threatens him with his swords?

"Damian! No!"

"Nooooo! Don't discourage him! He might lose interest!" And even as the rest of the family assured him that that would be a good thing, he handed Damian the blade and asked if lessons were on the table so Damian could have a "competent sparring partner." He still tried to stab Danny after that.

As concerning as it always was when Damian tried to stab someone, they were all relieved that Daniel seemed to be able to handle the demon brat better than most. Eventually the baby bird would warm up to him and stop stabbing him so often, but until then, Danny could handle himself.

~~~~○•○•○~~~~

Let it be known that Damian did not have a favorite brother! They were all imbeciles with poor taste in humor and mediocre fighting skills. That being said, Danny did have a leg up over the others for inquiring about sword lessons to improve his fighting prowess, even if he was already surprisingly adequate for a civilian. Well, that and other things that Danny had admitted only to him in the months he'd been with the family. It was strange being the one he confided in, but he felt a sort of pride that, even though he'd tried to stab Daniel, he was still the one he went to when he needed to talk about stuff he hadn't told the others. So perhaps it wasn't that surprising that when he'd gotten in trouble, Danny was the one Damian called for.

Patrol that night had been boring and quiet. Too quiet. Way too quiet for Gotham, which meant that something bad was brewing. Batman had handed Robin off to Nightwing for the night while he poured over all the reports and data from the last few weeks to figure out what the rogues of Gotham could have planned. Nightwing was ashamed to say that the Joker had gotten the jump on them. He'd tied the two up, leaving their comms on so the rest of the bats could hear all of the terrible things Joker had planned for them. He included terrible reminders of how he'd murdered Jason and how he couldn't wait to pluck the wings from Batman's other birdies. Damian wanted to rip his throat out for that, but he was in no shape to fight. His family was in danger, so he called out to the only other person he trusted.

"DANIEL!" Damian screamed long and loud for his brother, the plea surging forth from deep in his chest. Dick looked horror stricken that his baby brother had called out for the one member of the family that wasn't a vigilante, painting a huge target on his back. But even as he could hear the commotion coming through the comms and see the panicked look on Dick's face, he called for Danny again. His brother would help. He would come!

The room's temperature dropped in an instant, their panting, panicked breaths fogging the air while the lights flickered. The Joker paused in his maniacal laughter to observe the Lazarus green pool forming on the ground between him and the birds. Frost and ice cracked through the concrete of the warehouse as a head of white hair with a crown of crystalline ice rose through the small pit and the Joker's veins flooded with dread at the too wide, too sharp smile on the thing's face.

"Don't worry, I'm here. You're safe," he cooed comfortingly back to Damian, his voice an otherworldly echo in the large space. "But you?" He gestured to the Joker with claw-like fingers. "Well, let's just say, I've been d̵͔̦̩̒̒̊ẙ̴̧͓͕̺ḯ̸͖̪͔n̶͉͛g̵̻̾͒͜ to get my hands on you."

It happened so fast that no one really knew if the Joker screamed or not. In one moment, the boy's body had morphed into a cloud of inky black scattered with what looked like honest to God stars that smothered the Joker, and in the next, he was gone. The being who, upon closer inspection, definitely looked like Danny if he had white hair and green eyes and was a literal Eldritch creature, was untying them with care.

"Danny?" Dick questioned. He acknowledged him with a quick nod before turning back to Damian, the one who had called.

"You came," the youngest mumbled.

"You called," Danny answered with a soft smile. "Did you think that I wouldn't?"

"No. I knew that you would. You're not incompetent like the others."

"You guys heard that, right? That was definitely a compliment!"

Damian huffed but sagged in relief once he and Dick were both untied.

"You- you're-" Dick stumbled over his words in astonishment. "Danny, you're a meta?"

"Technically, it's a medical condition, but details," he responded, waving off the rest of the question with a cheeky smile.

In Nightwing's ear Bruce asked to speak with Danny. He removed the earpiece and tapped Danny's arm with it, gesturing to his ear. The "meta" slid it on just in time to hear his adoptive father shout.

"We will be talking about this as soon as everyone gets home safe, am I understood!"

"Loud and clear, boss man!"

"Let it be known that I knew something was weird about Danny!" He heard Jason exclaim. "No offense man."

"None taken, my Revenant sibling mine."

"Where did the Joker even go?" Someone over the comms asked. Danny thought it was Steph.

"I sent him to clown jail. I hate clowns. I've literally never met one that hasn't tried to kill me or my family."

Upon learning that the Joker wasn't the first homicidal clown that their, before now, seemingly normal brother had met, the comms erupted into chaos. Danny tossed the earpiece back to Nightwing before whisking them away back to the cave under the manor. He had a lot of explaining to do.

#danny phantom #dcu #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #damian wayne #big brother danny #danny can tell when his brothers need him #its a ghost king thing #jason totally knew something was weord about danny #protective danny #ghost king danny #joker gets sent to clown jail #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #ignore any editing errors #no beta we die like danny

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: I Thought I Was Dead

When Danny goes into the portal and is transformed into the halfa we all know and love he doesn't come back to his normal form right away. They think he's dead dead-dead. He thinks he's dead-dead.

Danny, is terrified of what his parents as well as what he has become so he runs away to protect his friends from him and protect himself from them. He flies and flies, following these new strange instincts and within a few days makes it to Gotham City.

He has no experience as hero in Amity Park, has no idea what his powers are and what they'll do, all he knows is that suddenly there was a white flash of light from his stomach as he transforms back for the very first time and now he's falling out of the sky above one of the most hero filled cities in the world.

#dp x dc prompt #my prompts #it could be a whole au or a oneshot #lots of fun regardless tho

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Hail Black Sheep

“Mind if I bum a cigarette?” A voice asked behind Hood, startling him so bad he nearly fell off the edge of the roof where he was sitting, taking a little break from patrol. He had made sure there was no one up here and no way to get up here before taking off his helmet, and yet when he turned around there was another man on the roof. Dark hair and sunken blue eyes that reflected an odd unnatural green when the light hit them wrong.

Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the stranger. He had appeared in Gotham months ago and had immediately pinged the bat’s radar as a potential threat. There was something very wrong with the young man and none of them could figure out what it was, any attempts to find out more had gone nowhere because attempts to follow him never worked! More then that it seemed like any mention of him had been erased from the record, they knew he went by Danny and that was all. And here he was standing on an inaccessible roof right in front of Jason.

“Sure,” Jason said as casually as he could manage, shoulders tense and ready to fight if he needed to. He didn’t know why Danny had sought him out but this was the best chance to learn… well, anything about him that they’d had. He held his smoke between his lips as he shook another out of the pack and held it out to Danny.

The other man smiled, revealing canines that were a little to long and pointed to seem entirely human, not long enough to be vampiric though. He came over and sat down on the edge of the roof as well, out of arms reach but close enough he could reach out and take the smoke, Jason was glad he wasn’t any closer. Danny seemed to be making an effort not to seem threatening as he let Jason hand him a lighter as well, lighting up before passing it back.

“Thanks,” Danny said before taking a drag and exhaling slowly. “I hope you don’t mind I messed with your coms, they’ll work again just fine once I leave but I just wanted to talk in private.”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, tense beyond belief, his hand twitching towards his gun, Danny didn’t seem worried which made him all the more nervous.

“Just to talk. I know you and the Bats have been following me.” Danny said with a casual shrug, leaning back dangerously over the ledge.

“And yet we never manage to actually track you,” Jason said a little accusingly.

“No one sees me if I don’t want to be seen,” Danny told him flashing a cheeky grin. “I don’t exist~”

“Yet here you are,” Jason argued and Danny shrugged again.

“Here I am,” He agreed taking another drag, slow and deep, exhaling just the same to create a break in the conversation before he glanced over at Jason. “That looks like a nasty story,” He commented, touching his own cheek where Jason knew the scar of a J still sat on his own. He snarled wordlessly and Danny held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I won’t ask, I have some nasty stories too,” He murmured rolling up his sleeve to show Jason Lichtenberg scarring shooting up along his arm.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you, I guess. You and I have a lot in common really, and you don’t follow the laws when you don’t agree with them, that too,” He chuckled.

“You know that’s why we’ve been following you right? You’re suspicious as fuck,” Jason said accusingly.

“I know,” Danny said with a little sigh. “Have you found anything at all?” Jason scowled and looked down, not wanting to admit that they really hadn’t. Danny just nodded. “You could look up the GIW to find out, not about me, but about what happened to me. Who declared me dead and erased me from the world so they could smuggle me away into a lab and figure out how to use me. I won’t let any of the bats follow me because if you know where I am then others might be able to find out. And I can’t promise they won’t add me to the wanted database again and they’d take that at face value.

“Interdimensional terrorist sounds pretty damn bad huh? Nevermind that I was fucking born in this world and it was scientists they hired that made me this way.” Danny grumbled, looking up at the smog covered sky.

“What way?” Jason asked, because everything Danny had just said was concerning as fuck but that was what he wanted to follow up on.

“Don’t worry about it,” Danny chuckled. “I’m not going to cause any trouble. I was a hero for a couple years as a teenager, before it got so dangerous with people hunting me, and now I’m retired as fuck, the only person I can afford to protect anymore is myself. But I want you to know that too, I’ll defend myself if I have to. If any of you or the GIW come for me again I’m not going to go quietly and I can do a lot of damage when I have to.”

“You know making threats does not help me believe that you aren’t going to cause trouble,” Jason said bitterly and Danny at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“I know, I’m sorry. I genuinely don’t want to cause any trouble for you, us black-sheep should stick together right? I’ve noticed that about you, all the folks the other bats and birds tend to overlook, you look out for them. The whores and the addicts and the street-rats. I like that, I was hoping you might look out for me too, I’ve been mostly haunting your area recently anyway. I could look out for you too? No one sees me if I don’t want to be seen and I can get into anywhere. I’ll keep an eye on things, if I find anything that you should know I’ll come tell you.”

“You’re offering to spy on me as a bonus?” Jason asked incredulously and Danny winced.

“Not on you, for you,” He promised quickly. “I’ll stay out of your business and I really won’t be any trouble! I’ll just keep an ear out and tell you if I hear anything in the way of plotting or people breaking your rules. Like I said, I like how you run things here, I’d like to help.”

Jason was quiet as he thought about that, Danny shifting nervously on the wall next to him as Jason finished his smoke and put out the butt. “Alright, you can stay in my territory, the bats don’t come here often. But I want some sort of accountability from you, at least regular check ins, once a week here and a way to contact you.”

Danny hesitated, biting his lip for a moment before he nodded. “Alright, Saturday night at midnight? I won’t come if I see anyone else around. I don’t have a phone or anything.”

“I’ll get you a burner next Saturday but this is basically a trial period. I know that the crap cops and the other bats say about ‘if you have nothing to hide’ is bullshit, you’re allowed to want privacy especially if you’ve been targeted. But you’re still suspicious as fuck and you’d better be telling the truth about not making trouble on my turf.” Jason said pointing an accusing finger at Danny before putting his helmet back on.

Danny nodded eagerly, looking relieved, tired, and a bit sickly. It wasn’t hard to believe the guy had had a hard life, if that hadn’t made him violent he was a better man then Jason. “You got it! No problems here, cross my heart!” Danny assured, actually making the motion which made Jason chuckle a little.

“Alright, see you Saturday,” He said before pushing off the edge of the roof, using his grappling gun to swing to the next building. When he turned around to look back at the building he’d just left Danny was already gone.

“O are you there?” He asked, tapping at his com to see if it was working again.

“Ya I am, what happened there?” She asked through the voice modulator. “Did you turn off you coms?”

“No, you’re not going to believe this,” Jason chuckled, but he wasn’t going to tell Oracle everything Danny had shared, wanting to meet Danny halfway with trust. Just enough to get her looking into the GIW, maybe if they could get whatever that was off Danny’s back he’d be willing to come out of the shadows and stop acting so fucking shady!

#dead on main #Jason todd #danny phantom #the GIW #dc x dp #the bats think Danny is a new rogue #barbra gordon #tw smoking #fanfiction #oneshot #not edited #will edit and post on AO3 later #I was listening to Black Sheep by Dorothy and got this idea

[playedcrowd5610]

What If... The Bat's Answered Phantom's Phone?

Set as an AU at the end of Chapter 2 of "A Little Overshadowing Never Hurt Anyone" But can be read as an independent oneshot <3

—"What were you doing in Gotham?" The Dark Knight demanded, ignoring the ghost boy's previous comment.

"Just hanging out. I don't have any real reason to be here. Wanted to see the sights, I guess." Danny shrugged, trying to play it off. It was a lie, but he couldn't tell him anything about his parents or the ghost-hunting convention, since there could be a chance he could figure out Danny’s identity that way. 

Once again, Batman's expression didn't change, just as stone-cold as ever. That was annoying. Normally Danny was really good at reading people. Especially ghosts. It was much easier for them to read each other with their cores and emotions. But with humans, it was much harder. Especially this human.

Suddenly Danny jumped at the sound of his phone ringing… and he knew it was his phone because a remix of the “Ghostbusters theme” was playing.  Danny put his head down covering his face with his hands,  He really shouldn't worry about being embarrassed while being kidnapped with a bunch of ghost tech in some eccentric white guy's creepy bat basement, yet here we are.

The only other person in the room besides Batman stood up. It was the boy in the domino mask., Robin? Wait- Weren’t there multiple now?  Danny couldn’t keep track anymore.  Either way, emo mini Bat jr, a coffee in his hand, walked over to a table filled with ghost-hunting weapons, the majority of which was his parents’ designs.  Danny felt a shiver go down his spine and pushed himself back a bit further in the cage. His fear did not go unnoticed by the boy, who glanced sideways with a frown.

He reached down and started going through the pockets of a belt that lay on the table as the phone kept blaring loudly, Danny glanced down to his waist. He didn’t even realize that they had removed the phone until just now.  Finally, the teenage boy managed to wrangle it out of one of the pockets and held it high in victory before looking at the caller ID.

“B,” The kid started.  “It’s someone named Jazz.”  Danny’s eyes widened. He knew she would be worried right now!   And what was the one thing she told him before he went into Gotham? ‘Danny, stay away from all of those Gotham vigilantes tonight — it can be dangerous.’ The phone abruptly stopped ringing, and Danny breathed a sigh of relief.  But then the boy started scrolling through the phone, or at least the lock screen. “Dozens of missed messages and three missed calls.”  He raised an eyebrow at Danny as if waiting for him to respond.

“She worries.”  Danny shrugs before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  Suddenly, the phone blares to life again. Danny’s ears twitch at the sound.  The ringtone starts again.  

“Bring it here, Red Robin,”  Batman says, holding out his hand.  Well, at least Danny now knows his name.   He narrows his eyes at the device like it is somehow out to get him and his whole family.  Danny would have laughed at the expression if he weren’t terrified for his afterlife right now.  After a couple of seconds, it stopped, only to restart again quickly after.

“She is not going to stop until you answer!”  Danny snaps, annoyed.  Batman seems to be in thought for a moment before holding the phone in between the vigilantes and the ghost, hitting answer on speakerphone.  Danny’s eyes widened instantly, in shock that he answered it. Danny was mostly kidding, he didn’t expect the Dark Knight to really answer! Now what should he do?

“Danny, oh my word! Where are you?!! I swear to Clockwork, if you got yourself hurt or anything… I’ve been worried sick! And with all of those hunters around! I told you to be careful, and to come back soon!  You were just getting air! Please tell me you’re okay.”  Danny winced back at every part of the call, but everyone in the room had their eyes glued to the phone, undoubtedly absorbing all the information Danny just gave them.  

“Jazz, Jazz I’m fine!”  Red Robin looked over at Danny as if to say, ‘You don’t look fine.’  Danny glared back his best ‘Mind your own damn business response..

“Danny, where are you?  I’ve been holding off mom and dad for as long as I can.”  Danny winced and winced hard, glancing up at the two listening into the conversation, looming over him.  “Right now they think you’re at the library, and it’s the middle of the night!”

Danny laughed nervously.  “Jazz, don’t worry, I’ll be okay, I always am.  I just got a bit lost and sensed a soul eater so I followed to find out if they were okay.  He saw Batman narrow his eyes again (if that was even possible — they should be closed at this point) at he mention of ‘soul eater’. 

 Danny felt slightly offended for them, but they did have a strange name.  For your information, soul eaters are just ghosts who need energy or ectoplasm to survive and make a body. They have to either take it from others or absorb it in an ectoplasm-rich environment, and if Danny has some to spare, he normally shares Soul eaters are a step above echo ghosts.  Two of the ones Danny had encountered were Spectra, who absorbed children’s emotions as a therapist to give herself a body, and Shadow, the ghost that has bonded itself to Johnny 13 in order to get as much ectoplasm as he needs in return for helping Johnny.  But enough of that rant.

“Okay, but you better be back soon okay?  Especially with all the hunters around. I don’t want you getting captured!”  

Danny glanced up at the two bats and laughed awkwardly.  “Ah yeah, we don’t want that happening now.  Just don’t worry too much, Jazz; get some rest, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You better!”  Batman then pulled his gloved finger up and pressed the hang-up button.

Danny scowled up at the man, “There, you happy?  You got all that information out of me. You seem proud of yourself.”  Danny went to lean back, but burned himself on the bars, flinching as he felt the stinging sensation on his shoulder, hissing and baring his fangs.

Batman said nothing. It looked like his little robin was about to pitch in but then thought better of it and slinked away.  Suddenly, there was a ping on Batman’s belt.  He looked at it for only a second before stating “I have to go. Red Robin, stay here.”

)-(

Danny was staring down at the floor of his cage as he now floated cross-legged just above the ground.  What was he supposed to do now? Batman was gone and Red Robin was now pacing around the cave, either doing wide circles around the cage or just pacing around the whole cave in general. It looked like he was also kind of muttering to himself. Kind of strange, but Danny did the same so who was he to judge?  But the important thing was he never let the cage out of his line of sight.  He almost felt like Danny was being hunted by a shark at the rate this guy was going.

Danny knew he needed to escape somehow.  He glanced again over all of those weapons on the desk. He needed to get out of here, and quickly He knows that even though he called, Jazz would still be worried.  But with Red Robin ever on the lookout, that would be hard.

It would be hard to rewire the whole cage, especially because Red Robin keeps silently watching him — it's kinda creepy. Danny grabbed onto his hair and pulled, unsure of what to do.  Suddenly there was a clanging sound and Danny jumped, eyes darting around until he noticed that Red Robin was staring up at him right in front of the cage. His hands were on the door.

Danny stared at him, puzzled, and tilted his head to the side, eyes glued to each other in the tense moment.  Suddenly, the boy’s hands started moving and he was unlocking the cage. Danny’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”  He asked, still stunned that the kid had come so close.  

The boy paused for a moment, thinking to himself. “Letting you out.”  The door swung open with Tim holding it and staring at the ghost expectantly.  Danny stayed where he was in the cage, floating, unsure of whether or not to trust this new opportunity.

“What about Batman, won't he be mad at you?”  Danny asked, surprised his Robin would go against him like this. 

“I think…”  Red Robin paused.  “I think Batman would understand, and I think we were wrong about ghosts,  I was stupid to go along with this. Anyone who’d spend more than five minutes with you would know you are a sentient, innocent, person...  I’m sorry.”

Danny laughed awkwardly, “Wow, you're the first person to say that in a long time.”  Red Robin returned with a light smile, almost a grimace.

“Here, let's get you out of here before B gets back.”  He reached down and grabbed onto Danny's arm, pulling him out of the cage and leading him through the cave. Normally, Danny would have flinched at being grabbed, but this… wasn't so bad. 

---

Tim led them through the tunnels underneath Wayne's manor to not reveal their identities, he knew the tunnels by heart and managed to make enough turns that Danny couldn't follow them back.

#danny phantom #batman #dc #robin #ao3 #au #crossover #dp x dc #danny fenton #batfamily #fanfic of a fanfic #batfamily meets Danny Phantom #it does not go well #Danny gets captured by the Batfamily #tim drake #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #oneshot #brain dead

[starry-bi-sky]

tick tock

Highkey dedicating this to @watercolour-carnations bc they sent me an ask about my 'danny is thomas wayne' au and singlehandedly revitalized my brainrot for it. Apparently the quickest way to a starry's heart is through their ask box

Now posted on ao3 under the name 'dniwer eht kcolc'!

In hindsight, hosting a science exhibit was probably not the best idea that Bruce has ever. This wasn't even one of Bruce's galas and, yet he was still attending because it gave him the opportunity to scope out any potential rogues (or henchmen).

Damian was by his side, and Tim was on the other side of the room, inspecting some of the other inventions under the prospect of gaining new hires for R&D at WE. Something that was not entirely false. Bruce could always use new, bright minds working to make Gotham a better place.

He was, particularly, eyeing up one moderately-sized invention that a woman with cutting blue eyes and stark white hair had covered with a white sheet. An interesting choice when everyone else had already revealed their own inventions. Drifting closer with Damian, he smiles charmingly at the scientist when they lock eyes.

"And what is this interesting contraption?" He asks, looking over the sheet as if it was the invention itself and not what was underneath.

The woman curled purple-painted fingers around the sheet, yanking it down to reveal a machine that looks like a mix of a jukebox and a grandfather clock. A long wire was attached to it, and a strange, blinking, circlet-like device connected on the other end.

Bruce's brows rose considerably, and he could sense Damian's eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"This is my Holographic Memory Machine -- the name is still a work in progress -- it's a memory machine meant to allow anyone to relive their memories right in front of them, even the ones they don't remember." The woman says with a smile, her name card reads 'Dr. Casey W. Kairos'. He's never heard of her before. An out-of-townie, perhaps?

"Interesting." Bruce's hands fold behind his back and he looks down at his disinterested son, and then back up to Dr. Kairos. It sounded harmless, but even a pencil could be harmless until enough force was put into it. "How does that work?"

Dr. Kairos walks over and holds up the strange circlet device, "The user wears this headband. It scans their brainwaves and then plays a memory of their choice right in front of them like a hologram, including any voices that came with it." She explains, showing it off to Bruce and Damian. "Would either of you like to try it? The HMM has been tested and it is completely safe."

Damian scoffs and turns to him, "This is a waste of time, father," He says, "let's move on."

"Oh, don't be like that, Dames." Bruce smiles genially, placing a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing it. It reminds him of when his father used to do the exact same thing, and he turns to Dr. Kairos. "I can try it, Doctor."

Kairos smiles widely, looking incredibly pleased. "Come stand here then, Mr. Wayne. I can get the HMM up and working." She gestures to a spot on the floor within the circlet's range, and Bruce goes and does as told.

"Standing around and looking pretty is my specialty, Doctor Kairos." He jokes as she gets the device situated on his head. It sits on his forehead snugly, and tucks behind his ears. Kairos snorts and turns to get the machine activated.

"Father." Damian says, indignant and scowling. His arms crossed over his chest petulantly. Bruce chuckles at him.

"The Doctor said it was perfectly safe, Damian." He admonishes lightly, wagging a finger at him. "I trust the good lady to know what she's doing." Not really, but he'd rather test it out on himself if it was unsafe.

Thirty seconds passed with Dr. Kairos working on flicking on the HMM, and when it came alive it came with a low hum and a distinct, ticking like noise. "Ah, there we go." She hums, stepping away. "It's up and working, Mister Wayne. Just think of a memory and let the HMM do the rest."

"Thank you, Doctor." Bruce nods at her, and then tries to think of what to let the machine show. Nothing that would give away his identity as Batman, of course not. Nothing incriminating.

He looks to Damian, who still looked very unhappy with him. Perhaps a memory of one of his boys in the manor? Or a Brucie Wayne moment that everyone's seen. His brows furrow in thought. One of his speeches?

...No. No, he has an idea.

Immediately, the HMM begins to hum louder, the ticking drowned out by the sound of its fans kicking in. It starts drawing the attention of the other ongoers, and Damian steps to Bruce's side as a crowd begins to form.

"What is that thing?"

"What's it doing?"

"Is it safe?"

Hushed whispers scatter around them as more and more people abandon the other stalls in favor of seeing whatever spectacle was happening. Tim appears as well, pushing his way through the crowd and situating himself by Damian and Bruce.

"What's going on?" He whispers with a frown, looking between Bruce and Damian.

Damian hmphs, "Father is trying out this woman's 'Memory Machine'."

Just when Bruce is starting to think the machine doesn't work, he hears a sound that silences the spectators. A piano note. A singular note, followed by another, and another. Right before Bruce's eyes, the air shimmers, and a projection of his father sitting at the grand piano appears before him.

His breath hitches in his throat. He remembers this. He remembers this piece. It was father's favorite.

Damian and Tim are stiff at his side, and Bruce hears the crowd gasp.

There, sitting on the floor at the bench, is Bruce himself at six years old. He's resting his arms on it, and leaning his head on his arms with a look of pure adoration -- did he really look like that? -- aimed at his father.

There's no talking between them, a content silence as Thomas Wayne fills the air with his piano playing. That is-- until he stops midway through the piece, fingers stopping the keys with a abrupt jerk.

Thomas laughs, quiet and full of love, and little Bruce picks his head up with an affronted frown. "Why'd you stop? I like listening to you play."

"I know you do." Thomas says, his voice is as soothing as Bruce remembers it to be. The memory twists to look at little Bruce with a blinding smile, as if he was looking at his whole world. It's the first time in decades that Bruce has seen his father smiling like-- like that. His eyes involuntarily sting.

"But how can you hear so well when you're all the way down there?" Thomas shifts, and pats an open space on the bench. "Come sit up here, Boo. I can teach you to play."

(Thomas Wayne was always fond of pet names, he had plenty of them for Bruce, and he used them at every opportunity.)

Little Bruce perks up, "Really?" He grins, and then clambers into the bench. His father's arms wrap around him.

The voices fade as the memory slowly begins to collapse, and Bruce feels a spike of panic in his heart before the memory is replaced by another one.

He's younger, probably four years old, being sprayed down by a hose by his father. Little Bruce is squealing with laughter, trying to swat the water away like a fly, and his clothes are drenched.

Thomas is laughing as well, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he just came home from a business meeting. Bruce always thought he was old when he was little. But at four years old, Thomas Wayne is only a little over twenty. Barely an adult. He is twenty-four when he dies. He was so young.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Little Bruce squeals, trying to run out of the line of fire, but Thomas Wayne has a sharp eye, and the hose in his hands follow Bruce no matter where he goes.

Until finally Thomas drops the hose and runs towards Bruce, who is trying to recover from being sprayed down with ice cold water. Thomas reaches him before he has time to move, and scoops him up in his arms.

He is laughing loudly and boisterously, spinning them both around as Bruce clings to him for dear life, laughing with him. The memory fades away, and Bruce feels like there are hands around his throat trying to choke him.

A new one shows up, one he doesn't remember at all. His father is younger than before, a teenager, and he's holding a tiny bundle in his arms. He looks like he's on the verge of tears, hunched over it like a shield.

Someone, a girl with gothic attire, peers over his shoulder. "Gosh, Tom, a baby? That's a lot of responsibility." She says, dark-lipstick lips painted downwards in a frown. "And right after you've disowned your parents too?"

Another boy looks around Thomas with a similar frown and an uncertain look, "Yeah man, I'm with Sam on this one -- for once. You don't even have anywhere to live."

Thomas doesn't look like he's even paying attention, utterly smitten with the baby -- its himself, Bruce realizes -- he's cradling. "Look at him though, guys," he breathes, "he's so tiny. Have you seen his little watercolor eyes?"

(Watercolor eyes. Bruce had long since forgotten about that nickname his father gave him. hearing him say it is like a punch to his stomach.)

"You named him Bruce?"

Bruce huffs to himself, an involuntary smile twitching at his mouth as the memory dips again and cycles through another memory he recognizes.

The memories it shows are sporadic, with no chronological order to them other than each and every one is a happy one.

Bruce playing piano with his father.

Bruce stargazing with his father.

Bruce being carried on his father's shoulders.

Bruce getting ready for a gala with his father.

Bruce in the kitchen helping his dad make breakfast (there's pancake flour smeared on his cheek).

Bruce making a snowman with his father.

An apology between Bruce and his father in the form of a piano duet.

There are even a few memories he doesn't remember. Some of them are when he's old enough to, but many are when he's a baby. Some are before his father was adopted by the Waynes, when the only thing on their backs was a raggedy backpack and an oversized sweatshirt, and Bruce's baby blanket. And some are after, where he's sitting in an antique rocking chair bottle feeding Bruce with a look of sheer adoration on his face.

That look never seems to go away, ever, in any of the memories.

Finally, the HMM settles on a final memory, one that makes Bruce's blood run cold and snaps him out of his nostalgic revelry. His father is getting ready in his room, and Bruce comes barreling in with his own suit-and-tie.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" He chants, running to Thomas, who whirls around and picks him up seamlessly. They spin twice before Thomas settles in front of the mirror, Bruce on his hip as he adjusts his tie with one hand.

"Yes, boo?" Thomas grins, wide-splitting with his shock-blue eyes looking at Bruce in the reflection. He and Bruce have the same eyes. It's shocking how much they look like each other, now that Bruce was older.

Little Bruce makes a dramatic face, a look that only lasts a few seconds before he remembers his excitement. He wiggles in Thomas' arms, "You gotta hurry up! Or we'll be late to the movie!"

Bruce's fingers dig into his palm, and he can vaguely feel his sons' looking at him. There's a feeling of impending doom square in the center of his lungs, and he forces himself to look on.

Thomas laughs, and nuzzles Bruce's cheek. "The movie isn't going anywhere, chum, I promise." He says, before setting him down. Little Bruce pouts, his lower lip sticking out. "I know how much you've been looking forward to this."

"Can you help me with my tie then?" Bruce asks, and looks at his own, sloppily done tie around his neck. "I can never get it right."

And, of course, Thomas Wayne kneels down to redo it. He always did everything Bruce asked or wanted. He measures it, loops it, and then knots the tie perfectly.

"There." He says, and smoothes out Bruce's little jacket, smiling in adoration. "Now go play, I'll call you when it's time to go."

And Bruce does just that, running out of the room with a yell of, "You better promise!"

"I promise!" Thomas yells back, laughing at his son as he turns back to the mirror.

The memory shimmers, and changes to as they're leaving. And then and there does Bruce call it quits. His eyes are glistening, his tears nearly blinding him with the swelling, overwhelming grief in his heart. He looks away, and tries to find Doctor Kairos.

(He doesn't see her switch something on the side of the machine. There is no noticeable difference in the machine, but on the inside a time rune starts to glow.)

"I think I'm done here, Doctor." He says once he can find his voice without it shaking. He can't hide the full crack and tremble laying beneath it, but at least he doesn't cry. He's almost forgotten that he had a silent audience.

Doctor Kairos nods and steps forward, reaching for the headband. "The memories should cut off once I take this off, Mister Wayne." She says, and fiddles with it for a moment. Behind her, the memory of himself and his father are walking outside. "I hope that wasn't too much for you?"

(The ticking of the machine grows louder, and the memory glitches.)

"No, no." Bruce assures with a smile that wasn't all Brucie Wayne yet. He looks down when he feels Damian's hand curl around his, and his son leans into his side. His smile softens, and he presses Damian closer. His other arm finds itself over Tim's shoulders as well, pressing him to his side.

"It was fine. Actually, it was an honor to be the first to try out your memory machine. I'm sure it will help many people." He tells her. She smiles slyly, and slides the headband off his head.

"That's what I'm hoping for, Mister Wayne." Doctor Kairos places the headband onto the table. The memory hasn't disappeared, Bruce notes with a furrow of his brows. And the audio has muffled slightly.

"I thought you said that the memory would cut off when the headband was off?" He asks. Kairos looks at him, and then behind her at the memory. She frowns.

"It should have--"

Little Bruce suddenly frowns, and looks away from Thomas. "Do you hear that?"

Bruce frowns. "I don't remember this." That wasn't in his memory. They just went straight to Monarch Theater without any issue.

Thomas looks down at his son, "What noise?" He asks, squeezing Bruce's hand. His head cranes, as if trying to hear whatever noise Bruce was hearing.

"That ticking sound." Bruce's frown deepens, "It sounds like your clock, dad."

Thomas' immediately frowns, looking so strikingly like Bruce that he marvels for a moment. He looks around as well. "...You're right. I hear it too." He steps a little closer to Bruce, his hand tightening around his.

A sense of unease fills Bruce's lungs. "What's going on?" He asks, taking a step away from the memory. This was different. This isn't his memory.

"I'm not sure." Doctor Kairos says, and her unsurety sounds so practiced and calm that Bruce's suspicion levels to her immediately. His boys look at her too with the same unease. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She strides around the memory to the side of the machine just as a gold symbol appears on the ground. It looks like a giant roman clock, and a loud, clunky ticking fills the room.

The memories see it too, and Bruce's heart drops to his feet as he and the rest of the crowd back away from it. "Dad, what is that?!" Little Bruce exclaims, a look of fear morphing across his face as he suddenly clings to his dad's leg.

Thomas looks pale, looking at his feet and gripping little Bruce to him protectively. "I don't-- I don't know, Bruce."

(A memory that Bruce doesn’t have is his father arguing with a man named Clockwork. He does not see the man named Clockwork all but beg Thomas not to go out tonight.)

("Does something happen to Bruce?" His father asks the ghost.)

("No," the man says, "but--")

("But nothing, Clockwork." Thomas, once Danny, says firmly. "My son has been looking forward to this all week. I'm not going to crush his hopes by changing my mind last minute.")

("Thomas, please.")

("Look, if something happens tonight, I will handle it, okay?" Thomas assures him, a hand atop Clockwork's shoulder with a small smile. "I promise.")

(And then he leaves, Clockwork defeated in his wake.)

(Clockwork has seen this boy grow up from the shadows, and now he can do nothing to stop his fate like he once did before.)

The strange, clock-like circle, something intrinsically magic, begins to glow. The minute and hour hands tick faster and faster. Little Bruce holds onto his father like a lifeline, and Thomas Wayne crouches down to hold his son tighter, protectively.

Bruce Wayne turns away just as the light grows blinding, tucking Tim and Damian into his chest like a human shield. There is yelling and screams as the crowd tries to stampede away from it.

Bruce has no idea what this light will do, but he'd rather die than let his sons get hurt.

The light burns his eyelids even when he isn't facing it. And when it dies without even a burn across his back, Bruce slowly unfurls. His hands stay on his sons' shoulders, keeping them close to him, and he peers over his shoulder.

There on his knees, is Thomas Wayne, curled protectively around eight year old Bruce Wayne, much like Bruce had been. Bruce holds his breath, and his sons slowly unfurl themselves as well and peer around him.

Thomas Wayne is frozen in place for one second, two seconds, three. And then he begins to move. First, the tension drains out of his shoulders, and his head jerks, as if surprised that nothing has happened.

He looks up, his eyes open, and he and Bruce make eye contact. Bruce cannot breathe, and he cannot believe the sight before him. It's just the memory machine breaking. (Doctor C.W Kairos is nowhere to be found.)

And then recognition flickers in his father's face as his panting slows and quiets. His head tilts to the side like a fawn's, a familiar wrinkle appearing before his brows.

"Bruce?"

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp crossover #danny fenton is thomas wayne au #dftw au #oh my gfod this is so long #watercolour-carnations how does it feel to have singlehandedly revitalized my brainrot over this au #the fastest way to starry's heart is through their askbox #anyways i was thinking about this the whole time #the memory with clockwork was SUPPOSED to be seen by bruce honestly! #but i couldnt write it in properly #imo at least #io had to check the wordcount on this and this is THREE THOUSAND WORDS #OOPS I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE A 3k WORD ONESHOT #YOU KNOW. AS YOU DO

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Clockwork's explanation had been lacking many things, chief among them brevity and clarity. In fact, there had been so many words that they had congealed together into a putty-like mass of confusion in Danny's brain and stuck fast to the inside of his skull. He was pretty sure he had a headache.

"How can you only be pretty sure you have a headache?" asked Tucker as he handed Danny an ice pack.

"I think I might not have a head," said Danny. "Technically."

There was a rich and incredulous silence.

"Weren't you asking him for help on algebra homework?"

Danny only moaned.

#danny phantom #danny phantom dp #clockwork dp #jackdraw-spwrite #jackdaw-spwrite #just a fun little thing because Fine has put me in wip hell #I am 6k words into the next chapter of this 3k oneshot #and was bemoaning the fact that I never have anything with the right tone to mock Clockwork for his utter lack of explanation skills #at least as the narrator

[impyssadobsessions]

DPxDC Ficlet/Snippet Pen Pals

I had to write it out a bit XD My head still swarming with the idea. >w<

Damian made it to his room. Part of him wanting to collapse on his bed and sleep in, despite how childish that seemed. Another part eyed the envelope Alfred had left on his nightstand. He had almost forgotten about his Pen Pal. Daniel Fenton. Damian snorted, despite neither one of them giving out their real names, Daniel wasn't hard to find. Last year as a safety protocol, he had located the recipient of his letters and found out everything he could. A boy his age, fourteen now-thirteen then, with physical features that would mistake him for his brother. His siblings teased he had found his own sibling this time, which was not the case! Daniel had a family, two researchers of the paranormal and an older sister. Besides his parents strange profession, Daniel was an average teenager. One, Damian would think would bore or infuriate him- he did infuriate him actually, but instead he was interesting to talk to. Most of their letters were nothing more than small talk. They share their aggravation of their older siblings. Apparently, his older sister was very nagging as he put it. However, when Damian discretely mentioned his own, Daniel did suggest quite a successful prank to pull on them. Other letters, were more helpful and meaningful. Being miles and states away, the average boy was able to call Damian out without a qualm and give comfort without being asked. Only after talking with Daniel, did Damian ever wonder what it would be like to grow up in an average home. Damian grabbed the letter from the bedside table, opening it up. He could at least look at it before bed, and think of a reply tomorrow. He would never admit, but he had missed writing to his Pen Pal. Daniel mentioned struggling in school last he heard from him. Which was odd, as his grades were above average before. Maybe he should check into his school, again. It wouldn't hurt to update his profile- Damian's eyes widened once he unfurled the sticky letter from itself. The paper was filled with his friend's penmanship, blurred and feather from being exposed to moisture. However, that is not what made Damian hold his breath. It was the glowing green stain smeared across the page over Danny's signature. It couldn't be. Why would... Inspecting closer, Damian saw blood like material in the green. It was red, as if the green substance was keeping it fresh. Like... Damian furrowed his brows and ran out the room with letter in hand. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He was going to find out what happened to Daniel James Fenton.

#danny fenton #dpxdc #dp x dc #impyelam #ficlet #snippet #damian wayne #pen pal au #dcxdp #robin #danny phantom #oneshot

[2old0voldy0moldy7]

I really need one history where Constantine is just chilling with the JL and Danny Pahntom just comes from nowhere and says he owns Constantine soul.

Constantine is like: Ya go to the end of the line you don't want a war with all the demons i sold my soul to.

Then Danny just says: I own 100% of your soul the demons were paying Taxes with your soul.

Then Constantine realises he's fucked up.

#fandom ships #books #writers on tumblr #oneshots #my writing #wattpad #fic rec #my fic #ghost king danny #danny phantom #danny fenton #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #fiction #fic #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc #dc community #dc comcis #john constantine #batman #superman #wonderlands x showtime #imagine your otp #dp #Dannyphantom #justice #justice league

[petite-phthora]

This yours?

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 12]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

Somewhere else, in a seemingly abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, a figure shrouded in darkness and wearing a dark cloak plots.

In front of them is a whiteboard. It’s covered in pictures, sticky notes, and illegible texts. Some of the notes thrown about that are legible are ‘fight…’, ‘draw blood.’, and ‘DEATH!!!’.

There’s a crude stick figure drawn in the corner of the board, it’s impaled. Other small doodles can also be found all around the board.

Most of the information and pictures are connected by red strings, like you see in movies.

In the middle is a picture of 2 people sitting on a motorcycle, the arms of the person sitting in the back are around the waist of the person sitting in the front. The picture has some arrows pointing towards it and the people in the picture are very obviously circled.

Though the face of the person driving the motorcycle is obscured by their helmet, the other person seems to be heavily blushing and grinning broadly.

“Yes… yes! That’s it! I know what to do…” They seem to be speaking to themselves.

Quickly, the person scribbles down a barely legible ‘sacrifice!!‘.

They start cackling.

“Mwuahaha!”

It’s an evil laugh they’ve been working on for quite a while now, and they’re pretty proud of it.

However, the effect is slightly ruined when a fly enters their mouth, cutting off their cackling with choking as they gasp for air, grasping at their throat.

A few good thumps against their chest, with some coughing out their lungs, helps them dislodge the fly from their throat and they spit it out on the ground. They take a few deep breaths before straightening up again.

“Curse you” the person exclaims, angrily waving their fist at the fly as it flies away.

---

Bruce’s face gives off nothing as he stares at the streets down below. He’s dressed as Batman, crouched at the edge of a building with Damian by his side as Robin. Spoiler, Black Bat, Nightwing, and Red Robin are further back on the rooftop.

They watch in silence as another group of the Joker’s goons passes by. They’ve been all over the city, wandering around, not doing anything obviously illegal.

They don’t stay in one place and they don’t seem to have much of a purpose. No attacks… No stealing… No smuggling or transport of goods… No, instead they’re inspecting every single inch of the city.

They don’t seem to have any weapons on them. All they’re carrying on them are some flashlights. While most don’t give anything away with their body language or expressions, some seem to give off a bit of anxious energy.

Spoiler claimed she even saw some of them climb down into the sewers earlier and then climbing out again sometime later somewhere else, but this time ‘dejected and stinky’.

One thing seems clear to the Bats.

They’re searching for something… or someone.

“This basically confirms that not even the Joker’s henchmen know where he is. He’s missing.”

“I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing”

“Good… thing?”

“It’s… something. That’s for sure.”

“We don’t know if he’s really missing. For all we know it could be a trap. What if the Joker is hiding, pretending to be missing to have us bring our guard down? Besides, how could he be missing? He’s the Joker. No one’s just gonna kidnap him”

“For all we know he could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere”

“I highly doubt that”

“Everyone, focus” Bruce speaks up, having them draw their attention to him.

“It’s unclear whether the Joker is simply hiding away or missing. Instead of focusing on the why, we need to focus on the where. Missing or not, we need to find him and get him back to Arkham. Oracle, have you managed to find out anything from the footage yet?”

“Nope, still nothing. All the files from the moment he enters Crime Alley are wiped and any attempt at recovering them only brings back corrupted files.”

 “We need Red Hood. Where is he?” Bruce asks.

“He still has his phone on silent and he has removed the trackers and cams. We haven’t placed any new ones on him yet”

“Let’s visit him on his turf then. And keep an eye out for anything suspicious in the meantime. Oracle, try recovering the missing files. If that doesn’t work, go back to the breakout footage. Perhaps he left some kind of clues about his plans or whereabouts behind there.” Bruce states.

“Roger that.”

---

Red Hood has his arms by his sides as he gazes down upon the street below from the rooftop of a random apartment building in Crime Alley.

He’s lucky to have avoided the Bats so far. But he doubts his luck will last for long.

Red Hood stiffens as he suddenly feels something clamp down on his arm. As a reflex, his other hand has already drawn his gun.

He slowly raises the arm he felt something clamp down on and looks at it, only to make eye contact with a girl with black hair and blue eyes who has sunk her teeth into his arm and is now hanging off of it.

The teeth are sharp, as the girl seems to have some small fangs. They’ve gone through his jacket and sunken into his skin.

It doesn’t really hurt all that badly though, probably hasn’t even drawn much blood, and that’s one of the only reasons Jason hasn’t flung the kid off of him yet. Another reason is the fact that it’s a kid.

They both stare at each other for several seconds.

As Jason takes her appearance in, he notices that she seems rather familiar. In fact, she looks like a more feminine version of Danny, or if Danny had a twin.

The person hanging off of his arm looks younger than Danny though, probably a teenager around 13 or 14, if he had to make a guess.

Slowly, he puts his gun away and takes out his phone with his other hand, watching the random girl’s eyes follow his movements. He raises it level with her face and snaps a picture, quickly sending it to Danny and ignoring the girl’s curious gaze while she’s still hanging onto his arm by her fucking teeth.

---

Meanwhile, Danny checks his phone to see Red Hood sent him a message. He opens it and is greeted by a picture of Ellie in human form biting down on Red Hood’s arm with the caption ‘this yours???’

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea   @uraniumwizard    @why-must-i-be-like-this   @griffinthing

#dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dead on main ship #Im wondering how easy/hard it is to guess who the person is #and also yes its supposed to have stereotypically comedic 'evil'/'villain' vibes #the person did that on purpose because they are dramatic and have style #also i aged ellie down a little from how old she *should* be cause i felt like it fit better #If you need a reason maybe she like ages a little bit slower due to being a clone or something idk #oh and i have a question for you all #should i make a masterpost?? #i have like the very first chapter pinned but i feel like a masterpost might be better #especially cause like i already have 12 chapters and the story is only getting longer #damn this story has gone further than expected from a oneshot lol #it all started with me just tinking it'd be funny if like #a character was basically in shock but was still like nah I cant just kiss someone without consent lol #also I said id post like 5-6 chapters and this is still only like 6k :( i really need to write more ;-; #and also if y'all haven't noticed already #all I know of dc is through fanfics and fandom posts #though I really want to start reading the comics #i just haven't really had the time nor do I really know what's good and where to start #so like if anyone has any recommendations for dc/batfam comics they are more than welcome!! ^-^

[kitsune024]

Danny Phantom & Batman Fanfiction Crossover

If You Give a Kid Four Cans of Spaghettios... by nerdpoe

...Eventually, at some point, you'll end up with so many of them sticking around that you stop asking questions.

Prompt fill summarized; young adult Danny is on the run and end up neighbors to the Todds. Proceeds to slowly accumulate children.

Chapters 1/1

#nerdpoe #ao3 fanfic #oneshot fic #dp x dc #funny fic #uncle danny-He doesn't know it but they all call him that #dp #batman #canon divergent au #danny phantom

[heliads]

If requests are still open :) Something for dead poets society, just sth with the gang having a good time, maybe trying to stage a play in the woods? Tbh just a everyone lives and is happy AU with fluff and winter and hot tea! (while I love this book I havent read it in a very long time...)

ok consider an everyone lives au but they are not 100% happy. (i am incapable of not writing angst my apologies) also this is movie dead poets society not book because i have not yet read the books whoops. hope you enjoy xoxo

'and it's not tonight' - dead poets society

masterlist

Todd Anderson is looking out the window at a gray, blustery morning, when they ask him if he’s going to be alright. It wasn’t quite certain before then. It’s not quite certain now, either, even after he answers.

“Of course,” he says somewhat unconvincingly, “Why do you ask?”

Behind him, Charlie Dalton raises a dubious brow. For once in his life, he’s holding himself back, but the situation requires discretion, and who is he to mess up at a time like this? He’s already been warned about treating Todd like a glass doll rather than a paper mache target, but even Charlie can tell that now is the time to pull a few punches. The hollows under his friend’s eyes are far darker than they were a couple of months ago. He wears unease like a well-traveled coat, thin at the elbows and rubbed raw at the seams.

“Look at yourself,” Charlie answers at last, “You’re exhaustion walking. And don’t tell me otherwise, I’ve got eyes.”

“I should hope so,” Todd remarks, and permits himself a small curl of his lips up into a half-smile. Half-smiles are good, though. Almost there to the real thing. So he’ll tell himself, at least.

Even a half-smile can let Charlie know that he’s alright. The other boy breaks into a well-intentioned snorting laugh. “Hey, ask any girl in town and they’ll tell you I’ve got beautiful ones. ‘Sides, Anderson, you know everything’s alright. The stuff with Neil was cleared over, right? He came back.”

“He came back,” Todd repeats somewhat weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, he came back,” Charlie confirms, walking over to clap his friend on the shoulder, shaking him a little bit just to mess with him but mainly to get his affections across. “He’s a little more tired than he used to be, and we’re all plenty scared from what could have happened, but overall we’re glad to see him again. His parents realized they messed up in the nick of time, and even if they wanted him under watch for a little bit, he’s back and we’re back and everything’s alright. Capiche?” He asks dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows for a bit of flair.

“Since when are you Italian?” Todd asks doubtfully.

“Since the situation requires it,” Charlie answers him, and slings an arm around the boy’s bony frame. “Come on now. The snow’s cleared up, and even if all that does is remind us how little grass grows on our campus, it means we can go into the woods again. I’ve been talking to the boys and we all agree that it’s time to dust off our finesse with literature. What do you say, Todd? You up for another rousing poetic exchange tonight?”

Todd jerks his head up and down in a hasty agreement. “Yeah. Neill’ be there?”

“Yeah, and me, and Knoxie, and everyone else you forgot to mention,” Charlie says in a tone of mock outrage. “God, you live with the guy, don’t you? Can’t you spare some excitement for the rest of us, too?”

Todd rolls his eyes, and finds the grace to elbow Charlie in the ribs. “Spare me the self-indulgence, Dalton. I’m glad to see all of you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Charlie affirms. “It’s been a while since we were all together, yeah?”

Todd blows out a low breath as they walk back towards the halls. It has been a long time, or it felt that way, at least. After the– after the incident after the play, in which Neil was found in his father’s study with a gun in his hands about to blow the trigger, it was decided that all of the pupils of Welton Academy would go home for a short period of time to clear their heads and come back ready to face the end of term. 

Mainly, Todd thinks it was so rumors couldn’t spread about just what happened with Neil Perry to take him out of school, and he’s glad for it. Neil doesn’t deserve to have everyone whispering about what happened to make him decide that the best thing for his life was to end it. Neil deserves the world, and none of them could give it to him.

That was the worst part of it all, Todd decides. The guilt, how it wrapped around him in wires as strong as the heaviest chains of iron. He couldn’t escape it. If he was really Neil’s friend, he would have known. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd could have stopped him. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd wouldn’t have found out about the attempt the next morning, quietly awoken from drowsy sleep by a Charlie Dalton with eyes like a stricken soldier as he lurchingly informed Todd that Neill Perry had tried to kill himself the night before. And none of them had known. And when his father had taken the gun away, Neil fought and screamed for it, worse than he did when he tried to convince his parents that he wanted to act, louder than he protested that he would be sent away to military school.

And then they were alone. At home. The worst place for boys to be. Should you grieve the friend who is not dead? Do you call each other on the phone, and ask if you have been playing any sporting games with other boys your age, or if you have given any thought to the fact that your friend might not have wanted to die if you had praised him more in class, or clapped louder when he performed, or said something– anything– to this beautiful, brittle boy?

They don’t say any of that. They think it quite loudly, but unspoken thoughts do not travel well over the telephone. The flittering ghosts of would-be words tend to get lodged in the coils of wire from receiver to housing, across the street and over the miles of terrain until they reach the abode of the boy on the end, who also has a lot to say but won’t. And then they both stay silent. And they both know exactly what the other wanted to say anyway. That is how friendship works.

They came back, though. Welton sent out a series of letters to usher back the pupils, even had its secretaries working overtime to call the people who never seem to answer their mail. There was another rush of cars and luggage to the dorms, and then they were settled in again. Todd had wondered if he might be assigned another roommate– anyone other than Cameron, God, but preferably Neil still– and then the door had opened quietly and Neil was there again, trying for a brave smile, and saying, “Todd?” in a voice that had once rung pure and true through a theater that loved him.

Todd loves him for it. He’d embraced Neill with open arms, felt the air punch out of his lungs in one strike, but it came back. He came back. They were alright again, sort of. They might be alright in time, but time is what they have.

Now they’ve all been waiting for the snow to melt, and treading on thin ice around topics they don’t dare broach. Neil has been a good sport, never making them feel awkward for wanting to treat him like a china doll. He was good before, too, though, and– It gets hard to tell sometimes, that’s all. Hard to tell when he genuinely is unbothered and when he’s superbly good at pretending otherwise. They stick to safer subjects anyway.

At last, though, the ground is firm, the weather not terrible, and Charlie’s gone and rallied the troops for a night out there. At first, Todd’s first instinct is to panic. They aren’t supposed to be having any more meetings of the Dead Poets Society, not since Keating was the scapegoat for all the trouble and everyone cracked down on what makes a good boy want to escape, but over time he realizes that it’ll be alright. Some things are worth the risk. Making Neil smile again is one of them.

They meet at midnight. Todd sits awake with bated breath, even though the act by itself isn’t even all that unusual. They’re teenage boys. Staying up until the moon hangs high and lofty in the sky is expected, not uncommon. Still, a delicious shiver of inherent wrongdoing whispers down his spine when Neil walks slowly into the center of their shared dorm room and says quietly, reverently, “It’s time.”

As if the others had been waiting upon that very proclamation, the remaining boys peer out into the hall immediately after Neil and Todd silently close their door behind them. Their eyes meet with shared secrecy, shared triumph, and they make their way down the wooden stairs and out into the bristling chill of night. The stars are out tonight. We are all out tonight.

They all start heading out into the woods. Charlie takes off like a flash at the end of a matchstick, hurtling at a runner’s sprint across the hills, and the others follow him at varying speeds. Todd begins walking at a normal clip until it occurs to him that he doesn’t see enough heads bobbing around him and he turns to see Neil hesitating by the door.

They lock eyes, and Todd sees a whole host of things swimming in brown irises, fear and apprehension and a sick sort of guilt that makes Todd’s stomach squirm in sympathy. He gives Neil one last moment over the threshold, then jerks his head towards the others, putting a little faux arrogance into the gesture in the hopes that an actor might appreciate an act in someone else and remember what it is like to trust oneself again.

Neil accepts the move and grins, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’ll race you to the caves,” he calls, and begins to run, his footsteps sure and strong.

Todd stares after him, an astronomer watching his first comet, then takes off after him. The grass is dry and quick under his feet, spread out under each footstep like the wake of a speedboat. The wind, already coarse, pulls at Todd’s skin, his hair, his clothes, but not even the strongest gusts could keep him down. Somehow, he’s already to the edge of the forest, and he lets out a loud, delighted whoop. A barbaric yawp, if you will. Somewhere in the back of Todd’s mind, a dark-haired man in a comfortable brown sweater smiles indulgently, and chalks up another small victory to the wonders of poetry.

The second his war cry leaves Todd’s throat, the other boys swarm him like moths to a flame. Someone claps a hand over his mouth, and around him, laughs echo into the crunching of leaves underfoot. 

“Don’t be so loud, you’ll get the professors on us in no time,” someone admonishes, but then a different boy cuts in, “Don’t be stupid, we’re far enough out that we can all be shouting,” and Todd’s punishment is lifted and he can yell once more. His defender– Neil, it must be, no one else can make their voice ring with glory like that in just a few words– joins in in the triumphant calls, and then they’re all shrieking up to the stars above, here we are, not boys and not men, bold enough to scream and young enough to never listen.

Todd thinks, as they run through the forest, that it’s been a while since he let himself go free. He hasn’t listened to his mind in a long time, hasn’t let the words roll around in his brain, loose marbles of similes and paraphrased poems. His musings are dusty, dark things most of the time, but sometimes the light catches them just right and they glow like sapphires. He could write a thousand stanzas if he wanted to, right now, and everyone would listen.

The Dead Poets Society reaches the caves and a hush falls among the crowd. Slowly, they edge inside, eyes wide. The rock faces and crumbling caverns should be different, Todd thinks, something should mark the passage of time and all the awful things that have twisted their fates since the last time they sat together and thought of prose, but the stones still look as they did the last time they were here. The moss grows in familiar patterns, albeit a little thicker in certain patches now that it hasn’t been scuffed by boots in a month or so, but one of Charlie’s magazines that he forgot to take back with him turns up under some spiderwebs, and Todd’s favorite place to sit is still just as inviting. Maybe, then, the only thing that changed was them. Maybe that’s all that needs to happen.

“So?” Meeks asks, settling into a seat, “What are we doing tonight?”

“Poetry, duh,” Charlie answers him, rolling his eyes fondly. “We’re the Dead Poets Society. What else would we do, peruse our textbooks?”

This earns him a vengeful swat on the shoulder from Meeks, but even Charlie can admit that the question was fair. They’ve read plenty of poems, they’ve written a few, they’ve even gone off and run some improv limerick challenges, although Todd notes that they haven’t brought nearly enough alcohol for that tonight.

After a few moments’ thought, someone suggests a play. It might be Todd. Instantly, the idea is accepted, and roles are divided out. They’ll be doing Hamlet, since there are plenty of long sticks outside and everyone is quite fond of the idea of pretending to run each other through. Pitts is already practicing his death rattles, except he’s not very good at it, and it sounds more like he’s hacking up a lung or two.

Neil, though, is glowing at the idea, and even though they haven’t got any scripts so everyone is mostly just planning on paraphrasing the hell out of one of William Shakespeare’s finer works, Todd gets the idea that Neil has a few memorized soliloquies rattling around in his head already.

Good, then. They’ll enjoy tonight, and the next night they’re out here, and the one after that, too. It has been a very long winter, but Todd has caught his first glimpse of new spring, and he gets the feeling that warmer, sunnier days aren’t the impossibility they seemed a few weeks ago. The days are healing, and they will too. And so the Dead Poets come back to life.

requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!

dead poets society tag list: @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#dead poets society #dead poets society imagines #dead poets society oneshot #dead poets society fanfic #dps #dps imagines #dps oneshot #dps fanfic #todd anderson #todd anderson imagines #todd anderson oneshot #todd anderson fanfic #neil perry #neil perry imagines #neil perry oneshot #neil perry fanfic #anderperry #anderperry imagines #anderperry oneshot #anderperry fanfic

[surelysilly]

me, pointing to myself in the mirror: weren't u gonna work on litu???

my reflection: *cute oopsie meme*

That's as far as he gets. There's a sickening thud and splat — multiple gasps. Bruce whirls around in his chair, alarm knifing the soothing air with sharp silence and an echoing cry of Holy shit! On the cave floor just beyond their cloistered circle, lies a leg. Most damningly, an odd, too long and deformed one — one that can only belong to their most strange of the family. “Oh man,” says a voice over their heads, and everyone looks up. Danny stares down at them from high above, barely distinguishable from his long claimed domain of the cave's high ceiling and dark corners, a wide and pale swath of moss and fungi. “Oh man.” Bruce jerks to his feet just as he peels from the roof and falls. A mad scramble ensues. Someone's elbow hits Bruce's side, his shoulder someone's chest — Danny lands on the heap of them, still weighing little more than a ten year old Damian even now, and then. And then under their hands, falls apart.

#silly phonetic #dp x dc #dpxdc #instead i worked on a follow up chapter to what was supposed to be a one and done oneshot... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #i dont think i'll ever expand on the omakes for this one but this.... now this was something i couldnt not write.... help #silly snips #i think the fanon for battinson batman is neat

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: Kindred Spirits

(aka yet another prompt where Ari accidentally writes a oneshot instead of a prompt because they get overly excited about their ideas. Inspired by the Danny Phantom episode Kindred Spirits (hence the name))

President Luthor passed a handful of laws, countless half-assed laws that sent the goverment into chaos and made a mountain of paperwork for the League. That mixed with a handful of attacks in different areas of the world that needed their attention, the fact that one of their most dangerous enemies was in charge of an entire country, and a handful of other variants they were too buried to be aware of the Anti-Ecto Law and the calls that kept getting blocked by the Government to their systems, alerting them that somebody was potentially in some kind of danger.

It wasn't until Clark and Bruce were visiting his parents in Kansas though that they realized just how much they were missing. It was a type of play-date (though they refused to tell Damian that was what this little adventure was called) which was to allow Damian a chance to play with Jon and see the animals the lived on the farm, it also gave Bruce some time away from the city after an injury required him to take two weeks off to allow his shoulder to recover.

Bruce was fine, it was Clark who was worried.

Bruce was watching the two boys play as Jon taught Damian more about milking cows as well as explaining why it was important to do such when both Jon and Clark both stopped suddenly and looked West.

After a moment Jon let out a very worried, "Dad..?"

"I hear it, Jon. You and Damian go inside and get some lunch." Clark said as Jon nodded, then practically dragged Damian away, much to Damian's complaint.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked as Clark glared west.

"Screaming, specifically a teenager. It's muffled and echoed like he's underground. Whoever is screaming is in trouble."

Bruce frowned, jogging over to his car climbing inside as he quickly began to change into his costume as Clark zipped into the house then zipped back out in costume. "Can you follow the sound?"

"As loud as it is? No problem." Superman said as Bruce pulled on his cowl.

"Good. Take us there."

Superman didn't hesitate to grab Batman's good hand as the two went into the air and flew in the direction of the sound. Batman had no idea what to expect when they arrived as they flew through the Colorado Mountains, but a mansion of a cabin with no cars out front seemingly abandoned was the last thing he expected.

At first there was no sign of anybody or anything in the area. No neighbors, no cars, no sign of a break in, not even any noise that Bruce could hear, only proving to Batman once more that Superman's hearing was nothing to take lightly.

"Where?" Batman asked as they landed.

"Directly under the house. But... it's gone quiet. Too quiet."

Batman frowned, looking at the house and the insignia on the front of it. "Vlad Masters."

"Who?"

"Vlad Masters. He's one of the names on Lex Luthor's paperwork, supplies him with some of his 'space tech' and 'energy'. His business has always been shady but it's always been 'mysterious clean' whenever we look into him." Batman said as he went to the door, using his tech to hack into the security system before they entered the house.

Animal pelts, hunting trophy's, countless other signs that it was some kind of glorious vacation home also suggested that nobody was home. The fire was cold, there was no sign of life, but there was something green on the floor near a wooden vanity that had been broken in half and recently.

Suddenly, Batman heard a low but muffled voice should from near the fireplace.

"YOU EXIST TO SERVE ME! JUST DO IT!"

Batman glared as they both ran towards the fireplace as Batman began to adjust some of the statues when the head of a Vlad bust rolled open at the forehead exposing a red button. Before he could hit the button though there was another voice, this one was clearly a young child.

"YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!"

"NO! NO!"

Batman clenched his teeth as he hit the button, the fireplace beginning to open in front of them. Suddenly there were lights on that he could see which lined the staircase. The two began to rush down the stairs, following the sounds of people talking when the young voice spoke again.

"I can do this..." The voice echoed.

"You don't have to. Cover your ears and get behind me."

Batman and Superman made it to the basement just in time to see what happened next. A man with black hair who was dressed as a vampire was approaching two children, a teenage boy and a girl closer to twelve. They both had white hair, green eyes and black and white suits. They looked like siblings, or cousins.

Regardless of their relationship the boy was in front of the girl protectively, sucking in a deep breath before an absolutely horrifying noise ripped it's way out of the boy in a wave of green. Superman immediately smacked his hands over his ears and Batman found himself doing the same thing but he didn't take his eyes off of what was happening in front of him. Machinery and tech was knocked off of the walls, the round cracked, and the vampire was thrown away from him and slammed into the far wall.

The amount of power coming from this one kid was intense and something Batman had never seen before, and judging by the look on the vampire's face it was something he hadn't been expecting from him either. Batman looked back at the boy, who seemed to be getting more pale by the second, his body shaking as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes simply from the amount of energy the ability he was using must have taken.

It wasn't until the vampire seemed to transform from it's vampire appearance to a more familiar appearance of Vlad Masters, a sight that Batman honestly didn't expect to see in such a situation but not one that exactly surprised him either. If Vlad was a meta that made some of the things that didn't make sense before a lot clearer.

Finally, the boy had no energy left as the yell - or rather the wail - cut off, dropping everything that had been thrown against the wall including Vlad. A similar white ring surrounded the teen as he seemed to transform from a white haired green eyed teen to a black haired blue eyed teen that immediately crumbled to his hands and knees. He had bruises from fighting, but the bigger concern were the bruises on his wrists that were clearly from restraints of some kind.

Was the boy the one Superman heard scream?

The young girl checked on the boy, who was shaking and looking like he was seconds away from passing out.

"Out of power... but worth it to take this place down..." He said, seeming to notice Batman and Superman with wide eyes, but the others didn't seem to spot them yet.

Vlad got up and started marching his way towards the kids, transforming back into his vampire appearance as the girl blocked the boy.

"Stay away from him!" She said, her hands glowing green as a puddle of green began to form under her feet.

"Oh, I don't think so girl, you don't dare use your powers again. Danny's beaten, this is over!"

Batman and Superman launched into action as Batman threw one of his batterangs passed Vlad's face, causing him to jump away from the teens. Vlad turned, seeming to expect somebody else but then being absolutely shocked and almost frightened when he saw who was standing in front of him.

"Superman and Batman? Here?" He growled, his hands glowing as he glanced passed them at the kids who seemed almost as frightened as he did. "I can save you both, you know? Take you away from them and keep them safe."

"Think... we're safer away from you, you absolute Fruitloop." The boy said, trying to get up just to stumble and fall again as the girl seemed ready to protect him from Superman.

Vlad laughed, "We'll see about that, Daniel. If you think I'm dangerous... imagine what they'll do with the truth." Vlad suddenly shot up into the air, flying through the ceiling.

"I've got him!" Superman said, flying up the stairs after Vlad while Batman turned to face the two kids.

"Stay back!" The girl warned, her hands glowing again as the puddle started to grow.

Batman held up his hands, taking a step back. "It's alright, nobody's going to hurt you. What's your names?"

The girl looked at the boy who seemed to be fading fast. "If you help him and don't hurt him... I'll tell you everything but if you hurt him... I'll destroy you." She warned.

Batman nodded, "I'll help him, I promise."

She relaxed, finally allowing Batman closer to the teen who looked up at him and tried to move away just to end up falling to the side instead. Batman put his hand out, supporting the teen before helping him sit up more steadily.

He looked at the bruises on the kids wrists then at the container behind him which had shackles in similar shapes and sizes to the bruises on him. Whatever this was, whatever Vlad Masters was doing, clearly surrounded this boy. That meant they had to get him out of there.

Batman carefully picked the teen up, surprised at just how light he was. Did this kid eat? He adjusted his hold on the teen who put his head against Batman's shoulder with a tired sigh as the girl grabbed Batman's cape. He gave her a soft smile before the three of them started marching up the stairs, meeting Superman at the top who sighed.

"He took off towards the North-East." Superman said as Batman nodded with a 'Hm'. "So, what are your names?"

"I'm... I'm Dani and this is Danny." The girl said.

"Two Danny's?" Superman asked, "Doesn't that confuse your parents?"

"Considering my dad is Vlad, I'm guessing not." Dani huffed.

"She's... my clone..." Danny muttered, exhausted as both Superman and Batman blinked in surprise. "But you're not allowed to hurt her. Made by Vlad or not she's my family and I'll protect her..."

"Nobody's going to hurt anybody." Batman promised, "For now we're going to get you somewhere safe and figure things out. Superman, call Flash and tell him where we are, we're going to need a pick up."

Superman nodded, reaching to grab his League Communicator as he walked away while Batman set Danny down on one of the couches.

"Okay, there you go. What did that guy mean when he implied that we were dangerous to you? What do you all think we're going to do to you?"

Dani shrugged as Danny looked at him.

"Anti-Ecto Control Act... what I am, what Plasmius is, what Dani is... we all fall under a law that says we're non-sentient. The law says that anybody with ectoplasm in our blood is to be captured, contained and destroyed. Which means that legally you should be trying to kill us... not help us."

Batman frowned, "I've heard of the law, didn't think it held ground and least of all enough ground to follow." His frown faded as he gave the kids a reassuring smile. "Plus, I'm technically a vigilante, that's hardly legal too. So, what the law doesn't know won't hurt them. Besides, you guys seem plenty sentient to me."

The two Danny's smiled before Dani let out a sniffle as she rubbed her eyes.

"I'm sorry... Danny... I'm sorry." She sobbed, hugging onto the older Danny who hugged her back.

"It's okay, Danielle... it's okay."

It wasn't okay. None of this situation was okay. But, Batman would do everything in his damn power to make sure that it was fixed as soon as possible.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #my prompts #more of a oneshot #because i suck at prompts #so mini promptshot #because yay!

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

MDC Commissions: The Ghost King

(A series of one shots where Marinette has some extremely unusual clients. What could possible go wrong? ao3)

When Marinette moved to Gotham after retiring as Ladybug, she had expected craziness and chaos. And living with her biological father and his family, had made her believe that she had seen everything. For example, when she sat down to breakfast that morning she had been fully prepared to see Damian and Jason engaged in a rubber band war over the head of a slumped Tim, who couldn't decide if he was awake or asleep. She didn't flinch to see Dick balancing six trays of breakfast food, while Alfred followed him with barely concealed panic. She didn't even raise an eyebrow when Bruce came in with bag under his eyes, and switched Tim's coffee with his own empty mug. Barbara rolling in arguing about the probability of aliens owning all of the bowling alleys with Duke was a completely casual conversation. And Steph filming everything while she cackled was just the cherry on top. 

She sat down next to Cass (the only other kid who was quiet), as Dick precariously started setting down the trays, and Bruce called for his other two sons to sit down. They were getting a little violent, and he wasn't having much luck. It was only once the last tray was on the table, that everyone finally settled down to eat, but Marinette had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Jason and Damian decided to start chucking food at each other. At which point, Dick would yell "Food Fight" and they'd all be required by sibling law to join in. However, Marinette was not prepared for what happened literally two seconds after everyone was seated.

Alfred had just set down the coffee pot, causing Tim to jerk awake, when a bright flash of light in the middle of the table had everyone leaping into a fighting stance. They stood silent as they watched the glowing ball of light drift lazily around the table and settle in front of her. She squinted as it flashed blindingly before dropping something on her plate with an audible "Thunk." Marinette blinked the stars out of her eyes and stared down at a thick, glowing green scroll. It was very official looking with a glowing green wax seal and a golden center. 

Marinette stared at it in wonder, and took a long sip of her coffee. It was far to early for this. 

"Uh Mari," Dick was the first to speak as they all stared at the scroll. "What's that?"

She looked up at him blank faced, "It's a scroll Dick."

"I know that but---" Dick scoffed but Steph interrupted him with an eager, 

"What's it say?"

"I wouldn't open it Mars," Duke said hesitantly, "That green light around it is...well it's some powerful other worldly shit, I'll say that much."

"Hmm," Marinette hummed.

"Still," Barbara said, "We can't ignore it. What if it's Guardian business?"

"Has the Order ever contacted you this way before?" Bruce asked eyeing the thing like it was a bomb full of joker gass.

"Nope," Marinette said still not moving. 

"We should destroy it," Damian said simply reaching for the sword he had stashed under the table. 

"Bad idea," Cass said softly, "Important."

"But it could be a trap," Tim said lifting his mug and staring in confusion when he found it empty. "I can run some tests on it maybe."

"I'm with Demon," Jason said gruffly, "That thing is giving me the heebie jeebies."

"Did you just say heebie jeebies?" Stephanie said in confusion. 

"Whatever it is I don't think you should touch it Mari," Bruce said.

"Seriously Jay?" Steph said, "Heebie Jeebies?" 

"I agree with father," Damian said tensely, "This thing reeks of magic. Perhaps we should call a magic user." 

"I can call Zatanna," Dick offered. 

"Heebie jeebies?" 

"Let it go Steph, this is serious!"

 "But...heebie jeebies?"

The dinning room descended into utter chaos literally not even five minutes into their meal. Marinette sighed and took another sip of her coffee as her family yelled around her. She had been up all night helping Barbara with Oracle stuff and finishing up some designs for her company. And listening to her siblings fight over how to deal with ominous glowing scrolls that appeared during their breakfast was not how she wanted to start the morning. She opened her purse and Tikki flew out to look at the scroll, as Jason knocked over his chair about to launch at Steph. Tikki nodded as Dick moved to stop Jason from attacking Steph. This time Cass had taken over recording the insanity. 

Everyone froze as Marinette picked up the scroll. But nothing happened. She didn't suddenly combust or summon hellfire upon them all, so she took that as a good sign and broke the seal. Immediately, her entire family began to panic and some even lunged to snatch the scroll away from her. Marinette leaped back keeping the scroll as far away from them as she could. She sent them a confused, disapproving look as if to say, "Back off it's my magic scroll get your own!" But she read the words out loud just the same.

"To the right honorable, MDC, from the court of his Majesty the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, The Ghost King, Guardian of the Eternal Souls, Protector of the Living World, The Sleepless One, The Halfa, Keeper of the Abyss, etc. Greetings.

His majesty humbly requests your services in the designing of his coronation attire for his ascension to the throne of the Deathless King. Should you accept this most honorable, and glorious commission, simply preform the included spell before the end of five days. Preferably between 4 and 5 o'clock central. Money is no object unless you wish some other form of Eternal payment. In which case, terms will have to be agreed upon in person. You will also be invited, along with a guest of your choosing, to witness this most monumental event within the Infinite Realms.

Kindest Regards,

The King's Advisor, Physician, and Head Scientist, and Leader of the Far Frozen

Frostbite. "

Marinette looked up at her family who were staring at her in awe. None of them quiet new how to take this, so for a moment there was complete silence. In her head Marinette began counting down, "Three...two...one." And the entire dinning room erupted into chaos. Marinette just sighed as she returned her attention to the commission. "What even is my life?" she muttered.

Marinette summoned the Ghost King in the private studio at her fashion house. She reserved this studio for her VIP commissions like Jagged, Clara, Diana, and her family. At that moment it was just her, Jason, and the kwamis, which was already causing chaos as half of the little gods flew around in an attempt to help without actually helping. Jason was making no attempt to corral them like he had promised to do, and instead decided to just stand and scowl as Marinette prepared the summoning circle exactly as it was depicted on the scroll. Marinette had just wanted it to be her and the kwamis, but her family all resolutely refused. Apparently, summoning an unknown, mythical, entity of unquestionable power by herself was not something they were comfortable with. So they compromised and decided that Jason was best suited to over see the meeting. After all, one of the titles was "the Ghost King" and Jason was a zombie...technically. 

Still Marinette wasn't sure how well he would do in a fight. If it came to that, then the kwamis would be her best shot at protecting them. She wasn't sure how Jason's guns would do against something called, "The Keeper of the Abyss." Still she was glad he was here, in a way. "Alright!" she said standing, "It's ready!"

"Hmph," Jason grunted, "I don't like this, Pixie."

"Oh come on," Marinette said with a smile as she tried to hide her own terror, "Don't tell me you're not a little bit curious."

Jason shook his head and muttered something about not wanting to die again, which Marinette elected to ignore. Instead she began the chant and called upon the Ghost King, the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, The Bringer of the Frost, Guardian of the Eternal Souls, Protector of the Living World, The Sleepless One, The Halfa, Keeper of the Abyss, etc. " Man this guy has a lot of titles," she thought. The runes began to glow as the light began to melt upward into a swirling portal of ink and stars. The edges of the portal were wrapped in a shifting green cloud that reminded Marinette of the Lazarus Pit. "That's...probably...not a good sign," she thought but it was too late. Because a white hand emerged from the blackness and Marinette felt the magic in the room surge with the sudden pressure of power. She gasped, and her breath came our in a cloud as the hand was followed by a foot. The kwami gathered around her ready to fight, and Jason's hand flew to his gun. They all held their breath as the Ruler of the Infinite Realms emerged, in all of his power and glory.

"All I'm saying, Jazz, is that I don't see the point! I mean it's not like I'm going to be dressing like this while I'm king!" A teenage boy cried as he stepped casually from the portal. 

"It's not about you, Danny!" said the tall, red haired woman who followed him into the studio, "It's about your subjects. They need to see that you're taking this seriously, so they know to take you seriously. By presenting yourself as a king before them, they will be more likely to trust you as their king."

"She's right Danny," said a goth goth girl, "You're entering the world of high ghostly society. In those circles image is everything whether your alive or dead. Ha, you're gonna love it!"

The boy, Danny, groaned into his hands, and then turned to face Marinette and Jason who were staring in quiet shock and confusion. "Hi!" He said stepping forward holding out his hand to shake, "I'm Danny Phantom, future King of the Infinite Realms, nice to meet ya!" 

Marinette blue screened for a moment as she took in her client. This...was not what she was expecting. She had been fully prepared to meet some sort of strange eldritch animal/human/void type hybrid. Instead she got a teenage, human boy who couldn't have been older than 16. The only thing unusual about was his snow white hair, and glowing green eyes. She could work with this. So, Marinette smiled and shook his hand, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne, MDC, the pleasure is all mine. And this is my brother, Jason Todd, he's going to be assisting us today!"

Danny looked over at Jason and gaped, "Dude!" he exclaimed, "You core is messed up! What happened to you?!"

"Danny!" the red head, Jazz exclaimed, "Be nice! I'm sorry," she said addressing Jason, "My brother might be one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse, but he's still a teenager and often forgets his manners. I'm Jazz by the way!" She held out her hand, and Jason numbly shook it as his eyes expressed that he was still trying to mentally process what was happening. 

"And I'm Sam," the goth girl said stepping forward as the portal closed behind her, "I'm a big fan of your work, Miss. MDC. Your eco friendly punk spring collection was truly inspired!" 

"Thank you," Marinette said with a smile, "And I see you're wearing some of it! I have to say, the way you've dressed up the vest is amazing, I never would have thought to match it with that color skirt!" 

Sam blushed as she straighten the faux dark green leather vest. Jason then took the opportunity to speak up saying, "I hate to interrupt but...what's the story here?"

"Oh," Danny said as they all moved toward the couches that surrounded the circular stage, where the finished products would be touched up and fitted. "Well you see our parents," he gestured between himself and his sister, "are scientists who for some reason decided to study ghosts."

"We thought they were crazy!" Jazz exclaimed with a desperate laugh.

"They are crazy," Sam said, "Just turns our they were also right."

"They built a portal to what they called the Ghost Zone," Danny explained, "It's kind of like the afterlife in between afterlives. A realm between realms...sort of...it's complicated. And that's not really the point, the point is, they thought it didn't work. Until, Sam, Tucker and I were goofing off in the lab and there was an...'accident.'"

"And you died?!" Marinette asked in concerned.

"Yes, no, sorta kinda," Danny said casually, "I half died. I'm half dead. I'm half ghost."

"The technical term is Halfa," Jazz explained.

"Danny is alive," Sam said, "But at the same time, he's dead."

"Schrodinger's kid," Jason muttered, and Danny beamed. 

"Yeah, you see! This guy gets it!" He exclaimed. "So anyway, now that the portal was open someone had to make sure that the ghosts didn't overwhelm the land of the living, and vise versa. And since I am both living and dead, I was the only one who could do it."

Marinette twisted one of her earrings with a glance at Tikki, who was shuffling the other kwamis out of sight since there was clearly no danger, "I get that."

She and Danny exchanged an understanding look, before he continued, "Yeah, well, one of those ghosts turned out to be the actual Ghost King who had gone all tyrant, and tried to disrupt the balance between life and death thus destroying both realms. I might have beaten him in single combat thus accidently becoming the next Ghost King." 

"How do you accidently become the Ghost King?" Jason said incredulously. 

"By beating the former monarch in single combat, I thought we just established that?" Danny said.

"Any way," Jazz said purposefully, "Danny was still in high school at the time, so he couldn't exactly claim the throne. And besides there was a lot about inter-death politics that he had to learn. So we had to hold off on the coronation until he was ready." 

"And now here you are!" Marinette said brightly. 

"Here we are!" Danny said in return. "Got to say though, randomly becoming the guardian of one of the cornerstones of all existence before all before my 18th birthday, not how I expected my life to turn out. But like you said 'here we are!'"

Marinette glanced at the kwami again and said softly, "Yeah, I get that to."

Danny cocked his head at her, as his glowing green eyes met her piercing blue one. He nodded and said, "Alright then, let's get started shall we. I'm trusting you, Blue eyes!"

Jason scowled at the nickname, but Marinette chuckled and retrieved her tape measure, but stopped as she took in his outfit. It looked like a black and white, rubber hazmat suit that was custom made to fit him. It wasn't the worst thing she had ever seen, and the flaming D, she guessed was a nice touch, but it the girls were right. It didn't scream "King of the Infinite Realms." But it raised a pressing question for her. 

"So how do your clothes work?"

"Uh...well...let's see," Danny said as he looked down at his outfit. "Well I suppose I should explain how ghosts work. You see all of this," he gestured to his face and limbs with exaggerated motions, "Is basically all ectoplasm, energy, and magic shaped by the self image of my psyche. So I can shift it to change based on my self image, and that includes my clothes, if I focus. The thing holding it all together is my core." He tapped is chest where his heart should have been. "Basically it's like a...vessel? Yeah, a vessel for my psyche, or spirit, or soul, whatever word you want to use." 

"So do you want me to just draw you an outfit, and then you can shift your clothes into that. It might be easier."

"Nuh-uh," Sam said, "That wont work. He can shapeshift, but it's not his specialty. He always shifts back within thirty minutes or sometimes less."

Jazz nodded, "The best thing would be to make him an outfit for his human form, and then he can shift to match that. We can even infuse the fabrics with some of his ectoplasm, so it will be easier for his psyche to recognize it as a part of him."

Marinette froze at the phrasing, and suddenly why Danny was so hesitant to change his ghostly look. His clothes were a part of his self image. This was how his spirit perceived his existence. Marinette began studying hit clothes a lot more closely. Any thing she did could alter his self image for all of eternity, if she wasn't careful. Marinette took a deep breath. This was probably going to end up being the most important piece of her career. "Ok," she said allowing her voice to communicate to Danny just how serious she was taking this commission. "I think I understand. In that case, I'm going to need measurements of both your human form, and your ghost form. If there are any discrepancies, I'm going to need to know now."

Danny smiled softly at her. "Ok." And there was no more arguing or complaining, as he stood patiently while she took his measurements, first in his ghost form, and then in his human form. Jason was writing down the numbers diligently. Almost too diligently, but Marinette understood his silence when he said, 

"So this core thing...you said I had one but there was something wrong with it."

"Hmm," Danny said, "Oh yeah. Did you die and get resurrected or something?" Jason nodded silently, completely engrossed in the notepad. "Well, whoever did it did an awful job!"

"Danny!" Jazz exclaimed.

"What? It's true!"

"But that's not how you say it. I am so sorry Jason, my brother can be a little insensitive."

"No it's ok," Jason said, "I'd rather have it blunt and honest, than sugar coated. So what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you per se," Danny mused after a moment of studying Jason. "So obviously you died. And the circumstances were just right so that instead of going to one of the 'afterlives' you went to the space between, the Infinite Realms. Which is probably why you don't remember what happened in between your two lives. Am I right?"

"You'd know better than me," Jason laughed dryly. 'Like you said I don't remember."

 "Probably for the best. But anyway," Danny continued, "When you were resurrected, it was done very badly, because you're core is warped. Don't worry it's still intact, so your spirit's safe. But the warped core combined with the corrupted ectoplasm running through your veins! Yeesh! Frankly I'm surprised you're not frothing at the mouth, homicidal maniac right now. Cause that amount of contamination is not good for you mental stability." 

The siblings froze and exchanged desperate, almost hopeful looks. "The pit madness," Marinette whispered. 

"I get...angry sometimes," Jason explained. "I see green, and then red, and then I...I hurt people."

The girls looked at him with pity, but Danny just nodded with understanding. "Makes sense," was all he said, but Marinette could instantly see the relief of those words wash over Jason's whole being. She knew how much he fought, how much he struggled with his sanity. They tried to help, but pit madness wasn't like normal mental illnesses. It was steeped in ancient magic and the forces of nature them selves. In the end the only advice any of the could logistically give Jason was to fight it. Therapy could give him tools, but when push came to shove none of them understood what it was like. 

And to have someone, anyone, say that it made sense. That his reactions to the corruption inside him were not strange, abnormal or grotesque. To have his actions fit inside the bounds of an expected response, a symptom of something that could be categorized...Marinette could not imagine the relief Jason must have been feeling. But it whatever his emotions were they all seemed to be summed up in his next chocked out words, “Is…is there a cure.”

“Yeah, of course there is!” Danny said with his cheerful casualness, that broke all of Jason’s carefully crafted walls. “I can schedule an appointment for you with Frostbite. He’s done some incredible research into the development of Ghost cores. Once, he filters that ectoplasm in your blood stream, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get your core back to it’s proper shape. You’ll have to spend a few days in the Ghost Zone, a week at most. But then your core will start filtering and shaping the ectoplasm on it’s own…think of it as a liver transplant, but with magic and shit.”

“Wow,” Jason breathed. “I…uh…ha…I.t…thank you!”

Danny smiled, “Eh, what are kings for. I mean you are technically one of my subjects.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said still smiling.

Danny grinned. “When you die, again, you’ll go to the Ghost Zone. My zone. You’re stuck with me buddy!”

Jason threw back his head with a clear bright laugh that was all too rare in Marinette’s opinion. And hearing it now as it rang with hope and joy, only made Marinette’s smile brighter and fuller. They continued to talk about what it would take to get Jason to the Ghost Zone for his “core transplant” as Danny was now calling it. And Marinette was slowly getting a clearer picture of what she was going to make for the young king. 

When she finished her measurements and pulled out her note book to start some rough sketches, she turned back to Danny and said, “Ok so we can talk about what you don’t want once I have some ideas mapped out. But first I want to know if there is anything that you do want. A favorite color, a piece of jewelry, a type of belt, anything like that?”

“Your symbol,” Sam said immediately. “You need to have your symbol.”

“I think you should keep your usual color scheme,” Jazz said calmly, “It’s like your signature.”

“Danny?” Marinette asked pointedly. 

He thought for a moment and the grinned saying, “Can I get a cape?”

The girls rolled their eyes, and Jason put his head in his hand. But Marinette just beamed and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

(Who should Marinette design for next?! Comment your requests)

#maribat #marinette dupen chang #mdc au #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dp x dc #dp x dc x mlb #fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #batfam #jason todd #danny phantom #ghost king danny #oneshot #bio dad bruce wayne

[ashspecter]

Gonna Make You a Star

@lavendarlily's prompt: Who knew Danny Fenton was so agile? Paulina makes it her personal mission to get him on the cheer squad.

Summary: Danny never thought that being light on his feet and knowing martial arts would help him anywhere but fighting ghosts. He was wrong. Now Paulina wants to make him a cheerleader for Casper High’s football team.

TW: N/A

Words: 3435; Chapter 1 (This was supposed to be a one-shot)

#danny phantom #danny fenton #paulina sanchez #cheer au #cheer squad au #dp au #no one knows au #phic phight 24 #phic phight 2024 #dp events #phandom #phandom events #oneshot