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#ghost writes stuff
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House Call (Dies Irae Fanfic)
Pairing(s): Self-ship with Dr. Kurosaki (Dies Irae VN)
Rating: SFW (18+ fandom so it’s still not for kids)
Warnings: unnecessarily in-depth descriptions of medical procedures (lol srry), drugging, Dr. Kurosaki being Dr. Kurosaki
Needed context: before this fic, the main character woke up with amnesia and no loved ones and was treated by Dr. Taiga Kurosaki, who gave them his number and offered to help them navigate life.
Dr. Kurosaki via @codemiracle
I headcanon that Dr. Kurosaki uses smiley face emojis/emoticons wayyyy too much lol
Fic below cut, enjoy!
Me: Uhhh hey my throat feels kinda funny
Me: Has for like- 4 days lol should I get it checked out? Kinda hurts ngl…
I whined in pain as I awaited a response from my friend. Er- my doctor? I’m still not sure what our relationship should be categorized as. Either way, I wanted his advice as a medical professional. Wait, should I even be bothering him?
He gave me his number in case I had trouble navigating the world as an adult with no memories and zero friends, not to bug him with irrelevant stuff I should figure out on my own. Is this an abuse of that avenue of communication? I think I should only be asking about like- laws and directions and stuff. Ugh, now I feel bad.
Me: Wait, are you guys super busy today? Aaaaa dw dw I’m ok if ur busy
My mood perked up when I saw the little icon showing that he was typing, my worries fading.
Taiga: Oh, you poor thing :(
Taiga: Come on over, I’ll get you sorted out :)
I blushed. It always flustered me so much when he talked to me that way, like I’m just a small helpless thing he’s charged with caring for.
Me: Wait to your work or ur house?
The typing icon popped up, then disappeared again. After a moment, it showed up again.
Taiga: Just come to my house, I’m off early :)
Me: nooooo I don’t wanna make you work if ur off already :((((
Taiga: No need to worry your pretty little head over it, I don’t mind. Actually, I’ll come to you. Just rest for now :)
Me: >/////< okayyyy
I turned my phone off and buried my heated face in my blanket. It was absurd how that man could make me feel so giddy while in the throes of illness.
He called me pretty…
Did he really think that? Well, if he did, then he had another thing coming once he saw my disheveled state. My hair was a mess (more than it usually was, at least) and I was certain my eye bags were twice as noticeable. Also, I probably smelled like sickness, too. I suddenly felt the urge to tell Dr. Kurosaki not to come. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to inconvenience him even more by changing plans on him so soon.
In the meantime, I decided to just scroll through some sort of social media to keep my mind off of things till he got here. By the time I heard the knock on my door, I was very grateful I hadn’t decided to go anywhere because I genuinely felt terrible. My throat felt like it was on fire and I felt increasingly nauseous and dizzy.
Me: It’s unlocked, you can just come in
I heard the door open, followed by the doctor’s kind voice.
“You know, you shouldn’t just have the door unlocked like that, especially if you’re incapacitated,” he teased, but I could hear the concern in his voice. Yeah, that was probably good advice. “Where are you?”
I really didn’t want to use my voice and aggravate my sore throat, so I did the next best thing: I squeaked as loudly as I could. Thinking back on it, I probably could have just thrown a pillow at the door, but then I would have missed out on his soft intake of breath and adoring expression as he walked into my line of sight.
“Why, hello there, are you a mouse now?” he laughed. I drew the covers up to hide my face up to my eyes out of embarrassment. “No, don’t be like that, dear, you’d be a very good mouse.” I felt my ears go red at that.
As if to prove his point, he ran his fingers through my hair. I couldn’t help leaning into it, the gentle touch far too soothing to ignore or avoid.
“Now, let’s see, your throat is feeling funny? Do you have any other symptoms?” he asked, still caressing my head. I nodded and picked up my phone, typing on a notes app for him to see.
Throat is now v sore and i feel rlly cold and i have a headache. Also im nauseous…
“I see,” the doctor hummed, “I’ll need to test you for the flu, strep, and a few other illnesses. Sit up for me?” He held my arm, helping me get up as he fished around in his duffel bag. He brought out an otoscope and proceeded to check my ears, nose, and the back of my throat. His eyebrows drew up together, so I assumed the inflammation was visible. He patted my shoulder.
“I’m going to swab you now. Three of these will be oral and one will be nasal.” I whined, and he shushed me. “I know you don’t like nasal swabs, but it’s for your own good.”
I sighed and settled down.
“Good, good,” he murmured. He picked up a swab and gently held my chin. “Open up for me.”
I did, and managed to not gag as he swabbed the back of my throat. That got me a round of praises I couldn’t help blushing at. He swabbed me two more times and put each swab away. When he finally picked up the last swab, I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.
“Don’t worry, it’ll only be a moment.”
I braced myself as he inserted the swap up my right nostril, the discomfort quickly breaking into pain. The swab moved in circular motions, bringing tears to my tightly shut eyes. Two sets of hot, salty tears rolled down my face before Dr. Kurosaki finally removed the swab and put it away with the others.
He cupped my cheeks in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “There there, it’s over now. I just need to test these samples and then we’ll know what’s going on, okay?”
I nodded and relaxed into his hold. Before I could wrap my arms around him in a hug, he moved away to grab the testing kits. I felt even colder in his absence. He quickly performed each test with practiced movements, and all I could think about was how competent he seemed. I mean, surely he must be if everyone called him Doctor even though he hadn’t graduated yet. I was grateful to have someone like him by my side. Even if I didn’t deserve him. Ugh, go away, depressing thoughts!
Dr. Kurosaki hummed once the tests’ results finally showed up. He dug around in his bag and retrieved an orange bottle of pills. Why did he have that…?
“Ah, here,” he held the bottle out to me, “you’ll need to take these antibiotics.” I typed out a response on my phone.
What do I have?
“Ah, you have strep throat.” I frowned. Again??? That’s the third time this year… “Yes, again,” he sighed, as if reading my mind. “We should really look into why this keeps happening to you. I could have sworn it was just last week you were bundled up on my couch for the same reason.”
His pleasant, almost wistful expression did not match his words.
“But first, let me get you something to drink with that. I’ll be back.” He kissed my forehead before leaving, and for a moment I worried he’d get sick, too. But I probably shouldn’t worry about that. He’s a doctor, he knows what he’s doing.
When he came back with a glass of some sort of red, sweet-smelling liquid, I gratefully reached out to take it from him, but he simply laid me back down and shushed me when I made a questioning noise.
“Shhh, I’ll take care of you,” he crooned. He fished two capsules from the medicine bottle and held them to my lips. Flustered, I took them into my mouth and let him pour some of the drink down my throat to help me swallow it. The drink was nice and sweet, as well as thick, which helped to not set off my sore throat. I couldn’t help but blush at the intimacy of his actions. There was no way doctors normally did this with patients, right?
The doctor set the cup down and ran his fingers through my hair gently. Oddly enough, I felt even more sluggish than I normally would while sick. I looked at Dr. Kurosaki in confusion, but he just smiled. “Side effect. Don’t fight it.” I vaguely heard him sigh, barely making out his soft words. “Such a sweet little thing… so helpless for me. So… dependent. You’ll never be able to stay away from me.” I managed to tilt my head, utterly confused. “Don’t worry, you won’t even remember this when you wake up.”
That was not comforting in the slightest. I blacked out.
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bluerosefox · 8 days
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It's shenanigans time guys
So have this DpxDc idea.
So, the Justice League and the Light (OR villains in general) have two newish members, they've both been around for about a year and they're from the same plane of existence (a place called the Infinite Realms according to those who dabble in the occult)
And the two seem to have some serious beef with each other.
Wisp and Wrath are basicly feral cats hissing and hekles raised when they spot the other and their fights normally ends in draws. They're evenly matched and sometimes the two even fight to the point they are out of steam and just fist fight.
Needless to say everyone believes they totally hate each other and might one day kill (or end?) One of them.
So everything gets turned upside down when suddenly both factions of heros and villains are suddenly summoned to the Infinite Realms.
In a throne room.
In front of the Infinite King (or most commonly known as the Ghost King)
A King who looks very, very much like Wisp and Wrath (like yeah the two do sometimes look alike, like when they grin with sharp teeth and their hair color, but one has blue skin and red eyes for crying out loud!)
He's staring at them, glowing green eyes that seemed to just... know.
"Welcome to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." His voice echoing in the throne room and seemed to rattle them deeply, like a sudden chill in the early morning.
"I have summoned you all here for a single reason." He continued to say "Tell me..."
Here he paused, closed his eyes before leaning back on the chair then he smiled big and cheerfully asked.
"How are my kids doing in your world? Dan and Ellie arent causing too much chaos in their wake are they? They tend to go a tiny bit overboard sometimes but what siblings don't when they rough house you know. Tell me everything."
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somnimagus · 5 months
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
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confessedlyfannish · 26 days
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Writing Prompt #12
Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.
Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.
Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.
While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.
These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".
There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—
"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.
But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.
He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.
"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.
"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.
"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.
He doesn't look away from the man.
"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."
"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.
The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.
The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"
Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."
"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."
He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.
"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.
"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.
"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."
"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.
"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."
"Him."
"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."
"Why me?"
"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."
This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.
"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"
"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."
Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."
"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."
"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."
"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."
"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."
"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.
"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.
"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."
"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."
"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."
Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.
Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.
"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."
The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.
"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.
"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."
"I have more than one."
"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."
"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"
There is a pause.
"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."
"Resolve what?"
"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."
"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."
Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."
The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."
"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."
"They will have already muzzled him."
Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.
"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."
"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—
Clack!
"sluuuuurp!"
"Master Timothy, honestly!"
"Sorry Alfred!"
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sleepy-writes-stuff · 2 months
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DP X DC PROMPT #27
(Time for something a little more lighthearted/found family. Could probably also make this a crack prompt instead.)
(#) = Notes at the end of post
(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.
Visitation Rights
When Danny went to list Dani/Ellie as his heir after she'd come back from her years of traveling the world, he was quickly informed that he already had one in line for the thrown.
"What? Since when?!"
The pretentious, floating eyeball looked like he wanted to be anywhere else other than here, providing information to King Phantom, but explained anyway.
"The day you officially achieved royal status, you permanently linked your being to the Infinite Realms. When this happened, however, a child was in the process of being created with the assistance of ectoplasmic runoff that's been leaking into the mortal world for centuries. As a result of your power being incorporated into the Realms at such a time, this human child retained an imprint of your core signature. The Infinite Realms itself has recognized this child as your offspring. Your... other offspring has yet to be recognized in such a way and would therefore be considered your second heir once claimed."
Danny stared at the Observant with wide, blank eyes that were slowly filling with dread and panic.
"Why are you just telling me this now?? My coronation was over a decade ago!" He held his face in his hands and gave a horrified groan at what he just learned.
"If you really wanted that clone as your heir, I'm afraid it's too late to change it-"
Danny's head shot back up with a snarl and furious green eyes.
"That's not what I'm upset about you walking cataracts! Eleven years! I've missed eleven years of this kid's life!! How could you think I-"
At a loss for words, he growled deep in his chest. Deep enough that it echoed throughout the halls and rattled the floors.
"Who is this kid, and where can I find them?"
Once given the information and learning of the child's other parental figures, he gets to work. A few weeks later, he appears in the home office of a well-known billionaire with a stack of papers that he promptly slams onto the desk in front of the startled man. (1)
"I demand visitation rights to our son, Damian Wayne."
(1) Danny actually visited Talia first to get visitation rights. Needless to say, that didn't go very well. He's still got a couple knives floating around in his chest cavity because of it.
(*) ALSO! I'm not sure how this lines up with the DC/Batman timeline. All I figured out is that if Danny waited to be crowned until after he graduated college as an astrophysicist, which take 5 to 7 years, he'd be about 36 years old when he finds out about Damian. Bruce would be about 41, so the age gap is only 5 years. If y'all wanna make this Danny/Bruce, go ahead!
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wispscribbles · 5 months
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❄️ Remember to bring blankets for your recon mission ❄️
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tanglepelt · 1 year
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Dc x dp idea 13?
Danny just gaslighting the JL and JLD.
They summoned the ghost king obviously Danny shows up cause i love that for him. He’s in human form. He does that on purpose.
Must ppl assume they messed up send him back and leave it at that. Nope not these people.
Constantine is checking the summoning circle again. Just tells Danny he won’t fall for his disguise and that he knows that he’s ghost king. And says he wants to make a deal.
Danny knows this man sells his souls more then his parents claim they want to tear phantom up molecule by molecule and he has no use for a soul anyways. So Danny just says if i was a king i wouldn’t be failing high school. He wouldn’t even go to high school.
Then Danny goes on about how he has a bully so obviously he couldn’t be a king. Not to mention his human non royal parents. They were mad scientist and ghost hunters but that’s as interesting as they got. Also hello he is alive what did Constantine think he was secretly a ghost.
Danny then walks around the circle just pointing at the total correct symbols going are you sure it’s meant to be a crown. What if this king is a queen and has a tiara. Like who are you to assume it’s a king if you’ve never met them.
John isn’t falling for it at all. Now everyone else is doubting him. Batman pulled up Danny on the computer a perfectly normal human child. So Danny is gonna pull out the big guns. Looks at him and goes if i step out will that prove I’m not currently the ghost king.
It’s one of the other JLD members who says he wouldn’t be able to if he was king. It was warded to keep the king in. So Danny who is currently human just steps out.
See he’s totally not the just king. Currently.
Turns out they needed someone to deal with the box ghost. Danny just say oh i got that. He soups him and goes i did say my parents were ghost hunters
Danny failed to realize once he stepped out of the circle they couldn’t send him back that way. So now he is stuck being questioned but hey at least he is in space.
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synthe4u · 1 month
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The stress was beginning to seep in. Your eyebags becoming more visible by the day. No one could tell you were more tired than the past week.
You were more quiet and less aggressive in your talking. You seem to have lost your spirit in a way, but of course, the man in the mask figured it out.
Ghost eyed you on the other side of the room. You were bobbing your head, nearly falling asleep before being shaken awake by the slight fall of your body.
You were being distracted by the lights and paid no mind to Ghost's wandering eyes.
It wasn't until around 2100 (9:00pm) when he knocked at your door. You weren't asleep yet. Your light was still on.
Opening the door you asked, "Is something wrong?"
You hadn't changed out of uniform and still seemed out of it.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
"Why are you awake?"
You snapped back at him. You weren't in the mood. You've been tolerable all day, no arguments or fights, but it's clear he came to ruin that.
He stared at you in silence. The mask made him more intimidating which caused you to fess up.
You ran your hands through you hair, frowning in disgust at the knots in your hair.
"Just some family problems is all."
"Losing sleep over your family?"
You sighed, "What do you need?"
"Need you to sleep so we could complete this mission."
"I'm not broken, I can still do the mission."
Silence permeated the hall, other than the occasional fizzle from that one light the base swears isn't broken or haunted.
"Can I come in?"
The door widened a foot further, allowing the masked man inside. You didn't understand why you would let him in. You don't let anyone in your room, at least, not for silly matters like this.
He followed you further into your room after shutting the door, and settled on the side of your bed. You didn't have time to question it before you fell.
Collapsing on the spot, Ghost caught you before the ground could do actual damage to your body.
I guess the sleep had caught up to you, just as Ghost had caught you.
Sleep truly is not for the weak. Stay healthy, guys.
.............................................................................................................
masterlist
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stinglesswasp · 6 months
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Fanart of all that's said in the low light by headlocket
This fic will make you cry the most cathartic tears ever. Be sure to also check out the epilogue, in lieu of the bells 🥹🧡🧡
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electrozeistyking · 3 months
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Yeah, I don’t know where this came from (beyond N’s new coat in this AU being baggy).
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🔞I post nsfw content, so do not interact unless you are an adult! Please have your age in your bio if you interact with me or my posts!🔞
Intro post:
Hiya! I’m non-binary (any pronouns) and I still haven’t picked a name yet, so you can just call me Ghost for now ^^
Here’s some facts abt me:
I am a 20 years old college student who hopes to get a job in the research department of some sort of psychology program once I graduate
I draw stuff as a hobby and I make games as well! Here’s one I’m working on: @skgtp-vn
I love to learn about abnormal psychology (especially the more “strange” disorders)
My askbox is open for both sfw and nsfw questions about my ocs, my sona, or my headcanons for any of the fandoms I post about
I’m big into yandere visual novels, including Parasocialite, STNAF, Camp Willowpeak, 14 Days With You, Would You Stay?, Mushroom Oasis, Dies Irae, My Dear Hatchet Man, Your Guardian Angel, The Kid At The Back, SWWSDJ, Colored Gaze, YOU and HIM, and of course Serial Killer’s Guide to Psychology (which is made by me!)
I also like to write sometimes, so don’t be surprised if you come across some of that here ^^
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Lyrics of the day:
“I’m calling your bluff, beautiful love. My heart’s in the dust; you’re so hard to trust. I’m not moving on. I wish you were gone. And when you’re alone, am I on your mind?” -Beautiful Love by Heffy
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My tags:
#ghostly art (for art)
#ghost draws nsfw?? (For nsfw art)
#👻 sona (stuff abt my sona)
#ignore the ghost (random tidbits from me lol)
#ghost writes stuff (written works)
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bluerosefox · 6 months
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Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions
Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.
Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.
"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"
When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.
"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.
And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.
"Danyal."
His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.
After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.
His bother who... wasn't dead.
His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.
His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.
His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.
His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'
And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-
Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.
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Fake Cryptids, Real Ghosts
Ok, so dp x dc/batfam because this AU has me by the throat but what if it's the fake cryptid batfamily AU who never joined the JL.
Just...imagine it. The Batfamily has been protecting Gotham quietly but fiercely by scaring the daylights out of criminals as creatures that go bump in the night. A bit of stage magic, frightening method acting, contortion, a whole language comprised of chirps, growls, and body language, and the best tech possible and you've got a recipe for striking fear into the hearts of everyone.
They've got shrines on the rooftops, vaguely on the JL radar (Cause really, who's gonna believe that Gotham, one of the worst cities has a demon problem? Constantine? Homeboy took one look at Gotham and went Nope.) and they're protected cause any self respecting Gothamite wouldn't go spilling the beans to Outsiders. The Bats keep them safe. Who would believe them anyways?
Enter half dead, half alive Danny Fenton.
Danny Fenton who has a best friend's named Tucker and Sam who find out about the Gotham Cryptids, and go absolutely ham on research because here lies something,a bunch of someone's who are Other. Maybe they're creepy but they're cool and they're Heroes and they help people.
Sure, at first it was an attempt from Sam and Tucker to help their best friend feel less alone in the face of other, more 'normal' heroes and people out there in the world. Maybe they try to further bury the Bats online cause if anyone understands keeping on the down low, it would be Amity Parker's. For awhile, Danny Fenton, sometimes Phantom is simply happy to know he's not alone.
Then he's outed and his sister who's long since been ecto-contaiminated is put at risk there's nowhere that seems safer. Gotham is a chaotic city, even without the Bats factoring in. After all Gotham has (Demons-Spirits-Creatures?) The Bats already. Who would care if a halfa and his sister hide out there? As long as they're respectful of their territory, it'll be fine right? Besides, they've got to warn the Bats anyways about the GIW and government. They're coming after ghosts, who knows if they'll be next? Spooky things have to look out for each other after all.
Cue shenanigans as Phantom who stops hiding all of his creepier traits as a ghost walks up to the Totally Human but Faking it Batman with really thoughtful gifts for all of their shrines (And one fruitcake), no heartbeat and an earnest plea for a safe haven in their Haunt because the Ancients taught him manners and the importance of respecting another entities territory.
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ghouljams · 11 months
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I am in desperate need of some cowboy fluff, how about y’all?
Somehow Simon's been handed a baby. It's a little funny. It's his own fault for being in baby handing distance with nothing to do. When your cousins had bustled into the house and started making a racket, passing out greetings and bags in equal measure, you were sure your older cousin would hand their newest addition to your dad. He was sort of the baby guy, the one that always seemed to calm down even the most colicky infants at family gatherings. So when you turn to introduce Simon and see your cousin pass her bundle of joy off to him you are almost as shocked as he is. Which is the understatement of the century, because he is pretty shocked.
He’s hardly budged from where he was standing when the baby was handed to him, looking big and unsure and absolutely stiff with nerves. You suppose it helps that no one is really talking to him, most of your cousins have moved to the kitchen to pick your pantry clean. You excuse yourself from catching up to go make fun of him.
“You look comfortable,” You grin. It really is a sight, such a tiny thing being held by such a big man. That baby is in the safest place in the world and it knows it, cooing and grabbing at Simon’s shirt, big wide eyes staring up at him like he’s the whole world. You know the feeling baby.
“Me and babies don’t mix,” He grits out, probably too nervous to even breathe. 
“Maybe if you weren’t holding him like a snapping turtle you’d be more comfortable.” You tell him, moving close to adjust his hold. The baby’s head resting against his chest, nestled nice and cozy in his arms, not just resting on them like a hospital bed. You smile at your newest family member, poking his little nose and letting him grab your finger. When you look up at Simon his expression is… tight, you can’t place it. You sigh, “Come on, it’s not that bad.”
“It is that bad.”
“You’ve never thought about kids?” You mean it to be teasing but the look on his face makes you think maybe this is a more serious conversation. 
“Men like me shouldn’t have children,” He mumbles, looking down at the baby chewing on your finger. 
“My dad did a pretty good job.” He goes still again, for all the progress he’s made in being a person again Simon sure has a terrible opinion of himself. You shoot him a half-hearted glare, extracting your finger from its enthusiastic and gummy aggressor. “For the record, I think you’d be a great dad.” You tell him, turning to go back to the kitchen.
“At least take the damn thing with you,” He calls, it’s not as insistent as you would’ve thought. You think he might actually like holding the baby. You wave your hand over your shoulder at him.
“Nope, that’s your punishment. Pass him off to MacTavish when he gets here.” He’s lucky you’re not ratting on him to your dad. Men like him shouldn’t have kids... You’re a delight.
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“Who’s the wee man?” Soap asks, leaning to wiggle his fingers at the baby in Ghost’s arms. It giggles, reaching with one pudgy hand to grab at him, the other tiny fist wrapped around Ghost’s tags. 
“I want you to be best man at my wedding,” Ghost says, absolutely not answering the question. Soap freezes, his brows raised.
“You’re getting married?”
“When she says yes.”
“This your bairn?” Soap asks, feeling more confused than he already was. Ghost makes a face.
“Johnny how the hell would this be my kid?” Ghost snaps, earning a bug eyed sniffle from the baby in his arms that caught both men’s attention. It’s the last warning before the baby scrunches up his face, building up enough red frustration to let out a sobbing wail. Soap is quick to scoop the fussy infant from Ghost’s arms, shushing him as he cradles him against his shoulder.
“Anno, let’s find your mum wee man, get you away from mean old Ghost.”
“Not a word of this MacTavish,” Ghost calls after him.
“More scared of Goose than her gander, sorry mate.”
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DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #10
(#) = Notes at end of post
TW: mentions of human experimentation and blood
The Sapphire Stone Sits Highest on the Throne
The GIW have done the unthinkable. They've captured Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and ruler of all who reside within it. The government organization tortured and experimented on Danny so much and for so long that Danny was forced to recede into his core. While a ghost's core is relatively strong by itself --only another ghost of similar strength could shatter it-- it's also extremely vulnerable to misuse if left in the wrong hands.
The GIW use the King's core to ravage Amity Park --uncaring if human citizens got in their way-- as well as the Ghost Zone itself. The Ancients combine their efforts to search for the lost, little king, desperately trying to find Danny's core and take it back from the blood and ectoplasm stained hands of the agents. As a result of their dogged search, the Ancients bring worldwide destruction down upon the Earth in their hunt for every single white suit agent remaining, scurrying from one hiding place to another like rats in the walls of a dilapidated house.
One by one, almost every agent was hunted down and bound in unbreakable chains of ice, awaiting their trials for the atrocities they committed against the Infinite Realms and its King. The only one left is the leader of the organization itself, the one who holds Danny's core. The leader, however, is extremely slippery and has managed to evade capture for months now, going so far as to throw their own men to the wolves if it meant an easy escape with the jewel-blue heart of a scared, grieving, and injured child.
At this point though, the Ancients have caused so much destruction and natural disasters, that the Justice League has no choice but to step in. At first, the JL actively try to fight the Ancients, not fully understanding the situation but having little luck in actually hitting any of them regardless. It isn't until John Constantine runs onto the battlefield like a bat out of hell and skids to a stop right smack dab in the middle of the fight that things change. He's out of breath, his hair is in disarray, he smells heavily of smoke and alcohol, and that's definitely a still fresh coffee stain on his weather beaten trenchcoat along with red blood painting his knuckles.
Normally, one small human wouldn't be able to stop the wrath of the Ancients when they've set their sights on something. This instance, however, was very different. As Constantine raised his hands up towards the rampaging Ancients about to unleash their fury on the JL, one thing managed to capture every single one of their attention.
That being the weakly glowing, sapphire-like core held in one of Constantine's outstretched hands(1 & 2) and the faint, echoing cries of a child begging the Ancients to put an end to the carnage they've unleashed upon the world.
Notes:
(1) Constantine gives little explanation on how he got his hands on Danny's core. Little do the JL know, it was just pure, dumb luck. He ran into the leader of the GIW right as the bastard was leaving a coffee shop. Coffee got spilled all over Constantine and, being slightly drunk off his ass, he decides to deck the person in the pretentious white suit and knocks him out in one shot. Constantine's about to walk away when he hears a child crying. He finds Danny's core in one of the downed guy's pockets and has a panic attack when he immediately realizes what it is. Danny explains what's going on and Constantine books it towards where he can sense a large amount of necrotic energy gathering. The rest is history.
(2) ALSO, sapphire is a pretty significant gem. According to the internet, the sapphire symbolizes wisdom, royalty, prophecy and divine favour. It's a symbol of power and strength, but also of kindness and wise judgement. Which just fits Danny PERFECTLY in this prompt, imo.
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wispscribbles · 5 months
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I want to eat your art and writing thank you so much
Haha well I'm always happy to keep you all fed. Here, have some old sketches <33
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