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starry-bi-sky · 1 month

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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. ��What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

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fairyhaos · 8 months

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How To Fucking Write: a guide by fairyhaos

[masterlist]

this post details:

STARTING A STORY

PACING A STORY

hi gays and gals and welcome to "how to fucking write", a post (series) where i talk about how i brainstorm for writing, plan for writing, write the writing, and everything in between. nothing too serious here lmao, but i'm definitely planning on making at least a couple posts on this bc a) it's fun and b) i wanna help! so if you find this useful then pls lmk by reblogging + drop an ask if there are any specific things u want me to give my two cents on ^^

okok and now without further ado,,, let's look at the topics i'll talk about in today's post!

#1 - HOW TO START A STORY.

.. bullet point one : have an idea

the first big thing is that you need an idea. doesn't matter if you're a pantser and don't plan out your writing before you start. that's totally fine! but before you begin, you need at least an idea: maybe it's a vibe, a character personality, a specific journey you want the characters to go on. maybe it's a piece of dialogue. maybe it's the ending- the point you want to end up at after however many thousand words.

whatever it is, it's best to have some inspiration, some idea of what you wanna do. no point in writing if you don't know what you're writing, you know?

(of course, that brings up the issue of Having An Idea in the first place, but finding inspiration to write is a whole other can of worms we can open in another post.)

.. bullet point two : practice

okay, so now you have an idea. how do you put that idea to paper? how should you actually start your story?

it’s all to do with practice.

it’s the most annoying piece of advice in the world, but it helps so much. you just have to write lots and lots and lots, to find the way that works for you. whether you wanna start your stories with pretty scene descriptions, with dialogue, with dramatic one-liners. finding your voice, your style, what’s most comfortable for you, is really really important. and takes practice.

an example, though: for me, i prefer either a line of dialogue, or one-liners that a) help immediately establish a character’s personality or can b) introduce an interesting setting.

[chan + swingset] — one-liner example

[hoshi + silly] — dialogue example

but of course, everyone’s style is different. so i’d recommend playing around! find a list of one-word prompts and just write a few that inspire you, writing the beginnings. it’s important, also, that you’re having fun, because if you’re already struggling with starting to write, it’ll be even harder if you’re doing it while feeling stressed.

.. bullet point three (mostly just for longer fics)

maybe you don’t find a style, in the end. maybe you’re comfortable with all of them, which is totally fine! but then you look at your writing, and you think, “oh… this isn’t as good as i thought.”

and it makes you want to give up. what do you do, then? how do you carry on with your start?

just put words to paper. it doesn’t matter if the words are terrible, if you’re making up shit and using placeholders for description words or whatever. just carry on, get to a place you’re happy with, like the end of a scene, or maybe a dialogue exchange you really like.

because now, guess what? you’ve successfully created a first draft.

making first drafts is actually so important. seriously. first drafts allow you to fuck up, allow you to write terribly. they help you fumble and trip your way to the finish line (or at least a rest point) so that you can go back and do better.

even if your first draft is terrible, it’s helped you make your way to a point you’re happy with. now you have a vague idea of what you want, even if the description or characterisation or something is way off. because now, you can edit it, or even scrap it and use only a few words from that draft in your next one. or maybe, if you look back at it, maybe it’s even decent enough for you to use.

whatever it is, when you first start writing that story, think of it as ‘The Worst Draft’. because it probably won’t be as good as you want it, and it’s okay. just write, with no fears of it being bad, because that’s literally fine. it’s not set in stone. the backspace button exists. after your first draft is made, make another. and another, and another, because i promise, after that first draft, it only gets better from there.

#2 - PACING A STORY.

.. bullet point one : adding things

pacing is always really tricky. however, i do think that slowing a story down is easier than speeding it up, so here we go,,,,

finding out the exact way to slow down a story really depends on what type of story you're writing, but there are a few all-round things you can do which can help pretty much any setting.

if it's a scene with loads of dialogue, and things feel like they're jumping to the end topic too quickly, add descriptions. your readers are blind, writers, and they depend on you to be able to see what's going on. are your characters having a conversation on the street? take a break to describe what they see. are they in a coffee shop? maybe someone comes in with a huge noise, or their coffee arrives at their table. are they hanging in midair with nothing around them? well, describe the actions of the character they're talking to, then.

example: (from my seoksoo fic bc it's the only long fic i'm working on rn)

by adding character descriptions, movement, thoughts, instantly everything seems to have slowed down. it thickens time, allowing you to move at a more leisurely pace.

if it's a scene full of action, you can do the exact same thing. maybe there's a high-tension moment and something significant happens. slow down time there, describe something small in great detail. talk about the thoughts they're having.

and even if it's just an ordinary scene, describing is important. the setting, the characters' actions, their thoughts. it's okay to write too much. then you can delete things which make things feel like they're moving too slowly.

.. bullet point two : delete

not gonna lie, finding out how to speed up the pacing of the story can often be really specifically tailored to the setting of the story.

with stories that have loads of action (spy, apocalypse, etc) i'd recommend adjusting sentence length. you'll want short, punchy sentences, without loads of commas and clauses, but you'll also want to experiment with having those short sentences gradually get longer. it helps with tension and suspense.

it has to be short. running fast. something to elevate fear. quick, but also desperate, before they then spill over each other, picking up pace, all of the thoughts blurring together and going faster, and faster, and faster, and then-

then the penny drops.

people use the metaphor of music a lot, and it really does work that way. it needs to ascend to its climax: gently, cautiously, before sprinting upwards and only describing things like the barest emotions (the fear they feel, the panic, anger, anything) before everything reaches its peak and comes crashing down in a flurry of action descriptions.

but of course, the easiest way to speed up something is to delete. delete swathes of setting description. delete unnecessary dialogue. delete an entire scene and rewrite with only the things you remember (which can help make sure you only have the essentials in your scene, btw. very helpful).

it might take a bit of adjusting, rewriting, moving things around, but ultimately, quickening the pace of the story depends on the way in which you write things. be concise, be dramatic, and don't dawdle.

... and that's it ! if anyone has anything else they want advice on (how to structure, how to write dialogue, how to plan etc) then just shoot me an ask, because i'd love to help however i can :)

tagging: @selenicives who asked for this in the first place hehe ^^

#a guide by fairyhaos #ngl ive always wanted to try my hand as an advice giver soooo this is fun!#i really wanna help guys. like fr #fanfic #svt fanfic #svt fic #seventeen #txt #fanfiction #writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writing prompt #svt x reader #txt x reader #kpop writing #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fic

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hailsatanacab · 3 months

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I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache.

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were.

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too?

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence.

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How?

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman.

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year.

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating.

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..."

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he...

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please."

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now. "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb.

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc fanfic #wip game #thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol #also huge thanks for having the prompt linked because i have S O M A N Y prompt wips that i can't ever post because i've lost the post #didn't really know how to get danny to calm down #that's a lie #i have a few ideas of where this can go but no motivation for it - not against all the other wips #i'll keep at it and ig post to ao3 should it actually start looking alright #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#dudes did u kno u can pin shit to your clipboard on desktop because i fucking love that #also if you use the windows key + . there's like emojis and shit #(((φ(◎ロ◎;)φ)))#<- and kaomoji too!!!!!#anyway that's been fun facts and fanfic with me. ur welcome #oh shit my writing tag #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #at some point 'oh shit my writing tag' will just become my writing tag #anyway thank you again for the ask #good night everyone!!!!!

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gentil-minou · 7 months

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Crow!Xian except it's a modern cultivation au where Wei Wuxian is cursed to be a crow and he spends it hanging out on Lan Wangji's balcony cawing and shouting to get his attention and save him.

lwj just trying to enjoy his morning tea on the balcony and crow!wwx screeching at him and so lwj gives him one of his biscuits and crow!wwx just looks into the camera like this wasn't what i wanted but i mean i will take it i guess and eats the biscuits happily as lwj just watches him.

he sneaks in one day because crow!wwx is smart enough to figure out how to open a sliding door and uses paint to paint the entire room and write I AM WEI YING but crows don't have the best hand eye coordination so when lwj sees it he's just like "pretty drawing crow friend" with a polite head pat that makes crow!wwx screech but also he likes it

lwj eventually figures it out when crow!wwx caws the notes to wangxian and even in the horrible screechy noise thats still somehow in tune, lwj recognizes immeadiately and is like "that crow is my wei ying."

he tries true love's kiss and like gives him a peck on the beak but it's doesn't work and crow!wwx is all huffy because his first kiss with lwj is as a crow and isnt that unfair.

(eventually they figure out the array and get him back to normal and have lots of make up kisses but every once in a while when wwx burps it comes out like a crow's caw and he jumps. lwj thinks it's cute and gives him more biscuits and kisses)

#i wasnt gonna do the xiantober prompt but the idea just wouldnt leave me #and then the video of that crow saying ni hao came up and i was like ITS A SIGN #i dont really want to write this but the idea is so fun i needed to share it #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fanfiction #wei wuxian #the untamed #lan wangji #wangxian #xiantober #mdzs musings #bushy writing

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cursedzucchini · 10 months

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Danny working as a batburger employee.

And now I know that ain't the most original thing on this website, but consider;

When Danny comes into contact with food, it gains sentience.

I mean imagine the jokerized fries coming alive trying to kill each other, bc there can be only one, before seeing the real joker and immediately forming a team to take that bitch down.

Or the poison ivy salad (I think) combining their powers together to try and kill whoever bought them.

Or the batburger hiding in the shadows.

Or like literally anything you can think of.

Just Danny, tired employee, trying to convince ppl to buy normal fries, bc if he gotta deal w the joker version one more fucking time he's burning this whole place down.

Or just trying to convince the food to stay on the plate. (And stabbing it to place if necessary)

So I'm not sure if anyone thought of this, but this is my vision ✋✨✨✨✨🤚

#batburger au #danny batburger employee #danny fenton #dcxdp #crossover #dpxdc #dpxdc writing prompt #writing prompt #like.danny just going /so you really think its ok to order something named after a guy who killed a child huh🤨🤨🤨/#jason who came to investigate /.../#idk this could be so much fun just the fries trying to beat up joker on live tv and danny jumping after them #trying to pick them up but also 'accidentaly' kicking the joker once or twice #........or maybe hes just beating him up to listen creepy clowns are creepy-#at one point i think the fries should just develop a mouth and laugh creepily #idk what im doing w my life #why

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sprout-fics · 9 months

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Humbly requesting the stay the night prompt of “wait…you’ve been here all night?” Pairing whatever. Just wanting to see this written out 💜

When you wake, the world feels like it’s trying to hammer you back unconscious.

“Shit…” You say immediately following your groan, pressing the heel of your palm to your eyes to quell the horrible pulsing pain there. The headache feels like it’s trying to carve inside your skull, and you can taste bile still on your lips, tacky in your mouth.

The hell happened last night? You think blearily, blinking in the brightness of late morning sunlight that filters through your curtains. It’s too bright, but when you twist to try and draw them closed your body aches in protest.

You try to recall the evening from the night before, recalling your giggling laughter as Soap slung an arm around your shoulder and dragged you over to the dance floor of the club. He and Gaz had belted out the lyrics to the songs, muffled by the pump of the speakers, had stumbled over to the bar and ordered more drinks. The rest is a dizzying haze of color and light, but judging from your clothes crumpled and the foul taste in your mouth, you can judge it didn’t go well.

“Fuckin hell…” You groan at a fresh wave of throbbing at your temples. Yet your stomach rumbles, empty and biting at your insides, and at last it forces you from bed, stumbling down the stairs of your flat towards the kitchen.

Yet as you enter inside you’re startled to find a gigantic, looming figure in a dark hoodie, mask bunched around his nose as he sips from a mug that seems far too small for his massive hands.

“Ghost?” You squeak in surprise, bracing in the doorway with shock clear across your face.

Ghost looks up at you, dark eyes not smudged with paint and clear behind his plain black balaclava. He doesn’t look surprised to see you at all, unlike you.

“Was beginning to wonder if you were dead.” He remarks flatly, holding your gaze for a long moment, just enough to make your cheeks burn. You’re still dressed in your clothes from last night, hair messy and makeup likely smudged to shit. Yet Ghost appears entirely nonplussed, at last turning towards the kettle.

“You don’t remember.” He observes, and when you shake your head you groan, the motion far too much for your hangover headache. He glances over his shoulder at you, nodding with meaning towards a chair at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Johnny…Gaz?” You ask as you gently lower yourself down, cradling your head in your hands.

“Probably still bollocksed.” Ghost declares, turning and leaning on the counter as the kettle simmers behind him. “They were bog-faced by the time they called me. Said you were fallen from grace, from what I could make out.”

You knew that much, can tell from the way your stomach distantly rolls with discontent. It doesn’t explain why he’s here.

“So what?” You ask, rubbing your temples. “You helped me home?”

Ghost shrugs, mouth quirking with a hint of amusement in a rare glimpse of his expression. “Held your hair while you got sick, made you drink some water, kept you from texting your ex…joking.” He supplies at your aghast expression. “Settled down on your couch to make sure you didn’t wander out into the streets.”

You blink at that, raising your head from your hands and snapping to look at him. “Wait…you’ve been here all night?”

Ghost shrugs again, but this time there’s a strange ounce of guardedness to it, like he’s reluctant to admit he kept watch.

“...and Soap and Gaz?” You venture, and that makes the wry, barely sinister smile return.

“Told ‘em to bugger off. Might have to go hunting in some alleys for them later.”

You aren’t sure whether to laugh or be horrified with the dryness of his tone, half-convinced he’s telling the truth. Before you can ask, the kettle whistles behind him and Ghost turns, pouring the hot water into a second mug.

“Bloody sergeants.” He sighs, a little irritated. “Should have never let them take you out. Can’t be trusted when they’re sloshed.”

There’s a tone there that’s frustrated, and rather than it sitting unhappily in your chest it instead makes you smile.

He was worried.

Ghost turns, sets the mug of tea on the table before you, his hand covering the top. Yet when you reach for it he doesn’t move, and you glance up to see his severe stare leveled down at you.

“No more getting pished.” Ghost tells you severely in a low murmur, and you grimace, duck your head in a rightful amount of shame.

“No more drinking with the sergeants.” You recite dutifully, and Simon huffs a sound that almost feels like a chuckle.

He stands over you, arms crossed as you blow at your tea, watches as you finish it, and you feel warm under his gaze.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #stay the night writing prompts #OK BUT I REALLY LIKED THIS ONE #I love Simon's sarcastic and kind of biting humor it's so fun to write #drabbles

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stealingyourbones · 9 months

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Short DPXDC Prompts #855

Lancer was a kid who dabbled in magic. Meeting Constantine through his band and his want to learn more magic, They got to know each other very very well. Then a crazy terrifying encounter with a devil scared Lancer so much he cut off all contact with Constantine and stopped practicing magic completely. Years and years later, Constantine is sent to Amity Park to investigate the ghost problem. He did not expect to see an old flame. Did that spark still exist? Or has it been snuffed after all their years apart?

#its so fun writing prompts for lancer. i really need to write more of them.#and more for clark but that's because i forgor to write the fellow #dpxdc #bones prompts

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sistertotheknowitall · 3 months

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My brain:

Tim, Jason, Dick and Damian arguing, their voices over-lapping each other.

Stephanie joining in: okay so the book opens up to Stepan bringing his wife a pear and she starts confronting him on his affair. I can’t remember her name right now-

Jason: Because it’s relevant information! - her name was Dolly - and if you would -

Jason stops talking and stares at Stephanie as she continues.

Steph: thank you- and meanwhile she has a sister named Katie who has just come of marriage age. So she’s like 18 right? and Stepan has a friend who wants to marry her and he’s like in his 30s, which ew, but also-

Me writing for exercise:

Stephanie Brown couldn’t say she was surprised to find the four arguing, she had fallowed the raised voice into the kitchen. She was also not surprised to quickly realized that the raised voices were arguing over nothing.

No, seriously nothing!

It was complete nonsense as Dick seemed to be defending his right as a “decent cook,” and Tim was complaining about the others hiding his coffee beans. Jason and Damian seemed to be having an actual argument but it was over the best way to effectively stab someone.

Well, Steph shrugged, might as well join in. “Okay so the book opens up to Stepan bringing his wife a pear, but she starts confronting him on his affair and he admits to multiple, I can’t remember the wife’s name right now-“

Jason, mid rant to the youngest Robin (who was also mid-sentence) answers,”Her name was Dolly for short - speaking of short, it’s no wonder you can’t angle the knife right!” The left side of his face appears to spasm before he stands up a little straighter, and quietly turns to face the still rambling blond.

Steph, on a roll, continues, “Dolly! Right! Well she has a sister! Katie has just come of marriage age, so she’s like 18 right? Well Stepan has a friend who wants to marry her and he’s like in his 30s, which ew, but also-“

Damian, having realized that Jason was no longer entertaining him, turned to see what had shifted Todd’s attention. He watched as the older girl continued, getting more animated.

“-there’s the name sake of the book Anna Karenina and her lover Vronsky. Who has the same first name - Alexei- as her husband. Like that’s just wild.”

Dick, who paused for breath during his speech of “why I should be allowed in the kitchen again” forgot what he had been about to say. Instead he asked, “wait did she call them both Alexei?”

Steph looked over, “No, she only called them both by their last names but that might have been a cultural thing or something? I don’t know! Anyways, the point-“

“No,” Jason interrupted, “she did call them both by their first name but the narrator went by last names so the reader could differentiate.” Stephanie waved her hands, “shhh, not the point, as I was saying!”

Tim, who had stopped talking right after the other teenager had joined the fray, chimed in, “you know you’re missing so many central themes. Did you mean to come in here and give us a water downed briefing of Anna Karenina?”

It was silent as Steph answered, “no, but you all were going on about meaningless things so why couldn’t I?”

“Anyway, Anna is still married, has a son, and now she’s pregnant.”

Dick gasped.

#batman #batfamily #jason todd #batboys #batman fandom #dick grayson #batman wayne family adventures #tim drake #bruce wayne #sillyposting #fic prompt #i don’t really know #stephanie brown #Steph read it for class #Jason read it for fun #batkids #anna karenina #classic literature #writing for exercise

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

Note

You know how Spiderman has 'canon events'? And how Gwen would always die? How about in every universe Duke exists in, there would always be Danny. And every time they fall in love! But whenever Duke tells/hints at him being The Signal, Danny suffers an accident or dies.

Like let's say in the DC vs Vampires universe, Duke tells Danny he's Signal and then a few days later he gets turned into a vampire and Duke has no choice but to kill him.

Or something like that yknow?

Earth 26.

The undercity is full of life. People from above refuse to understand it, staunch in their beliefs that the undercity is full of crime and sickness, drugs and filth. But the people down there are more human than any of the ones Duke has met up top.

Though Bruce Wayne can try to bring Duke in all he likes, there’s no denying that Duke doesn’t belong. His heart will always be in the undercity, where he was born and grew up and lived and lost so much.

The undercity is where Danny is.

Away from the blue skies filled with blimps, tucked beneath the towering buildings and clocktowers and elevated rails for trains leaving trails of smoke through the city, there in the cramped spaces and dark alleys, is Danny.

He ducks through familiar alleys, cutting across perilously stacked homes and hopping over railings to get to the Fenton Lab faster.

He’s been excited all day, heart thrumming with anticipation, as he returns to his roots and seeks out Danny. Today is the day he’s going to come clean, tell Danny everything: his feelings, his powers, his identity as The Signal, fighting crime in all parts of the city to keep Gotham safe. He’s sure Danny suspects something is going on with him, likely has already guessed at everything he wants to talk about, but Danny deserves the truth.

It is his inventions that help Duke save people, after all.

Finding the front door of the Fenton lab is always a challenge. Metal scraps and materials stripped from vehicles litter the front of the building from people leaving all their unwanted things with the Fentons. Miscellaneous inventions and tools are left scattered around as well, creating a labyrinth that Duke has to traverse every time he wants to see Danny while he’s working with his parents.

It takes a few minutes, but Duke manages it, pushing open the door after a quick knock.

“Danny? Are you there?”

He can hear something from the lower floor, a strange, high pitched whirring noise. His powers kick in and suddenly he can see people rushing around the room, shouting in voices that he won’t be able to hear until the time comes. He can see himself, crying.

Duke’s heart drops.

“Danny? Danny!”

He runs down the stairs, suddenly terrified that he’s too late. Something is going to happen to Danny. It has to be Danny, because no one else is home with him; that’s why Duke asked to meet in the Lab, to have some privacy while the other Fentons were out.

The noise is louder, too loud to hear over, and Duke rushes into the Lab just in time to see some strange circle of metal spark with electricity. Danny stands right before, staring up at it.

“Danny!” Duke shouts as loud as he can, and Danny startles, then turns around.

Their eyes meet just as the machine finishes turning on, the metal circle ripping open with a thunderous noise, and Duke can do nothing but watch as it sends electricity and some other energy racing through Danny’s body.

It lasts just a brief moment, and then Danny is crumpling to the ground, eyes closed as the machine settles. The swirling pit of white and green stares out at him and Duke knows without a doubt that Danny is dead. . . .

Earth 41.

Duke’s been acting strange. Well, stranger than usual.

Danny’s not one to go around poking at people’s secrets, especially not his boyfriend’s, but he knows something big is going on. He’s not worried that Duke is cheating on him, but he can see the injuries he comes back with some days, citing all the unrest and the resurgence in crimes following Batman’s death.

He wonders if Duke is going out each night for street fighting, forcing all his emotions into his fists until they’re beaten bloody. Batman’s death hit him hard, and Danny has no idea what to do to help him.

They’re both stressed, on edge and scared, but they don’t fight as much as he expected. Admittedly, it’s hard to fight where they’re always spending time apart.

No longer. Tonight, Danny is determined to get to the bottom of things so he can help Duke with whatever he’s going through. He even texted Jazz to get some tips about communication and helping someone through grief. He’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

Right at 3AM, the window slides open.

“Welcome back, Duke,” Danny says, watching as Duke flinches, then sighs as he closes the window.

“What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Well, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, I decided to hang out here and wait for you. But you’ve been gone for a long time.”

“Sorry, Danny, but I’m really tired. Can this wait?”

Anger bubbles in his gut and Danny takes a deep breath to force it down. “I’ve been waiting. If you keep pushing this conversation off, we’re never going to get anywhere.”

Duke slumps against the window, rubbing a hand against his face, looking exhausted. “Look, Danny, things have been getting real bad, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of it.”

“What’s going on, Duke? What are you so worried about?”

“It’s… The guy who killed Batman. His name is Karma, and I’ve been going after him.”

“You’ve been what?!” Danny shouts, shooting to his feet. “Duke, are you insane? Anyone who can kill Batman is bad news, there’s no way anyone short of like, Superman, can stop him! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Someone has to stop him! And I can do something to help, okay? I’ve been helping the other bats fight him. I can do this.”

Danny clenches his fists, feeling frost crack against his skin. “You could have told me,” he says. “You know I can help, too. You’re not the only one with powers.”

“I can’t endanger you like that, Danny.”

“So you leave me in the dark instead? You would have rather I wait for you forever while you never come back because you got yourself killed running into a situation you can’t get out of? You think I would have been any safer not knowing? Then clearly you haven’t been paying attention!” He’s shouting by the end of it, shaking with fear and rage and so many things it all becomes a tangled mess in his head.

“I really think we should have this conversation in the morning,” Duke says, eyeing Danny warily. It’s probably just because he’s been out all night hunting Karma, so used to being attacked while he goes out to try to save a city that even Batman couldn’t lift from the darkness, but that doesn’t stop the stab of hurt from going through his heart. Danny has done his best to be safe for Duke, to be human and comforting and strong enough to protect him.

And Duke is looking at him like he could be at threat.

“Whatever,” Danny mutters, shaking his head. “You’ll talk to me in the morning by saying nothing but how you need to do whatever this is and then you’ll leave and we’ll both be unhappy. Great. Can’t wait.”

“Danny—”

“Bye, Duke.”

Danny’s up and out of the apartment before Duke can take more than a few steps towards him. He zips up his jacket and pulls the hood over his head, taking the steps two at a time to get to street level. It’s dark and quiet outside, save for the distant police sirens, and Danny barely spares a glance around him before he’s making his own way home, sure that no one would still be out at that time.

He should have been more careful. More vigilant. Not so lost in his hurt feelings.

But there’s no time for that when he’s pulled into an alleyway, knife at his throat.

A man in a black helmet, face fully covered, stares down at him. “Well, well, well,” he purrs, digging the knife in a little deeper, “What’s the Signal’s little lover doing out so late at night?”

Signal?

…Duke. His boyfriend who always disappears in late hours, blows off dates when something big is going down in Gotham, who is trying to pick up the pieces following Batman’s death.

And here is Karma, the very man Duke is searching for, pulling Danny away into the dark.

He only has a brief moment to regret storming off, for not being more patient with Duke, for not paying attention and avoiding Karma, before the knife is pulled away, tossed into the air, and the hilt comes down hard on his temple, and it is a long, long time before he is seen again.

The Signal does not find him alive. . . .

Earth 53.

The apocalypse isn’t kind even on the best of days. But today it might be coming close to something resembling kindness as Duke approaches the skeletal remains of Gotham. It’s been years since he’s been back here, moving with the Robins across the United States just trying to survive. They’d constantly been moving, searching for other survivors and food and shelter and any sign of hope they could get.

There hadn’t been much anywhere, too much devastation across the country for anyone to even think of rebuilding. Even now, nature is just starting to recover, little green shoots pushing up through concrete rubble.

This world isn’t one for superheroes anymore. Supervillains aren’t around either. Everyone is either dead or barely getting themselves through each day; but humanity is still around and wildlife is beginning to recover.

Duke doesn’t know who’s left in Gotham these days. He suspects Oracle is still there, somewhere, helping reconnect telephone wires and setting up internet and electricity. Lights have been flickering on steadily as the Robins made their way into New Jersey and the sight lifted their spirits so much they decided to keep traveling through the night.

No one in his group has a working phone any more, but the possibility of getting that piece of the old world back excites them all.

By the time they reach the outskirts of the ruined city, the entire group is nearly buzzing with energy, speaking in hushes whispers that do nothing to hide the elation in their voices. Gotham was everyone’s home, once. They’re all happy to be back, regardless of what they’re walking into.

Duke volunteers to go scouting with a few others to find a good place to settle in for a bit as they reacquaint themselves with the city. Even before the end of the world, it was never a good idea to go blind into Gotham.

Much of the city is still abandoned, and concrete rubble carry faded graffiti that show the remains of a gang long gone. The few people he see in the distance are quick to hide and disappear and Duke himself is too wary to approach them. But as he gets closer to the heart of Gotham, picking his way through destroyed streets, he sees more and more signs of life, people who don’t hide, weak lights in hastily constructed shelters.

No one attacks him as he wanders closer. In fact, a few exchange nervous glances then approach him, quietly asking if he’s coming from outside Gotham and what news he brings of the outside world.

Duke tells them about how Chicago is gone completely, unable to be saved at all, but there are settlements all along the shores of the Great Lakes. He tells them of the traveling groups he’s met who rotate through a few chosen states and are willing to take in new members. He tells them of someone who has an entire farm up and running again, full of chickens and cows and sheep and goat and horses, on top of all the crop they can grow. The location of the farm is kept secret and carefully protected, but they give away seeds and young animals for anyone wanting to raise their own.

The news gathers more and more people around Duke, eager to listen, and they’re more than happy to update Duke on what’s happened in Gotham.

The Bats aren’t around as much anymore, but at least two of them are still in Gotham, helping people from the shadows. They’re fixing everything up as best they can, and most people live in or around Robinson Park where Ivy, who survived, grows food and shelter for everyone in exchange for protection and companionship. The Riddler turned from making death traps and taking hostages to creating new technology and inventions to make life a little easier, taking in a crew of assistants to learn from him.

That is to say nothing of the ghosts.

Gotham is full of them now, walking among the living as if they never died. They help people and stick with loved ones who lost them and fly through the air to deliver things with ease. It’s nothing that Duke has ever seen before, and he wonders how many people who died in the apocalypse chose to stay in such a ruined world.

He begins to head back to the Robins, mind racing with everything he’s learned, when he sees Danny.

Danny, his friend once, who he loved dearly and didn’t quite realize it was deeper than friendship until after the world ended. Danny, who was always sleepy and soft and smiling, cracking bad jokes and lifting Duke’s spirits whenever he felt down. Danny, who was lively and dreamed of going to space to sit among the stars.

Danny, who is dead.

He never got the chance to tell Danny he was the Signal, but he thinks Danny knew anyways. He could ask now, put that lingering thought to rest, but it was one of the few things left unsaid between them, the only thing he had of Danny for all these years, and he doesn’t want to let go of it yet.

Danny hasn’t seen him yet. Duke could go to him, speak to his ghost, have some part of him back in his life.

But it wouldn’t be the same. It certainly wouldn’t be fair to tie Danny, who is free from the pain and misery of the living, to Duke, who is never going to stay in Gotham permanently.

He misses Danny so much he feels hollowed out and empty, but he knows this is for the best.

Duke turns, pretending not to see him, and walks away. . . .

Earth 78.

Duke was…

Duke was important to him, Danny thinks. He can’t remember much, not after everything (electricity, screaming, pain pain pain, heavy darkness, a spark, hist chest cut open, where is ___? Why won’t he save—) but without any memory of what his life was like back then, his feelings are without context and easily ignored.

Wraith follows Shrike from a distance, watching as he drops into an alley to kill a rapist. Wraith feels nothing about this, for caring is not in his duties. He is instructed to simply keep Shrike alive and assist in his plans, whatever they may be. Wraith does not care about killing.

Danny, tucked away deep inside the mask, shivers and cries, wishing to hide away and say enough, please, that’s enough, just stop please stop stop stop stop—

Batman crosses the rooftops, a figure of darkness across the city’s skies. The Signal, his second oldest companion, travels through the shadows by his side until they land on the building Wraith stands on.

The yellow of Signal’s armor is familiar and it feels safe but Wraith knows better. Talia and Ra’s have taught him to see past his emotions, to force away any sentiment and grapple with the cold hard truth. This is the truth: they are here to hurt him and Shrike, because they are dangerous killers and dangerous killers are dealt with swiftly and painfully in Gotham.

They can do as they please to him. They will not take Shrike.

He engages Batman in battle first, easily slipping past his defense by going intangible, freezing his boots to the ground and icing his fists together. The Signal slips away at first, leaving Batman behind to try to get around Wraith, sending shadows towards Shrike who leaps away deftly, dodging them with ease as he leaves the beheaded body behind.

Wraith grabs Signal before he can fully sink into a shadow and tosses him back, then flies to Shrike, picking him up and getting them away as quickly as possible.

“They found us faster than I thought,” Shrike says. His voice carries something in it that Wraith doesn’t recognize, but it makes his heart feel heavy.

“We’re done for the night,” Wraith returns, voice low and hoarse. He died screaming and even the Lazarus Pits weren’t able to fix the damage done to his vocal chords.

He lets his invisibility wash over them both, and they disappear into the night. The safehouse they set up, far away from the one Talia prepared for them, is small but comfortable. It’s secure, everything created and coded by Tim, which means Danny can relax inside the walls of the small apartment.

Shrike helps him shed his gear, putting it away carefully. Wraith becomes Danny and he watches as Shrike becomes Tim.

Gone is the ruthless efficiency, the quickness to cut down the scum of Gotham without remorse. Instead, he’s pale and tired, eyes still a faint green from the linger remains of the Lazarus Pit that brought him back from the dead, but there is no madness in him. Only a coldness that came long before his death, unwanted by Damian, the first of Batman’s vigilante partners, who refused to see him as part of the family or even as a hero at all. Duke had already gone to work with other teams since then and never met Tim properly for more than a few minutes.

But he knew Danny. They must have been close. If seeing The Signal sends such a sharp stab of pain in his heart, it must be for a reason. But the memories are long gone, and with them, any desire to be close to him again.

They never do well after a run in with the Bats. Though they have won every fight they’ve had, Tim often retreats to bed in order to hide his tears and Danny is left alone, lost, and wishing he had stayed dead.

Tonight is no different. Tim is making a difference as Shrike, striking fear in the hearts of Gotham’s criminals. Crime has gone down in Crime Alley, his chosen territory of the city, killing as many people as needed before they finally get the message to be better people. Tim is also still only eighteen and had spent three years with the League of Assassins before returning to Gotham and seeing that his place in the Bats is erased and forgotten and replaced by the well-loved Jason.

He only stays in Gotham to kill the people who sold him off to the Joker and laughed as he died slowly and painfully. Once the Joker is dead, he’ll leave Gotham and disappear for good.

Danny will follow him. He has no life now and no other direction. And with Tim hiding under the covers, Danny can do nothing but feel his own skin crawl at the need to get away from everything that connects him to his life Before.

It’s a terrible idea, but he goes out again, heading into Otisberg, where he once lived. Only a raised hood conceals his face; the expressionless mask he usually wears is gone, and Wraith feels far away from him.

He hears the Signal land behind him some time later. It could be minutes or hours; time slips by Danny easily these days no matter how hard he tries to hold onto the minutes passing by.

“Wraith,” Signal says, and his voice is hard. “Where’s Shrike? Out terrorizing the rest of Gotham?”

Danny doesn’t reply. He stares out into the city lights, a cold emptiness growing inside his chest.

“Well, if you’re going to just sit there, then I suppose you don’t mind if I take you in to let Batman interrogate you. You’ve been causing a lot of trouble around here, and we don’t take kindly to murderous masks in Gotham.”

He doesn't resist as Signal grabs his wrists, hauling him up from where he was sitting on the ledge. Danny allows Signal to turn him around, shadows binding his wrists together and pulling down his hood.

The Signal sucks in a sharp breath, hands falling limp to his side. “Danny?”

Danny doesn’t respond.

“This better not be a joke, I swear to God. If you’re just wearing his face to fuck with me, I’m going to kill you, Batman’s rules be damned. Say something already!”

Danny looks up into the visor of Signal’s helmet. He opens his mouth and a hoarse whine slips out. “I knew you,” he manages to whispers. “I knew you. And then I died.”

The Signal flinches, then reaches up and pulls his helmet off. “Tell me something only we would know. Anything.”

“I don’t… remember. I wanted you to save me. I don’t think you did.”

“If this isn’t really you, Danny,” Duke says, voice thick with tears, “Then it’s a really fucked up joke.”

Danny looks at Duke, helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What to say. Wraith only knows how to follow and protect and take orders. Danny doesn’t know how to live anymore. There is nothing he can do.

And then, as he stares as Duke, a memory slides into place, fuzzy but there.

“Arcade on eighth street,” he whispers, and Duke’s eyes go wide. “That was going to be our first date.”

“It was,” Duke says. There’s a light in his eyes now, something that looks like hope and the sight of it makes Danny sick to his stomach.

“I’m dead, Duke. Danny is dead. There is only Wraith now. Let the dead go, and stay away so we don’t have to kill you. I… want you to live.”

The shadows have loosened, still wrapped around his wrists but as a caress instead of a restraint. It doesn’t take any strength to pull out of them and drop off the roof, falling towards the ground. Danny lets gravity take hold of him for a few moments, then goes invisible and flies away just as Duke grapples down and searches for him desperately.

He can hear Duke calling his name, then calling in Batman and Nightwing, but his voice fades away before Danny can make out what they’re saying.

Not that it matters. Whether tomorrow or further down the line, he and Tim will leave Gotham and disappear for good.

The dead cannot stay with the living, and so they will go.

There’s nothing left for them here, anyways. . . .

Earth 0.

Duke has had his fair share of strange dreams. It comes with the trauma and the powers, a terrible mix that leave him shaken and rattled when he wakes up, gasping for breath.

But instead of fear, his latest series of dreams leave him with a deep-seated feeling of grief. The details fade away quickly once he’s awake, but he can remember bits and pieces of worlds that looks so different from the one he lives in, and all of them have a single constant: Danny.

Danny, whose face he never remembers when he wakes. Danny, whose name is permanently etched into his mind. Danny, who he loves and loses every single night.

Danny, someone he’s never met.

Dick asks him if he’s alright the next time he’s in Gotham, eating breakfast in the manor with him and Tim. He considers lying, then tells him about the dreams and how frequent they are, snapshots of other lives where there is someone important to him that he can never save. Tim, who he thought was sleeping with his eyes half open, looks up and mumbles that it might be another universe.

After a few cups of coffee, Tim is awake enough to ramble on about the multiverse, pulling up reports from the Batcomputer on his phone to show Duke how many of them have had run ins with alternate universes.

“So you’re saying that Danny might be here? In this world?”

Tim shrugs. “Well, maybe. If he’s the only constant, then I wouldn’t be surprised. If you’re here, so is he.”

“But he always dies!”

“Don’t worry, Duke,” Dick says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “If you do find him, then you’ve got all of his to help keep him safe.”

“Do you want me to find him? If you give me a description, I can probably narrow it down to a few people in the United States. One of them might be him.”

Duke considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah, thanks though. If we’re supposed to meet, then we will. No point in rushing it.”

“Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.”

And that had been that. Nothing to really worry about, but the dreams continue and Duke keeps waking up grieving and so love with Danny, carrying the feelings of his alternates over to his own reality. At some point, he wishes that he and Danny would never cross paths in this world, if only so he doesn’t have to lose him.

But he wants to meet him. The universe says Danny is important to him; why else would he be part of his life in every world?

The thought never leaves him. It’s always in the back of his mind as he goes about his life, going to school and fighting crime. He finds himself lingering in the streets, trying to see everyone’s faces, listening for that familiar voice.

It takes over a year before he hears someone say, “Danny!” as he’s patrolling as Signal.

He bends the light around him, going invisible, and searches for the people shouting the name of the person he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. It takes some time, but his eyes land on a tall, red haired woman fussing over a boy with black hair and blue eyes, leaning down some so she could reach his face.

He can’t hear what they say with the distance between them, but he knows with absolute clarity that he’s looking at Danny.

His Danny.

Duke takes a step forward, ready to drop his invisibility, letting the light escape his grasp, the pauses when he sees the bright smile on his face.

This Danny is safe. He is alive and laughing and is with someone he cares about.

This Danny has a life and a future and as much as Duke wants to know why his alternate selves love Danny so much, it isn’t worth Danny’s life.

Heart breaking, Duke steps back and watches as they walk away, disappearing into the crowded streets.

He stares after them long after they’ve disappeared from sight, then grapples to a rooftop and releases his hold on the light. He sinks to his knees, trying to breathe through the grief that runs through him, and taps a pattern into his comms to signal that he’s ending his patrol early.

It’s fine, he tells himself. This is for the best. This will keep Danny alive.

Danny always dies because of Duke. Someway, somehow, whenever they meet, the bell tolls and Danny’s death quickly approaches. It happens in every world, in the many, many dreams he’s had looking into a moment of their lives.

But not this one.

In this one, Duke will save Danny by doing the only thing he can: making sure they never meet.

It’s for the best. It has to be. . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #this was sooo fun to write i love multiverses and reincarnation and things like that #dont know much abt dc multiverses so i looked them up and did numbers that werent listed in the wiki #in order its:#steampunk. karma kills batman au. post apoc. reverse robins. and then canon #hope you enjoy!! i really enjoyed writing this and the reverse robins one has my mind spinning with ideas #thank you for the prompt!!

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youssefguedira · 3 months

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@materassassino sent me a prompt but in my exhaustion and lack of brain cells i answered the ask without writing the actual thing and then deleted it so. oops.

but the prompt was extremely sleepy Nicky is different from normal Nicky, so have a very silly little thing

"Leave him alone," Joe is saying without any real annoyance, "it's the deepest he's slept in weeks." He's in one of the armchairs, ignoring the book on his lap in favour of Andy, who's perched on the arm of the couch.

When Nile gets close enough to see over the back of the couch she has to blink a couple times: it's Nicky, completely passed out, currently with three books balanced on his chest while Andy holds a fourth. They rise and fall as he breathes. He's completely dead to the world.

"Is he asleep?" Nile asks, because she still can't quite believe that Nicky, of all people, is sleeping through that. Andy places the fourth book with careful precision and reaches for a fifth.

The thing is, Nicky has a hair trigger for being woken up. Nile learned this a week after meeting him, when she startled him by walking into the living room of their most recent safehouse while he was sleeping on the couch (on watch, but she'd forgotten) and he'd already been reaching for the gun on the side table before she realised he was even there, and then he'd apologised for the gun thing, and told her he hadn't "learned what her footsteps sound like" yet.

After a while he'd stopped going for the weapons whenever she surprised him, but he'd still wake at the slightest sound. Andy's got a similar thing going, but she's a little bit slower, whereas Joe does wake fast, but definitely isn't all the way alert the way Nicky is.

She'd wondered if it was down to what happened in Goussainville, but when she'd finally worked up the courage to ask, because she was starting to wonder if he ever actually slept properly, Joe had just laughed and said he'd always been like that.

But once Andy had decided that the loose ends from Merrick had been sufficiently tied up, she'd called for a couple weeks of downtime, and before that Nicky had been on recon duty, sleeping even less and even worse than usual. So she's not surprised he's sleeping: she's surprised he's still asleep.

"Pass me a couple more," Andy says to Joe, who sighs, but does grab two from nearby and pass them over.

Nile looks between them, and then at Nicky. "That's not gonna wake him up?"

Joe chuckles. "Not when he's like this," he says. "He won't wake for another hour or two. Definitely not until dinner."

Nile blinks at him. Joe, sure, she could believe. Andy, too - Nile's pretty sure she sleeps more during the day than she does at night. She's almost as bad as Nicky for lurking in dark rooms at night. But Nicky?

"He doesn't do this very often," Joe explains. "But the rest of us are awake, and everything's dealt with, for now, so he's comfortable enough."

"Booker built an entire house of cards on him, once," Andy says. "Record for books is, what, nineteen?"

"Eighteen," Joe says. "2012."

Andy places a sixth book and reaches for a seventh. Nile thinks for a moment.

"Only eighteen?" she says.

Andy's grin can only be described as wicked. "That's the spirit," she says. "Pass me another."

Nicky wakes at twenty-one, prompting the entire pile to crash onto the floor, which makes him scramble upright until his brain comes all the way back online, at which point he clocks why the three of them are laughing so hard there are tears in Joe's eyes, and curses them out in five languages.

But he's smiling while he does it, all the same.

#neon writes #the old guard #back on the bus. so #neon answers #materassassino #spiritually if not actually. hope you enjoyed this this was a lot of fun!!#hoping i remembered the prompt right. hit post instead of save draft hope that didn't give you a really weird notification

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spielzeugkaiser · 2 years

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[First Part] - [second]

Baby (who still has no name) is warming up to Geralt, who also starts to connect some dots. (Like, I think he suspects that he's Jaskiers son, adopted or otherwise, but he won't even humor the idea that he could be the dad.) That being said - the kid is an angry teenager sometimes. Jaskier tried all he could as a single parent and they have a very loving relationship, but I also think they do argue quite a bit, and there is some tension.

And the more he gets to learn how Geralt truly is the weirder is gets, cause. He's a good guy? And either Jaskier is petty and was too dramatic and kept him from meeting his dad for nothing, or Geralt isn't a good guy AT ALL and has hurt Jaskier really bad, and he doesn't think Geralt has it in him, but some people (and especially alphas) get really weird and archaic around omegas? And he had to witness again and again, with how little respect his unbonded, single father of a bastard child was treated - is Geralt like that too? But Jaskier still only ever talked somewhat kindly about him. And from all he saw... he trusts Geralt. He's a quiet, but witty and honorable man. But is it fair to doubt the parent that was there for him, that raised him, that sacrificed so much for him? The poor kid is so conflicted.

#please tell me your headcanons and prompts about this 'verse it's just vibes so far and like 10% plot #geraskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #ciri #omegaverse #geraskier lovechild #jaskier #i don't know where this came from #but I imagined the kid as quite sickly (which is ironic) - Geralt does not really remember that he was sick as a child all the time too #also I do think Jaskier can play the lute but it's no fun for his fingers and he switched to other stuff over the years #I'm quite sure that Jaskier kept a low profile after the Rience incident because he was TERRIFIED by the thought what could have happened #also I really wanted to look at this with a kind of more realistic lense when it comes to parentage #and Jaskier did all the things right where it counts #He's loving he's emotional open he communicates - but would Jaskier always be a reliable parent? a structured one? an easily available one?#I don't think so #professor Jaskier can work for hours on end and forget to get you on time from your play date so you have to awkwardly wait and #he forgets to cook and to wash and it's always messy and once he writes he writes and gets annoyed when interrupted #but he also tells bedtime stories and stays at your bedside when you're ill and plays with you when you moved AGAIN and have no friends yet #he's easily pulled into arguments but also knows how to apologise #but he lies again and again #and he tells heroic and brave and honourable stories about your dad but still has a chest with your unsend letters and looks so so sad #when you put another one in his hands #and he never tells you to stop but doesn't send them and you know your Papa would be too kind to ask you to stop #ALSO #I think the kid is old enough to understand some of the inherent consent issues that are rampant in omegaverse #and while I imagined that 'verse here a bit tuned down #I think that the kid has seen and heard some shit! and what if Jaskier in only talking kindly of Geralt to soften the blow for him and-#kid is 100% ready to break Geralts nose if it turned out that he forced himself on his pa #(which he did not ofc but nobody communicates here)

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popponn · 8 months

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call you later; 2.

notes: what if you didn't pick up their call? they left a voicemail, in their own ways. so we still got uh... aryu chigirin and im considering reo. idk who else will come later but i had fun writing this!! character: itoshi rin, bachira meguru. [ part 1 : isagi, sae, nagi ]

itoshi rin

What did you do? This guy is the type to only left anything if it’s urgent, about nii-chan, or about football. Other than that high chances are they are actual death threats and you are not an exception.

Though, he can not deny that you are sort of his favorite in a way—won't admit that to your face too, though. That’s why he even bothers calling you and not just left a message or tell some poor soul to call you instead. While he probably feels a bit irked that you didn’t pick up, he will save the nagging when he finally met you face to face later. And even then, most of teammates will clarify that rather than nagging it’s more like his way of asking for your extra attention. It’s adorable, if you ignore the fact that the next movie night will definitely without a doubt would have to be a horror movie night just to cheer him up. Prayers and thoughts, if you dislike horror.

The message he will left is exactly like him, in a way. Rude, doesn’t have many words, but if you squints you could hear what sounds like a caring nosiness. While he isn’t the type to suddenly get clingy because of one unpicked-up call or thing about it too much, call him back soon as you can even if he didn’t say or rush you to do so. Would never say it to your face, but having you around him calms him down a lot and that includes your voice.

“Where are you right now?” Rin sounds like he was angry, as usual. “You better not be picking up problems left and right or I swear I will—”

A background noise that sounds like a chirpy teasing interrupted him, reminding him not to be so scary, which Rin replied with a snarling growl, “Shut up! And that wasn’t for you—I got a match so you better fucking watch it and fucking message me where you are while you are at it. I will get you home later so you better wait for me or else…..that’s all. Later. Next time don’t just go somewhere without telling me, stupid.”

bachira meguru

Do you know how long of a voice message can someone left on an unpicked up call? If you don’t you will find out soon.

He probably would not really question why you are not picking up, but mostly because whenever you got separated he will always call you in the most ungodly timing possible just for chatting. Somehow. So, at this point, it has become more of a norm for you to not pick up and just call him again later. He is not being nosy, it’s just more of how he expresses his love—sharing literally everything with you. This has led to several one-sided awkwardness from your part between you and some of his teammates, but hey Bachira Meguru’s Hottest Soccer Gossips is a very important segment in your daily life with him.

Which being said, yeah, get ready. He will talk into the phone as if you were there replying to him—and indeed he always manage to predict how you will react. Listening to his voicemail during work is a good replacement for podcasts and such as in case you are bored by them. Though, sometimes, when he is in a rush and have to keep the message shorter than usual, it’s really sweet! He rarely manage to remind you to call him back though, as it feels like norm for you to do so. Don’t forget it, so you don’t get a Bachira Meguru species asking to be carried around for the whole day on the next holiday. He has muscles and those things are not light.

“So, so, so!” Meguru began with his chirpy voice, not leaving any greeting as usual. “Today Isagi and Chigirin kind of clowned and I really, really want to tell you that story—but I gotta go fast, so I will tell you at home later, okay?” Meguru worded out each word in a rushed manner, akin to an excited buzzing bee waiting to run somewhere with skips in his steps and ball for him to dribble.

“Last night I dreamt about Zico so I will definitely win today! But I also dreamt you were there bundled up because you got a fever. Not like I’m complaining if I get to take care of you with my specials, but stay healthy, ‘kay, ‘kay?” Meguru said, jokingly yet dotting. Then, immediately, he continued, “Oh, well! That’s all—I will call again later or you could! So, see ‘ya, Lovely! Love you! Muuuach!”

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minnesota-fats · 1 year

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DeadSerious AU where Danny and Damien become friends, even after their rocky start where Damien threatened Danny’s life (laughable for someone who is already dead) because Danny looked like someone he knew when he was younger who disappeared without warning. Danny is just confused when this kid at his new school comes up to him and starts shouting at him in Arabic.

This can be a runaway Danny au or Jazz taking Danny and movie to Gotham after their folks found out and reacted badly au or even a supportive Fenton parents au. Either way, Danny is school friends with Damien.

Anyway, at first Damien finds Danny annoying but as time goes on Danny starts to develop feelings for Damien and thus starts to act differently. Damien can’t help but recognize this and be reminded of the person who helped guide him during his time in the league and made sure he survived the harsh reality of being raised by assassins. Someone who he convinced himself was only an imaginary friend until Danny started going to his school in Gotham.

One day Danny gets a visit from Clockwork, who sends him on a mission to guide and protect the heir of the demon head, to make sure he survives his harsh upbringing by being his imaginary friend. When asked why, clockwork just tells him that “the heir of the demon head is an important figure in the future that—just like yourself, connect the land of the living and the Infinite Realms.”

Danny doesn’t know what he is expecting, but a baby Damien isn’t one of them. Danny pops in through Damien’s childhood both in ghost and human form. At first Danny only tries to appear in just ghost form but after something bad happened to Damien and his green eyes scared him a little too much Danny breaks down and turns human. Eventually Danny has to go back to his own timeline and now knows why Damien acted the way he did when they first met.

Danny gets home and has a heart to heart with Damien where everything is revealed: from Danny now knowing a lot about Damian’s past (including that he is “the son of the bat”) to Damian saying he knew Danny was a ghost the whole time. As well as their feelings for each other.

Meanwhile clockwork is watching with a smile knowing exactly what he did!

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hailsatanacab · 1 year

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"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"

Ok then.

Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.

His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.

Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.

Chaos.

love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!

(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)

——

"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."

"Superman can—"

"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"

"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."

"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.

Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.

Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.

"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."

It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.

Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"

"Nightwing, please."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."

For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.

"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."

Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.

"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."

"Nightwing—"

"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.

The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.

It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.

John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.

The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.

Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.

The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.

Too late to back out now, though.

Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.

When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.

Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.

Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.

Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.

The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.

What?

There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.

As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.

"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"

It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.

What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?

As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.

The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."

"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."

"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"

"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"

"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"

"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"

"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"

"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.

As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.

"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.

Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.

Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.

"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."

What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.

All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.

"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."

Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?

After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"

They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"

"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"

"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."

"Thank you for that, Hood."

"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."

Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.

Constantine feels like doing the same thing.

Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.

Yeah, he'll do that one.

But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.

"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"

There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."

"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.

At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.

"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"

"It's a deal."

No hesitation at all, incredible.

Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.

An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.

"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.

But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.

"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"

"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...

But.

It all suddenly clicks for John.

The Ghost King Phantom.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.

Jazz.

"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"

The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.

#dpxdc #danny phantom crossover #danny phantom x batman #hoooolllyyy mackeral #it was hubris thinking i could keep anything to five sentences really wasn't it?#fucking played myself with that didn't i???#anyway here's even more words on this i hope you enjoy!!#some things that didn't make it in:#duke doesn't come to see danny because he's too bright when he's in his ghost form and it gives him a migraine - he still plays the game #though and is second closest!#damian is there he's just biding his time. it's become a tradition for damian to try and stab danny whenever he turns up #he hasn't managed it yet but danny keeps encouraging him to try again! you'll get me next time champ!#it infuriates damian to no end - no he's not doing it because he's having fun he legitimately wants to kill him shut up!#danny loves cass so much and when they do all get together they always sit together - it often ends up with cass curling up around danny #ellie turns up every now and then! she's like an honourary wayne at this point #she's always down for any pranks and shenanigans #thank you for the prompt!! it was very fun. as you can see i got rather carried away haha #thank you i hope you enjoyed it!!!#my writing #cab writes

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