dreamofarunawayland

[dreamofarunawayland]

Petit enfant de dieu, c'etait tôt quand nous avons dû dire adieu. Créé à partir du sperme de ton père, grandi dans le ventre de ta mère. Tu n'avais même pas 7 mois quand ils ont dû t'emmener dehors.

Noah est ton nom, et ta mère ta bien aimé, tout ta famille l'a fait, même si certains d'entre nous n'ont jamais eu l'opportunité de te connaître.

Quand ils m'ont dit ce qui s'est passé, à qui j'ai immédiatement pensé c'était ta mère.

Et quand je t'ai vu être enterré, j'ai décidé que je pleurerais, pas uniquement pour toi. Mais pour ta mère et tes sœurs. Qui souffraient déjà plus qu'elles laissaient paraître.

Mais laissez-moi vous dire que vous n'étiez pas un accident, vous étiez désiré par une femme d'une quarantaine d'années qui a obstinément risqué sa santé pour que vous ayez une meilleure chance de survie. Une femme qui imaginait déjà comment tu grandirais avec ton cousin, du presque la même âge que tu devrais être, comme frères.

Et je veux te remercier, d'exister, de vivre plus que prévu, et plus que tout, de mourir dans les bras de ta mère. Ta mère, dont la plus grande peur était d'apprendre que tu étais mort dans son ventre.

J’ai entendu dire que cet événement va être utilisé comme exemple d’une phrase qui se trouve apparemment dans la Bible : les justes paient pour les péchés du pécheur. Je n'aime pas.

[dreamofarunawayland]

Today, for the first time, I went to the psychologist, due to my lack of sociability.

Anyway, at the end, my dad asked me how I felt, and I didn't know how to explain. At the moment I told him that I felt like a bucket had just overflowed, but I want to try to be more specific.

It's like a glass, a glass full of water, so full it's almost overflowing, it doesn't spill if let alone, but the psychologist grabs the glass, carefully, because she doesn't know if it's fragile, but doesn't know that it was so full of water, or maybe she does.

So the water spills, the water runs, and wets the previously dry surface of the glass, but does not spills in the table for me to clean up and try to do something about it, she is used to prevent the water from touching the table. She is used to test the waters. And I am a glass that spills just by trying to lift.

Also got vaccinated against the flu.

[dreamofarunawayland]

DP x DC prompt.

I'm getting in on this shit *cracks knuckles* I have a few different prompts I may post. Some may be all out story ideas.

This one is a mash-up of multiple prompts and fanfics I have read.

So basicly, the accident left Danny with a ton of issues, both mentally and physically. He stutters sometimes, has a few mobility issues, and sometimes he just aches so bad he can't get out of bed. That mixed with the slow heartbeat, shallow breathing, and pale skin of a halfa, he almost seems like one hella sick kid.

His secret gets revealed and instead of his parents hurting him they just tell him to leave and never come back (i love a good vivisection fic, but i personally like to imagine they can't bring themselves to do it). Danny kinda becomes homeless and lives in his car for a bit. He eventually (somehow) learns he is adopted and goes to find his birth parents.

His dad is... you guessed it! Bruce Wayne! He goes to confront him with multiple forms of evidence and Bruce just SHUTS DOWN. He rejects Danny (probably out of fear and regret for not being there for him, again this is based on multiple prompts). Danny, degected, goes back to live in his car. Unbeknownst to him though, the bat kids had been listening in and decided to make Danny part of their family one way or another. So they try everything to get him to stay in Gotham.

Eventually they start to notice the 'medical' issues, they learn of the accident, and see that his grades and attendence in school dropped. Naturally, as any bat clan member does, they connect the dots and think "holy shit, this kid is dying and he just wanted to know his birth family"

Now everyone is pissed at Bruce for rejecting him, Bruce feels worse and and hides away MORE, and Danny is wondering why his step siblings are suddenly far sweeter, but also more protective and worried about him.

[dreamofarunawayland]

It's 2 in the morning, I'm remembering something funny. On a school trip, one in which we were taken across the country to France, we were staying in a backpacker hostel, the kind where you only arrive with a backpack and they end up in large groups.

We were having dinner, or maybe lunch, and as one does, you sit with friends to talk and if there's TV, you watch it. The funny part starts when we started watching the commercials. We had noticed that some were made with artificial intelligence, and we talked about it.

There was one in particular that caught our attention; it was something about cars and in one scene there were flames. We looked at it and there was simply something that seemed just off, but we couldn't find anything that indicated it could be artificial intelligence, since it could be that it was just a highly edited commercial, and that's why it looked that way.

So my friends start talking amongst themselves, I keep watching TV, and the man from the commercial appears, suddenly I see that he has an extra pinky finger, but I didn't even think before telling them and what I said was "he has five fingers!", turns out my brain didn't count the thumb as a finger.

But the funny thing isn't just my mistake, it's how everyone else is like "he has 5 fingers?!" "I knew something was off!" and it's not until one of my friends is like ".....how many fingers do you have on your hand?" that we realize.

I corrected myself afterwards and everything, but it seemed so funny at the time, and it makes me smile to remember it.

[dreamofarunawayland]

My father's secretary

Danny Fenton did not expect to be secretary material but after 7 years of being a hero and having Jazz as his elder sister, he was damn good at it. He needed a job, he knew that, and Wayne Enterprises was willing to hire a 21 year old taking online college classes for aerospace engineering.

And he was fucking thankful for that cause Mr. Wayne was pretty neat and bought him good food and coffee whenever he looked out of it. Half his family were already in Gotham with only his parents in Amity. They were finally reformed and now their research finally advocated for the rights of ghosts and spread awareness on their culture. Good for them.

Jazz and Dante were in Arkham working as a psychologist and guard. Elle was still in school, enrolled into Gotham Academy once Vlad insisted on paying her tuition. To be fair, he was paying for Danny's tuition too.

But back to his secretary duties. His boss was Bruce Wayne, yes, but he did often work with the man's son and the current CEO. Tim was nice and had the same caffeine addiction as him. (Jazz highly discouraged this friendship in case they both made a monstrosity of coffee and energy drinks.)

But Mr. Wayne was the best. He was rather clumsy and a bit airheaded but he was the best fucking boss he could ever ask for. The man's paternal instincts were on point and Danny was almost intimidated when the man started handing him extra cash whenever Danny came to the office looking more tired than usual. When that failed, Mr. Wayne resorted to giving him more material things.

Now, he doesn't want to take advantage of this ridiculously kind man with a lack of self preservation (God, was this what Jazz felt about him?). But Mr. Wayne had given him this amazing coffee maker and then proceeded to give Danny the best toaster ever. And Danny has always been known to resolutely be against Billionaires adopting him. But Mr. Wayne?

Danny had honed his back talking skills to perfection to talk down arrogant elites that kept demanding for his boss. He mastered his customer service voice and that condescending look he saw the receptionists give people like they were tantruming toddlers. Danny was ready to fight for that man (Vlad was choking somewhere as the Fentons worriedly look at him).

Jason has heard about Danny Fenton a couple of times. Tim, Dick, and Bruce had mentioned him a lot. Bruce's new secretary that looked like he'd woken up from a coma and was comparable to a grumpy cat on his best days. He's seen the guy a couple times, noticed how he was almost as tall as Jason. Honestly, he kinda looked like a twig (but then that was because of Danny's suit that he made sure didn't completely fit him).

Seriously. Danny was willing to fucking fight anyone and everyone for Bruce Wayne.

The guy was strange. Very strange. Especially when the pits seemed to either become frantic or calm whenever he was around. It depended on the situation really, but mostly the pits grew calmer around Fenton. Like a cat that finally saw its favorite person. It was so weird.

He was drawn to Fenton, sometimes finding himself walking towards the man before he snaps out of it.

It's on this day where Danny was by Bruce's side, a stylus and tablet in hand. He was furiously tapping away at his phone, cursing under his breath about bothersome and stuck up cialiteses.

"Jason!" Bruce happily greets, "Don't mind Danny for a bit. He's telling of some investors for trying to meddle with the company. Tim is too sleep deprived to handle it."

"Where is Tim?"

"Danny threatened to throw the company's coffee maker out the window if he doesn't take a nap." Bruce chuckles, glancing fondly at his fiesty secretary. "Danny?"

"Give me a minute, Mr. Wayne. Some people are trying to squeeze into your schedule when I specifically told them that they can't." Danny says, clearly irritated but looks at Bruce with an apologetic gaze. "No—Mr. Luthor, neither Mr. Drake nor Mr. Wayne are available on that day—"

And it dissolved into Danny telling of what Jason assumes was Lex Luthor to stop his attempts. In other words, corporate for Fuck off.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jason humms as he follows Bruce down the hall, glancing at the tired employees that looked utterly exhausted and horrifically motivated. "Looks like adoption bait."

"Unfortunately, Danny is a very much against Billionaires adopting him. His godfather is one and has attempted multiple times." Bruce sighs, feigning a sorrowful look as he sends Danny a small pout. "What did you do when he tried the fifth time again?"

"I blew up his car, Mr. Wayne." Danny nonchalantly says, "But that only made him want to adopt me more."

Jason blinks, baffled before he's laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation.

"That sounds similar to—"

Gunshots tore through the air as people immediately screamed. At the entrance of the building was the Joker in all his insanity, guns blazing. Jason froze, sucking in a deep breath as he took one step back. They weren't in costume, they weren't the Red Hood and Batman in that moment.

"Nightwing, Robin, and Spoiler are on their way." Oracle says through the comms but that doesn't comfort him in the slightest.

It's chaos in moments and people are ducking their heads to avoid the bullets. Jason and Bruce look right at each other, taking cover as bullets ruin the walls and furniture. But Bruce is dragged from his spot, pulled towards the Joker who laughs maniacally as he pressed a gun against Bruce's head.

"Mr. Wayne!" Many people yell as they all stared in horror as the Joker threatens Gotham's beloved prince.

Jason immediately remembers an explosion and a crowbar.

(Reminder, Danny Fenton was very much ready to go to war for Bruce Wayne).

A tablet and a stylus was suddenly shoved into his arms. Jason blinks, turning to Danny who tugs at his tie and rummages through the counter for something. The Joker sees this, clearly irritated.

"You! Eyes on me!" The Joker practically demands, hysterical that not everyone was paying attention.

Danny apparently doesn't give a damn before looking the Joker straight in the eye.

"Eyes in me." Danny repeats.

A second later something was thrown and a cutter was cutting through the Joker's eye.

Jason gaped at the seemingly harmless secretary, unable to comprehend that this man had just thrown a fucking cutter into the Joker's eye.

Bruce is set free.

Everyone is frozen in place.

Everyone watched as Bruce Wayne's tired and overworked secretary beats the shit out of the Joker, saying something about how he wasn't going to lose a good boss.

No one particularly knows what to do once Danny pulls out the cutter with the Jokers blood and... Fucking shit, was that his eyeball?!

Dick and Damian arrived at some point, also too shocked to do anything. When Danny was done and satisfied, with the Joker still alive, groaning and whimpering from the pain that Danny inflicted.

As if he hadn't almost killed the Joker, Danny turns to them with a tired smile.

"Mr. Wayne, I implore you not to die. I can't lose the best boss that I've had." He plainly says and takes the tablet and stylus back from Jason.

Jason thinks he might just marry this feral man.

Yeah.

Yeah, he was definitely going to marry Danny Fenton.

Part 2 | Masterpost

[dreamofarunawayland]

A DC X DP #18

You want a taste of my brain? Okay, it's yours anyway.

Imagine dis…

This time I get inspiration from an A03 fic, and some of its parts just stuck with me and now I’m writing about it, if some of you want to read it go for it. If you are asking for the name don’t ask, I am not going to sell my soul to the devil to find it in my ever-growing history. If you do manage to find it, kudos to them.

TELL ME I AM GETTING DESPERATE OVER HERE

Credits to them as well. Also, as you’ve noticed I decided to post less, now it is due to a good old lack of inspiration. So, don’t go getting your hopes up on this one.

…

Ever since Danny Phantom had become the Ghost King he repeatedly entered the reincarnation cycle willingly to retain his morals when he was human. He still retained his ability to stay in the middle of life and death. But when he as the High King of the Infinite Realms gained immortality he found himself losing his ideals and values, he began forgetting. With Clockwork’s insistence, every few hundred years he would become human to experience a lifetime. Sometimes he would go another round in the same dimension, but only when he needed to finish an unfinished business.

Sometimes he is lucky sometimes he is not.

Sometimes he would be born into a loving family with either as the only child or him having siblings. He has experienced the life of royalty as the heir prince. He experienced the life of a knight who was known for his skills with the sword. He was born into a normal family which made him second guesses his every choice due to his lack of normality in his life. He was also born into some wild dimensions that of which could look like it came from a book. From wizards and sci-fi worlds, he never had the time to sit and be an extra.

But there were also times he was born far too unlucky. 

He was born in a salve ridden society, a parent who were core members of a rebellion so when his current parents died, he was expected to be like his parents. Born in a society where the rich trample the poor and he was forced into early child labor as expected in society to work at a very young age. Born where he and the people around him had never seen peace in a war-consumed country, a war that separated his family from each other not knowing whether one is alive or not, leaving only him and his siblings to stay alive. Being abandoned by a pair of druggies for his parents left alone inside a dumpster and died in the middle of the night, looking through the dimension he saw that some homeless people found his body and reported it to the authorities leaving his parents in jail while some prisoners seem to leave them at the near bottom of the hierarchy in prison.

…

It seems this time he was born in an assassin cult this time he wasn’t alone. A twin, an older sibling that was with him in the womb and both came into the world together. The moment he laid his eyes on his grandfather he can already tell that he is a major fruit loop from the way he both look at both of them. 

His name is too formal for his liking, Dylan Al Ghul, he already convinced Damian to call him Danny when it was just the two of them. Danny tries to downplay his abilities both ghost and human seeing that his grandfather is too power-hungry to the point of misusing ectoplasm that is corrupted but still ectoplasm to achieve some sort of immortality, he tried to give Damian a childhood in the form of showing him the stars whenever he could sneak him outside. He saw the absolute worship and awe Damian would give to their mother and their grandfather whenever they visit or supervised their training, Danny didn’t care for their approval nor their presence but seeing his brother seem to at awe and do anything to please the two made his heart shatter, his older brother never needed to prove anyone something.

Danny has repeatedly shown his disdain for the two most powerful people in the organization yet it is a miracle he still lives. It is because he is a spare, a spare yes not the heir but a useful spare one, twins one who specialized in stealth and espionage a twin who is a perfect copy of Damian aside from his eyes mirroring their supposed father. Both Talia and Ra seem to make it their life mission to drill his only purpose in his head, it may have never worked due to his adult mind but he pretended it would be as to not raise any suspicion.

…

The day Deathstroke attacked not only he dared to kill the demon head but also choose to kill the chosen heir, by removing an eye and some of his organs as a form of slow torture but also killing him as he made the organs unable to go back to their owner’s body.

Danny couldn’t look away from his bloodied brother, Talia slowly approached him from behind and put her hands on his shoulder, and whispered some honeyed words on how his role as the spare will be fulfilled at a much earlier date and promptly injected with a sleeping drug.

…

Danny was already awake when he noticed the cold metal bed behind him the lack of clothes as well the number of doctors seemingly in a rush to prepare for a last-minute surgery. He saw the unconscious form of Damian on the other side and suddenly heard the loud ticking noise of a grandfather’s clock. 

It seems that it was meant to be, Danny thought as an image of Clockwork flashed in his mind. 

He fell back asleep knowing that Damian lost an eye, kidney, a lung, some ribs as well an ungodly amount of blood, possibly more. Danny knew that this vessel of his wouldn’t survive at the sheer need and he already felt that he would not leave the room alive. So, he took one last peek at the sleeping Damian and promptly closed his eyes, the moment he opened his eyes once again he was back in his chambers in the Infinite Realms clutching his left eye in his face whilst looking at the mirror as he felt his eye be the first one to be removed.

It seems this time he died months before he and his brother celebrated their 10th birthday.

…

Damian woke up with a pounding headache being the assassin he is he immediately looked around seeing that his last memory is being tortured by Deathstroke.

He immediately took notice of his loose clothing and tried to walk towards the door but his knees immediately gave out. As he tries to gain his bearings, he noticed a scar right in the middle of his chest, it couldn’t be from the time when he was captured by Deathstroke as he noticed that this scar is too clean, too sterilized as if someone had just come out of a surgery type of scar. As he tries to loosen his shirt to take a better look at his scar when he noticed a mirror facing his way and noticed his eyes, instead of his usual pair of emerald eyes he was greeted with an emerald eye of his own and his brother’s icy blue eye in his left eye.

Damian remembered that Deathstroke took out his eye, as according to him it reminded him of the Demon head, and decided to promptly pull it out with his bare hands. 

Dread began to fill his very being and tried to go and look for his brother but deep down he already knew what happened to him after all, he is the heir while his brother his beloved younger brother is just a spare.

…

When Damian had met his father’s wards most of them commented on his heterochromia eyes and promptly greeted back with his sword in their faces.

The rest grumbled that Damian couldn’t take a tease or two, but immediately chased the demon brat as he chases each and one of them with the intent to kill.

Damian couldn’t tell them; another son was hidden from Bruce. Another son he had failed, another son who died before they could even meet him.

From the first few interactions he had with his father when he first met him, he knew where his brother’s bleeding heart came from.

Sometimes he could still see him, Dyl- no Danny, every time he looks in the mirror. The constant reminder that his brother was seen by the league as nothing but a spare. Whatever love he had for his mother disappeared the moment he laid his sight at his brother’s eye embedded in his supposed empty eye socket. 

The constant reminder that shows every time he looks at the mirror and the scar in the middle of his chest, Danny’s organs that were used on him to ensure his survival while Danny was left behind.

…

He was 14 years old when he went wide-eyed at the stranger across him and his brothers in a heavily populated area.

A teen looks exactly like him with a medical eyepatch on his left eye as he sits in a wheelchair chatting idly with an older man.

Damian heavily thought of a clone, did Talia, not mother never mother, make another clone after him after weeks of silence?

Damian still remembered the first time he encountered a clone with blue eyes, his running theory is that due to his new organs have bonded with him thus creating a batch of clones with blue eyes. Timothy had spoken up that since babies have a 50/50 chance of inheriting the colored eyes of either parent made a new branch of clones. 

Damian was already planning on disposing of the supposed clone when the said clone suddenly laughed exposing his neck that have a feign white line across indicating a scar. But that scar made Damian double guess, all clones he encountered are scarred free thus leaving him to have no trouble disposing of each and one of them but the existence of the scar he barely caught is something both brothers swore secrecy to it.

The laugh oh god, his laugh, only his brother laughs like that, Damian thought mournfully.

As he tries to look the other way, he suddenly faced the same doctor who was the assistant doctor that foresees his surgery years ago. He may have distanced himself from the League after he had fulfilled his debt but it was no mistaking that it was the same doctor that operated him that time.

A chemist they said, an insufficient man who is more cowardly than any other man yet his talent in poisons made him quite a gem in the League.

A clone who had broke out of their collective mind control? Possible, but why this clone? What made this look alike so special that this man dared to leave the League?

…

Robin began to follow the two, the other bats thought that he had a new case on his lap that requires recon. They didn’t question Robin’s new behavior as they have seen him do the same actions when he landed himself a case or when he was following a lead. Yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that something is not right, whether it is the fact that Robin refused any assistance or just the fact they have no idea what kind of case Robin is working on.

They should have listened to their guts then maybe they wouldn’t be surprised at the bat screen, showing a maternal and paternal match to a picture of a blue-eyed black-haired kid with a medical eyepatch on his left eye looking like Damian in a good day.

…

Danny was doing some paperwork when a flying thought passed by him about his last reincarnation. All memories from his adventures when he got reincarnated are usually put behind the back of his hand yet worries about the well-being of his brother made him distracted, and kept close a special one-way mirror to monitor his baby brother.

Danny felt nostalgic at the family drama and chaos that he can’t help but cackle at each interaction Damian has with their father’s adopted children and wards. He found himself majorly of his time watching for hours and hours, he can’t help but wish he was there. As if he was summoned Clockwork appeared in front of him and told him to go back, which confuses Danny since it was Clockwork who implemented that he cannot go back to the same dimension/ world if his body is too far gone to be revived by him, yet Clockwork told him to give someone named Alfred his regards and vanished. Looking bewildered at his mentor/ grandfather he tried to sense his vessel with little to no hope seeing that the League has his body, but surprises himself when he felt his own body submerged in a portion of the Lazarus pit. 

…

Going back, he was greeted by an assistant doctor that used to be in the League due to his ancestor’s debt. He explained that he cannot in good conscience do what he was instructed to after the operation, stole his body, and submerged it in an undiscovered pit due to its small size, enough to dump a child not enough for a grown adult. 

After an initial check-up, both he and the doctor discovered that the mini Lazarus pit regenerated all of his organs except his eye seeing that it was his entire body submerged excluding his head. The assistant doc theorized that those organs of his may be weaker since they were generated from nothing, Danny in all his eldritch glory as well as being the most powerful being across the Infinite Realms played his part perfectly of a now disabled child.

After all who would accuse this disabled child putting the daughter of the Demon Head in an endless nightmare by his command to Fright Knight? Who would accuse that innocent blue eye of his that he had killed any assassin in their tail ever since he and his now temporary guardian began exploring the world? Who would accuse an adorable child that he was the one who had put the Joker in a definite MIA? Who would accuse this child who smiles like the sun despite his setbacks be the one who tortured Deathstroke to the brink of insanity? Danny is pretty sure his temporary guardian knew of his secret endeavors but remained quiet due to his habit when he was in the League or just to prevent any grayer hairs from growing in. 

…

Now if only his brother stopped moping around the building across their apartment complex and just come inside, he made his infamous fudge to share with his brother. His brother didn’t have to drag the rest of the bat brigade in watching him across the building, he even made extra fudge, if only they could just go through the front door instead of rescuing him first in every rogue attack and pretend, they don’t him. Well, if they are playing a game then count him in to win. But for some reason all of them made a face of being constipated whenever they talk to him, Danny is so sure he used clean ingredients to make his fudge…

God dammit just enter the front door like a normal person, better yet tell Batman to stop looking at him as if he died! Those windows are not paying to fix themselves each time one of them decided to stop dropping and roll every other night!

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[dreamofarunawayland]

A DC X DP IDEA #44

Three Teens, Three Crowns, and a Whole Lot of Nope

Imagine dis…

I was just shuffling around my playlist when I heard that song from the animated movie El Dorado and it made me thinking, so here it goes…

…

DANNY’S POV

The moment my best friends bit the ghostly dust, the universe decided to hand us a set of crowns we didn’t ask for. Because obviously, nothing says “Congratulations on your tragic deaths!” like a full-time job in the afterlife.

Tucker, in a plot twist no one saw coming (except maybe Clockwork, because that guy cheats), turned out to be the reincarnation of some ancient Pharaoh. Not just any Pharaoh—oh no—he got the VIP pass straight to the top of the Egyptian pantheon, answering only to me, the so-called King of the Infinite Realms. Because if there's one thing I’ve learned, it's that my best friend is destined to be the world's first tech-savvy, WiFi-dependent god-king of the afterlife.

Sam, on the other hand, had always been a little too into nature, and I guess the universe finally decided to roll with it. When she synced up perfectly with Undergrowth’s power, the big walking salad declared her his heir, making her the literal Queen of Nature. So now, Sam basically has dominion over every plant in existence, which means I can never make an offhand comment about preferring artificial Christmas trees without getting a death glare.

And me? Well, since I yeeted Pariah Dark back into the sarcophagus where he belonged, the Infinite Realms figured I should be the one running the place. So, lucky me—I got promoted to Ghost King, a position that comes with all the responsibility and none of the training manual.

Now, you’d think that’s enough responsibility for a trio of teenagers who just wanted to survive high school. But no, Clockwork took one look at us, decided we sucked at ruling, and thought, Hey, let’s make this fun! So instead of, I don’t know, giving us an actual lesson in leadership, he chucked us into a completely different dimension (because, sure, why not?) and told us to start cults.

Yep. You heard that right. Cults.

No warning, no instructions, just a “figure it out” and a push into the deep end. One minute we’re in the Ghost Zone, the next we’re scattered across this weird universe like a really weird cosmic prank.

So now I’m stuck in Gotham, which, by the way, might be more haunted than the Ghost Zone itself. I have no idea where Sam and Tucker ended up, but if I know them, Tucker’s probably convinced a bunch of tech bros to worship him as some cyber-god, and Sam’s singlehandedly turning a park into her new throne. Meanwhile, I have to somehow convince people to follow me without sounding like a lunatic.

This is going to be fun. (Spoiler: It won’t be.)

…

SAM’S POV

Gotham reeked of smoke, oil, and decay. Beneath its gothic beauty was a suffocating lifelessness, an unnatural cage of steel and concrete. The city was a graveyard where nature had been paved over and left to rot in the shadows of towering skyscrapers. It was unacceptable. It was offensive. And Sam was going to change it.

She wasted no time. The moment her feet hit Gotham’s cracked pavement, she started planting seeds—both literally and metaphorically. It began with whispers. A small movement. A group that promised something different. Gotham had no shortage of lost souls—criminals, outcasts, the downtrodden looking for something beyond the city's endless cycle of crime and punishment. But Sam wasn’t offering power or chaos like every other Gotham lunatic. No, she offered something much rarer: sustainability.

Food. Shelter. Community.

It started with fresh produce, rare and valuable in Gotham’s urban wasteland. No one questioned where it came from, only that it was fresh, free of toxins, and worth more than a stack of stolen cash. The deal was simple—manual labor in exchange for nourishment. Gotham’s criminals, many of whom spent their lives getting stabbed, shot, or beaten in some turf war, found the idea shockingly reasonable. Hospitals ate through their earnings. Gang life was profitable until you bled out in an alley. But a place that provided food, healing, and protection? That was something different. That was better.

The movement grew. What began as a handful of desperate people looking for a way out became something bigger. The streets whispered of a new force rising, one that didn’t deal in violence or corruption but in roots—roots that burrowed deep, that refused to be ignored.

At first, the Batfamily dismissed it as background noise. In a city filled with psychopaths dressed as clowns, what was a little nature cult? But when Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn vanished—not in a grand escape, not in a fiery explosion, but simply faded into the movement—their indifference turned to concern.

When Ivy resurfaced, she wasn’t the same. The wild unpredictability had been tempered into something focused. Controlled. She still worshipped nature, but now she had a leader, someone she called High Priestess. And that leader wasn’t some ancient force of the Green. It wasn’t a metahuman, a scientist, or a villain. It was a teenager.

A black-haired, violet-eyed girl who stood in front of kneeling followers, leading ceremonies beneath the growing canopy of Gotham’s first true forest in centuries.

Sam had never been one for blind worship. She despised mindless devotion. But this wasn’t about faith—it was about purpose. The people who followed her weren’t zealots; they were survivors. They had seen what Gotham’s endless cycle of crime and violence had to offer, and they wanted out. She gave them that. She gave them a cause. And if it meant being called a cult leader, then fine. Whatever. Labels didn’t matter. Results did.

And Gotham was changing.

The city fought back, of course. The corruption, the crime families, even the Bat himself—none of them liked an unpredictable element in their precious, miserable ecosystem. But Sam had never been one to back down. Gotham was sick, diseased, rotting. She wasn’t here to burn it down like some power-hungry villain. She was here to fix it.

And if the Bats wanted to stop her, well—

Let them try.

…

TUCKER’S POV

Metropolis was beautiful. It was clean, it was bright, and it was bursting with technology. Skyscrapers gleamed under the sun, state-of-the-art AI patrolled the streets, and futuristic inventions were integrated into everyday life like it was no big deal. This was a city that worshiped innovation, where science and technology weren’t just tools but pillars of society.

Tucker should have been in heaven.

But he had a mission to complete before he could sit back and enjoy the wonders of Metropolis. Clockwork’s orders. And if the old ghost had taught him anything, it was that ignoring his cryptic guidance usually led to bad things. So, no indulging in the city’s top-tier tech just yet. He had a kingdom to build.

At first, Superman didn’t even notice him. That was fine. Tucker wasn’t looking to pick a fight with the world’s strongest hero. He moved in the background, setting up encrypted networks, hijacking digital footprints, and planting just enough static in the city’s airwaves to keep any unwanted super-snooping off his back. The occasional glitch in Superman’s super-hearing? That was Tucker, laying the groundwork.

But the real disruption came when people started vanishing.

Not just any people—tech specialists, programmers, engineers. The kind of minds corporations fought over, the ones Luthor’s company owned through shady contracts and blackmail. One by one, they disappeared from Metropolis, slipping through the cracks like digital ghosts.

The city was no stranger to missing persons. Metropolis saw its fair share of people vanishing into the underbelly of crime, alien invasions, or one of Lex Luthor’s ever-growing list of sinister schemes. But this? This was too precise, too targeted. Luthor’s R&D departments were bleeding talent at an alarming rate, and the usual suspects weren’t responsible.

The only common thread? The Code of Ra.

It started as an urban myth—a secretive group offering sanctuary to tech minds who had seen too many of their peers exploited, coerced, or “recruited” by the so-called forces of good and evil. They were promised a place where their work was valued, where they were free to create without fear of it being stolen, weaponized, or locked behind corporate greed.

And at the center of it all? Him.

Tucker hadn’t just built a cult—he’d built a kingdom. One where technology wasn’t a tool for war, where engineers and programmers weren’t disposable assets, where knowledge was sacred. He offered an intellectual utopia, a society where the greatest minds could work without limits. And the best part? They wanted to be there. There was no brainwashing, no coercion. The world had burned them too many times, and Tucker had simply given them an alternative.

And, okay, maybe he leaned into the whole Pharaoh thing a little. He was a reincarnated ruler, after all—might as well own it. Gold-trimmed robes, sleek futuristic stylings with ancient Egyptian aesthetics, and a throne room that looked like a cyberpunk temple. He’d always thought he’d look good in royal attire, and damn, was he right.

But his people didn’t follow him because of the theatrics. They followed because he gave them something no one else had—freedom.

Superman, unaccustomed to dealing with cults, found himself in unfamiliar territory. He had fought tyrants, warlords, and intergalactic conquerors, but a movement built on voluntary devotion? That wasn’t as simple as punching a bad guy. Normally, this was the kind of mess Batman or Wonder Woman would handle. But Diana was off-world, and Gotham had its own cult problem. That left the burden squarely on Superman’s shoulders.

And Tucker? Tucker was more than ready to enjoy the show.

…

DANNY’S POV

The desert sucked.

Like, really sucked.

If he ever made it out of this, he was going to personally petition the Ghost Zone to just delete the concept of sand from existence. Sand was evil. It got everywhere, it was hot, and it made him feel like a melting popsicle under a blowtorch.

His ice core hated him. His human half hated him. The sun was having the time of its life roasting him alive. And then—nothing.

When he woke up, things got weirder.

For one, he wasn’t dead. Which, honestly, was a pleasant surprise considering the whole “heatstroke and possible dehydration” situation. For another, he wasn’t lying in the sand anymore. Nope. Instead, he was inside a coffin.

Not the first time he’d woken up in one, but still, rude.

He sat up, blinking blearily, and was immediately met with dozens of kneeling figures in dark robes. No one screamed. No one attacked. They just...stared.

Which, honestly? Way creepier than ghost attacks.

The air smelled like flowers, incense, and something ancient, like he’d been dropped in the middle of an old temple. Around him were offerings—literal offerings—of gold, silver, and silk. And the people? They were whispering. Murmuring things he barely understood, eyes shining with what he could only describe as religious awe.

Which was never a good sign.

Danny had questions. A lot of questions. But the big one?

What the actual heck was going on?

It took some time—aka him sneaking around, eavesdropping, and pretending he had any idea what he was doing—but eventually, he figured it out.

These people? Every single one of them had died before. Not in the casual, “oops, tripped and fell” way, but in the full-on, flatline, bright light at the end of the tunnel way. And somehow, they’d come back. Some were resurrected, others survived things they shouldn’t have, but they all had one thing in common: they felt drawn to him.

Apparently, he was some kind of cosmic beacon for people who’d taken a one-way trip to the afterlife but forgot to stay there. To them, he wasn’t just some random ghost kid—he was the King. The embodiment of balance, life and death, chaos and order. The guy who got to decide whether people stayed dead.

And that was so not on his resume.

But did that stop people from kneeling at his feet, swearing loyalty, and building a cult around him? Nope.

Did he ask for it? Also nope.

And somehow, it just kept getting bigger. At first, it was just the devoted ghost-adjacent weirdos. Then mercenaries. Then, a group of assassins and a guy named Ra. Even Slade freaking Wilson showed up one day, standing ominously at the back like the world’s most intense chaperone.

Danny didn’t do cults. He wasn’t qualified for cults. He was barely qualified for high school.

But Clockwork had said he needed to establish one, and, well...mission accomplished?

Now, all he had to do was find Sam and Tucker, reunite with his spouses, and figure out how to explain to them that, uh...he might have accidentally become a god-king of the undead.

Yeah. They were never gonna let him live this down.

…

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: I tried a new type of writing. How is it?

[dreamofarunawayland]

A DC X DP IDEA #46

Monks?

Imagine dis…

I don’t know if im late to the trend or what, but recently a feed came and it featured Batman’s ridiculous set of skills and when asked he always answered the Tibetan monks.

Like come on, I would understand if the sorcerer supreme taught you how to astral projection and the mental barrier against I don’t know against a species that have evolved telepathy,

But this isn't Marvel.

…..

The Tibetan monks, an enigmatic, unknowable, and allegedly not real, were the whispered origin of some of Batman’s more peculiar skills. Astral projection. Mental shielding. The ability to remain entirely unreadable even to a Martian. When asked how he learned such things, Batman only offered a cryptic, “I trained with the Tibetan monks.” He never elaborated.

That was all it took to spark a minor obsession in his children and allies alike. If the monks could turn him into Batman, surely they were worth finding. And so they searched from combining every high-tech gadget, satellite scan, magical locator, and favor they could think of. Damian even tried to guilt-trip his father using a technique called “puppy dog eyes” courtesy from Dick. Nothing worked. Every lead crumbled like dust. The monks, if they ever existed, were impossible to trace.

The truth? The monks didn’t exist.

There had only ever been one monk.

And he was not a monk at all.

Years before the cowl, before Gotham knew the name Batman, Bruce had limped and escaped out of the League of Assassins with more bruises than bones and a fresh set of enemies. Refusing Ra’s al Ghul and his daughter had not gone over well. He’d wandered half-dead into the snowy wilds of the Himalayas, not sure where he was going, only that it needed to be far, far away.

Then darkness. Cold. Silence. A silhouette. And unconsciousness.

When Bruce woke, he was alive, bandaged, and lying on a bed of hay that smelled suspiciously like goat. A fire crackled nearby. His host was tall, silver-haired almost white, and moved like a shadow in silk robes. He claimed to be a monk. He never gave a name. He also radiated the kind of energy that made even Bruce’s paranoia sit up and go, “Hmm. That’s not normal.”

Bruce watched him from the sidelines. The man sparred with the air itself, performing forms Bruce had never seen before effortless, fluid, almost theatrical in how they ignored gravity. Despite claiming to seek peace, he kicked boulders in half during his morning stretches. Bruce knew what a formidable warrior looked like. This guy wasn’t just good. He was absurdly good.

Eventually, Bruce asked to be trained.

The monk agreed but with a devilish smirk that should have warned him.

It started with traditional exercises. Then came... less traditional ones. One day Bruce was balancing upside down on one finger. The next, he was chasing wild goats through the mountains with a blindfold on. There was a week he still refuses to talk about, involving fermented yak milk and interpretive dance. No explanation was ever given. Just a barked command, followed by a smirk, and Bruce reluctantly obeying because despite everything he was learning.

And the monk? He never moved when Bruce attacked. Not once. Bruce would lunge, strike, ambush, even beg the man to just flinch, and every time, the monk would remain motionless. The result was always the same with Bruce face-down in snow or mud, groaning, while the monk calmly re-wrapped his bandages and offered nothing but that smirk. That infuriating, soul-crushing smirk.

Name?

Bruce had asked and rasped, wheezing after yet another humiliating fall.

The monk merely chuckled and replied.

When you land a hit.

Bruce did not land a hit. Not that week. Not that month. Not ever.

And eventually, it was time to go. Bruce bowed, still never having won, still never knowing the monk’s name and returned to Gotham.

He never forgot the man.

….

What Bruce didn’t know was that his “monk” had a name, Dan.

Or, more accurately, Dan Fenton. Known in his own dimension for blowing up timelines, developing catastrophic anger issues, and eventually retiring from ghostly overlordship after a few centuries of introspection and really intense therapy. He took a page from Ellie and become a traveler, He’d been vacationing across dimensions, mostly avoiding interdimensional politics and his own mess of a reputation as well to avoid his younger self of a king when he stumbled on Bruce half-dead in the snow.

On a whim, maybe redemption, maybe boredom, maybe the sheer novelty of it, maybe his younger self and clone had finally rubbed of him, he saved him. And since he had time to kill, not that he would ever hurt Clockwork, he trained him.

Using ghost powers very subtle about it, just enough to freak Bruce out and maintain the illusion that he was a living, breathing über-warrior with mystical vibes and killer reflexes. The smirking was mostly for fun. The cryptic one-liners? Also fun. No wonder Clocky liked to say weird shit to his younger self.

What Dan didn’t expect was to actually like the guy. Sure, Bruce was intense, broody, and had the emotional range of a brick, but watching him faceplant into snow every morning had been surprisingly somewhat therapeutic. There was something calming about teaching someone who didn’t know who he was, who didn’t flinch at his name, or whisper “Phantom” like it was a curse. It helped Dan heal too, in his own weird way.

Years passed. Dimensions that he traveled and went. Dan forgot about it.

Then he remembered.

He missed his “student.”

He remembered Bruce mumbling something about Gotham in his sleep, something about a cave and a promise and since Dan had nothing better to do, well other than to laugh at his younger self for winning and taking the crown of the Infinite Realms, he decided to pay a visit.

On foot. Across dimensions. Because why not?

….

Meanwhile, in Gotham…

Bruce was panicking.

A letter had arrived. Just a simple, handwritten note. No return address. No explanation. But the handwriting sent a shiver down his spine.

I’ll be visiting soon. Hope you’ve gotten better.

Bruce dropped his coffee.

His children thought it was a threat. Jason offered to shoot whoever it was. Tim tried to trace the paper’s origin with four different forensic tools. Cass read the note and signed something to the others about posture and unresolved duty. Damian called it a threat that someone could rattle his father with one sentence.

But Bruce knew.

He was coming.

His old teacher.

The man who once made him wear a llama costume for a full week to “teach humility.”

He was coming to Gotham.

Bruce wasn’t sure whether to install extra security or book out every gym in the city to train. He hadn’t stopped pacing in two hours. Alfred found him shadowboxing in the Batcave while muttering things like, “I’ve got better reaction time now,” and “Surely… surely I can land one hit.”

Across the city, chaos was brewing, but not because of the letter.

Gotham’s entire vigilante network, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, Orphan, Batgirl, even Signal were neck-deep in the investigation of the Joker’s sudden, mysterious death. Dead, now struggle no physical or chemical cause somehow. No evidence.

No struggle.

Just… gone. The only lead was a single blurry silhouette from a rooftop security cam. The figure was massive, hooded, and moved with a kind of fluid, terrifying grace none of them had ever seen before.

Nobody recognized him.

And Bruce hadn’t said a word, too busy to train or join Alfred in cleaning the manor.

While the rest of the Batfam poured over footage, mapped potential escape routes, and debated theories, Batman was notably absent, still in the Cave, still pacing, still trying to steady his breathing every time he glanced at the letter.

Because Bruce knew who it was. And for once in his life, Batman was torn between abject dread… and the tiniest, most humiliating spark of hope.

Maybe this time, I’ll land a hit.

Maybe I’ll finally learn his name.

Maybe I’ll even win.

…Or maybe he’d end up face-first in an alleyway again while his teacher laughed and handed him his own blend of yak milk smoothie.

Either way, Gotham was not ready.

And neither was Bruce.

…...

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this, you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me, though.

PPS: I felt like posting a bit early. How was it?

[dreamofarunawayland]

A DC X DP IDEA #27

They’re the strongest?!?!

Imagine dis…

You know … I read too much humans are space orcs fic, prompts, ideas… etc.

But I still like Danny Phantom and DC…

And I remember that one A03 fic…

…

Another alien invasion is another Wednesday for the JL but it seems like they are quite different. Not only they are known as invaders in the Green Lantern Corps but they also have some sort of code among warriors, they give a chance to the species they are invading to fight back. By having their strongest fight against their strongest. It is not through fighting to the death as different planets have different climates and terrains and thus have their version of the Olympic games but instead of rewarding the participants medals, they were rewarded their planet's safety, but Hal commented that the challenges are too staged, too well known to the invading aliens. Since the ones defending have no idea how to approach the challenges, they always end up losing. Green Arrow commented that since they can just send out the Big Blue boy scout, Hal shook his head as they have to be the same species one planet already tried it by asking aid from another planet and not only lost but the invading aliens got 2 planets, plus they’ll bring it up to the galaxy court system and put them in a tight spot. Of course, Aquaman blinked with confusion and asked if there was a court system for the galaxy.

…

So of course, when the said invading aliens landed on the Milky Way and broadcasted their intentions. The JL already have a team to fight them, of course, we have Batman with his cunning mind, Wonder Woman for her chivalry and strength, Flash for his speed, Doctor Fate for his mastery of magic, and Cyborg for technological skills. Just as they were about to tell the invading aliens that they had already picked their strongest, another announcement popped out. Apparently to even out the playing field they have a new technology to help them pick out their strongest for them. As if they were talking to kids and promptly pressed the bottom to automatically select the earth’s strongest.

The heroes at the space station as well those around the world who were debriefed about the situation a week before are already bracing themselves to be picked, while the citizens around the globe are all now watching and anticipating as not only this a new thing as the majority of their alien invasion they immediately went to evacuation.

Who appeared/ chosen immediately made both sides' jaws drop….

Three?

Only three are chosen…

An adult, a teen, and a child?

A man who wore a blue rental suit with glasses, blue eyes and black hair. Which the Metropolis recognizes as one of their own. Clark Kent, a reporter with fame and reputation on par with the famed Lois Lane. The ideal model of someone who came from the countryside and made a name and life in the big city.

An 11-year-old boy with blue eyes and black hair who wore a red hoodie, faded jeans, and red shoes, in which the city Fawcett knew of. Billy Batson was, a former foster kid on the run until he found his forever home with the couple named Victor and Rosa Vasquez who also fostered a couple of kids, which Billy claims as his siblings. A kind kid who kept doing good around him and his community.

Lastly, a teen, again with blue eyes and black hair wore a faded NASA hoodie, and blue jeans with faint eye bags which was a small town in Amity Park where he came from. Danny Fenton, the only son of the two leading scientists of ecto-biologists in ecotology, the one who realized that one of the two purple-back gorillas is a female thus avoiding extinction.

…

Clark Kent by day and Superman by night knew about the invading aliens. He also knew that he could not participate despite being raised on Earth made him unqualified to join. So, imagine his shock when he suddenly found himself with two earth children in the middle of a large arena with futuristic cameras looking at them. He is now in an internal dilemma; how can he save the two kids, while he tries to save Earth altogether?

This train of thought also passed by the young Billy Batson on the said teen, Billy already knew that Superman was already thinking of saving the both of them. Now his priority is to survive and keep his secret ID a secret for a bit longer.

…

Danny on the other hand has a completely different train of thought, he was just about to reach his room. His beautiful room where his bed is, he had just finished a four-hour exam to bring his grades back up to an acceptable level, 9 continuous ghost attacks, another nonsense quarrel between the observers and he is close to committing anarchy just so he can have the same treatment to Pariah Dark, an eternal sleep in a comfortable looking Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

So imagine his surprise when he is suddenly teleported to what looks like an alien ship, Danny would usually be ecstatic but they have interrupted him, he is so close to his bed. He knew that there would be some sort of an invasion as he remembered the bits and pieces from Tucker’s ramble when they last hung out together.

He doesn’t care if aliens invade Earth, but if you come between him and his bed. He will make sure of what he will do to those who disturb him, he will make his fight with his future self and Pariah Dark like child’s play.

…

The Justice League kept on insisting that they had already chosen their fighters and those who appeared in the middle of their arena were civilians, not warriors. But the invading aliens stayed on their decision and immediately began the games.

The rest of the heroes are now scrambling to not only stop the invading aliens but also save the 2 civilians who were randomly selected.

While the rest of the League is now panicking the rest of the world is now in an outrage. Sending out a civilian man and children by the alien's weird machinery.

The Fenton couples are especially rabid as, if there is anything that tops their ghost obsession, it would be their children’s safety. The family of Batson are on the edge of their seats as they worry for Billy.

…

The games begin with an opening of rules and such, as well as an introduction to the alien’s warriors who are big and full of muscles making the Earth team look so tiny.

The first game starts with a simple hunting game with very minimal clues and tools at their disposal to find what they seek. Clark can crack the code on to where to hunt but it is a dangerous environment, Clark discusses it with his teammates on how to catch it, Clark is already thinking if he should reveal himself as a meta with strength but Danny just glares at the man and grabbed capturing tools form the table and sought out the thing they are designated to hunt.

The other team took a glance at Team Earth and warbled some snickers at how they took looking/hunting too fast without any plans and went back to their planning.

Clark and Billy are worried for their other teammate but after a few minutes, they hear a roar some shuffles, and then silence.

Back on earth, most people are horrified a what could be the teen’s fate but when footsteps were heard they saw the teen again scathed, with a few scratches, and a hulking beast all tied up from its muzzle to its tails.

Clark nervously asked, still maintaining his civilian identity, how on earth Danny had caught such a beast. Danny’s only response was, back from where he came a certain ”friend” really wanted “someone’s” pelt on a wall and learned some things while HE was chasing that “something”.

That starts the Danny effect…

…

A tag sort of game as there is a hunter to hunt them down and their objective is to hide longer than the other team, with both Billy and Danny a part, while Billy lasted a few hours with his wit and skills that he honed during his time when he ran from CPS and the police during his days as a foster child, which is impressive itself as he got two of the other team’s members to be captured first before him. Danny outlasted Billy and the rest of the other team won the game in a landslide and gained some bonus points by not only redirecting the hunter and leading them into a false trail or a dead end but also messing with the said hunter without being spotted by him.

Cooking with live and weird ingredients? Clark initially volunteered to do it as he has a stomach of steel being an alien but cannot cook as he has no idea which ingredient is edible as all alien dishes and ingredients come from Krypton and he has to impress the judges who put them in a disadvantage as the judges are from the same race as the opposing team. Danny just shook his head at Clark quickly put on an apron and set to work.

Clark and Billy immediately turned green at the sight as Danny nonchalantly battled the live ingredients, from the meat section to what seems to be the fruit and vegetable section, It is bloody as it is and quite fascinating as it is disgusting. All their years in the Justice League they have seen some twisted and weird things but seeing their third teammate casually stab what looked like an unholy cross hybrid between an octopus and a shark trying to crawl away from the carnage, cleaned the weird animal from the inside out and fillet it.

Of course, they are in disbelief when the judges practically moan the moment, they taste Danny’s dish. Clark and Billy are pretty sure one of the judges is planning to spare Danny and turn him into their chef if the invasion continues, with the way they look at Danny. The judges reluctantly let Danny’s dish win.

Billy reluctantly asked Danny where he learned to cook like that, Danny’s only response was a grumble of a sound that seemed to sound like at home but that cannot be, right?

Trying to survive an onslaught of hypnotic plants native to the alien’s home world, Danny once again won and even began criticizing the plants for how their music was so horrible that it would not even wake the dead.

Play some sort of FIGHTING VIDEO GAME that is popular in 5 sectors in their part of the galaxy, Danny wins and repeatedly shoots the aliens with pure hatred and anger in his eyes, Clark has to physically drag Danny out of the arena to stop his onslaught of firing to the poor guy who was already on the verge of crying.

And so on with the Earth’s team leading COUGH Danny COUGH and demolishing the invading aliens from their games.

After a while the games are done and Team Earth wins with a massive gap to the invading aliens. They returned the three in the middle of the Metropolis and went away without so much a fuss…

Well, expect that one chef in their midst how begged the leader to take Danny and only him with them but the leader is already fearing for his life as the last few games that humans began to be more feral by the second and he was sure he is also a second away from being the one at the other end of his chopping board.

…

Back on earth everyone cheered on the three and began flashing them their camera lights to get a new scoop, and one brave reporter even tried to interview Danny but when people tried to look for the elusive teen he seemingly disappeared.

Clark knew Danny was, sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bushes a few feet away from them, and kept quiet as he was late to realize that Danny was on the verge of a crash like Red Robin is when he pulled something like this when Conner invited him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[dreamofarunawayland]

A DC X DP IDEA # 20

Star born child.

Imagine dis…

Ever since we were a child, we often would ask our parents where stars came from as we gazed along the night sky. Some parents would reply they were just fireflies that got stuck when they flew over, some say those are little children playing as mother moon guards over them, and some say that they were our ancestors watching over us as we slept.

But you know what I said? I said that stars were made by a little elfish young boy with stark white hair, white pupil-less glowing eyes, freckles that looked like constellations, wearing a black and silver accented princely outfit, puffy white shoes that had little bells on it that seemed to giggle each step and a cape that looked like the galaxy. He loved the space so much that he created stars from the smallest of them to the largest and brightest one up in the night sky.

…

Some JL members were drifting along space inside their space vehicle as they had just finished another mission that required them in space. Despite being mainly Earth’s exclusive protectors they have made alliances and friends were, made along the way with many different species, yet they also made enemies from space from the countless people they have overthrown or defeated in space just by being fleshy humans.

As they were drifting into space Superman couldn’t help but still sense a deep feeling of longingness and awe every time he looked into the deep abys despite looking at the same view since the JL space HQ was made. Longing for what could be his planet’s history and culture that could be in one of the endless planets and stars that were present today and in awe at the vast space that kept expanding for more planets and life that were to be made.

…

Flash was the first to notice something was amiss when it was his turn to watch over the controls to ensure a safe and smooth travel back to Earth.

He was just watching the endless void when he began hearing some sounds resembling a child’s giggle out of utter glee and the ringing of bells. Now remember he is a man of science and will refuse any supernatural action despite working with the greatest magicians Earth has to offer. The giggles seemed to continue as the lights kept flickering out without any interference and both sets of sounds kept echoing and bouncing off the walls, he kept hearing a creak on metal behind him, and he kept “misplacing” some snacks and the mug he just placed next to him, it kept him all night to the point that by the next day, Green Lantern had found him slouched by the controls muttering to him about a devil child haunting the league as he felt being mocked him as he kept looking at his back.

…

Cyborg is the next one to hear the mysterious sounds but instead of the giggles he unfortunately teased the Flash about but a static noise-like sound filtered his ears.

Ever since his accidents he has noticed that his hearing and eyesight have increased exponentially due to the machines that upgraded two of his senses.

At first, he thought he was picking up a foreign radio signal/ message between two planets that have a rather large frequency but when that signal began interfering with his sight and hearing he knew there was something wrong. There are very few frequencies that can really interfere with his sense since his accident and now powers/ abilities originated from an explosion of the mother box. He cannot keep himself awake due to the amount of static that invades his hearing and sight he later lost consciousness and suddenly awoke in one of their med bays.

…

Batman was the first one to see their mysterious haunting of a child. Despite barely believing the Flash due to his history of pranking and history of delirious muttering whenever he watched too many horror films as well had Cyborg being grilled for every detail he can remember before he passed out, he will never admit it to anyone that he had frozen the moment he saw it.

He was just making his rounds around the space shuttle of the JL when he heard a child’s giggles accompanied by the light giggles of bells. He is immediately on guard as they are in the middle of space if anything snuck in it can’t be good news.

As he was surveying the area, he found his gaze towards a small child. A small elfish little child with stark white hair, white pupil-less shining eyes, constellation-like freckles, dressed in a black and silver accentuated royal attire, and puffy white shoes with little bells on them. He seems to have not noticed him Batman keeps quiet and begins observing, the said mystery child is still giggling without a care in the world when he suddenly pauses and takes a look at a seeming space to his right. Frowning as if there was something wrong the child suddenly jerked up as if he had a bright idea, slowly raising his arms and began to move his arms in such fluid motion as if he was creating something but what? Suddenly a large bright invaded in front of him forcing him to close his eyes at the assault of light. When he gains his vision again, he sees the mysterious boy looking all happy and proud with the way he puffed up his chest as well as the bright smile on his face. As he turns to the boy’s direction which was before a space was now replaced by a newly made small dwarf star that he was positive wasn’t there moments ago, brightly twinkling. Batman was so engrossed in what had just transpired that as he focused on the said star he noticed movement, at the corner of his eyes he saw the mysterious boy had spotted him and immediately disappeared into the vast void of space.

…

The next day he held the meeting about the said mysterious boy, you can hear the Flash boasting he was right to the other members about having the space shuttle haunted when Batman noticed both Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern stutter and look of disbelief in their faces and promptly asked what was that. Martian Manhunter went first, when Batman described the said child it reminded him of the Martian’s ancient texts, history, books, and scrolls if you will. That said child was said to be their god as in the past they had been on the brink of extinction due to the barrage of asteroids heading their way, as he had appeared to save them and he also gave them the knowledge to advance by themselves. Martian Manhunter ended his statement that he had heard it when he was just a Martian youngling as it was taught to every young Martian that their great guardian was watching them in space. Green Lantern explained that what Batman had seen was something that the Green Lantern Corps was supposed to be the only people who knew of his existence. He had shown himself a few times when a Lantern was in a precarious situation or on the verge of it some lanterns have witnessed him creating a planet or stars depending on which in his will, and some have seen the said boy expand the universe to his will as if we were taking a stretch. The guardians in the Lantern Corps have tried multiple times to guard the said boy as it was obvious that he some kind of ethereal being creating life and other celestial beings but he always disappeared so it became some sort of an ongoing mission to protect and watch over the boy whenever one of the lanterns spot him.

��

Danny was enjoying his ghostly life, after years he had been neglecting his primary obsession which is his fascination with the celestial bodies in favor of his secondary obsession of protection whenever he had stayed on earth it had felt like it was caging him, suffocating himself and his core, especially when he became the Ghost King. Writing reports all day as well as ensuring the zone was up and running, he had felt himself getting more exhausted by the say. So, when Clockwork had gone to him and told him to practice his primary obsession as a form of taking a vacation Danny was ecstatic.

He created countless stars, from the largest of them all form the smallest of dwarfs. He had created solar systems created a multitude of planets and let life thrive on the barren place. He let the vast space be his canvas for his obsession, he let the stars he formed and created form different constellations.

If only those green guys stopped being so stalkerish every time they encountered him, he thought that he had escaped the whole stalker gig when he became the Ghost King better yet when he escaped the life of being a superhero.

...

Now he can't help but keep looking at the floating space shuttle as if he had just gone to a new space museum, Danny appeared to sense some interesting people in the shuttle. People who had been touched by death, people whom he felt a slight connection with, and other species from different planets.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[dreamofarunawayland]

A DC X DP IDEA #23

A Family Portrait

Imagine dis…

Most of the fanfics and even Tumblr posts are all about the long-lost son of both Bruce Wayne Selina or even Talia, the long-lost brother of either Damian, Tim, Dick, or even Jason. But what if we changed up the timeline?

What if…

…

Damian was just lurking around the manor at a fast pace if the way he looked around, looking for a hiding as Grayson had proposed the idea of playing a simple yet harmless family activity for the family of vigilantes. Grayson had been chatting all week and persuaded each of the imbeciles he calls brothers to join in. Todd was bribed with a no-ask favor from Grayson while Drake was dragged in the hopes of Richard being silent to Alfred about his intake of caffeine despite Alfred’s warnings. Damain already knew that Alfred the butler knew and was merely waiting for Alfred to hide his stash. While Thomas, Brown, Gordon, and Cain did not need more incentive from Grayson. After a quick shouting match from all sides on which activity will be chosen, all of them have chosen a simple hide-and-seek game within the manor as all of them still feel the repercussions of last week’s chosen game which still brings shivers down the assassin’s back every time, he remembers the things that were done in the name of fun family bonding activity.

The moment Drake began counting down all of them began scrambling out of the theater room and to quickly find a decent hiding spot. All of them were trained by Batman and have flourished under his tillage so finding a spot that nobody knew of is going to be hard. Damian knew that despite Drake having prominent eye bags under his eyes, he could not lower his guard in front of him despite his former attitude toward Drake and slowly mending their relationship Damian has some sort of respect, awe, and fear for Drake as this is the same person who had outwitted his grandfather and lived, the one who had fought his grandfather’s assassins and won but you never heard that from him after all if anyone knew what he thought of Drake, his katana will likely to immediately meet that person’s throat.

He thought of asking Alfred for assistance but he refused, he is already at the disadvantage with both Grayson and Todd living in the manor longer thus having found more than hiding spots for them. He already knew that Cain was already hidden in the shadows but he is the Blood son of the Bat and he refused to be the first one to be found.  But then he remembered a short conversation he had with Grayson when he first arrived at the manor. Grayson explained that the attic holds all antiques as well as family heirlooms that were passed down from each generation. It may be covered in a few dusts as Alfred cleans the attic once every blue moon. Grayson explained that the attic was heavily haunted as when he was just a child, he could hear people talking in hushed tones each time he went near the ladder that leads to the attic. When Damian tried to inquire for more information Grayson successfully changed the subject and was merely forgotten up until he saw the secret entrance to the attic of Wayne Manor.

Looking at the hidden ladder that leads to the attic Damian thinks of his decision on the one hand nobody had the same thought of him hiding in the attic due to Grayson the “ghosts” at the attic but on the other, he was about to enter uncharted territory. After a quick deliberation himself, he had already closed the entrance to the attic. After ensuring that nobody had seen him enter, he immediately took a look around to further hide but he couldn’t help to widen his eyes at his surroundings.

Eccentric pieces of marble statues surrounded him that looked suspiciously just some stone slabs, multiple worn-down artworks that looked like a child’s doodle, and scattered boxes of blurry photography, but some artworks and pieces could worth billions such as artworks and vases as if they are from the ancient greek, a different type clocks and a single grandfather clock that have different cuts and sizes of sapphires, diamonds, and gold, multiple chests that were escaping gold coins as the wood seem to rot, a box made out of fine glass that seems to protect a glass egg that holds every shade of blue there is.

As he kept looking around mesmerized by the unnatural decors and riches around him, he soon came across a portrait. A woman whose clothing seems to come from the early 1900s with a neutral expression. Upon closer inspection, Damian saw a nameplate just below the portrait and it says “Elizabeth Rose Wayne” which concludes that this must be one of his ancestors. As Damian let his eyes roam, he saw more portraits from family portraits to single portraits. All seemed to be falling apart due to time, as Damian went deeper as he kept following in deeper each portrait. Up until the last portrait, A tall middle-aged man with grey hair most in his head with grey eyes sitting in a large red velvet chair wearing what looked like a Victorian suit surrounded by what seemed to be his children. A large young man with black wispy hair that was tied in a ponytail with dark blue eyes looking neutral at the painting beside him a young man in his early teens with a mop of black hair and bright blue eyes with freckles adorning his check-looking bored and lastly a young girl with a generous amount of black hair styled to what looked like a modernized coil down to her chin and with baby blue eyes the cheekiest smile and was sitting impatiently on top of what looked like their father. All of them were wearing different Victorian-style suits and dresses that seemed to complement their eyes despite the different shades of each one.

Below the said family portrait were their portraits with each nameplate embedded just below the said portrait.

From the right which Damian had deduced as the oldest a nameplate below that spelled “DANAL” Next the nameplate spelled “DANIEL” Lastly the only female in the portrait spelled “DANIELLE” Damian looked at each of the nameplates and thought which of their parents named them with almost the same spelling of each name and the same meaning all names share in Hebrew that means “God is my judge.”

Whomever the painter was made Damian impressed as he felt all of the portraits were looking straight at him, judging his very being.

…

Meanwhile, Tim had already found the majority of his siblings. They all huddled up to find Damian as they were quite impressed at where he had hidden.

Looking around they have stumbled upon a semi-open door to the attic and have deduced that Damian had hidden there. As soon all of them laid eyes on what the attic contained all of them had a jaw-drop moment as such treasures and artifacts seemingly being stored away like some old clothes in the attic rather than being guarded in a high-level security vault. Jason began asking Dick why he even spread the story about the attic anyway as they could have seen these things much sooner, Dick kept on spluttering that he did hear voices back then.

Soon enough the more they went deeper into the attic they saw Damian looking over at a family portrait of what looked like the first generation or the pioneer of the Waynes. Dick excitedly yelled at Damian for being the last to be found but at the sudden loud noise, Damian accidentally swiped his hand too fast at the nameplate creating a small wound enough to bleed but not too deep, covering some of Damian’s blood at the nameplate.

Damian turned to face Grayson and the rest but he didn’t take notice of the nameplate spelled “DANIEL” that had some of his blood seem to absorb the said blood.

…

The room suddenly engulfed with bright green light with each batfam member immediately covering their eyes due to the onslaught of light.

The moment they started to blink away the black spots dancing at their eyes they immediately noticed that the supposed family portrait was now missing 3 members leaving the supposed father sitting alone in the “family portrait”.

Dick tried to usher his siblings out while panicking out that his rambling back then and now is correct about this part of the manor being haunted.

As the voices of each of them began to overlap with each other creating a loud noise, a single large yawn silenced all of them.

Turning their heads back to the portraits they all zeroed in on the individual portrait in the middle. Exhaling another yet small yawn as he seems to try to blink away his sleepiness. Soon the other portraits beside and above him seem to follow, “DANAL” seems to yawn roughly exposing his pearly white teeth to the still shell-shocked BatFam. “DANIELLE” seemed to yawn and pout at the same time as if she was interrupted in her midday nap time. Lastly, the older gentleman in the now empty family portrait covered his hands as he yawned quietly.

Slowly but surely conversation between each painting seems to start as if this scene is something nothing out of the ordinary, as each portrait talks to the other without noticing the still shell-shocked BatFam in front of them.

As “DANIELLE” seemed to be bored and turned to look in the other direction she immediately noticed at still siblings and harshly told the rest they had guests with them.

Dick, Barbara, Jason, Cass, Tim, Stephanie, Damian and Duke.  They were all trained under the greatest detective, he taught them and told them repeatedly that they need to have their mind at the present moment, every day, every hour, and every minute. This is their best tool, their Mind. They can´t take away their mind. It lives inside of them and is the best weapon that they need to live. Yet it seems all of their collective minds were still in the middle of processing the result of a harmless hide-and-seek family fun time activity.

…

The quartet Halfa of a family had been in the Ghost Zone for centuries. Danny’s sister Jazz had settled down and had a family, as they have become somewhat immortal, Fright Knights and a Ghost King they still wished for some sort of communication with their remaining mortal family. Came with the creation of a specialized portrait that only they could access for easy communication, like a video call, while the knowledge of their actual summoning instruction summoning them to the mortal plane had been coded and written at the back of the said portrait.

Vlad had the smug smirk when he had convinced Jasmine to let Dan, Danny, and Dani dress in their Sunday’s best, which made them all squirm and uncomfortable, and to pose for who knows how long for the painting just to finish, never mind that he added an extra three for them as some sort of payback for all the time the three gremlins had caused him extra grey hair.

For someone, they told each other they were different, and seemed all think alike causing him grief, stress, and extra white hairs on top of his head.

At first the first up to the third generation of nieces and nephews would call them through the use of the painting but it seems that it had been radio silence for years now. It is either the knowledge of a weird uncle and aunt has not been properly passed on or Jazz’s line has died out.

So, imagine their surprise that after centuries of radio silence, they have felt their descendant calling them through their portraits.

After a quick pleasantry to each other, all of them looked expectantly at the siblings and Danny briefly wondered if he had something in his face for them to look at them like that and if they had forgotten to breathe.

…

 PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[dreamofarunawayland]

Dying Sparks as reincarnations of Thomas and Martha Wayne

Billy was Thomas and Danny was Martha

Billy had always been good at medical things.  It saved his life on the streets, and a lot of the time he didn’t even need proper materials. Some of the homeless folk used to comment that he should become a doctor. For some reason, that always made Billy feel a bit nostalgic.

Danny had always been surprisingly persuasive. It didn’t say him for being a social outcast, but it did make him very hard to argue with. Most people refuse to argue with him on principal, since he could make almost anyone agree with him. Before the portal, he had even planned to join the debate team.

After Billy became Captain Marvel, he often felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Sometimes it was things from other champions, as Solomon would inform him. A few times, even the god seemed confused though. More than once he heard Zeus mention that he needed to talk to Hades.

After the portal incident, Danny often felt a strange sense of déjà vu. His family’s guns became a lot more terrifying for some reason, and while some of it, he could just brush off as weirdness, other times he was tempted to drag clockwork over for an explanation.

Danny was not planning to go to Gotham, but he was there for a two week space program sponsored by the Wayne foundation. Something about Gotham felt familiar, but he chalked it up to how much ectoplasm was there.

Billy had never planned to go to Gotham, but he needed to grab a cursed item and he refused to ask the family to do it for him. Gotham felt oddly familiar, but Billy brushed it off as the curses.

When a mugger cornered Danny, he didn’t expect a strange sense of déjà vu and fear. He knew intellectually that he would be fine. He could make the bullet phase straight through him, and his healing would fix him up in no time, but there was a strange sense of fear and terror. Danny’s hand went to his neck, searching for something that wasn’t there.

Billy wasn’t planning to do any vigilante work, but when he passed by an alley, he saw a mugger and stopped. The mugger had a boy only a little older than him back against the wall, and the boy was reaching for his neck. Billy had never felt the sense of terror and déjà vu and protectiveness, so without thinking about it he fired lightning from his fingertips straight into the mugger.

The mother fell, and Danny stared at the boy in front of him. The boy stared back at him, and Danny felt this strange feeling of déjà vu and devotion and pure love. A tear slipped down his cheek.

Billy stepped closer to the boy over the body of the unconscious mugger (he hopes the man was unconscious, he had never done that before, and he wasn’t sure the man was even still breathing) and wiped the tear from his cheek.

“Thank you for saving me.” The boy told him. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Billy smiled. “I got you.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, neither of them noticing Batman staring at them with pure shock.



[dreamofarunawayland]

A DC X DP IDEA #48

Grandpa

Imagine dis…

This inspired my fridge being full again, here’s a flash back

Me: Thanks for treating me at my favorite restaurant, Grandpa, but you really don't have to do this every time I visit your house.

Grandpa: Don't worry about it, kid.

Me: I'm *realage*, definitely not a kid, Grandpa...

Grandpa: As long as you're not in your 30s yet, you're still a kid. Come on, pick whatever dessert you want, it's on me.

Me: No thanks, I'm saving up for a special treat.

Grandpa: Didn't you hear me, brat? (fondly) I said it's on me. And what treat are you saving up for? Did my daughter didn’t gave you enough pocket money again?

Me: No, it's not like that, Grandpa. You and Mom give me plenty. It's just that there's this *brand* I've been dying to get ever since I first tried it, so I'm saving up to buy it.

*a few months later*

Me: MAAAAAA!

Mom: What's wrong, honey?

Me: Why is there a bunch of *brand* in the fridgeeee? These are expensive!

*I said as I look at the prices on my phone, fearing I missed some sort of discount for buying in bulk.*

Mom: Dad apparently wanted to try some ever since he saw it in a commercial and bought too many. He sent some extras here...

Me: *Takes a long inhale* AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

….…..

We all have that grandfather. The one who insists he doesn’t play favorites but then turns around and gives one grandchild a thousand dollars for Christmas, claiming it’s because, “Well, I can’t take it with me when I’m dead, might as well spend it on something cute now.” It’s a universal experience. And apparently, not even death—or undeath—exempts you from it.

For the past month, Danny's friends had been roasting him relentlessly over one singular fact: Clockwork spoils him rotten.

Danny, of course, denies it. Danny, ever the tired, oblivious little disaster of a ghost prince, insists Clockwork treats him like any other unfortunate intern-slash-trainee. If anything, he argues, Clockwork enjoys his suffering. After all, no spoiled child would be forced to sit through two-hour lectures on the political structure of the Realm of Screeching Mirrors or solve time-based equations that make mortal physics cry. And yet, somehow, every time he finishes school and is already dead tired—pun intended—he gets yeeted straight into another lesson about interdimensional algebra that makes even Jazz’s nerdy heart weep.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz just sit there and stare at him like he’s trying to convince them the sky isn’t blue. Even Dan, actual chaotic/ genocidal menace of the Ghost Zone, released on royal bail with a community service contract (a.k.a. babysitting duty), had the gall to grimace at the blatant favoritism. Ellie just nodded and made snide bets on how long it would take before Danny noticed Clockwork had been rigging his ghost-life like a doting stage mom.

It didn’t stop there either. Apparently, somewhere along the line, Pandora decided to become the wine aunt—but instead of wine and passive-aggressive casserole recipes, she sent weaponized care packages. Need a broadsword that sings show tunes when swung? Pandora’s got it. She once gave Danny a dagger made from the crystallized screams of vanquished tyrants. When asked why, she simply said, “To keep your mortals on their toes.”

Then there was Frostbite. Calm, collected, soothing Frostbite… who also happened to be the kind of uncle who would knit you a blanket and throw a car at anyone who made you cry. He’d once paused a global summit in the Far Frozen to deliver Danny a scarf because he “looked a bit chilly” during said meeting. The scarf was bulletproof. And sentient.

Everyone saw it. Everyone. The entire inner circle of Danny's life treated it like the worst-kept secret in all of ghostdom. Sam tried reasoning with him. Tucker built a PowerPoint. Jazz made pie charts, actual pie charts, trying to explain the psychological indicators of excessive grandparental attachment. Danny? Still blissfully in denial.

Which was funny, considering Clockwork literally paused time every night so Danny could get his eight hours. And occasionally twelve. Or fourteen. There were also the little notes left in Danny’s backpack: “Don’t forget your lunch, also destroy that wraith behind locker 307, it’s giving off bad vibes. Love, C.W.” Or, you know, when certain bullies AHEM GIW agents that are more on the violent and competent side AHEM mysteriously disappeared from time itself. Not dead, not missing, just never existed in the first place. Suspiciously convenient.

Still, Danny remained oblivious. Ranting about how Clockwork just gave him more work while his friends sat in the background, watching the temporal equivalent of a dad saying “I’m not mad, just disappointed” and rewriting history to give his grandson fewer childhood traumas.

Things only got worse when Phantom officially joined the Justice League Dark. The invitation had been pending for months. After all, there was only so long the League could ignore the literal child-shaped ghost who kept single-handedly neutralizing League-level threats in a small Midwest town like it was his weekend hobby. The Dark team, especially Constantine and Zatanna, had begrudgingly accepted him after witnessing him pull obscure banishment spells from memory, casually referencing ancient ghost kings as if he had lunch with them last week. (He probably did.)

Thanks to Phantom, the League Dark's solved-case rate skyrocketed. Not that Danny bragged about it. No, he just muttered quiet “thank-yous” to Clockwork for teaching him spells like “Ecto-Spatial Reversal via Reverse-Entropy” and “Don’t Touch That You Idiot, It Bites.”

Things were going smoothly—until a group of Green Lanterns arrived with bad news: a planet eater had been spotted in their quadrant. Immediate panic, of course. Superman went into overdrive, Batman did his usual dramatic scowl, and Phantom… winced.

Hard.

He doubled over slightly, one hand pressed to his core, face pale and wide-eyed. The room turned quiet as Danny muttered something garbled, a soft, vibrating cry that made Constantine drop his cigarette and Doctor Fate slowly turn his helmeted head.

What most of the League didn’t know—what even Danny barely acknowledged—was that as a newly ascended Ancient of Space (thanks, Ghost Zone promotions), he could feel his creations. And he had just started experimenting with creating baby planets for fun. Tiny, floating ball worlds full of pink sand, purple skies, and slow-beeping space whales. He’d named one of them “Steve.”

And now? Steve was gone.

That warbled noise he let out? Not pain. Not warning.

It was a cosmic tantrum.

And the moment he wailed, the pen sitting at the edge of the conference table froze in mid-air. Time literally stuttered. The League stood frozen. Until a massive, glowing portal sliced open behind Danny with the sound of a very irritated and blood thirsty grandfather clock chiming, who knew a grandfather clock can make such ominous chime.

Out came a giant ghost cloaked in deep violet robes, staff glowing ominously, red eyes glaring holes through the League. Every hero present snapped into defense mode—Superman rose into the air, Wonder Woman readied her lasso, Batman reached for seventeen gadgets at once.

And Phantom?

Phantom flung himself at the terrifying ghost like a toddler reunited with their favorite plushie after a week of laundry day. The tears started flowing as he began incoherently babbling about Steve and planet goo and how he worked really hard on making the gravity work this time, and now it’s gone, Grandpa, it’s gone!

Clockwork, for his part, gently patted Danny on the head and offered a soft “There, there. Let’s go home. I have cookies. And cocoa. With extra marshmallows.”

Danny nodded miserably, clutching his mentor like the universe had wronged him personally—which, in fairness, it kind of had. The two vanished into the portal, and just like that, time resumed. The pen hit the floor with a sharp clack.

The Justice League stared in stunned silence.

And then, just a beat too late, the Flash burst in with a stack of nachos, four Slurpees, and a hot dog sticking out of his hair.

Flash blinked at the scattered papers, frazzled League members, and the faint, lingering smell of cinnamon cookies. Batman said nothing. Constantine just lit another cigarette.

…..

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[dreamofarunawayland]

dogging it. like the cryptids Gotham needs.

DISCLAMIER !!!! i have never seen or read anything to do with the dc universe OR the Danny phantom show. my understanding of the show comes from cross over righting prompts and the phandoms love for bibity bobitying Danny into Gotham as random animals.

English is not my mother tong and I have moved a lot as a child so my spelling in BOTH my languages is not the best.

this is my first righting prompt for ENY fandom. please do be kind in the comments, constructive criticism is okay but PLEASE don't be rude about it.

on another note, there is art for this! (I'm really heckin proud of it, I'm still kind of new to digital art. )

alright I'm done yapping lets get into this//

. + . + . + . + . + . + . + . + . + . + . + . +

it was a normal night in Gotham, sky was clouded, air was spicy with a hint of some sort of gas and the bats and birds where out and about on patrol.

duke was at home asleep, since he was the dayshift. Jason was in crime alley dealing with some trouble stewing there, Tim was taking a coffee brake on a roof somewhere, dick was finishing calming down a paniced civilian after being mugged a couple of streets over from batman and robin (in Gotham for reasons.) Steph had the night off and cass was being cass and sneaking around somewhere.

nothing big had happened yet for tonight, just some muggings, one of them being a literal mugging involving a heavily intoxicated on who knows what male who SOMEHOW kept on finding random mugs and, like the dumb*ss drunken dude he was, was trying to rob, and I mean TRYING. to rob a poor college student who had stayed late for a test, and like the stressed, overworked, in dept person they where, had forgotten the normal carry on taser so was stuck waiting for a bat to come play. it got handled and now there was just some gossip over the coms that the bat tried and failed to stop.

+ - + - + - + - + - + -

"-the fact that some people keep fish like that in those horrid conditions is just unacceptable. even if you don't involve the fact that a vase is to small for a betta fish there is also the ammonia, nitrite and nitrate build up to take care of and- "

"sorry to interrupt your rant there robin but there seems the be some cams glitching near a alley way near you near 25 Wayman's alley if you can just check that out please. "

"hrm." (bat translation. alright we will go check on it.)

"copy that oracle we will run visual surveillance and see what we find"

"alright thanks just be careful- no wait all units statis."

"me and batman are it rout to the glitched cams." robin said first then waited for the rest to speak.

"*grunts* dealing with some- "HAY JACK*SS STOP THAT." dealing with some low level goons ill be done in a min or 2. " came from red hoods com.

"just finishing off calming a civ after a spook from a mugging!" Nightwing cheerily bugged in with his status

"on a coffee brake." red robin said after nightwing was finished speaking and a couple seconds later a jiggle rang across the coms signalling that black bat was a-okay and checking in as well.

"alright good that you are all safe. we have a arkham brake out. joker is on the loose, i repeat. joker is on the loose."

"F#CK.!"

"ughhhh."

"again? really? ugh."

"hm." (bat translation here again, he is NOT happy about it.)

+ - + - + - + - + -

Danny was.. okay.. ish, he wasn't hurt but he wasn't fully happy about how he get hear in the first place either. he and cujo had been in Gotham for around a week now just living day by day, it was stressful not letting to many folks see cujo but he'd say he's doing pretty well if he's to say for himself!

not really happy about being turned into a dog but he will live (ha right. he's not even alive.) but he will take being a dog over being strapped to lab table torn apart molecule by molecule.

... he's still mad at clockwork for it tho.

just before he got to stuck in his own mind cujo came bouncing over and pawed his leg happily trying to show Danny something so he stopped walking to see what it was that cujo wanted to show him. It turned out to be a old batarang laying there but it was a bit bloody so he let out a low chuft telling cujo to let it be and kept walking, cujo running up to his side after a little bit of sniffing at the discarded weapon.

he's still kind of annoyed that the only way he can talk to somebody makes his voice sound like he's on a OLD voice recorder. and when he does try and speak his mouth doesn't move so it just looks like he's standing there with his mouth wide open , it makes it REALY hard to help calm down folks he runs across and can be really creepy to some folks.

why does he hear crazed laughter?

....

+ - + - + - + - + - +

....

the clown didn't even stand a chance. danny didn't kill him, oh no.

he did make Shure he'd never harm anybody else again, tho and he mighhtttt have been a little bit creepy about it. but i mean come on? a ghosts gotta have fun sometimes and he DID called off cujo after a little bit of light maiming so who can blame him? no him at least.

.....

danny sadly didn't see the random civ who got a good photo of him and cujo when they had stopped for a little thanks the the fact that they had a VERY old camera or the fact that another civ get a VERY blurry video of him and cujo going cryptid on the clown....

(no clue how to make this look like a post on the internet so just imagen it is.)

(cujo is TINY and danny is HUGE he looks kinda like a black lab but the size and fluff of a newfoundland in meh brain)

the vid got posted after the photo and went viral within the next day.

cue red hood LOVEING those puppers and robin trying SO hard to adopt those dogs and FAILING again and again.

[dreamofarunawayland]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Every bat has a cat.

There’s an old phrase in Gotham: every Bat has a Cat.

Like most things whispered through Gotham’s smog, it’s only mostly untrue. Technically, the only Bat who ever really had a Cat was Batman himself—and even that’s been more of a tug-of-war than a love story. Not for lack of effort on Catwoman’s part. She’s tried everything: seduction, threats, borderline kidnapping. At one point, she swore she’d adopt all of Batman’s kids just to spite him. She’s teamed up with the Birds of Prey—where a few of the Bat-daughters moonlight—and once even tried to snatch up Little Timothy Drake back when he was still Robin, dangling the offer of being her “pet stray.” It didn’t take. Timmy was too invested in feathered spandex and daddy issues.

And then there was that… incident with Nightwing. But Gotham doesn’t talk about that. Gotham forgets. Gotham represses.

Still, the saying stuck around, mostly as a joke. A rite of passage, the locals would wink: “Once the birds become Bats, they’ll find their Cat.” Like puberty, but with more rooftop flirting and potential felony charges.

It was all fun and folklore—until it wasn’t.

No one really knows when the joke stopped being a joke. When the line between myth and prophecy started to blur. All anyone can remember is the night it finally got everyone’s attention.

It happened at the grand reopening of the Gotham Museum, debuting a new exhibit on Ancient Sumerian artifacts. Bruce Wayne showed up with two-thirds of his grim duckling trio—Tim and Damian in tuxedos, sulking appropriately (Jason, the other brooding duckling has refused to come, and everyone knew Duke and Dick to be too much of sunshine boys to be part of the brooding bunch). The opening night was invitation-only, with patrons shuffled between exhibits like a very wealthy cattle drive: first Sumerian, then Medieval, then an optional wine bar where the Chardonnay was too warm.

It was during one of these exhibit rotations that Tim saw it. A flicker. A whisper of motion at the corner of his eye. Something feline, something familiar, slipping back into the shadows of the Sumerian wing.

He didn’t hesitate. He turned to Bruce and Damian, voice clipped and sharp.

“Catwoman’s here.”

As soon as Tim muttered the alert, the Bat Family trio slipped into action with the kind of silent efficiency that only years of crimefighting, trauma bonding, and tactical group chats could provide.

Bruce gave a curt nod. “We’re changing. Now.”

It took them less than five minutes to disappear from the gala and reappear as the Bat, Red Robin, and the Robin—silent shadows in kevlar and purpose. They moved through back corridors, slipping past distracted security and tipsy patrons, until they reached the Sumerian exhibit once more.

Only this time, the lights were off.

Tim frowned behind his mask. “That's not ominous at all.”

“Should we announce ourselves?” Damian asked, already reaching for his sword.

“No,” Bruce answered curtly, gesturing for silence.

That’s when the voices drifted through the shadows. Muffled, conversational, and—oddly—playful.

“I dunno, Kitty,” a teen male voice said, exasperated but not particularly hurried. “Mama said not to overindulge, and we already got most of the artifacts we wanted.”

Tim blinked. Mama? Oh great. A new Cat-themed villain with actual parental boundaries.

“Sure,” replied a teen girl, voice bright with amusement. “But look at this diamond, Stray. Tell me it’s not gorgeous. Wouldn’t it look perfect in our collection?”

There was a dramatic sigh, the kind of sigh that implied someone had already lost this argument many times before.

“Mmhhmm... you know what? Fine. What’s one more diamond in the bag?”

That was their cue. The trio advanced, silent as breath, until they reached the edge of the display hall and got their first clear look at the culprits.

It… wasn’t Catwoman.

It was a girl, sure—dressed in what looked like a Catwoman suit, but styled after a tuxedo cat, complete with white accents at her gloves, boots and torso. Her partner, taller and broader, wore a sleeker suit—blacker than night and painted to his skin, save for white hands and feet—and had a calm posture that said yes, I do this a lot and no, I’m not impressed by any of you. Both wore green-tinted goggles that glowed faintly in the dark, and both had visible tufts of snow-white hair peeking from their hoods.

Tim stared. “Okay, so… not Catwoman.”

“No,” Bruce confirmed, grim.

Damian narrowed his eyes. “They are amateurs.”

“Amateurs who just stole a priceless diamond,” Tim muttered. “And called it ‘pretty.’”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “We move. Now.”

Batman dropped down in front of the display case like thunder in a cape, his shadow stretching long and ominous over the marble floor.

Red Robin and Robin flanked him a beat later, dramatic and ready—Tim in full tactical mode, Damian practically vibrating with the urge to stab something.

“Step away from the artifacts,” Batman growled.

The two teens froze mid-theft. The girl blinked behind her green goggles. The boy raised an unimpressed brow that none of them could see but everyone could feel.

“Oh no,” the girl deadpanned, dramatically clutching the diamond to her chest. “It’s the law.”

“Panic,” the boy muttered with a lazy smirk.

“You’re trespassing on federal property,” Batman continued, all gravel and menace. “Surrender. Now.”

“Hmm,” the girl—Kitty—tilted her head. “No thanks.”

“Yeah,” the boy—Stray, apparently—shrugged. “We’re kind of indoor ferals. Surrendering isn’t in the skill set.”

Tim lunged first. He was fast, calculated, and nearly caught her.

Nearly.

Kitty somersaulted backward over a Sumerian statue with all the grace of an Olympic gymnast raised by a jungle cat. She landed en pointe on the exhibit railing, wiggled her fingers in a “ta-ta” motion, and vanished into the shadows like smoke.

Damian growled and went after Stray. “I will neuter you.”

“Big words, Bird Boy,” Stray laughed, ducking and weaving as Damian’s staff sliced through empty air. “But you gotta catch me first.”

Batman threw a batarang—clean, perfect arc, museum-quality aim.

It bounced off the floor as Stray backflipped over it, landing in a low crouch. “Mama warned us about this. Rule number one: Don’t play fetch with the Bat, you aren't a dog, you are a cat and cats has stabdards.”

“Not that she has anything to talk about” answer Kitty, sitting over a display. “She is the first one who plays cat and mouse with him”

Tim leapt from above, a textbook ambush.

Kitty twisted in midair, caught his cape mid-descent, and used it to swing him into a wall.

“Ow,” Tim muttered from the floor, sprawled in an undignified tangle of limbs and regrets. “That’s—okay. That’s fair.”

“Gotta admit,” Kitty said, lightly jogging backward while juggling the diamond between her hands, “you guys are way more coordinated than the usual mall cops.”

“But you still can’t catch us,” Stray added cheerfully, cartwheeling away from Damian’s latest sword swipe and Batman batarang. “Seriously, has anyone ever told you three you try really hard?”

“They’re cute,” Kitty said with mock affection. “Like, ‘aw, they think they’re scary’ cute. Specially the little one, you think I can add him to my display? I always wanted a bird”

“I call dibs on the one who smells like coffee!!”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Who trained you?”

They shared a glance. Then, in perfect unison:

“Mama did.”

Robin skidded to a stop, scowling. “You mean Catwoman.”

Stay grinned, sharp and smug. “We call her Mama. You probably call her when you're lonely.”

“Ooooh,” Kitty winced. “He’s gonna stab you for that.”

“Let him try.”

Another dive. Another swipe. Another miss.

They danced around the trio like mischievous spirits in catsuits, leaping, tumbling, and disappearing behind columns and curtains, always just out of reach.

By the time security finally wandered in—late, confused, and holding tiny flashlights—the Sumerian wing looked like someone had hosted a parkour-themed wedding in it.

The only thing left of the mysterious teens?

A single calling card, perched atop the display case like a signature.

It was shaped like a white paw print.

Tim picked it up and read aloud, “From Mama’s kittens, with love.”

Damian scowled. “I hate cat rogues.”

Batman just stared at the shadows, his voice low. “She trained them.”

“Yeah,” Tim muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder. “And apparently, she trained them too well.”

[dreamofarunawayland]

DpxDc #19

Call of the void.

(shorter than my usual, but a funny thought. Also, little drawing at the end)

Something that Danny wanted to explore together with space, was the ocean.

The thing is: both were terrifying to him, but the thrill of the unknown, the immense voids that nature was capable of...

It was absolutely, existentially dreadful.

He loved it!

He wasn't really afraid of getting lost if he tried to take a stroll around, since he could quickly reach land, so why not try?

It wasn't really his fault that he let himself go!

Danny didn't even realize it was happening, but ectoplasm is a substance that tends to fill space. Between molecules, between atoms, it's everywhere, it's the ambient.

Long story short, he only found out that he had grown to the size of Godzilla when he was casually passing by Atlantis.

He hadn't even noticed the underwater city until he heard screaming coming from below...

Something about a leviathan?

[dreamofarunawayland]

I love dp x DC stories in which Ghost King Danny is summoned in his full Eldritch form and scaring the shit out of everyone. I also like it when it combines with aus of him talking in ghost speak and the translation gets wrangled, so he sounds a lot more threatening than he means to.

But in those stories ... his name doesn't really fit. What Eldritch God would be called Danny? Even Phantom isn't that scary.

Then I realized that if ghost speak gets translates wrongly and Danny said his name in ghost speak ... wouldn't it be translated wrong too?

And Daniel means God is my Judge in Hebrew while Phantom of course is a kind of ghost.

So,

The Justice League has summoned Danny and he doesn't realize that he's in his Eldritch form. His skin is black and filled with galaxies constantly being born and dying. His eyes are two endless black holes. His hair is the flash of the big bang. He's terrifying and awe-inspiring.

As he speaks, it sounds like millions of beings screaming in agony before breathing their last breath.

And then Danny says "Hi! My name is Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, how can I help you?"

But what the JL hears through the translation is: "I am the Judge of Gods and the restless Dead, Ruler of the Infinite, for what purpose hath thee summoned me?"

Now that's a fitting name!