#because that belongs to the King of Infinite Realms

[avis-starr121]

Okay I'm relatively new to DpxDc but I have an idea I haven't seen and wanted to share.

Dead on Main but I've seen people saying that Danny and Jason met in the Ghost Zone while they both were dead, eventually getting together. I love it, it's a really cool idea.

Expanding on that, what if Danny trusted Jason to keep the Ring of Rage?

So like what if Ra's had a deal with Pariah allowing the Lazarus Pit's creation and with it Pariah put a curse of Rage/Madness with the Ring of Rage.

So when Jason was a ghost, he has the ring from Danny (I really like Ghost King Danny, but to your own headcanons) then he's brought back as a zombie then dunked into the Pit where the Ring is stuck to his core.

So the Ring has become like Pit Rage Extreme.

So like Danny's panicking in the GZ because his boyfriend just disappeared (whether in front of him for more angst or him realising it because Jason didn't show up for a date) and then having the realisation that shit he has the Ring of Rage and it's now missing!

So Jason (I like the idea he has a protection and/or revenge obsession) just doesn't realise he has a powerful relic which is causing his core a lot of chaos added to the Pits which probably needed to be cleaned out a few centuries ago.

So when Danny either a) finds him or b) is summoned he is so relieved he's got back his boyfriend, and the Ring where everyone just goes

"…what?"

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [7]

After biting Danny, vampire king Dick gleefully tells him that he now belongs to him, seeing as his bite made him his thrall.

However, beings of the Infinite Realms operate on a lot of Fae rules, and Danny Uno-Reverse’s Dick by telling him that he must now serve him because he ate from him without his permission.

Neither are willing to give up so they are going to have to find some occult lawyer to figure this out.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

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?

[bluerosefox]

Little Danny's Big Adventure

New idea.

Okay now hear me out.

-Pulls out AU idea cauldron and tosses stuff into it-

Let's put in some Ghost King/Prince Danny.... But also some deaged to toddlerhood Danny that gets yeeted into the DCverse!

Like imagine, tiny baby Danny with his tiny crown of ice floating above his head and his galaxy cape wrapped around him and uses it like a baby blanket. He didn't mean to fall into a different universe, a natural portal opened up and he was being a curious little thing! He didn't mean to trip and fall in during his nap time.

Nor was he expecting to fall into this realm during a rogue attack and knock out said rogue cause they were being a meanie and harming people and now Danny just wants his nap time cause he spent a lot of his tiny engery and he wants to find a nice spot.

Danny finds a place to crash, snuggling himself into his cape and the astronaut bear Danielle got him during her last visit that he takes everywhere since.

He's out like a light as the door to this safe house that belongs to one of the Bats opens up.

Meanwhile. In the Infinite Realms, Queen Regent Jazz is going into Mama Bear Jazz Mode trying to find her deaged brother, keeping the Realms in check, and is resisting the urge to put CW in time out Soup Time because he's being cyptided again about Danny whereabouts!!! UGH!

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~part 3

Part 2 ~ Master Post

Tim was beyond irritated. He could have been on a date. Okay, he wasn’t sure if they were dates but they could have been. Damn it. He’d continued to summon Phantom weekly and they’d gone to lunch every time. Pizza. Barbecue. An amazing ramen place. They went to a music festival and visited all the food vendors. 

Things had been going smoothly. He’d been learning more about the Infinite Realm and about Danny himself and was having a great time despite his meddling siblings trying to butt in at every turn. Dick was a repeat offender but Duke, Cass and even Damien had all attempted to ambush him. It was lucky Danny thought it was hilarious and helped Tim avoid them. 

The last two weeks had been a disaster though. He’d had a four day mission with his own team, and had to deal with his friends poking fun at him while trying not to get shot at. Superboy had vastly exaggerated his interaction with Danny to the others! 

By the time he’d gotten back to Gotham, he’d had a small backlog of cases to get through. It was really cutting into both his CEO work and his freaking lunches with a really cute guy who just so happened to be an immortal king of a realm. 

Just when he thought he’d have a little time in the next day or two, Scarecrow was back on his bullshit with his fear toxins. Hadn’t they just done this recently? How had he gotten out of Arkham so fast? 

Tim was woozy, having taken a breath of the toxins and gotten a swift injury to his leg in the process. He’d say it was luck that he already had an antidote on him to fear toxins, but they all carried one with them at all times. He wasn’t freaking out but he could have done without the lightheadedness. It always briefly had him wondering if he’d gotten a concussion, but it was just a side effect. Usually. 

“You good, babybird?” He heard Nightwings voice through comms. He probably thought he was whispering and had no idea how loud he actually was because of the chaos of the night. 

“Never better.” He grumbled, trying to shake off a chill while limping. There was no one around to see at the moment so it was fine. “I’m headed your way.” 

“Good, Scarecrows around here somewhere. Slippery nut job.” Nightwing said. 

“Pay attention.” Batman’s voice ran through their comms. “He divided us on purpose. This isn’t his usual pattern.” 

There was grumbling across the line, everyone having figured that out already but B wouldn’t be B if he didn’t state the obvious for them some nights. 

Tim grappled from one street to the next, hearing sirens far enough in the distance that they couldn’t have been for this. When he landed safely, he pressed his palms to his masked eyes. The throbbing in his head was so annoying, but the jack hammering of his heart was…something he probably shouldn’t ignore but he was. 

“Not a concussion, Red.” He muttered to himself. “Just a stupid sore leg and Scarecrow’s stupid toxins filtering out.” There was always the option that it was a new strain and his antidote didn’t work as well but he wasn’t hallucinating his worst fears so maybe not. 

Trying to shake off his limp, Tim wandered across a nearly empty parking lot. There were a few abandoned cars, most of them missing their tires and on blocks. He kept an ear out, listening for anything that didn’t belong but it was Gotham, and even in the dead of night there were noises. Traffic, generators, air conditioners, nocturnal animals. There was always ambient noise, the key was ignoring the background hums and focusing on the shuffling goons. The problem he was having now however, was the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Red?” Nightwing's voice drifted across comms again. “I don’t see you yet. Something happen?” 

“No i’m…” Tim swallowed, suddenly parched and feeling overall…bad. He tilted his head back to check his surroundings and realized he’d gone the wrong way. How disoriented was he? “Okay, i might not be okay.” 

“Red Robin?” Batman’s voice was calm but urgent. “Do you need backup.” 

Tim almost stumbled but caught himself. “I feel like shit. I think there was something new in the toxins my antidote didn’t take care of.” 

“Oh, how wonderful. You figured it out so quickly.” 

Tim tensed, whirling around to face Scarecrow. Tim hated to think he’d been snuck up on but the rogue was sitting on one of the ripped apart cars in the lot. 

“I’m coming to you!” Nightwing said firmly. “On my way!” 

Tim waved Scarecrow’s words away cockily and only just noticed the way he trembled. “You’re losing your touch. Not a single, horrifying hallucination.” 

The rogue just chuckled. “Oh no, tonight’s a bit of a tester. Something a little different.” 

“That right?” Fuck. 

“Oh indeed, you don't mind being a guinea pig, do you? This particular batch didn’t have the hallucinogens, no. What it is doing is creeping through your system, forcing your body to activate all too real symptoms of fear.” 

“Seems a little corny for you.” Tim said, knowing the others were listening carefully. 

“And you're shaking.” Scarecrow’s huge grin grew broader. “What else, little bird? Over heating? Or are you freezing? Heart pounding? Knees weak? Feeling a fresh wave of tears building? Do let me know. It’s for science.” 

Tim tsked. He wasn’t about to cry but his throat was tight. It was almost like he was having trouble taking in a breath. 

“Somehow, a gas that makes people sick is so much less impressive than your normal routine.” Tim said, his trembling getting worse, but he was positive he was being tracked by at least some of the others. He just had to stall until Nightwing got there. “A couple of phantom pains the best you could come up with?” 

That wasn’t his best quip but Scarecrow took the bait anyway. “Oh no, it’s very real. Your body might not know why it’s so panicked, but it’s pulling out all the stops. Who knows, maybe your heart could just stop.” 

The problem with a lot of Gotham rogues, was the fact that they were actually intelligent people. The man likely could have gone on and on, but he jumped up and moved onto the offensive. He had a pitchfork tonight, and no one could say the man was original. 

“Now just stay still!” 

Tim dodged, the pitchfork surprisingly leaving quite the hole in the concrete. It should have been a simple dance and disarm kind of fight, but Tim’s shaking just got worse, and his stomach started to hurt, and his heart really was trying to beat out of his chest. It really was like he was terrified, the chills of his body making him sweat. 

“No ever actually stays still when someone’s running at them like a lunatic.” Tim said, but the words were almost hard to get out. He wasn’t choking but his throat was so clogged. 

The sass cost him though, and he was hit in his already wounded leg. It sent him rolling across the parking lot and Scarecrow just laughed. 

“Oh, what fun. It’s a shame though, i really miss the screaming of my patients visually seeing their worst nightmare, i’ll have to combine them.” 

Tim legs nearly gave out from under him when he tried to get up. Injury and the damn shaking leaving him unstable. He’d had to stay crouching, pulling out his staff to dig into the ground in front of him to hold himself up. 

“Regardless of my fears, you’re not one of them.” Tim wheezed, wondering if the hallucinogens were actually kicking in when a mist appeared. It was a frigid kind of cold that left ice crystals on all nearby metals. 

“Oh, we’ll see, little bird. I have plenty for your entire family. In fact, i’d love to see what a second dose would do to you.”

“Nearly there.” Batman said, but there was a hiss to his tone that said he knew it wasn’t going to be a timely arrival. 

“This isn’t good…” Tim whispered, watching Scarecrow pull out a small canister, and he was too wobbling to put more distance between them.

With a laugh, Scarecrow hurled it towards him. “Don’t be afraid to inhale!” 

Tim jerked back using his bo-staff as a crutch to give him some kind of momentum but he watched as the canister exploded midair and…something was strange. The cloud of chemicals had been clear for one second before disappearing. There was no time to worry about how quickly it could have been caught on a breeze when even Scarecrow himself looked confused. 

“So fear is your niche.” 

Tim shuddered, eyes going wide as his head jerked towards the sound of the voice. The gentle reverb of the words slicing through him. His solace was that the ire he heard wasn’t directed at him.

Danny was there. Well, King Phantom was there, having appeared out of thin air. It was the first time Tim had seen that form in a while but his friend was just as hauntingly ethereal as Tim remembered. 

He dropped the canister, and Tim had at least a partial answer. Whatever had gone wrong with the toxins had been Phantom’s doing. 

The king stared down at Scarecrow, but Tim couldn’t see his face from where he now sat. “I know a thing or two about fear.” Danny whispered. 

“Impossible.” Scarecrow spat, puffing up like a cat. None of the Gotham rogues liked their plans being disturbed and by a newcomer no less. “What did you do?! Did you inhale my toxins!? Absorb them!? Fool! You’ll be their next victim! You won’t be so relaxed for long! Even Red Robin’s a terrified mess!” 

“Red Robin! Report!” Batman’s voice was firm in his ear. 

“Relaxed?” Phantom mused, deceivingly calm. He’d stiffened, head turning just a little as if checking on Tim, but he never truly took his attention off the rogue. “No, not relaxed. Angry. As delicious as your parlor tricks were, i take offense to finding you hovering like a predator over my friend.” 

He rose into the air a few feet, and only then did Tim realize that he had been standing instead of floating, well, he was floating now. 

Scarecrow just tsked, unaware of the power in front of him. “Meta? Alien? It doesn’t matter. That combination of chemicals-”

“Was delicious.” Danny repeated. 

Tim scooted away, his leg throbbing. “Phantom.” He muttered, finally answering Batman through strangled breaths. “Phantom’s here.”

“Regardless, the offering was not enough to pacify me.” Danny muttered, the black crown over his head spinning. 

Scarecrow actually began laughing, it started with a chuckle but then it grew into something loud and boisterous. “You’re barely more than a child, are you sure you’re ready for this? The hero game is crowded here in Gotham, and you don’t look like any bird or bat i’ve ever seen.” 

Tim watched the way Danny’s hood swayed to the side as he tilted his head. “I am no bird, nor am i a bat.” 

“I’m sure you’ve impressed your little friends with your meta abilities, but it means nothing in a city like this. Though i see you have your talents. How are you unaffected by my toxins?” 

Ice erupted from the ground, enguling Scarecrow’s legs an inch at a time, creeping up his body without a hint of warning. “You misunderstand.” Danny whispered. “I am not here for a conversation. I’m here for my friend, and to teach you that dabbling in fear is childsplay to a being like myself.” 

Tim couldn’t see… Danny was facing away from him but his galaxy cloak billowed out around him without even the slightest breeze. There were shadows…? Something? Tim couldn’t see though he tried. What he could see was Scarecrow, and even with his face covered, his body language betrayed his growing horror. 

“You can not frighten the dead.” Danny said, but in a voice that was decidedly not his own. 

Scarecrow started screaming, a desperate sound that had him thrashing in place, the ice now well around his chest. Tim didn’t know what the rogue was seeing but if scaring someone to death was really a thing… 

“Phantom.” Tim tried to raise his voice and had to close his eyes to shove away the sudden lightheadedness. He was shivering. “W..we good…?” 

Whatever was going on paused, and Danny seemed to reign himself in. The strange movement of his cloak stopped and Tim briefly made a mental note to ask Danny what kind of other forms he might have. 

Danny turned to him, looking normal, though he hadn’t seen his white hair in a while. “I forget sometimes…” He commented, voice even softer than usual. “The living are so fragile.” 

Scarecrow was still screaming, but his head was lulling back and he looked seconds away from passing out. He was held in place by the ice, and obviously wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Yeah, we’re like that.” Tim muttered, shoulders slumping now that the danger was taken care of, it didn’t stop the way his body twitched. His stomach hurt so bad. 

Danny landed by his side silently, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah. Leg’s a little messed up but it’ll heal. The… the toxins in my system are going to have to run their course, unless i can work out how to s..somehow come up with a new antidote before then. St..stupid…” 

Danny cocked his head to the side, wispy white hairs floating around his face. It was unfair how attractive he was. “Want me to eat it?” 

Tim heard a confused “Wut?” from his comm. Spoiler summing up that comment nicely. 

“I can absorb emotion. Because it can sustain us. I just think of it as a different way to eat.” Danny said. Tim breathed a sigh of relief that that half ghost had been around him long enough to know that he liked explanations when he didn’t understand something. 

“That’s w..why the fear toxins didn’t affect you.” 

“Mhmm.” Danny hummed. “Gotta get that recipe though. That was tasty. Frighty would love it. 

Tim sighed, feeling another wave of nausea and he…was pretty sure he was seeing colors he shouldn’t be. “You always leave m…me with more questions than answers. My s..symptoms aren’t emotional. Chem..chemically induced.” And fuck this was so embarrassing in front of the King of the Infinite Realm. 

Danny hummed, and if Tim wasn’t mistaken, he sounded amused. He leaned closer, fingers touching Tim’s face and all at once, he started to feel better. His shaking stopped almost immediately and he was left to assume that despite the chemicals he’d inhaled, Danny was still able to take them from him. Honestly, scientifically it made no sense whatsoever. 

At least his stomach didn’t hurt anymore. 

“What do i owe you for this one?” Tim asked with a weary smile. Other than a sore leg, the other symptoms seemed to disappear. 

“I got two separate fear meals. I’m good.” Danny chuckled, helping Tim to his feet only seconds before Batman and Nightwing arrived. 

Nightwing made a beeline for Tim, grabbing him in the tightest hug while Batman was instead looking Scarecrow over who had, in fact, passed out at some point. 

“Wing, watch it! Watch it! The leg!” 

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Nightwing clung anyway. He then held a hand out to Danny. “Thank you so so much, your Majesty! Your timing is to die for!” 

Tim knew he was in trouble when Danny took Nightwings hand to shake, and his eyes lit up. “Wing…” Tim said in a warning tone that went unheard. 

“No big deal. Visiting Red Robin really lifts my spirits.” Danny said with a small grin, fangs a little larger than in his living form. 

Nightwing tipped his head back and laughed. “Yes!” 

“No…” Tim groaned, shoving away from his brother. 

“In all seriousness, i’m glad i came.” Danny said. “I wasn’t sure if you were trying to summon me or not so i thought i’d poke my head in and see.” 

“I…didn’t realize i did?” Tim muttered, checking his utility belt. “I do have the spell circle but…” 

Danny shrugged “Well you said ‘Phantom’ at some point. I thought it sounded a little different but well…i didn’t think it would hurt to double check. I’m glad i was able to help.” 

“We appreciate it, your Majesty.” Batman commented in a gruff tone. He very much did not appreciate it but couldn’t be mad about someone saving Tim when he wouldn’t have gotten there in time.“What exactly did you do? This ice is-” 

“Oh, right.” Phantom waved his hand flippantly and the ice disappeared. Scarecrow dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “He’ll probably suffer nightmares for the next week but he’ll shake it off.” 

“I have… so many questions…” Tim repeated. 

Danny just looked at him fondly. “You always do.” 

“I’ll take him in.” Batman said. “Red Robin, return for medical treatment.” 

“I’m fine, B.” Tim said, but he was getting a look. “Grab whatever he has on him so we can make new antidotes.” 

Batman grunted, and it was possibly lucky that the rogue was already knocked out. 

“Hey, hey, King Phantom-” Nightwing began. 

“Just Phantom is fine.” 

Nightwing was positively giddy. “What do you say to four a.m. waffles? I know you ate the fear or whatever but you deserve a proper thank you meal.” 

There was something so boyishly charming about the way Danny smiled. His constellation freckles even seemed to twinkle. “As long as they don’t bite back. I’d like that.” 

“Concerning.” Tim hummed, testing his weight on his leg. It wasn’t broken but he wouldn’t be grappling anywhere else tonight.

“Great!” Nightwing said, tapping his own comm. “Spoiler will meet us there!” 

Danny glanced at Tim. “Do uh.. You go…” He gestured to them. “Dressed like this?” 

“All the time.” 

“Okay then.” Danny said, and the only adjustment he made was to reach up above him and grab his crown. It disappeared from view. 

“So many questions.” Tim heaved a sigh. “I guess breakfast would be nice. We haven’t done breakfast yet.” 

Danny nodded once. “At least i feel like i earned it this time. You’ve just been treating me so much lately.” He sounded as close to shy as Tim had ever heard and it was killing him. 

Ugh, now he was doing the death puns… 

“You don’t have to earn your food with us.” Tim said softly. 

“RR is right, you know?” Nightwing beamed. “You should totally get him to bring you home one night, Phantom. Best home cooking you’ve ever had.” 

Danny hummed, “It’s a low bar, but that could be…nice.” 

“We’ll discuss it over waffles!” Nightwing just…decided. 

Tim shook his head, not sure how he felt about these two getting along but Danny was smiling and Tim was a sucker for those smiles. 

“Alright.” Tim said, stifling a yawn. “My leg is stiff so one of you is gonna have to help me get there, but let’s go eat.” 

Danny’s green eyes just glowed with mirth. “No problem.”

[demonic0angel]

EDA >:DD

Look, I just... I need more of that... Jorgu... Jorguman... Jorguamdnra?? I can't pronounce that shit— CLARK/DAN SHIP :33. Can we have a uhm, continuation <333

Don't break your wrist if you don't have any more ideas on how to continue it

-A.E. 👻

(Ayo, worry more about your thumb!! 😭)

Part 1

Superman continued to hold onto the man as they all traveled down the hallways silently. The woman, named Jazz, told him the story of what happened before he arrived.

Originally, she had ruled over the Infinite Realms, a place that was the opposite of the living realm, as queen regent, but when she gave up her position to their little brother Danny, he had been cursed alongside their little sister. Since previous rulers were forbidden from taking back the throne after being thrown off or abdicating, the crown was given to the other brother, Dan (nicknamed from Danny, which was weird).

“So now they’re children?” Superman asked for clarification, eying the two sleeping children in Jazz’s arms. They stepped over more bodies as they continued moving.

She nodded grimly. “The true crown belongs to Danny, since he is the one who acquired the crown through right of conquest. However, for the last few years, Dan has been the one taking up the role as king in order for there to be a ruler while the throne remains empty. He had been doing really good… he quit smoking, he stopped killing, he was healing…” The sad look in her eyes darkened into rage. “But the GIW ruined everything.”

“The GIW?” Superman asked, as he silently picked up a piece of debris to allow them all passage through the wrecked hallways.

“We call them the Guys in White, but their real name is the Ghost Investigation Ward, and they’re a government agency created and designed to hunt down ghosts. They’re a bunch of fanatic, genocidal hard heads who won’t rest until they nuke all ghosts and kill us all,” Jazz said, her tone venomous. “We can’t fight against them, so we’ve been largely distracting them with other targets. It seems that somehow, they found a way into the Ghost Zone to capture Danny and Ellie.”

The girl in her arms stirred and Jazz shushed her gently. “Shh, Dani, go back to sleep. It’s okay, I’m taking care of it.”

She fell back asleep and they didn’t stop moving. Superman digested the information, holding Dan closer to his chest. Said man was clinging onto him, arms wrapped around him as he remained asleep to the world.

He looked so innocent and lovely, unlike that murderous monster that Superman couldn’t understand just moments before.

But now, Superman was conflicted as he understood his motives.

“Why… Why did he relapse so badly?” Superman asked, a hand involuntarily moving from Dan’s back to stroke his long hair.

Jazz gave him a backwards glance and clarified, “Dan?”

“Yes.”

“… he didn’t come from our timeline. He’s from another world, where everyone in his family— us— died. He was possibly psychologically tortured by our godfather and then he broke down even further, enough that he asked to be split in two so he could feel better. It didn’t work. He nearly killed our godfather and then he absorbed the evil in him. It turned him insane and he destroyed everything. After he completely destroyed his world, he set sight on ours. He nearly killed me and Danny.”

Superman stared wide eyed at her. “And you forgave him?”

She turned back and smiled softly. “He’s my little brother. I’d forgive him for anything. And he’s much better now. He wasn’t well before. But he’s gotten help and he made the effort. He worked hard to be a better person, but the GIW set him back. So after we finish taking care of them, we’ll take care of him.”

Superman clutched at Dan even harder, a mixture of awe and inspiration taking over him. The movement must’ve jostled him, because Dan snuffled, rubbing his fine facial hair against Superman’s neck. Superman withheld a shudder and said determinedly, “I’ll help you.”

“Hmm. Much appreciated. Could you stop snuggling my little brother now?”

Superman blushed bright red. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” He hadn’t thought she would’ve noticed.

Jazz turned her head enough to give him a disdainful look but didn’t say anything. Danny, peeking over her shoulder, opened his eyes and glared at him. Superman flushed and loosened his grip on Dan, whose expression turned disgruntled from losing warmth as he whined.

Oh dear. How embarrassing.

[vodkassassin]

Amity Park didn’t return to Illinois after they were transported to the ghost zone.

After all, the Zone is fickle even in transporting singular entities like the smallest blob ghost. How about an entire town, with all those people in it?

Instead of Illinois, they end up slightly off the coast of New Jersey, a long time before Amity Park, Illinois ever existed.

Fixing damages that happened to the town during the transfer is considered a total loss, so they scrap everything and rebuild. Since the ghost issue seems to not be going anywhere ever, the decision to lean into the aesthetic and embrace it instead of denying and fighting it is nearly unanimous (save for a few ghost hunters here and there, but they are the minority).

It’s easy to slide into their new existence. Things are very different from the modern life they’re all used to, but much is still the same.

Phantom is always there to protect.

Hauntings are a part of their very foundations.

Amity Park was always pretty isolated, all things considered. So they continue on.

Tucker later on becomes mayor of the new town Gotham (Sam has a heavy hand in convincing everyone to go along with the name). He holds his position much longer and with far higher approval ratings than his predecessor.

Sam eventually marries someone who moved to the newly established Gotham from the mainland, on a business venture, whose last name is Wayne.

Together, they inherit what’s left of the immense Manson wealth.

People from the mainland come and go, providing economy. Not a lot of them stick around, too uneasy of the supernaturally dreary atmosphere of Gotham Island and it’s frankly hostile architecture. The Amitians — Gothamites now — don’t really get it. What’s wrong with ghosts??

The original townspeople are so saturated with ectoplasm at this point that they’ve ceased aging. They die eventually, but immediately become ghosts and just make the trip through the portal to become citizens of Phantom’s kingdom in the Infinite Realms. All things considered, nothing much changes after death, either.

However, it’s soon decided that before any more new people can move to Gotham, the portal must be closed and locked for the safety of the regular humans who are not as immune to the influence of the Zone.

So the portal is buried and hidden, locked and guarded by the eternal soldiers of the Ghost King, the key safely kept on the King’s person at all times.

Life goes on. Years pass. The true origins of Gotham fall into the realm of the forgotten. Eventually, it becomes what it is today.

Batman and all.

The Batcave is more home to Bruce Wayne than even the manor that caps it. That’s because in the cave, he is a step closer to a portal to the Infinite Realms that has been locked and hidden deep underneath the land that once belonged to his ancestors, the Manson-Waynes.

As a direct descendant of one of the original Amity Park townspeople, and one who was (is) so closely tied to the haunt of the Ghost King himself, Bruce has always had a special and innate connection to the town and the land that his city is built on, but never really knew why.

He just thinks of it as his father Thomas explained it to him; the Manson-Waynes, later the Waynes, had been one of the founding families families of Gotham — alongside the Fenton, Baxter, and Sanchez families. Since the other families have long since died out, it’s up to the Waynes to uphold their legacy, and that duty falls to Bruce.

Or so that’s how Thomas, who knew nothing of Gotham’s ghostly, Amitian origins, understood it.

It’s not until Jason, back from the dead, becomes a regular part of the family again, that Bruce starts feeling as if something is different about the cave, and then later the city at large.

Almost as if it’s been awakened, somehow.

[krzys2000]

Looking for prompted

It was Danny Phantom prompted or dp x dc one

Anyway gist of It was Danny was very strong but he doesn't know understand it. He has scary reputation in infinite realms (his rouges are still chill with him) and outside portal community/city/territory was being created.

It belongs to Danny

When some new ghost appeared in amity by accident she was nerwous and burst in tears and sight of Danny because she though he is going to hurt/destroy her. Danny meanwhile spends 10(?) minutes calamining ghost and them escort her back to ghost zone

. Danny is in denial thinking that living world is overwhelming for new ghost not that they are scared of him

@stealingyourbones @fancycat-thesilvertux @hdgnj @azulhood @percyisawesome @radiance1 @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @long-live-astronerd-ghost-king @omnicrafts @evilminji maybe you guys know/can guess what I am looking for

[disillusioneddanny]

Remember Me (Avenge Me)

Danny Fenton had no idea what it was, but there was something in the Infinite Realms that felt off. He had felt it for a few days now but he hadn’t been able to pinpoint what exactly that feeling was except that something was in the Realms, something that didn’t belong here. He just needed to find what it was and send it back to where it belonged. But before he could do that, he had to pinpoint the feeling. 

The way Danny was connected to the Infinite Realms was weird, he didn’t know how to explain it. Despite the fact that he had turned down the crown and title of King, the connection grew stronger. Clockwork had informed him that the connection was because he was the balance. Despite his desire to live a normal life and not become royalty in the Realms; the Infinite Realms claimed him regardless. Clockwork had told him that it was because he was the balance, that the Realms had claimed him as such. He was the only true halfa in existence, Vlad was starting to turn more ghostly every day, and his body was slowly dying, Ellie was created she hadn’t been born alive and then half died so it wasn’t the same. 

But Danny? He had died halfway, he had become half living and half dead and had become basically a Schrodinger’s cat because of it. And since he had this perfect balance to him, he was the one to rule the balance, to keep up with if things in either the land of the living or the land of the dead were out of balance. This resulted in his getting his ass thrown onto the newly created Council of Ancients that ran the Infinite Realms as a fucking junior member because apparently, his connection to the Infinite Realms meant that he was on his way to becoming an ancient. And now he had been stuck with a position of power despite his refusal.

So, because of this, he was immediately alerted by the Infinite Realms themselves that something was wrong. Someone was here that wasn’t meant to be and he had to get them out of here before it threw everything out of wack. 

The problem was that the Infinite Realms didn’t tell him where this thing was, all it told him was that something that didn’t belong was there and he needed to find a way to get it out. Which was how he was brought to his current location. He stood in the castle of the Infinite Realms searching through the archives for that Ancient’s damned infini-map because he swore he left it here but where?

“What are you doing?” An annoying, irritating voice asked angrily and Danny turned to find Ghost Writer glaring at him, his arms crossed over his chest. “You are destroying my library.”

“I’m looking for something,” Danny said with a huff before he turned back to the pile of books he was tearing apart to find that stupid fucking map. 

“What are you looking for!? I have a system Daniel, a system and you are destroying my library!”

“I’m looking for the stupid map! There’s something in the Infinite Realms that shouldn’t be here but I can’t fucking find it without the map. Where did you put it?” Danny exclaimed, turning on a heel to glare at his enemy. 

Ghost Writer scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest in offense. “I didn’t do anything to it except put it in its rightful spot,” he said before summoning the map and holding it out for Danny. “You will be cleaning this up once you finish your blasted mission or else I will be having another conversation with FrostbiteFrosbite regarding your behavior.”

Danny rolled his eyes and snatched the stupid map from him and stormed out of the library, muttering about hateful librarians. Frostbite was the one in charge of Danny until he had actually become an Ancient, had said that he would be responsible for any of the child’s actions until he was old enough to conduct himself. Despite the fact that Danny was twenty-two in living years, he was considered a baby ghost until his hundredth year of existence, he would be considered an ancient upon his five hundredth year of existence. Until then, he was just a baby who couldn’t control himself, according to the other ghosts. It was why he got along so well with Ember, Johnny, Kitty, and Youngblood, they were all still considered baby ghosts as well. 

The halfa grumbled to himself as he looked over the map of the Infinite Realms and tried to relax as Clockwork had instructed him, letting his shoulders drop down, letting the tension leave his body. He let out a soft hum as he focused on the pull he felt in his core, the very thing telling him that there was something wrong in the InfiniteInfinte Realms that he needed to fix. Slowly the information on the map started to change and morph and then it appeared. 

He let out a groan as the dot appeared in the ghostly version of Gotham, his least favorite part of the Infinite Realms. With an annoyed huff, Danny rolled up the map and stuck it in his chest, and took off out of the castle and through the realms to the worst part of the Infinite Realms. 

It wasn’t the ruler of the area that was bad, actually, he adored Lady Gotham, she was a member of the council and the sweetest ghost he had ever met. It was the souls who drove him up the wall. Each one demanded that he solve their murder, demanded that he help them get revenge on this villain or that one and basically drive him insane. 

Martha and Thomas Wayne in particular drove him up the wall. The two had approached Danny numerous times begging for him to protect their son, to try and get him to stop whatever it was that he was doing and each time Danny said no. If it didn’t go against the balance of the realms, he didn’t step in. The fact that their son decided to not get help after their murders and become a vigilante in a furry costume to fight crime was not a reason for Danny to intervene. Now if he had summoned his parents and tied their ghosts to him, then Danny would step in. 

His job was to make sure that the ghosts passed over and that they stayed in the Infinite Realms rather than cause mayhem in the living realms. Just as he made sure that humans didn’t stay within the Infinite Realms if they ever appeared here. The only one he ever had to deal with was usually John Constantine but at this point, it seemed like he finally got the message. 

Danny flew through the Infinite Realms and his feet slowly landed on the ground of Gotham City. He looked around and wrinkled his nose as the tug to his core grew stronger. Yup, whatever was wrong was here. He pulled the map out of his chest and looked at it once more. 

“Oh good, you’re here,” a woman said, her voice laced with a strong Jersey Accent. 

Danny glanced up and smiled at Lady Gotham who stood before him, her form that of a nineteen-twenties Black woman. She dressed as most women who had been a part of the Harlem Renaissance, or well in the Lady’s case, Gotham RenaissanceReneissance as a lot of the same things that had occurred in Harlem had trickled into Gotham at the time. Her hair sat coifed up in a beautiful afro upon her head, large hoop earrings hug from her lobes and a beautiful flapper-style dress and simple black heels covered her. She was gorgeous beyond words and Danny felt his core flutter at the ghost before him. 

“Hi Lady Gotham,” he said with a small smile on his face. 

“Hi Danny,” she said before grabbing his wrist and pulling him through the streets of what looked like Upper Gotham. “I’m glad you’re here, I need you to figure out what we should do, he’s not a ghost but he isn’t alive either. I know him but he doesn’t know who he is, he also doesn't know that he’s dead and it’s not right? As in he’s not dead correctly?”

Danny frowned and followed the ancient down the street quickly. “What do you mean he isn’t dead?”

“He’s like you, but not?” Lady Gotham said, screwing her nose up as she frowned. 

At that, the halfa let out a soft hum, maybe that was why the Infinite Realms had been bothering him so much to fix this. The two hurried down the streets of Gotham until they approached Wayne Manor and Danny let out a whine. 

“Please don’t tell me that Martha and Thomas are here?” He complained. 

Lady Gotham just gave him an amused smile and opened the doors to the manor and led him inside. “Alright, Lord Phantom has arrived, we shall let him look at the boy and decide what we should do now.”

Danny sighed and looked over the room to find both Waynes in the sitting room as well as a young boy around the age of fourteen sitting slumped down on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a ripped-up and destroyed Robin suit, his lips curled up in a scowl. 

He looked at the boy and then at the Waynes. “I still don’t understand what I’m doing here,” he said, feeling even more confused. Then his core tugged at the boy roughly and he nearly stumbled at the weight. 

He looked at the boy again. “You’re not dead. But you are dead,” he murmured, stepping towards the kid and walking around him slowly as he took him in. He was definitely in a ghost form, the snow-white hair, red eyes, and greenish skin were the giveaway. But there was a strand of black hair at the front of his head, not only that but there was something obviously different about him, something not quite dead. 

“Yeah, that’s what they said too,” he grumbled. “Look do you know who the fuck I am? Because these assholes know but they won’t tell me shit.”

Danny frowned, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked the kid over once again and took a seat on the couch with him. “What do you know? Do you remember anything?” he asked, taking the kid’s hand in his and pressing his fingers to the pulse point on his wrist and feeling the dull beats of a heart. It was far too slow, even slower than Danny’s in his human form which only beat five times per minute. This kid’s heart was still beating once per minute. 

Robin shrugged his shoulders. “Not much. I woke up wearing these ripped-up clothes and had a major headache, I’m kinda hungry and something feels wrong. I don’t think I’m supposed to be here but I don’t know where I’m supposed to be either.”

Danny hummed and looked him over. “You want answers?” He asked. 

“Phantom, you don’t know if it would be more harm than good,” Thomas warned, stepping forward. Danny held a hand up, ignoring the man as he looked down at Jason Todd, a boy who was completely and totally out of balance, who had died before his time and not only that, he didn’t die right.

“You were very scared when you died, but not only that, you were very angry,” Danny said softly, looking Jason in the eyes, ignoring the complaints from the Waynes as Lady Gotham ushered them out of the room. “You went to find your mother, desperate to have her love. But what you got was betrayal, betrayal, and a crazy ass clown who murdered you in cold blood and your dad didn’t make it in time.”

Jason let out a snarl. “He didn’t come, he was supposed to be there, he was supposed to save me.”

“And he didn’t, and you were murdered. You’re angry, aren’t you?” Danny asked, tilting his head to the side as he summoned a small portal that showed a version of Jason Todd clawing himself out of his grave and stumbling out mindlessly, like a zombie almost. Danny looked back at Jason. 

“Your name is Jason Todd, you are best known as Robin, Batman’s sidekick, his right-hand man. You were murdered by the Joker and you want revenge, you want to avenge your death,” he said, staring dead into those red eyes of an angry revenant who let out a snarl. 

“I want more than revenge, I want the Joker destroyed and I want my dad to be the one to do it. He should have been there,” Jason snarled out, his eyes glowing bright, ectoplasmic green as the anger grew more and more. “And I’ll get him to do it one way or another.”

“Phantom,” Lady Gotham said softly, worry lacing her voice as she watched the scene in front of her in concern. 

“A revenant, Lady Gotham, Jason Todd died and became a revenant. He’s so angry with his own murder that he is forcing himself to come back to life to get revenge, even if he didn’t realize it himself. His human form has already dug itself out of the grave, now Jason needs to find a conduit to send him from our world to the human world once again.”

“And how are you going to do that?” The ghost asked, looking down at Jason who was now stewing in his own anger. 

Danny quirked up his lips in a small smile and looked over at the small portal showing him what was happening in the world of the living. “Nothing, look,” he said as Talia al Ghul approached Jason’s zombie-like body and pulled him into a nondescript car. “The League of Assassins have found him. He will likely be dipped into the Lazarus pits and reconnected with his body.”

“So we just leave him like this until they do that?” Lady Gotham asked incredulously. 

Danny looked back at Jason and shook his head. “No, we’ll make sure they pull him through. But we won’t be able to stop the rage he is going to feel, he’s angry and he wants revenge. And that anger isn’t going to go away until he finds that revenge.”

“Revenants die after they get their revenge, Phantom. He’s going to live a half-life up there, one full of anger and heartbreak and then he’s going to die again,” she said sadly, looking at one of her wards. 

At that, the Lord of Balance let out a hum and took Jason’s hand in his. “No, he won’t. Jason Todd is going to live a very long life,” he declared as he collected a handful of ectoplasm and slowly pressed it into the revenant’s chest. “The ecto will keep him alive well into his eighties unless he somehow dies on the job or something else. Jason Todd, upon getting revenge for your death, you have my blessing as Phantom, Lord of Balance to continue living until your time has truly come. Do not waste this second shot at life,” he advised softly. 

Jason tore his eyes away from the hole he had been burning into the ground and looked at Danny. “I can go back?” He whispered softly. 

Danny just nodded and gave him a small smile. “Go back, get your revenge, and then live a very long and happy life. I don’t want to see you again for a very long time, do you understand?”

He swallowed and nodded his head. “Yes, yeah I can do that.”

The halfa gave him a small, secretive smile. “The rage you are going to feel is not a bad thing, it’s what’s going to keep you going, what’s going to keep you alive. Learn how to use it for more than just anger, okay? Learn to live with the rage and learn to live again.”

“How do I use it for more than just anger?” Jason whispered. “I’m so angry I want to kill I want to destroy everything.”

“You’ll remind yourself that not everyone gets a second chance, you’ll remind yourself that you are very lucky to be able to live again, many ghosts would kill for that chance. So you won’t waste it, right? You won’t waste my gift in allowing you to live after you’ve gotten your revenge.”

Jason shook his head and shot forward, hugging Danny tight. “Thank you.”

Danny just smiled and hugged him back as a portal opened behind Jason. He pulled away from the revenant and shoved him through the portal roughly.

“Are you sure this is a wise decision?” Lady Gotham asked softly watching through Danny’s portal as Jason came through the Lazarus Pits with a gasp. 

Danny nodded his head. “Yup. He’s not meant for our world, not yet. But he’s going to be a very strong ghost one day. But until then, he deserves life.”

“What are you going to do about the Observants?”

Danny smiled and picked up a small green post-it note from where Jason had just been sitting. “I think we will find that they won’t put up that much of a fight,” he said, showing the note to Lady Gotham. 

Send Jason Todd Back. - CW

@dpxdcdisneyau

[alyakthedorklord]

Ectoplasm = The Primordial Soup

I have Thoughts/Headcanons about the Infinite Realms I want to put down somewhere

The concept of Infinity is really really interesting on a metaphysical sense and to have a REALM titled after it? I want to know MORE. What is it? Is it purgatory? An end? A beginning? A funhouse mirror? Or all these possibilities in one, as it is truly Infinite?

Fanon-wise, especially in crossovers, the ghost zone/infinite realms is a truly infinite realm that connects to every universe out there. It serves as the Main Realm of the Dead, the sea in which all the other realms of the dead are floating in, right? When Danny is written as the King of this Realm, he is often placed at the top of the chain of command, above hades/hell/whatever demon or deity the author sees fit. The crown and ring literally grant (quoted from the show) “infinite power,” so Ghost King Danny is OP for a Canon Reason.

We are also using the fact that its a ghosts obsession that keeps them on that plane. Its their obsession that powers them, they are so attached to this one thing that the ectoplasm around them forms into what they want. Aka, power of belief. Belief is what makes the ghosts exist, and the concepts exist, and as we often see in writing, the many religions that the realms of the dead belong to.

(Edit: We see this in the wide array of personalized powers each ghost has, in thier wildly different appearances, every haunt and island tailored to them.)

With all these powers gathered in one place, what is the REASON that the infinite realms is as it is?

What if the infinite realms, and ectoplasm itself, is the primordial soup? What if every universe is formed first from a being of the infinite realms? What if the beings that created those worlds are just… primordial ecto entities. Playing in the sand. Over time growing in strength and detail until they became Gods of their own worlds, seperate from the infinite realms even as these worlds were born from it? All that remains are doors into their dollhouses, windows into their dreams, and the belief of the souls they made came back through and made more gods, more spirits. Souls come through those doors, back into the cycle.

This would explain why Danny Phantom Ghosts are different from traditional/normal ghosts in whatever crossover your using. Because they are ghosts, but they’re more akin to itty bitty primordial spirits.

The rivers of the dead, the Styx, the Nile, souls they travel back through the infinite realms before reentering the cycle or dropping off at thier final destination. But sometimes, as a soul is traveling, and their connection to something is strong enough, and their will is strong enough, they catch hold of primordial soup/ectoplasm, create a body of it, and escape the cycle of Life and Death. They become mini gods of their own obsession.

This ALSO explains ghost king by right of conquest and the head canon that ghosts bond by fighting! Not only are they basically indestructible, but the power of your will and strength of your character is a DIRECT link to how powerful you become. Winning in a fight demonstrates your stronger connection to the fabric of reality and your hold on your own existence. The flavor of that connection really helps Ghosts figure each other out.

Also, to become an Infinite Realms Ghost you have to be the kind of stubborn bastard who looks at the fabric of reality itself and goes “Actually? You work for ME now. Lets go.” They are all confrontational assholes.

The primordials don’t explain Shit to the tiny spirits so they go, “ah. I ghost. This is Ghost zone. This is normal afterlife.” And they don’t know that this is a place of creation, because all they know is that this is a place of death. But they make islands and lairs and domains of which they control, thier own Miniature World they are god of. They collect weaker spirits, who fit thier aesthetic and fill out their worlds. (Uniform/crowd ghosts often band together to form a group identity, acting as a support system for those who might fade easier. And definitely not Ease of Animation. Im putting lore here, yep. Main Character Syndrome is a Health Benefit/Status symbol in the infinite realms.

Anyways, eventually the secret of what exactly the infinite realms are is hidden away.

But as King, and Ancient of Space…

Danny is in charge of organizing all these universes. These galaxies, these tiny works of art.

He is so excited for when he’s old enough to make his own.

Im sure ill be editing this when I have energy for anything other than a stream of consciousness.

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Chrysoprase

The Stone of Venus

Requested by @acovenoftwo

Chemical Formula:  SiO2

Color: Apple green, lemon

Rarity: Easy to obtain as a tumble stone, finer quality is expensive

Hardiness: 7

Type: Chalcedony

Chakra Association: Heart and Solar Plexus

Deities: Venus

Birthstone: May

Astrological Signs: Gemini, Taurus

Element: Water

Planet: Mercury

Origin: Formerly Poland, Now Australia, Brazil, Madagascar, Russia, Tanzania, USA

Powers: Encouraging development, Compassion, Tolerance, Growth, Forgiveness, Connection to Nature

Crystals It Works Well With: Mountain “jade”, Tourmaline, Smokey Quartz

How It is Created: Chrysoprase is a type of chalcedony quartz with a microcrystalline structure. Its color comes from nickel deposits, and it can be found in pale shades through to brighter green. Raw pieces have a granular appearance, similar to pieces of coconut, and a waxy sheen when polished.

History: Chrysoprase, called Stone of Venus because in antiquity it represented the goddess of divine love, the famous Venus, is a magnificent apple-green nickeliferous chalcedony belonging to the family of microcrystalline quartz. The ancient Egyptians also used chrysoprase for practical purposes such as sealing letters, but they would also wear pendants, amulets and other jewelry made of chrysoprase. For hundreds of years, the only major source of chrysoprase was a region of southwestern Poland between the Czech Republic and Germany, formerly known as Lower Silesia. This area has a complex geology and is extremely rich in all kinds of mineral deposits, including gold, silver, serpentine, quartz, marble, granite, alabaster—and chrysoprase. Stone artifacts from as far back as the Iron Age show the long history of Silesian carving and masonry. In the eighteenth century, Frederick II, King of Prussia (now part of Germany), conquered Lower Silesia. In particular, he wanted its deposits of green chrysoprase, which he used to decorate the halls of his favorite palace at Potsdam near Berlin.

What It Can Do:

Known as the healer of the heart space and helps connect you with infinite supply of compassion and love

Supports cardiac health and provides a centered peace

Helps people suffering from melancholy and manifests optimism and joy

Can be placed by homegrown herbs and vegetables to boost production

Perfect to artist as it increases creativity and talent

Encourages fidelity, forgiveness, compassion, and nonjudgmental thinking in relationships, while banishing greed and selfishness

Helps with inducing deep meditative states and promotes the love of truth

Calming and nonegotistical, creating openness in new situations

Stimulates fluent speech and mental dexterity, preventing you from speaking out unthinkingly in anger

Lifts oppressive and recurrent images, preventing nightmares, especially in children

Is said to detoxify heavy metals in one’s body and stimulate liver function

Is said to enhance fertility, reverse effects of infertility that are caused by infection and guard against STIs

Increases the absorption of Vitamin C

How to Get the Best Out Of: Wear as a necklace, bracelet, earrings or even use it in an elixir. Carrying chrysoprase for long periods attunes to the devic realm, a band of frequency found present on Earth which can connect you to nature and the planet directly

How to Cleanse and Charge: Can be cleansed briefly under running water then recharged overnight among a host of rock crystals for a few weeks. Cleanse during a rain shower for optimized cleansing,

Crystal Grid:

Healing for Children (Nightmares)

Shape: Fruit of Life

• 6 “issue” or calming stones

• 4 grounding crystals

• 2 light-bringing crystals

1. Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

2. Lay the central keystone to represent your child.

3. Lay six crystals around the keystone to assist with the challenge or issue. (These crystalscan either represent a single issue, or different ones—whichever feels best to you. However,it may be more effective to address separate issues by laying individual grids.)

4. Lay four grounding crystals to anchor the grid at each corner of the “square.”

5. Lay a light-bringing crystal at the top and bottom.

6. Leave in place until the issue or issues have been resolved, remembering to cleanse thegrid regularly.

Crystals to use: Chrysoprase, Amethyst, Prehnite, Bloodstone

Sources

[hailturinturambar]

Condemned Sorrows.

Pairing: Melkor/Morgoth x Nienna

Word count: 5.721

Author's Notes: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes or confusion. Requests are open, check the information before requesting. In the books, it is not specified which creatures live in the sea of ​​Arda. And since I am obsessed with the worm/serpent that appears in The Rings of Power, I wanted to make a mix. By the way, Lingwilókë and the descriptions of sea serpents were inspired by Tolkien's book Roverandom.

Warnings: Abusive relationship. Pure manipulation. Deception. Anguish. Happiness doesn't exist here, right?

Summary: Furious with Ulmo's misfortune, it is Melkor who decides to challenge the Lord of Seas and prove that he will not give up on Nienna easily. Nienna, unaware of Melkor's anger, suffers in silence with loneliness and the loss of her husband. But Melkor, powerful and proud, will not allow Nienna to find peace, not far from him. And he will only be satisfied when she is his again.

PART VI -> SERIES MASTERLIST

When the Great Song was composed, Melkor feared the light of Varda. But he also feared the Sea. For Ulmo was its Lord, and the Sea could not be controlled. Melkor, though he failed many times, never abandoned the desire to control the domain of all the other Valar.

Ekkaia, they called it. The Outer Sea, too. The waters of Ekkaia surrounded all of Arda, and the power of Ulmo ruled those waters. Lord of Waters, he was called. The Ocean was vast, but cold and tenebrous. Uncontrollable and dark as night. Like the darkness that dwelt in Middle-earth.

In the straits of Belegaer in Middle-earth there was Helcaraxë. A cursed and devastated land, where countless Noldor perished after departing from the Undying Lands and being betrayed by the House of Fëanor. Tortuous and cruel memories stained the frozen soil of that land.

Under the darkness of night, Middle-earth trembled with Melkor's malice, with the fury that emanated from Angband. Like a plague, it poisoned the land, tainted every root and being that drew near to the Dark Lord's fortress. An evil so deep, so intricate, that the world would need to be remade to drive out all the evil that Melkor had sown.

However, Melkor was not in Angband. Not anymore. Because Melkor's cruelty knew no bounds and he was blinded by fury. By the poisonous feeling that consumed his chest, that prevented him from being rational. Because Melkor, the Black King, would not accept a dispute, a duel. Much less, that what belonged to him was taken.

Lord of All Things in Arda, he desired to be, no matter the cost. Melkor's hunger was infinite, he would devour Middle-earth, all of Arda before he was satisfied. For how could Melkor be satisfied, when a part of him was missing?

When he felt as if his spirit had been brutally ripped away, destroying not only his Fana, but his entire mind and thought. Something was missing, Melkor thought, and it was eating away at the Dark Lord. Little by little.

Like the night itself, Melkor's dark armor gleamed against the moonlight. The Silmarils on his crown shone with pure yet corrupt beauty, shining the ancient light of Valinor against Melkor's scarred face.

With malice, Melkor smiled as he gazed upon Ekkaia. Many things, indeed, Melkor had learned from Ungoliant, before she betrayed him. And from her, he had learned how to feel the night against his very being, against his very essence. And cloaked in darkness and mist, Melkor was hidden from the watchful eyes of the Valar.

Malice and darkness surrounded Melkor, mingling with the laughter of the Dark Vala. The sacred sight of Ekkaia mattered little to Melkor. Nothing about that Ocean was sacred, not to him. Because sacred places, Melkor thought, must be dark. Completely devoid of light.

For what is divine is not forged in light and purity, love and gentleness. But in strength and fury, blood and tears. And Melkor had stained all of Arda with blood. Most of all, the Undying Lands, the Blessed Realm that had cost Melkor so much. It had taken, most of all, so much from him.

His Shadow reached out across Ekkaia, a dark and gloomy hand, carrying his malice across Arda. He was coming, and he wanted her to know it. His wayward wife. So stubborn and resolute, yet so patient and benevolent.

And Melkor was tired of waiting for her. He had waited long enough, had not he? For ages he had waited for her, but she had never betrayed the Valar. And for Three Ages he had waited for her, for her to forgive him and accept him despite the darkness that stained his spirit. Yet he had lost Nienna, again. As he always did.

With his eyes closed, Melkor let the Shadow roam across Arda. Let its cruel whispers reach all who feared the night in Arda. Who feared Melkor's night. And he hoped that Nienna would feel his power, destroying everything, twisting everything his touched.

He hated her, yes. But he loved her, more than a Fallen Vala could ever hope to. This love, it was love, but it was hate, too. Because a love so big, so obsessive, knew no bounds, knew no purity or kindness. And it never stopped growing, until it consumed everything around it.

To Melkor, love and devour were almost the same thing. For he loved Nienna as much as he longed to devour her, like Ungoliant in Valinor. He understood, now, that hunger. Unstoppable, uncontrolled, furious. That does not rest until the world is ashes.

A distant, melodic chant answered Melkor's call. His Shadow. It seemed, Melkor thought, that Nienna was not the only one drawn to the darkness. Wicked creatures, nameless monsters, inhabited the Seas of Arda, the Elves said.

But Melkor knew better. For to him, these were not just legends. He had been there when the Song was sung by Eru. And the singing was closer, almost as if bewitched by Melkor's power. By all the power he poured into his Shadow.

Deep within Ekkaia, creatures heard Melkor's call, and many feared Ulmo's wrath if they heeded the Dark Lord. But not all. And all the waters of Arda stirred at the approach of the oldest being that ever lived in the Seas of Arda.

“Come to me.” Melkor whispered in Black Speech.

And the cry of the sea-beast answered the song of the Dark Vala. Lingwilókë, the Valar and Elves called it. The Fish-dragon. The creature most feared by Elves and Men. Bestial and powerful, the Sea-serpents could not be controlled even by Ulmo. They had no Lords, the legends said.

But trapped in the darkness of Ekkaia, deprived of the light, they began to lust after the darkness. As Melkor even before the night itself. The sound was closer now, and with a sly smile, Melkor raised his hands, like a king on top of the world.

Emerging in all his glory from Ocean, Lingwilókë's cry accompanied Melkor's song, and perversion found a home in the creature's corrupted heart. Melkor, contemplating the divine being who answered his call with such devotion, smiled deeply.

“Find my wife,” He said in Black Speech. “And destroy everything in your path.”

As Lingwilókë roared in devotion and obedience before plunging into the cold, dark waters, Melkor turned his back on the beastly creature. As his Shadow wove his malice into the serpent's heart, Melkor smiled with satisfaction at the terror he knew Nienna would feel upon discovering what he had done.

In Valinor, Nienna found no comfort or kindness, for the Shadow in her heart was powerful. Too dark to erase and too deep to remove. Distance could not erase Melkor's influence upon her, only wound like a thorn, piercing with pleasure her heart.

Devouring all that was left, Nienna thought as she walked through her Halls. The black veil covered Nienna’s face, so marked with grief. With loss. Of Melkor. Of them, of everything they had felt while they were together. Because Nienna belonged to him, and not even she could hide that.

Not from her. Not from him. Who had whispered to her since the Beginning of Time that she belonged to him. That her place was by his side. But now, alone, Nienna could no longer feel Melkor's Shadow, his cruel touch beneath her skin. And she longed to be devoured by him.

Because if that was the only love he had in his corrupted chest, Nienna accepted it. She might be furious, revolted with him, but she still loved him. More than she should, more than she could. And Melkor, perhaps, did not love her, but Nienna was not capable of breaking the bond between them.

“Nienna.” Olórin whispered lightly.

Caring, he was, and he feared deeply for Nienna. Nienna, Lady of All Sorrow and Forgiveness, could find no forgiveness for herself. And Olórin feared the strength of Melkor’s bond, how deeply Melkor could reach Nienna. Did she sense how easily Melkor could taint her with his darkness?

“My Lady.” He said again, reaching out for Nienna’s hand.

Distracted, Nienna looked away from the sea, feeling Olórin’s delicate hands against hers. She smiled, even as tears glistened in her eyes. Olórin, Nienna thought, was too good. So kind and forgiving, he was a good Maia.

And she was grateful that he had remained by her side, when so many Maiar had been corrupted by Melkor, by the lust of his overtures. As Mairon had been seduced by Melkor. Aulë, Nienna knew, still mourned the loss of the most powerful and beloved Maia he had ever known.

Olórin, like Eönwë, could never betray their Masters, because they despised Melkor with all their spirit. Because they, and only they, could see how their Masters suffered deeply because of Melkor's choices.

“The night is singing,” Nienna whispered, staring at Olórin. “It is a sweet melody.”

“It is a deceptive melody,” Olórin murmured, stroking Nienna’s hand. “Something lurks in the shadows, I fear.”

Deceptive, yes, was the song, for it seduced Nienna, as it had seduced Lingwilókë. Nienna felt, deeply, the pull of the sea. No, of what was beyond it, singing to her. Calling to her.

It was him, wasn’t it? Nienna thought, looking away from Olórin, because she could not accept that he saw the truth in her eyes. In the love that still burned behind her tears.

Frustrated, Nienna walked back toward the balcony. The sea was raging that night, she thought, watching as the waves crashed brutally against the Land of the Valar, almost as if the waters sensed the coming of some evil.

“Mighty are the Younger Children of Ilúvatar,” Nienna said. “For they alone, with their mortal souls, are able to endure the greatest of sufferings.”

She smiled sadly, looking at Olórin, who had approached. He stared suspiciously at the waves. They were getting more out of control, Olórin thought. And he did not like that omen, the hidden horror that lay behind the wildness of the sea.

“Strong are Men,” Said Olórin grimly. “Many cruelties they endure at the hands of Melkor. Unjust, do you not think?”

“But are the Valar truly just?” Nienna murmured. “Sitting in their Halls, safe from the horrors of Middle-earth.”

Nienna touched the balcony, letting her fingers, cool as night, slide over the marble as she looked out to sea. She was waiting. But what? Not even she knew, but she felt something coming, yes, to her. For her.

“Suffering, even for Men, knows its limit.” Nienna sighed, looking at Olórin but never leaving the balcony. “We are all doomed in our sorrows, in the end.”

Olórin stared at Nienna in concern. Tears streamed down her face, as if she heard something, something no one else could hear. Distant, dark, and only for her. As if her own punishment was being sung before Nienna.

Then Olórin closed his eyes, searching in fear. What was troubling his Mistress so? What could be whispering to her in the darkness? Mandos, mighty and punishing, kept the Shadow of Melkor from Valinor. From Nienna.

But not even Mandos can control all the beings of Arda, not even those corrupted by Melkor. And beneath Nienna's balcony, hidden in the dark, cold waters that surrounded Valinor, Olórin heard a voice. No, not a voice. A melody.

“Is he singing?” Olórin asked, horrified.

Nienna and Olórin leaned over the balcony, searching for the voice. For the emissary who had invaded the Undying Lands. Because Melkor might be trapped in Middle-earth, separated from his wife, but he would not let her forget him. That she was bound to him until the end. That no other Vala could take her from him.

“Lingwilókë.” Nienna whispered.

Dark Lingwilókë swam beneath Nienna's porch, and the creature's song was magnificent. Majestic and dark. For he had learned it from Melkor, and had wrought death and destruction ever since he had left Melkor's Shadow.

The Ocean was furious, for Melkor had infested the waters of Ulmo with cruelty and malice, and his power was too strong for many creatures not to yield to his call. As much as Nienna was yielding.

She reached out to Lingwilókë, who rose from the water, until she reached Nienna. The creature was monstrous, frightening even. But Nienna was fascinated. The creature had no beginning, no end, no form. It seemed everything and nothing at the same time. And it was coming closer to Nienna.

“No.” Olórin said, astonished. “Melkor, it is he who sings.”

He was right, after all. For the creature had been faithful to Melkor, and now he was part of him. Just as Melkor's darkness was part of Lingwilókë. The black eyes, marked now by Melkor's malice, glared at Nienna with passionate fury.

“He remembers.” She murmured, touching the creature’s head.

It was sticky and slippery, but very cold and hard too. And the creature let Nienna touch it, while him played the Music of Melkor. Melkor's Music for Nienna. The same Song they had woven together in the Beginning of Time, when Arda had not yet existed and Melkor's disharmony had met Nienna's grief.

“My Melkor.” She murmured to the creature.

Devastated, Nienna wept. Because she, and she alone, understood the extent of Melkor's evil. Because he had invaded another Vala's domain and corrupted creation, as he corrupted everything he touched. And because most of all, he was defying Ulmo by choosing this path.

Nienna's tears fell upon the creature, which fled in fright as it dove again. Olórin patiently touched Nienna's arm, leading her away from the balcony, allowing the creature to depart in peace. And perhaps, Olórin thought, for their good fortune, far away.

And Nienna wept, against Olórin's arms. He gently held her, wishing that his touch could be enough comfort, even though he knew it was not. That it never would be. Not even he could protect Nienna from Melkor's Shadow.

“Haunting, that is what I feel.” She murmured, breathless. “Melkor is in the darkness, haunting me. I feel it.”

“Nienna.” Olórin murmured, startled.

For grief and kindness he had learned from her, but Olórin did not know how to turn Melkor's evil from Nienna, even though it was costing her dearly. And he wanted, more than anything, to free her spirit from that burden. From the Shadow.

“Cruelly comforting, it is.”

In Olórin's arms Nienna wept. Until night left Valinor and day dawned on Middle-earth. But the grief in her heart did not lessen, just as the fury in Melkor's breast did not lessen.

For alone in Angband, he could feel the creature's spirit. And he felt the pain that Lingwilókë felt when Nienna's tears touched the creature's body. Melkor longed more than anything for Nienna's tears. For her cursed, unnecessary, mournful touch.

And in the darkness of Angband, Melkor was lost in madness. Destroying all who crossed his path. Destroying anyone who even mentioned Nienna's departure. He could not bear for others to speak of her. For them to even mention her name.

If he were mortal and could dream, he would dream of Nienna, only to lose her when he woke. But it was as if Melkor were already trapped in a nightmare, wasn't it? Yet, consumed by darkness and malice, Melkor wondered, and wondered, if it had all been worth it.

Eru had given him a choice, a choice that the others did not know, because the Father had told him alone. And he had promised, to Melkor and him alone, that he could be Great and Powerful, if he chose good. If he chose light.

But Melkor denied the Creator's thoughtful proposal. Because he wanted more. He deserved more. So yes, in the dark of Angband, he knew it had been worth it. Every moment of loneliness, of sadness, every pain and regret. It would always be worth it.

And in the solitude of the deepest caverns of Angband, Melkor used all his power, all his essence, to feed the cruel creatures that grew in Angband. With nothing but malice and evil in them, the creatures were Melkor's greatest creations. And the ones he treasured most.

Thuringwethil, however, despised these creatures. With their new wings and cunning eyes, the dragons terrified even the vampire. Intelligence, yes, born of Melkor, trickled down to his creations, becoming as corrupted as he was.

And the dragons watched Thuringwethil closely as she walked beside the Dark Lord, her long, shadowy wings trailing along the cave floor. Glaurung, Thuringwethil thought, was terrifying, always had been. And he respected no one.

Other than Melkor, he had respected Nienna, holding his profane and cruel tongue to himself, lest he hurt the spirit of the Dark Lord's wife. Endless cruelty Melkor would have poured out on his own creation if it had been used against Nienna.

These new dragons, however, Thuringwethil feared. It was not because of their wings, or the putrid heat emanating from their mouths. They simply seemed wrong, too wicked. Too corrupt.

Yet it was understandable, she thought. Because Melkor had never poured so much of his wicked power into his creations before, as he did now. He was consumed by fury, by rage. By the lack of Nienna.

“What are we looking for, My Lord?” The vampire murmured fearfully.

“The true creation.” He said, entering the deepest of the caves.

Thuringwethil, at the Beginning of Time, had been good, as Sauron had been. And sometimes, when she was in Nienna's presence, she remembered the time when she had been a Maia in Valinor, before she had fallen to Melkor's seduction. She hated those memories.

“An army of winged dragons?” Thuringwethil murmured, stopping beside Melkor.

In the darkness of the cave, the heat was intense, as if an eternal flame burned there. Countless creatures, thousands of them, turned in the cave, not yet complete, but strong enough to observe the Master who had returned.

“An army against the Eagles of Valinor.” Said Melkor.

Melkor's dark tone, for the first time in ages, troubled Thuringwethil. For Melkor was plunged into madness, into darkness. And the Valar, benevolent and compassionate, would not forever accept in silence Melkor's cruelties.

In the corner of the cave, a small black shape was stirring, smaller than all the others. Melkor, to Thuringwethil's distrust, walked slowly towards the creature, and lifted it from the ground. As if holding something precious, Melkor held the dragon away from Thuringwethil.

“He is smaller than all the others.” Confused, the vampire looked at the new members of the army.

The dragon, though small, roared, spewing fire in Thuringwethil's direction. Its fangs were enormous, even for such a small dragon. And that was when Thuringwethil truly understood.

“Ancalagon.” Melkor said, smiling maliciously at the creature.

Glaurung, she thought, had been filled with malice and wickedness. But what could Melkor be capable of now that he was filled with rage and black fury? But she did not understand why the dragon was so small. The Dark Lord certainly did not need dragons to be created so small. So young.

Furious, watching the dragon in Melkor's arms, the truth astonished Thuringwethil. All of Melkor's affection for the creature, all of the secrecy and darkness to create the creature in isolation, without the others knowing. Yes, it all made sense, now.

Because Ancalagon was a gift. To her, Nienna, Melkor's wife. And he wanted her to share with him, his appreciation for creation, for the life he had nurtured with all the darkness that existed within him.

Because he wanted Ancalagon to be theirs. Almost as if he were a child. Perhaps, she thought, if Nienna had been there for the creature’s development, she might have been able to grow attached to something so cruel and wicked. As she had grown attached to Melkor.

Even Thuringwethil had heard the legends of the Valarindi. The Children of the Valar. But she did not know them, and she feared any being sired by one of the Valar. And she feared that Melkor might follow that path, in time.

“Mighty he shall be,” Melkor murmured proudly. “The greatest and mightiest of all.”

Wary, Thuringwethil nodded appreciatively before looking away from the creature, still so small, but so vicious. As if the air around the creature was made of darkness and death, and the poison was consuming everyone. And deep down, she doubted Nienna would appreciate such an evil creature.

“My Lord,” Thuringwethil murmured, trying to get Melkor’s attention. “Sauron has departed, as commanded.”

Thuringwethil still had many doubts about Sauron and Melkor's plans. For while Melkor seethed with fury and malice, Sauron was content to feed his Master's evil deeds. No matter the risks.

And so he set out to rule the lands of the Elves, to corrupt the works created by the enemies of the Dark Lord. So that the Elves, in their suffering, would realize that the Valar had abandoned them and Melkor was the only path to freedom.

“However, I am confused,” She said fearfully. “Why did he leave for Tol-in-Gaurhoth?”

Silently, Melkor stared at the vampire, smiling cruelly. He was hiding something, she thought. No, he knew something that no one else knew but Sauron. And he had never told her what Tevildo had whispered in his ear.

“Our enemies approach,” Said Melkor. “We must be prepared.”

Thuringwethil merely nodded as Melkor left Ancalagon in the cave, turning his back on her. But she ran desperately after him, worried about the plans the Dark Lord was weaving.

She hated the Valar more than anything in Arda, and she admired Melkor's insatiable hunger. But despite the power of Melkor and his servants, she was not foolish enough not to fear the Valar. There were too many of them, and Nienna would be a hindrance to Melkor in battle.

“My Lord.” She cried, flying over the cavern, catching Melkor before he could leave. “Are you leaving us again?”

“Wait for my return,” Melkor murmured, ignoring the vampire's frightened voice. “That is an order.”

She sighed angrily, landing when she finally reached Melkor. He walked purposefully, furiously. As if his mind were far away from Angband. Almost as if his mind were far away, in Valinor.

“When are you coming back?”

“It matters not.” Said Melkor.

He stopped walking sharply to glare at Thuringwethil. Dark fury, she thought, gleamed in Melkor’s eyes. And she had never seen the Master so furious as he had been since Nienna had left. Since he had forced her to leave.

“I need to see my wife.”

Melkor said nothing more before he departed, leaving Thuringwethil furious and astonished in Angband. Sauron, she thought, was completely mistaken. For the bonds that bound Melkor and Nienna were too strong. Too powerful.

Not even the Dark Lord's fury was stronger than his hunger for Nienna, than his desire to devour her until she was no more. For to Melkor, Nienna was a queen, even if he made her a tyrant in time. And he would not accept being denied, being abandoned.

Melkor rarely left Angband, always safe in his fortress. Some thought him a coward, but Thuringwethil knew he was more cunning than the others. Hidden away, forging creatures and beasts that would frighten Manwë himself. But again he had left, for Nienna. Always for her.

Nienna, however, was still deeply hurt by Melkor. But, Great Master of Deceit he was, and no one knew Nienna's heart better than Melkor. The Serpent's Song had affected Nienna, weakening her anger against Melkor.

For now, she remembered the Great Song, woven by Eru. And she still remembered what it had been like to sing with Melkor, weaving her sorrow with his cruelty. Nienna was tired of crying for Melkor, though.

She could not change his corrupted heart, forcing him back into the light. She would not use their love in that way. Melkor, Nienna knew, had lost faith in Ilúvatar, and he did not believe that salvation was possible, not for him.

But deep down, Melkor suspected that Nienna was his only salvation. His savior. And he was completely devoted to her, even if he could not accept it. And it was a violent devotion, a violent desire.

And as the Sun shone on Tol Eressëa, Nienna missed Melkor deeply. She could not bear to be in Valinor, knowing that he could never return there. And the Elves of Tol Eressëa were filled with joy when Nienna visited them.

The furious rumble of the ocean soothed Nienna. She could still think of the sound of Melkor’s voice, always so dark and evil. But it had brought so much peace and tranquility to her. A voice, Nienna thought, that she feared she would forget.

With patience and ease, the waves calmed, drawing Nienna's attention. Fearfully, she looked away from the sea. Because, like all the Valar, she could feel the essence of the one who approached her with benevolence. Ulmo, Lord of Waters.

Slowly, the waves approached the island, mixing with the pure sand. Nienna kept her eyes down, noticing how wet her gray dress was. She had not realized how furious the ocean was.

“Nienna.” Ulmo said.

And for a brief second, she remembered Melkor's whisper, for countless ages calling out to her, begging out to her. She no longer heard his whispers, not since she had closed the door to him. Nienna, however, missed Melkor so much.

“Ulmo.” She murmured, looking out over the Sea Vala.

Powerful and uncontrollable as the sea, Ulmo smiled at Nienna. He rarely used a Fana, and always chose one to please the Elves. So that they would respect him, but not fear him too much.

That Fana, however, seemed a little different. He seemed younger, she thought. Almost as if he had chosen that Fana just to please Nienna. She felt a shiver run down her spine, averting her eyes to the sea.

“I thought you were in your Halls.” He said, smiling.

And Nienna smiled too, because she knew it was a lie. Deep down, she knew that Ulmo had known of her presence as soon as she arrived at Tol Eressëa. He was there for her, and her alone. For the proposal he had to make.

“Olórin actually asked me to leave for a while.” She murmured.

Olórin, Nienna thought, was too worried to leave Nienna alone in her Halls. Because he feared the return of the serpent. Of the spell he believed Melkor had cast upon Nienna.

But it was nothing like that, was it? They were married, now. A union recognized by Eru, a union that could not be undone. No matter Melkor's mistakes, the cruelties he had committed and would yet commit, Nienna could not help but love him.

“He is wise.” Ulmo nodded, stopping beside Nienna. “A good Maia, too.”

“Indeed, he is.” Nienna said, looking at Ulmo. “What drove you away from your Kingdom?”

Ulmo, once so compassionate and gentle, sighed deeply, a nameless fury filling the Vala's face. Melkor's outrage, she thought, had not gone unnoticed, of course. Melkor had infested the Oceans of Arda with beasts and monsters.

He had challenged Ulmo's sovereignty over the sea. He was declaring war, and Nienna feared the consequences of Melkor's actions. How long would the Valar let him destroy all boundaries and barriers?

However, Nienna did not understand what had angered Melkor so strongly, so furiously, that he would attack the Kingdom of the Lord of Waters. Honestly, Ulmo had never trusted Melkor and did not believe in his forgiveness after Three Ages in Mandos, but Nienna thought that Melkor did not care about Ulmo.

“He knows,” Ulmo said, his eyes never leaving Nienna’s.

“Excuse me?” Confused, she looked at Ulmo with concern.

“Melkor, he knows.” Ulmo’s frown deepened.

Nienna shook her head in fear. If Melkor suspected what Ulmo intended, he would be out of control, without restraint or shame, ready to destroy all of Middle-earth. For Melkor loved power, but he loved control even more. And Ulmo was slipping from Melkor's control.

“How could he know?” Nienna murmured, feeling Ulmo’s hand gently touch hers.

“Traitors among us, I fear.” He sighed, patting Nienna’s hands.

Nienna, for the first time in ages, was stunned. She did not know how to react to Ulmo's affection. He had always been good company, a good friend, but nothing more. Her heart belonged to Melkor, and Melkor alone.

“Sweet Nienna,” Ulmo said hopefully. “You know what lives in my heart.”

Honestly, she had not known, not until Mandos had told her about Ulmo's feelings. Nienna loved the sea, because she loved Melkor. And she thought of him whenever the raging waves crashed against Valinor, while Melkor was alone in Middle-earth, far from her reach.

“I cannot, you know that.” Nienna whispered. “Melkor is my husband.”

“Eru may take pity on you Nienna. You need not suffer any longer, not for Melkor.”

Nienna wordlessly pushed Ulmo's hands away, but he was concerned for her, for the extent of her love for Melkor. Tenderly, he cupped Nienna's face, keeping her attention on him.

“We, and you know it, could work.” He muttered.

“It is not that simple.”

Ulmo smiled gently and kindly at Nienna, completely fascinated by her. But that love, for Nienna, did not compare to the brutality of Melkor's love. His devouring love. Her husband's love.

She closed her eyes, letting the tears flow. She could see how worried everyone was about her. But she was also furious, because they did not trust her. As if she, the Lady of All Mercy, could not bear Melkor's fury, all the sadness he caused her.

“Pure, your intentions are,” She said, her eyes still closed. “But I cannot choose.”

“Melkor is condemning you to eternal suffering, Nienna.” Ulmo said unhappily.

He sounded so much like Mandos. Like Varda. Like all the people who did not believe Melkor could love Nienna. She did not believe him either, really. Because he was pushing her away, every moment, like she was a plague he could not shake.

Nienna, honestly, knew Melkor better. Because he was too powerful, too proud, to bond with her out of mere lust. Out of simple desire. He had chosen her as his mate, a bond that only Eru could destroy. He had chosen her.

“Think of yourself, Nienna.” He murmured, very close to her face.

Nienna opened her eyes, gently pulling away from Ulmo. Her heart might be damned, yes, but it would always belong to Melkor. For better or for worse. And he still thought of her, she knew that.

She had known it ever since the serpent had come through the waters of Valinor, only to find Nienna, when Melkor himself could not come to her. And the proud wretch, Nienna thought, had driven her away only to wish her back to him.

“Ulmo, my beloved friend.” She stopped walking and stared out at the sea. “I love Melkor. I always have.”

Tears stained Nienna's face, she felt so exposed without the veil, without a mask over her sadness. Over the sadness Melkor had caused her. Hungry, he was, for her, and yet he was too proud to ask for forgiveness.

“And what about your future, my beloved?”

Ulmo approached Nienna, following her gaze. She was looking across the sea, far from the Lands of the Valar. She was looking for Melkor, Ulmo thought with disgust. The cruelest of all the Valar, he had been the only one to win Nienna's love.

“You know, deep down,” He whispered uncertainly. “That one day, the Valar will declare war on Melkor.”

And it will be the end, yes, of all things. When the Valar grew tired of Melkor's cruelties, not even Nienna could stop their fury, or stop what was coming. Sauron, in a way, was right.

“He cannot love you, Nienna, not with true love.”

Ulmo seemed desperate, desperate for Nienna to understand what he was talking about, what he was asking of her. Because he was willing to fight for her, if necessary, as long as she agreed to be his. But how could she?

“Nienna, you cannot spend eternity with him in Angband, surrounded by Orcs and monsters. That is not life, that is not love. And he could not give you everything you need.”

“All I need?” Nienna asked sadly. “I am sorry, I really am. But he is all I need.”

With a heavy heart, Nienna brought her hand to Ulmo's face, caressing it. She felt tremendous pain knowing that he was suffering for her, for the love she could not give him, because it already belonged to someone else. It always had.

“I ask your forgiveness.” She said, with tears in her eyes.

Defeated, Ulmo touched Nienna's hand where it rested on his face, and lovingly stroked her cold fingers. So cold without the warmth of Melkor's scarred hands. Without his furious heat burning against her.

“Melkor will always be my melancholy,” Nienna said. “And all the time we have is so little. It always has been.”

Nienna let Ulmo's hand leave hers first, even though she knew he had not given up on her yet. Maybe he would never be able to, or maybe he would hold onto hope forever.

“Melancholy was all I had, for ages, when I could not have Melkor. It need not be so now.”

And Ulmo let her walk away, let her turn her back on him. Because Ulmo loved Nienna too much to force her to choose, to give up her own heart for his. She loved Melkor, deeply, and that could not be easily forgotten.

Ulmo did not ask, much less judge, when Nienna left. He knew, deep down, with all his bitterness, that even though Melkor had ordered Nienna to leave, he wanted her back. That his Shadow was struggling to cross Valinor.

For above all things, Melkor wanted his wife back. And Nienna, passionately, benevolently with all her spirit, was coming back for Melkor. They might never be happy, or complete.

But she loved Melkor and was willing to try. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to save him. So she would accept all the brutality, all the fury, so long as she could be in Melkor's arms before the bitter end.

The Valarindi are an idea of ​​Tolkien's that ended up disappearing in his other writings, but I wanted to keep it as a possibility, you know. And hey! I'm not that cruel. Melkor and Nienna will meet again in the next chapter!

tag: @valar-did-me-wrong @redrosesandcharmingsouls

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Alright so John Constantine gets a call from an ex… who owns part of his soul. (This is my Viking btw)

“John, I will give you your soul back if you do me a favour.”

“Uhh…”

“I will TELL you what they’re going to do to you when you die if you do this for me.”

“Aren’t they gonna just fight each other luv?”

“Don’t call me that and oh god you fucking DUMBASS.”

So John agrees and comes to see her. With her is a young boy in the shape of a 5 year old.

“John, you idiot, this is Danny Phantom. Crown Prince of the Infinte Realms. I need you to take care of him for a few years.”

Constantine goes brain dead and kind of splutters. Because WHAT?! But it’s legit.

Viking here was taking care of Danny but can’t anymore because the LOA took exception to her murdering Ra’s again by dismembering him while scattering his pieces and blowing up a Lazarus Pit so they’re hunting her. She has to take care of that. Danny was in her care as a favour to Clockwork because he was badly hurt during a fight with the GIW and so his parents got him to CW, and went to deal with it. Turned into a suicide run and killed them. Sam, Tucker and Jazz died to sadly, and now are ghosts along with the adult Fentons. But the Infinite Realms aren’t safe for Danny as Vlad is trying to take control as due to his injuries Danny had to be deaged.

Viking is really short on people to call. She’s an immortal Viking who fights for fun and has more enemies then friends. Constantine is the ONLY ONE she trusts.

Yeah she’s aware how sad it is. But she can’t give the kid to anyone else. Even the baby Revenant she fucks with isn’t a choice due to him subconsciously eating all the ectoplasm around him. Danny can’t fight that off. Meaning she can’t go to Batman.

So she has to get Constantine. So now he’s in charge of baby Danny. Of course he doesn’t want to but Viking reveals that “Before the injury Danny had to do paperwork for the Realms and got so annoyed at your soul bullshit he declared he’d give people a 10 year tax reduction for your soul. He owns all of it now. And if Vlad manages to get the throne your soul will belong to him.”

A crazy ghost obsessed with control or a boy who went: I dunno I’ll make him like… clean shit? Who knows. I’m done with his bull.

Yeah not much choice. So now John is in charge of Danny!!

Other notes:

- Danny remembers and doesn’t remember being his proper age. He’ll remember more when he’s older though.

- Danny is a little shit as a child whose embraced the feral Racoon life.

- Viking routinely gets chased by the LOA, usually though it takes a few years after she’d murked Ra’s. It’s been 5 since and he came back way to early. She’s gonna drop his head into the ocean next time. She’s also going to get her own body chopped up but she’s going to make it hell for them first.

- I like the idea that Constantine went and spoke to Batman about backup for this. Batman was on the watchtower, heard Constantine was talking to an old ex. He decides to put speakers on and listen in with the rest of the JL for shits and giggles.

- Batfam is also listening in.

- Constantine didn’t actually know what a Revenant was, getting them confused with Remnant which to be fair are kind of similar. Everyone else actually did to. Viking finds it funny.

- This is how Jason learns he’s one to and that he has to kill the Joker to actually die. He’s a little smug that Bruce has to let him do it now or damn him to walking the world.

- Constantine being the dad of the next Ghost King is both hilarious to everyone and terrifying but really: he’s the ONLY ONE other then Batman who can do it as Gotham is heavily protected thanks to *hand wave* and no one else has as much history with the occult like he does. Or as many fingers in pies or whatever the saying is.

[fandonnavyce]

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 5: Hunt

Ghost King Phantom the Great, High King of the Infinite Realms by Right of Conquest, Saviour Sovereign of the Infinite Realms, Master of Space, Minister of Time, Deliverer of the Unquiet Dead, Restless Spirits, and Lost Souls, Lord of Harmony, Champion of Amity, Protector of the Balance, etc. long be his Reign.

Cordially Invites you to the First-Ever Wild Hunt Since Long Ago. This Wild Hunt will be Led by The Great One Himself. We greatly anticipate your presence.

For such auspicious occasion and the commencement of a renewed tradition, to the victor go the spoils: Bragging Rights, the possession and ownership of the soul in its entirety belonging to one John Constantine the Hellblazer, the Laughing Magician, the Master of Bad Luck Magic, upon his Death, and the Friends, Foes, and Fellows In-between you’ll make along the way!

Read More

“There hasn’t been a Wild Hunt in centuries” Clockwork muses. 

Danny looked up from his paperwork. Accidentally befriending the latest generations of Observants had the best of unintended consequences. Instead of a bunch of naggy, bureaucratic, homicidal alarmists, always ready to bring about Danny’s immediate End. He now had a cohort that scouted the infinite dimensions and then told him the interesting things they’d observed. They were interdimensional news reporters, always ready to bring back the latest from all over the realms. His reports now read like gossip tabloids or snarky info-dumping blog posts. People got up to the wildest shit in all the dimensions, and Observants were spilling all the tea. His next objective was seeing if they would be willing to give reports in comic book form.

Upon hearing Clockwork, Danny squinted.

“Ok, what’s that got to do with me?” Clockwork doesn’t make random announcements. Danny could feel this in his core, this was gonna lead to shenanigans. 

“You are the newly crowned High King of the Infinite Realms are you not? You of all spirits have enough power and authority to lead a Wild Hunt”.

“But why can’t you do it? You’ve got power and authority. You’re literally the God of Time!” Danny protests. Clockwork shifts into his decrepit Father Time shape.

“But it wouldn’t be fitting for an old creaking ghost like me to be leading the Wild Hunt. The Wild Hunt is an event better suited for youngins”

Danny stares at Clockwork utterly unimpressed. “Clockwork you were literally a baby just seconds ago”

Clockwork scoffs, “To you maybe. My seconds last longer than yours, however. I experience Eternity in a Hour,”

“That’s not, no they don’t. I know that’s not how that works. Why are you even? Wait, hang on, was that last bit a quote from somewhere? You know what fine, fine,” Danny sighs in resignation, “What even is the Wild Hunt?”

“A H̛̤̰̲͙͈̘̺́u҉̯n̂̑͗̆҉̪̪̲͇̙͔t̬͊͌” ::chase-thrill-pursuit-procession:: (nostalgia-of- fierce-fury-and-rampant-joy)

“A H̛̤̰̲͙͈̘̺́u҉̯n̂̑͗̆҉̪̪̲͇̙͔t̬͊͌. ::chase-thrill-pursuit-procession:: (unimpressed-incomprehension) Danny repeated in a different tone. "Wow, supremely helpful CW. Anything more you want to add to that?”

Clockwork shrunk down to his baby form.

“No”

Then shifted through his adult form and back up into his old man Father Time form.

Danny face-palms. “You know for a ghost who wants me to lead the Wild Hunt, you’re not being very persuasive in getting me to lead the Wild Hunt.”

“That’s fine I don’t need to persuade you”.

“What?”

Suddenly the stack of paper that Danny had been reading from glowed green. A new report had come in. Eyeing Clockwork suspiciously, who smiled benignly back in his adult form, he picked up the report and gave it a glance over.

Then he read it again to make sure he was understanding this right.

“Clockwork, this guy has bargained his soul like five times over and now a bunch of Demonic Sovereigns want me to mediate because I am quote-unquote "a neutral party”.”

“Ahh yes, the quadruply damned soul belonging to the Hellblazer, one John Constantine.”

“This petition was submitted by… The Third of the Fallen? Well that name's pretentious.”

“They are all Fallen, arrogance and pretentiousness is a tiresome given” Clockwork sighed. “Also the Heavenly Host has reportedly made endeavours to ensure that John’s soul doesn’t end up into the hands of Hell. Specifically that the Presence, their God figure, is incentivised to prevent John’s transformation into a powerful demonic threat. So Heaven technically wants John’s soul too even if it’s just to keep it out of Hell’s grasp.” 

“This guy has Heaven and Hell fighting over his soul when he dies. John’s soul better be the prettiest in all the realms because even Helen of Troy didn’t kick off this much warfare.” Danny stared hard at the report. “What do they even want me to do about this?”

“No parties want to relinquish their claim on Constantine’s soul, or to be more precise, no party wants any of the other parties to claim it.”

“If I can’t have it, then no will,” Danny said wryly.

“That is the current status quo," Clockwork affirmed. "But Constantine is mortal, that man will die one day sooner or later. But no party wants to have a full on war over Constantine’s soul either.”

“Which is why they come to me, an outside party, to arbitrate the matter”

“They hope that you will judge the matter and decide who gets his soul upon his mortal demise”

“That sounds like a whole lot of bother, absolutely no fun, and like I’ll get a bunch of powerful demons, angels, and whatever else pissed off at me.”

“If a Trial and Judgement is not to your liking you could just provide an alternative to War”

“What like a,” the dots start to connect in Danny’s head, “Like a Wild Hunt, to the victor go the spoils i.e. John Constantine’s soul”.

Clockwork smirks. 

@ectoberhaunt

[void-multimuse]

📂 ( any muse )

(Moar Phantom because I love my ghost boi and I want to write for him more XD)

Send me a 📁 for a small random headcanon about my muse

Danny and Vlad actually aren't the first Halfas to exist.

There's actually a lot of mythological figures from ancient history in their universe who were half ghost. Dracula, Santa Claus and the Grim Reaper are some examples, with the Grim Reaper being one of the first Halfas, using their power over ghosts to lead lost spirits back to the Infinite Realms where they belong.

The reason Danny, Vlad and Ellie are the only halfas around in the modern day is because of Pariah Dark. The ghost king feared their power and had most of the halfas he could find killed, leaving the remaining ones to pick a half of their existence and hide on one side of the dimension.

Those halfas then had descendants who were only a quarter of the being from the other side of the veil, and then the descendants of those beings only had an eighth, so on and so forth.

Now we have ghosts that have physical bodies they shouldn't, like Frostbite's people having bones and such, and humans like the Fentons who are obsessed with ghosts and ghost hunting as an echo of what their ancestors once were, calling out until the two sides can mix again.

[nightblackowlbat]

Danny just wanted to get some much needed funds from the shmucks who thought they could cheat death. He did NOT anticipate kicking off diplomatic negotiations with every world government, heck every government in the universe over trans-dimensional jurisdiction and citizenship. He just thought it would be funny to go “lol you didn’t die so pay up” and in response got a bunch of politicians and world leaders going- “Oh you’re claiming OUR citizens as belonging to you? That’s a bold claim. Almost sounds like you’re trying to invade! We could take this as a sign of war!”

And of course the inflammatory voices of the indignant few in power drown out those who actually know what they’re talking about. Magicians and occultists watch the news while hyperventilating because “what the fuck are you doing!? We do NOT want a war with the infinite realms, are you trying to get us all wiped out!?”

Meanwhile Danny is forced to switch to a political science major in order to fix this mess he started, because he ALSO does not want to go to war with the living, Ancients- he just wanted to troll some assholes and get some pocket cash and do good with the extra!

And the denizens of the realm are watching their king crumble under the weight of it all. So they band together in order to “fix” the situation.

First, some of the famous historical dead from every country/planet/power that are complaining go as self appointed ambassadors. They explain that the dead have no use for mortal money- that King Phantom plans to use the tax to aid the living, preventing deaths and thereby doing the opposite of expanding his kingdom.

and when this doesn’t work? Well they give a little demonstration as to why you don’t want to mess with the Realms. They gleefully cause havoc and sew what is, to them, harmless chaos, terrifying the living in the process. Each and every time they send a runner to alert their King- the poor child requires exercise and enrichment after all, and he can’t get that behind a desk. So having him fight off “ghost rebels” in defense of the living does double duty of demonstrating his power and benevolence while also giving him a break from the boredom.

Phantom is NOT aware of this plan. From his point of view a bunch of war hungry governments got offended by his whim and now a bunch of ghosts keep causing trouble with said angry politicians and interrupting his attempts to FIX IT. Danny is STRESSED.

But it all works out in the end and somehow throughout all this Danny manages to keep his secret identity through use of purposeful (and unintentional) delegation, the fact that he he always stops the rabble-rousers in his kingly eldritch form because he’s so pissed, and the fact that his human form looks so utterly wrecked from stress and sleep loss that even when people see what he’s working on they assume he is the ghost king’s human PA or something.

When it’s all over the Justice league summons the Ghost King Phantom in order to issue an official apology on behalf of earth’s more stubborn governments as well as a similar statement from the green lanterns in regards to other planets. King Phantom answers the summons, first in his minorly eldritch form, then his plain old Phantom form to preserve energy when he realizes the Justice League aren’t a threat. And then as the adrenaline fades and the last however-many-months catch up to him, Phantom can’t help but switch back to human Danny, collapsing to the floor of the watchtower bay surrounded by the Justice League, fast asleep.

DCxDP - Death and Taxes

Broke college student but also the Ghost King Danny looking at the stack of complaint forms in his inbox about people cheating death. In a stroke of sleep deprived inspiration, he issues a royal decree that anyone who has properly died before (I.e biologically dead, not just clinically dead) is still a citizen of the Infinite Realms, even if they were resurrected. And have to pay income tax to the Crown.

He establishes the Infinite Realms Revenue Service, recruits the ghosts of some meticulous accountants and sends them after all the assholes who think they can escape Death and Taxes. Starting with the worst offenders (ie those who have escaped death the longest/most often). Your tax bracket scales with how many times you died.

Just picture Ra's al-Ghul, in the middle of giving some speech to his assassin cult when this Phil Coulson looking ghost dude shows up behind him to "discuss the back taxes he owes to the Crown".

Every magic user worth their salt is suddenly swamped with messages from panicked villains and heroes who are trying to figure out wtf is going on and how to get out of this. Constantine is sweating bullets.

Danny hires Valerie to do mortal side "casework", because a, she's just as saddled with student debt as he is b, has worked fast food and knows how to handle asshole customers c, doesn't take shit from anybody.

Imagine Vandal Savage, Felix Faust and Red Hood awkwardly sitting in a waiting room with a stack of documents each, ready for their number to be called so they can dispute their claims. Being called in and utterly flummoxed at the unflappable, bored young woman at the desk who somehow has files on everything about you - birth record, death record(s), who you killed and when records... now declare your income as a crime lord/dictator/sorcerer, sir.

Meanwhile Danny is planning on how he can allocate the taxes to open a soup kitchen for Lunch Lady to work at and similar shit. He is determined to be a good king, dammit!