This? I needed to see. Anyone who has ever been told their writing was 'too mature' as a child, or 'too excessive', 'too detailed', or anything about it just being 'too much' as a child deserves to see this. I have had my work torn up as a child for those exact reasons. My motivation and eagerness to write was nearly killed due to an abusive individual as a child, all because it was 'too inappropriate'. They didn't redirect, they distroyed. They had Ripped it up in front of me. If you're still writing to this day, after having experienced something like that? Something of such mass cruelty towards your work, regardless of the content? The YES, your inner child is very proud of you. Don't let others kill your love of writing just because you're work was 'for adults' as a kid, or any other reason the individual decided to focus on. I had been 12 years old. I had just be discovering that kind of thing and my love of indepth, detailed writing. They should have simply redirected. Any good parent would simply redirected, encouraging you to wait to get into the more mature topics until you were old enough to do so. A good parent and person would never destroy your writing, no matter the content.
I grimace, pausing as I stare them in the eyes, before murmuring, "Babe, you know I love you. Right? But you really need to either fix your wording, or specify that request better."
They blink at me, clearly not understanding. That or they were simply completely unbothered by my request. It wasn't the first time I'd made the request.
I sigh, dropping my face into my hands before grumbling out, "Okay, better question. My first or my last name?"
They once again just blink at me, only this time their lips quirk in a sly knowing yet pleased smile.
My brow twitches as I peek at them through my fingers, muttering, "Oh, fun, we've decided to play games and riddles, huh? Fine. No you may not have my first name. You may know it, but you may not have it. As for my last name, you'll receive it when and if we get married."
Their eyes widen as their face flushed that pretty green color. It's clear to me then and there that they hadn't expected that reply. Two years of dating, using only nicknames, and I'd finally caught them off guard and flustered them.
I hear then keen and I lower my hands to laugh, as they do so.
"So, you going to as properly?" I ask.
They pout and huff at me before mumbling, their cheeks still green with flush, "May I have your name?"
I look at in shock, realizing they genuinely ment it. My lips parting, before giving a manic giggle, and ask, "Are you truly asking me to marry you? At only 2 years into our relationship? No, you've been asking since the 3rd month. You..." I trail off as I fully turn to them, cupping their face, pulling them into a soft kiss. Pulling back as I murmur, "You may know my name to be Anthony. You may not have my last name till we make it official or I'll be forced to take yours instead."
They keen and shove my face away as they babble something in fae speak, clearly flustered. I simply laugh, looking fond and pleasantly surprised as they mumble, "You may know my name to be Kieran, Anthony~."
But what if your childhood was shitty and traumatizing and you were meek and quiet as a kid so get a sweet little kitten and eventually as you grow and realize your worth and become more confident that kitten slowly grows into a lion.
Usually, when I bring kids their Companions, it’s a happy day.
Most parents like to throw parties for their children. Make it a big ‘lifetime milestone’ type deal. Sometimes, if there are a lot of birthdays on the same day, they do events at the local schools. I never really have to call ahead - people know I’m coming. The roster at the head offices keeps a running record, and Deliverers like me pack up the Untouched Eggs (wearing gloves, of course), and set out to cover their area for the day. I work six days a week, and sometimes I take emergency runs if I’m nearby and another district is overwhelmed. Overtime is common, but so are short days, when only a small number of kids are hitting ten.
It’s a job that has me travelling a lot. i go wherever there’s the most need for Deliverers. We don’t like to be late; tenth birthdays are an important matter. But I like being on the road. It lets me see a lot of the country.
It’s always such a pleasure to read a short story that so clearly, cleverly, and magically creates a whole different universe. I would read a seven book series of this, from any perspective. Thank you @feynites for writing this and posting it on here! This really made my day something special.
You were the first doctor to sell your soul to a demon in order to be able to summon them into your patients for diagnostic reasons. Now you're dead, you're trying to work out why you're both in paradise rather than eternal torment.
I couldn't help but stand there, blinking down at my hands in utter befuddlement, before looking out at the gorgeous yet simple home I stood before and the rolling hills of green grass and wildflowers all around me, before finally turning my head to look at the being I knew instinctively was the one I'd sold my soul too. He still owned me. I could feel it. But, some how, he didn't feel the same. He stood there, his expression one of shock and disbelief, as he stares down at his own hands. I realize as I look at him, he's very much on the verge of a panic attack. I walk around in front of him, carefully taking his hands in mine, breathing his name he'd given me to call him, softly to catch his attention without sending him into a spiral.
"Look at me. You're alright. I don't know what happened, but I'm willing to take a guess."
His head lifts, eyes meeting mine as golden tears trickle down his cheeks as he rasps out, "I thought I'd be banished for eternity. But... You saved me. All with a plea to help you heal others."
I chuckle soft and fond, cupping his cheek in one hand, murmuring, "You're the one who agreed to it. You're the one who made the choice to take claim of my soul in exchange for allowing me to summon you to help my life's work. You've proven yourself to him again."
He begins to sob. I never thought I'd ever get to see something as miraculous and as gorgeous as a demon turned angel, crying out in bawling sobs their relief at being allowed access to Paradise again. I hold him as he cries, knowing I'd be there for him, for eternity, just as he's been there for me in my years of life.
We would never be alone or abandoned ever again. All because we'd made a deal of my soul for his help.
The king isn't mad the princess is gay, magic makes it easy for two women to produce an heir, he's mad at her choice of lover. She could have had another princess, a noble lady, a knight, heck, he'd take an adventurer or even a dragon. But her of all people? What is his daughter thinking?
The king sat in his throne, grimace on his lips, eyes closed, as he pinches and rubs at the bridge of his nose and between his brows, desperately trying to relieve the building tension headache. He still couldn’t believe his precious girl had decided to marry a vargr/orc druid. A vargr org Warlord druid. One that, granted, he’s glad is no longer trying to invade their kingdom and turn them all into tree, but not like this. He’d have preferred death over his daughter deciding to woo the damn warlord. He’s not mad, just…. Severely aggrieved, disappointed, and unsettled.
“Papa?” comes his daughter’s voice from where she stood before him, sounding cautious and hesitant, as she stood beside her fiancé.
“I’m fine, my princess. Just… why? Why her? I’m… glad? You found a way to dissuade her prior path… but why?” The king croaks out, opening his eyes and raising his head to look at his daughter and the vargr pelted orc woman littered with scars who stood, towering, beside her.
The princess gets a sheepish look and retorts, “It wasn’t intentional, Papa. She’d pretty. And actually flirted with me first. She, uh, actually didn’t realize I was your daughter till after we’d spent the night in her tent.” Kamila, the princess, fidgets with the lower hem of her traveling tunic as she looks away from both Octavia, the Orc/Vargr druid, and her father.
The king sighs as he glances at Octavia who merely stands there, smirking smugly, her tusks only making her smirk even smugger somehow.
“Octavia, with all due respect, you realize you’ll have to cease causing havoc, yes? You marry my daughter, and you’ll have to have formal training for your position as the princess’ consort. Meaning no war waging until you have a very firm understanding on how this kingdom operates. And even then, you might not be allowed to, simply due to the fact we very rarely have any reason to go to war.”
Octavia shrugs, grinning, and states, “No fear, Franklin. Kamila already told me she’d help me find a new hobby. She mentioned the castle has a nice large lot of land I can use to cultivate.”
The king pauses, baffled, then sits up as he blinks in confusion them mutters, “She dissuaded you from attacking… with promises of druid land?” Franklin grimaces then sighs questioning himself, “Why hadn’t I contemplated that. If I’d offered you land to tend to, this probably would’ve ended years ago.”
Made this by accident when I was trying to write something completely different. But I know I haven't posted in a while due to LIFE but you guys deserve more DPXDC.
Danny Todd??
Danny sat in front of a grave. His body is completely numb to the now wrapped injuries. His mind is running miles per minute. He just couldn't figure out how everything had fallen apart so quickly. His apparently, adopted parents, blew up Nasty Burger. Taking not only their own lives, but the lives of his fraid.
Jazz? Gone.
Sam? Gone.
Tucker? Gone.
Wes? Gone.
Dani? Been gone a while now.
Vlad had tried swooping him up. But considering how he'd been whisked away by some dude named Bruce Wayne. After multiple DNA tests were done. It was shown he was the younger half-brother of the late Jason Peter Todd-Wayne. So after arriving in Gotham Danny ran to find his brother.
He needed some kind of comfort right now. He felt nothing but numbness. The injuries from the explosion had done a lot of damage to him. The Fenton's had used something with Blood Blossoms in the explosion.
He'd lost sight in his left eye. His left leg was permanently damaged. Almost completely useless. He can barely even walk anymore. Not to mention they added to his injuries from the portal accident just months prior. Danny's hair was no longer completely black. It now had a wide chunk of white hair that took up almost his entire underside.
Danny stared at the grave in front of him. His lips wobbled. He lost one family, only to find out his other family was already gone. A tear fell from his right eye. The bandages around his left eye grew slightly wet as he began to silently sob. All the heart breaking emotions finally weighing down on him.
Danny was so focused on keeping his sobs silently that he didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind him. A strangled gasp broke him out of his emotional turmoil. His head slowly turned. His one blue eye lifted to meet glowing green eyes hidden behind a red mask.
"Why are you so injured and crying over this grave?"
Danny sniffled. Raising his bandaged right to shakingly wipe away his tears. "I.... I lost my friends and adopted family in an explosion done by my own adopted parents. To... To kill me. Only I didn't know I was adopted. I was rushed to the hospital where multiple tests were done. Only to find out I'm adopted and the younger half-brother of Jason Todd. So before my evil god father could take me away. Some dude named Bruce brought me here. Telling me it's what my brother would've wanted.... I-I don't like billionaires. So when we landed here in Gotham I escaped. I asked around for where Jason was.... Only to be given directions here."
Danny hadn't noticed how stiff the other person was. He was too focused on finally letting everything out to someone who felt so comfortable to be around. Being around this person felt kind of like home with Jazz. Where he knew he wasn't alone. Danny violently flinched when a gloved hand started rubbing his head. Completely breaking the dam.
~
Jason felt his heart completely shatter as he held his sobbing.... Half-brother? Is that what the kid said? This must've been the kid he thought his mom lost. He remembers being so excited to meet him only for his mom to come home crying and empty handed. He remembers feeling so sad that he'd never get to meet his younger brother.
But here he is. In a wheelchair and heavily injured. But what hurt the most was seeing the white hair. He knows what that means. He just wishes he could've prevented it from happening to Danny. He apparently already had a lot happen this past week. So Jason wasn't gonna bring it up. Instead he's gonna take Danny home. Where he can actually protect him now.
I do believe you have that backwards. 😂 If you think about it it’s ‘The yoinkee (Jason having been yoinked by Bruce) has become the yoinker (Jason yoinking his brother from Bruce)’. Which, honestly, is freaking hilarious.
Constantine said that, right in the middle of a crisis, and then all but ran to the zeta-tube before anyone could have stopped him. Which, right, nobody gave a damn about because aliens and cosmic death rays are not up a magician's alley anyway.
Still, it was kind of disappointing. He could have at least tried, you know?
So, understandably, everyone up on the Watchtower was plenty surprised when the arrival announcement went off.
"D-4, John Constantine," and then, like that wasn't enough, it is followed with, "Unauthorized guests, G-01, G-02, G-03, G-04, G-05, G-06. Welcome to Watchtower."
The announcement system doesn't welcome anyone. Much less does it let in 'unauthorized guests' of any kind; anyone and everyone has to go through a registry process. Which naturally meant that everyone and their mother scrambled to meet whoever the magician brought with him.
What greeted them was a gaggle of teenagers following Constantine; the whole group looked a lot like mother duck with her ducklings. Only the duck in question seemed utterly resigned, and the ducklings were in the midst of a heated argument, never bothering to even look around.
"This is, like, fight fire with fire thing, you can't do that!" A tall, redhead girl throws her arms up, looking fed up with the conversation.
"Oh, I dunno, Jazz, it worked for me," the oldest of the teens offers with a smug grin, "Several times."
"That's different, though," the youngest girl catches up to him, wiggling her eyebrows, "You weren't fighting, really. You were burning down a pack of matches with a flamethrower."
The oldest one barks a laugh at that, and the redhead's — Jazz's — face sours.
"Can we please not compare the Justice League with a pack of matches?" Another boy, one that looks a lot like the other two (they could be triplets, if it wasn't for their very obviously different ages), cringes, rolling his eyes. "I feel like it's bad manners."
"Rich, coming from you," another girl in an alt-goth outfit deadpans, her eyes firmly down on her sketchbook, where she is furiously drawing something.
There's only one of them who doesn't actively partake in the argument — a black boy that is completely engrossed in whatever he is doing on his tablet as he follows Constantine on autopilot. The man himself doesn't speak up either, just leads them all through the corridors and towards the main control room.
It's only when they are a few feet away from the entrance that someone finally comes back to their senses, and Batman stands in their way, making the group halt. The youngest girl collides into the redhead's back, which sparks another wave of arguments.
"Constantine," the man says, and it's not really a polite greeting, but it's not much displeased either. If anything, Batman sounds a bit confused.
"Hi," the magician deadpans back. "I'm about to stop your monthly apocalypse event, so do you mind?" He waves his hand, like asking Batman to scoot over.
"You are about to stop the apocalypse?" The middle 'triplet' lifts an eyebrow pointedly. John rolls his eyes.
"Fine, the tiny terrors team are about to stop it. Semantics," he amends. The goth girl grimaces, making a so-so gesture, but none of them voice any other complaints, instead going back to arguing.
"Remind me, why did we even let you out of the thermos, Dan?"
"Because I'm inevitable, my darling sister. Also, I'm a charm."
"Was that a fucking Thanos reference?"
"You're so not allowed to make it, considering that you're the only one who's never dealt with the Reality Gauntlet."
"What's a Reality Gauntlet?"
"Oh, right, Dani hasn't seen it either."
"Wait, you're telling me the Infinity Stones are real? I want them."
"Great job, Tucker, you've revived the evil in him!"
"Technically, you can't revive shit about Dan. Or you, for that matter. Physically impossible."
"Considering our whole deal with 'impossible', I wouldn't be taking any chances. And, no, the Infinity Stones are not real-"
"Anymore."
"-you can't have any in any case. It's forbidden candy for you."
Constantine takes a deep breath in, tapping his fingers over the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes, but otherwise stays calm and completely, utterly done with the lot behind his back.
"Who are they?" Batman asks after a long pause. Somehow, that makes the argument stop, and all the kids and teens turn to stare at the man, unblinking. Constantine sighs, loud and clearly aching for something alcoholic and strong.
"In the order of descension," he points his finger, "Dan, the evil overlord from another timeline, but don't worry, he's fine, Jazz, the totally human older sibling who we keep around because she's the only one with braincells, Danny, the- you know, I'm not even sure where to start with you."
"My parents are chaotic good mad scientists, and I turned out to be a true neutral local hero," said Danny shrugs, which causes the others to snicker and hide their laughter with coughing.
"I'd say Jazz is the true neutral, and you're chaotic stupid, but alright," the black boy says quietly, and the goth girl elbows him with a huff.
"You've never even played DnD. I did, though, and I can expertly say that Jazz is lawful neutral."
"She's broken three laws — that I know of — this week," the boy argues, but his friend just shrugs.
"The fact that you don't know what law she follows doesn't mean she isn't following it."
Constantine doesn't seem to pay attention to it — and it looks like he does it on purpose — and keeps going, "Okay, then, Danny is the small town hero with a taste for drinking acid, Sam over there is an angry and rather vocal Wednesday Addams, Tucker is short for tech-fucker-"
"Hey!"
"Language!" Jazz makes an offended gasp, but John doesn't bat an eye.
"-and Dani is what happens when you give human form to a baking soda volcano." Then, the magician turns to look at Batman again. The man doesn't seem satisfied, though, so John grimaces, looks up to the ceiling, muttering something that sounds way too much like a prayer, and adds:
"They are my nephews. And nieces, I suppose. Can you step aside now so they can save the day and I can put them back home before their mad scientist parents notice?"
"The kind of thing JLD exists for. Also. The reason I went and fetched them. This kind of Problem suits them anyway, so. Cut out all the middle mess and delays this way. Tell the lot not to shoot at 'em, eh? They'll just get annoyed by friendly fire and then everyone's coming back Singed."
There are many fanfictions where Denny, as the Ghost King, is summoned by various cults, and thus he meets the Justice League or the BatFamily. However, you know what I've never seen? Denny's complete hysteria in this situation
What am I talking about? Usually, if a sacrifice is used in a ritual, they're still alive by the time Danny arrives, so the king can collect the offering himself. Or there might be no sacrifices at all. Or Danny might become super-cool and immune to sacrifices, and since he's the king of the dead, why would he be afraid of corpses? However, I strongly disagree with
Think about it! When Denny overthrew Pariah, he was only about 15 years old in the cartoon's timeline. Did he see people with abrasions? Yes, often. Burns? Constantly on the bodies of his friends who had been shot by the GIW or the Fentons. Any dirt? Maybe, but only ghosts, and ghosts, firstly, green, which makes the brain perceive this dirt differently, secondly, a ghost can flatten, and he immediately returns to his original form, although just now he was a puddle. Can a people do this? No.
And now, imagine, the news that the King has changed spreads among the cults. Some particularly dubious cult immediately decides to "establish connections" with the new King, and for this, of course, they need the most beautiful sacrifice they can offer. The League is too late, and a number of people have already been brutally slashed in the ritual, perhaps even having their heads impaled on stakes. Danny is called upon, and he is a teenager who has never seen anything like this before
And so the Justice League gets to meet an incredibly powerful teenager, the Ghost King, who is hysterical, maybe even trapped in a ritual circle with the bodies, and it only makes things worse. No one expected this reaction from the Ghost King, and the League is already starting the "victim" protocol in his direction, and all they want to do right now is get the boy out of the traumatic situation and figure out what the hell is going on.
On some level, Danny'd known that sacrifices had been historically used to summon or appease beings of power. He'd read about some instances in class. It hadn't ever occurred to him that summoning a Ghost would constitute the same or a similar process.
No, it had occurred to him. He just never expected to deal with it, especially because he wasn't supposed to be able to be summoned.
Clockwork had told him, via green note this morning, that he had taken Pariah Dark's titles when he'd defeated him. Why no one told him this way earlier, Danny had no idea. He was going to have words with a lot of people.
As soon as he could think again.
He'd been summoned just after school ended. He'd been with Sam and Tucker at the park when there was a pull just behind his sternum. The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by green, his body warping and growing. He vaguely tasted iron in his mouth before he was suddenly in a completely different location.
The air was damp and heavy with the stench of iron. Everything was a lot smaller than it should be, though he distantly realized he was a lot taller than he was supposed to be. There were about thirty people in front of him, the tallest only reaching his knee.
He didn't really register any of that, though. At the forefront of his mind was the six dead bodies surrounding him.
There was a summoning circle under him. The putter circle was red, the one directly inside it was green, and a six point star took up the entire center, its points poking just out of the red circle. Runes that he couldn't be bothered to look at were engraved in nearly every free space inside the circle.
The six dead bodies were stood up inside every point of the star, just outside the red circle. The were posed as if they were in coffins, their hands speared through with daggers to hold them to their stomachs, tied to posts.
Danny felt sick. He'd never seen such a blatant disregard and waste of human life.
"Lord King!" One of the humans shouted. There was a smile in his voice. Danny could barely hear him over the buzzing horror. "We're beyond grateful that you've accepted the sacrifices."
They thought he'd accepted this? He hadn't had a choice!
The icy light of the circle died down, allowing colour to return to the world.
Danny could pick out every detail on the bodies. Three girls, three boys, none any older than fifteen. They could've been his classmates...
He felt himself getting smaller, shrinking to a third of his previous size. Green tears started falling from his eyes.
"What have you done?" he whispered, "What have you done!"
Startled, the humans stepped back, unable to fathom Phantom's anger.
The man from before stepped forward and bowed. "Are you not happy with the sacrifices, Lord King? We can-"
Phantom threw his arm out at the man, not registering when his body shattered through the wall. The humans screamed and scrambled to get out. Another wave of Phantom's claw and every exit slammed closed.
"You have no right," he said, eyes not leaving the dead, "You have no right to decide who loves and who dies."
Somewhere above him, glass shattered.
Danny forced his way back into control. His tears were like acid, carving into his face and leaving indents on the floor where they landed. He screamed and every window shattered.
---
There'd been rumors of a cult for nearly four months, but there had been no movements, so the case had come to a standstill until halfway through patrol.
The dogs had been suspiciously empty for a week, so Oracle had been keeping up extra surveillance there. At exactly midnight, one of the warehouses lit up in a marble of lazarus green and ice blue light.
Every Bat in Gotham immediately converged on the warehouse. They'd at first opted to survey from the outside, but the thing that had been summoned threw it's arm out and killed one of the cultists, so Nightwing threw out stealth and broke the window to get inside. The rest followed as the cultists ran around like headless chickens.
The being was tall, nearly thrice times Red Hood's height. Its claws were the size of Robin's head, its arms and legs twice as long as any human's. Its neck was as long as Nightwing's torso and bent forty-five degrees to the left. Its head was uncannily proportionate, but its eyes are what drew attention.
Its eyes were black as the void, absorbing all the light and warmth in the warehouse.
Then, the thing screamed. Every window shattered, every human fell to their knees and covered their ears.
Nightwing couldn't hear anything for nearly five minutes, relying entirely on his sight. It took all five minutes before he regained his balance, the ringing in his ears still preventing him from hearing properly.
Batman was already at the circle. He might've called for assistance from the League, but Nightwing didn't know.
The being had fallen to its knees, too, and was cradling its head as it cried acid. Slowly, it started to shrink some more, stopping only when it was the size of a human teenager.
It changed to look like one, too, he noticed.
The thing was now just shorter than Red Robin, its hair short and white, hands no longer claws, skin no longer made up of stars and black holes. It was even wearing what looked like a HAZMAT suit.
"That," Red Robin's voice was very faint behind the ringing, though it was getting clearer with every word, "is a very convincing human disguise."
Robin clicked his tongue. "Get your eyes checked, Red, it's too uncanny to pass as human."
Nightwing got closer to the circle, not yet daring to step over the barrier. "It's...crying. Why's it crying?"
Red Hood was staring at one of the casualties. "This kid went to Gotham Prep." He looked at the other five, "All of 'em did."
Red Robin shuttered. "I recognize Lucy and Jamie from class." He was quick to turn his back and start rounding up cultists. Nightwing didn't blame him.
Crouching down just outside the barrier, Nightwing called to the thing, "Hello?"
It whipped its head to stare at him, its eyes glowing Lazarus green and its tears were now the colour of oil. It scrambled away from him quickly, running into the barrier. When it turned to see what stopped it, it screamed again, though only as loud as a human can, and scrambled back to the center of the circle. Its gaze kept flirting between the six dead children and Nightwing realized exactly what he was looking at.
Ignoring the others, he stepped into the circle and cautiously approached the thing, telegraphing his every move as it watched him. "Hi?"
"Stay away!" Its voice sounded like a human teenager's. "Stay away!"
"Hey," he said, "I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? We're here to help."
The thing risked a look at the others but was quick to look back at Nightwing. It had yet to blink.
"What are you doing?" Batman hissed.
"He's panicking," Nightwing hissed back. To the thing he said, "My name's Nightwing. What's yours?"
You're Sisyphus. After being cursed to roll a boulder uphill for all entirety only for it to roll down when you near the summit, however, after thousands of years you finally reach the hilltop. The gods, especially Hades, are furious and want to know how you broke the curse.
I listen to the yelling, giggling occasionally and lying in the rain, Fucker motionless on the hilltop beside me. (You spend enough time with a thing, it gets a name. Fucker deserves it. Even though we're sort of friendly by this time, I talk to it and tell it things, although not the most important thing.) I suspect every one of them thinks I've lost my mind, and you know, it's possible.
They, however, have just lost. And they lost because they decided to be cruel.
Uphill, all the time, in rain and sleet and snow and boiling heat, all of which had to be piped in specially because Hades (realm, not entity) doesn't have any unless Hades (entity, not realm) decides to mess with a guy.
You know what else rain messes with?
Messes with the height of the hill. I just had to wait until it got down to the point where they predetermined for Fucker to break loose.
In a little while, I'll see what sort of truce I can wring out of them. It'll have to be a truce, not a victory, they're too vindictive not to poison a victory—but I do think I have a few of them on my side. Hestia is clearly resisting the urge to give me a warm bathrobe and a place to dry off. Athena is consumed with curiosity over how I did it, I could maybe get somewhere if I offer her the solution. Heracles is only a god through nepotism and loopholes anyway, but he figures that if a guy wins fair and square, then a guy wins fair and square, and he's always kind of fought against eternal punishments even if it's partly to make a name for himself. (They say he knows where Prometheus got to, and they also say he isn't telling. I can respect that.)
Right now, though? The rain is nice. I'm gonna lie here a little longer.
I REALLY should be sleeping but instead I can’t stop thinking about an idea I had for Danny’s core.
So I’ve seen him have an ice core, I even have a headcannon that he has that because ice is a poor conductor but like…
Danny has a space obsession….
Danny is dead…
Danny has ice powers…
What’s something dead that’s found in space that also happens to be incredibly cold????
THATS RIGHT!!
Danny’s core is actual a black hole!!!
Additionally, what if a ghost core isn’t always solidified??? Like the ghost has the be weakened enough to reveal their core or they have to actively solidify it for it to be touched.
So imagine if you will that we have a vivisection fic and the ghosts are trying to save Danny, not just because they actually care about him, but also because they know that if Danny’s core solidifies it will consume everything around him and he’d never forgive himself.
Or for a dc x dp prompt the Justice league rushes to amity park because they have to figure out how a black hole is forming in Illinois!
Or even Danny getting summoned in his giant Erdrich space form and Darkseid or some other big bad challenges him and as a last resort or just to show that they never had a chance to begin with, he opens up his chest and theyre dragged into his core!
I really need to sleep. I’m probably not gonna.
I gotta get up for work in 2 hrs 
Insomnia is a bitch.my cat is taunting me with her snores.
Adding this on because I forgot about Dan for a minute but it works for him too but not in the same way!!
I’ve seen a lot of fanart where he has a fire core/fire powers, well wouldn’t you know it, the material around a black hole is stupid levels of hot!!!
Kinda like you ripped out the central mass of the black hole and the material left behind attached itself to the nearest gravitational force! Such a Dan attaching himself to plasmius and forming an entirely new ghost but retaining bits of his original core!!
I shouldn’t ramble about ghosts and science when I’m this tired!!
Trained from birth as an assassin, your mind was bound by a powerful control spell. Sent to kill an archmage, they cast Dispel to weaken you—accidentally freeing your mind instead. For the first time, your dagger points wherever you choose.
Suddenly, abruptly free, I collapse to my knees, tears spilling down my face as I sob in relief.
“Thank you!” I wail at the archmage who’d freed me, watching me stunned and clearly surprised to find out I didn’t want to kill him.
I stand and wipe the tears from my eyes as I elaborate, “I’m deeply grateful for you freeing me. They sent me to kill you because you can free their assassins from their control. I don’t think they realize you could do so with only a simple dispel though.”
Danny has found a small-ish floating island in the Zone that isn't claimed by anyone.
Dibs.
He starts altering it, and finds out that for ghosts it's like, super easy. He's literally just grabbing bits of ecto and forming it into what he wants, like putty.
He takes inspiration from his favorite Animal Crossing save, and shapes this floating island to be a place for him to just...go chill.
He names it the same thing he named his Animal Crossing island; Potato.
Danny loves Potato Island. It's his new favorite place to go to unwind.
The blob ghosts like his little ecto lakes and ponds, and will take the form of random fish to play in them. Some of them like to pretend to be caught when he goes "fishing", and are very proud when he takes photos with them and tells them what a big catch they are.
There's his house, based on the Animal Crossing one he designed, and there's a few other empty ones as well.
There's shops, based after the ones on his islands, that have no wares and no one to run them.
But that's fine, this is all just so he can relax.
Except one day, a ghost he hasn't met before asks if they can have one of the houses. That in return, they'll run one of the shops.
Danny agrees! He was getting kind of lonely anyways, and he's not on the island all the time.
Then another ghost asked. Then another.
Now his little project island is a bustling avenue of shops and locals, with celebrations for Ghost holidays he's never heard of planned out, and a small city council to gather up concerns and bring them to his attention if the city council can't resolve them.
Usually it's infrastructure, since no one but Danny can make alterations to the island. The political stuff stays firmly in the hands of the elected officials.
Potato Island is a small, peaceful hub of trade and Danny is Very Proud.
~~~~~~
Meanwhile, the Justice League Dark is very happy that there's an interdimensional, peaceful trading village in the Infinite Realms that they can do their shopping at with ease.
The locals like to barter, which is ideal for Magic Users, and Potato Island (wild name but whatever) is protected by a very powerful spirit, so JLD members don't have to worry about being attacked while there.
Billy, though; Billy has a whole other reason to seek Potato Island out; he needs a place to live as a human. He can open his own portals and go back to Earth, and he's not stupid, he knows not to eat food from the Realms, but he's...a little tired of being homeless.
As Captain Marvel, everyone thinks he's an adult and that he has a secret base to live in.
But as Billy, who no one in the hero community knows, he's been living on the streets, and he wants security.
So the next time he goes to Potato Island, he explores it, searching for the Island's guardian; Phantom.
The pregnant evil queen smirks as she places a hand on her swollen belly.
"Now hero, you won't kill the mother of your own child, will you?"
"Lady, I am female, infertile, and never had sex before, so that lie is not going to work on me."
The queen pauses, blinking at the hero, clearly thinking something over before speaking out, “You’re infertile?” It’s a squeaked, confused sounding question, clearly the only part of the statement the hero made that confused the ‘evil’ queen, Mordana.
The hero hesitantly nods in return, lowering their weapon, seemingly just as confused.
Mordana yells, frustrated, “That’s not possible! Un-“ Mordona pause, something clearly occurring to her. “Oh. You’re not infertile. You just can’t carry yourself.”
Mordana walks closer to the hero, who backs away in her confusion, before grabbing the hero’s hand and placing it on her, Mordana’s, belly.
“You may be a virgin, you may be a woman, but you are far from infertile. After all this is your baby. Or are you so oblivious as to not realize I’m Modan, the woman you feel so sweetly into bed with, even if it was nothing but innocent,” Mordana croons.
The hero recoils in surprise, “Whoa, wait, what!?”
The hero yanks her helmet, her short red locks sitting in ringlets just above her ears. “If you… how in the realms did I get you pregnant then?!”
Mordana chuckles, reaching a hand out to play with the hero’s springing curls. “Easily. I harvested an egg from you while you slept, using magic to do so and to splice it with one of my own. Not that hard.”
The hero bats Mordana’s hand away, looking away with a blush. “Fine, whatever. You baby trapped me. I’ll lower my weapon, but I’m not going to kneel to you.”
Mordana giggles. “Even if I offered to return to the favor~?” she purrs at the hero.
The hero looks confused before her eyes widen and her cheeks slowly pink to a deep flustered red. “O-oh~.”
One week. One fucking week. That’s how long it took before the universe’s reality collapsed in on itself like a toddler knocking over a block tower made of cosmic rules, and Danny Fenton—sorry, High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, Keeper of Balance, Ghost King of All Dimensions, Supreme Bureaucratic Overlord of Death and Souls, or whatever other bullshit title Clockwork slapped on him—was done. He was so done. With everything. With life. With afterlife. With bureaucracy. With math. Goddamn, he hated math.
He phased through the ceiling of what was left of the Avengers compound without so much as a knock because, frankly, he didn’t care anymore. People were dead. Everyone was dead. Half a fucking universe. And universes are fucking infinite. Literally. He’d been counting. Or trying to. But the math broke somewhere around “nine trillion decillion” and his brain short-circuited.
Inside, the Avengers were scattered around like bad leftovers. Steve was slouched in a chair like someone told him America lost the war. Thor was cradling a bottle like it was the last warmth in the world. Natasha looked like she hadn’t blinked in hours. Banner was trying to fix a coffee machine that had already given up on life. Tony—oh, Tony—Tony looked like he’d been held together with duct tape and sarcasm, and not the good kind.
“Yo,” Danny said, arms folded, crown floating behind him, cape swishing dramatically like it had beef with gravity. “Which one of you assholes thought wiping out half an entire goddamn universe was a great idea?”
They blinked. Steve slowly got to his feet. “Uh… who—?”
“No. Shut up. Don’t talk. I’m not in the mood. I haven’t slept in a week. Time doesn’t even exist in the Infinite Realms, and I somehow managed to be late to ten meetings that haven’t happened yet. Do you know what kind of eldritch administrative nightmare I’m dealing with? Do you?”
Tony blinked. “Not really, no.”
Danny whipped around to face him, pointing a glowing finger. “I don’t care, Stark. I don’t care that your kid sidekick is dead. I don’t care that half your team is sad. I don’t care that your billionaire ass is depressed and growing a sad beard like you’re auditioning for ‘Survivor: Superhero Edition’. I have literal oceans of paperwork made out of the screams of the damned piling up in my inbox because some purple California Raisin thought committing universal homicide was a vibe.”
“Hold on,” Natasha said, standing now, brows furrowed. “Who even are you?”
“I’m the janitor,” Danny deadpanned. “Of death. And you—you are all on my shit list.”
Steve opened his mouth.
“NO. I said no talking. Do you know how many souls half a universe is? Do you? BECAUSE I DON’T. THAT NUMBER DOESN’T EXIST. That’s not even math anymore, that’s heresy. There are species no one even knows about! I had to learn seven extinct galactic dialects in five minutes just to sign their death certificates!”
“Wait—wait,” Bruce said, cautiously stepping in like someone trying to defuse a bomb made of feelings. “You’re… the King of the Afterlife?”
“Infinite Realms,” Danny corrected. “Afterlife implies one dimension. I’ve got infinite. One of them is just an endless IKEA. You think you’re in hell? Try getting lost in that one for eternity.”
Tony blinked. “That explains the floating crown.”
“Oh, you noticed?” Danny snapped, sarcasm thick. “Yeah, the crown’s real subtle. You know what else I’m wearing? These.”
He held up his fingers. On them gleamed the actual Infinity Stones. Not the ones Thanos used. No, these were the OG versions—before the universe dumbed them down for mortal brains.
“I’m wearing multiversal cosmic artifacts as fucking accessories, Stark. I clapped death back into submission on my way here. I threatened Time itself with a lawsuit. I am so tired.”
Everyone was staring now. Thor slowly lowered his bottle.
“I have one question,” Thor said, eyes narrowing. “Can you bring them back?”
Danny didn’t respond immediately. He paced, muttering under his breath about soul processing queues and spectral overflow reports and ghost union strikes.
Then he turned, threw up his hands, and shouted, “Fine! Fine! But only because if I see one more Ectoplasmic Reconciliation Form I’m going to scream my own name and rip reality in half!”
Tony raised a cautious hand. “Just to clarify… you’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”
Danny glared at him. “I am doing this because your collective idiocy has backed up the Infinite Realms so badly, I have ancient god-beasts getting angry Yelp reviews for not guiding souls fast enough.”
Bruce choked. “You get… Yelp reviews?”
“Do not ask. Do not google ‘Spiritual Bureaucracy Yelp.’ You’re not ready. It’s worse than you can even imagine.”
He clapped his hands. The power reverberated like a sonic boom made of lightning and bass drops. Light cracked through the floor, time folded, and space rewrote itself. In an instant, everything was back. People. Planets. Souls. Loved ones. Unsnapped. Safely. No one reappeared in traffic or mid-air. They were all fine.
Everyone stared.
Tony gasped. “…Peter?”
Somewhere in the compound, Peter Parker screamed, “MR. STARK I THINK I DIED?!”
Danny muttered, “Yeah, well, get in line, kid.”
Tony looked like he might cry. Steve looked like he might cry. Even Thor blinked back tears.
Danny didn’t give them a second to bask.
“Listen to me and listen hard, because I am only going to say this once. The next time you idiots let some glorified space grape get his hands on cosmic power and kill half the universe, I’m not bringing anyone back.”
Natasha stepped forward. “Wait—what—?”
“I said,” Danny growled, eyes glowing green and crown sparking violently, “the next time this happens, I am going to let the universe rot. I don’t care if it’s your kid, or your moms, or your emotional support dog. You will live with it. You will suffer. Because I’m not spending another week cleaning up your mess like the goddamn galactic janitor!”
Tony muttered, “Kinda thought you said you were the janitor.”
“I will kick your kneecaps off.”
Tony shut up.
Danny took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going home. Do not call me again unless the universe is actually ending. And even then, it better be certified by at least three gods and signed in triplicate.”
He started floating upward, preparing to phase out, when Steve blurted, “Wait, thank you. Really.”
Danny paused mid-air, sighed, and turned around. “You’re welcome. I guess. But seriously. If another genocidal space maniac so much as coughs on the timeline, I’m filing a restraining order on this entire dimension. Bye.”
And with that, he vanished in a swirl of ectoplasmic smoke, leaving the Avengers staring at each other in the awkward silence that followed a divine ass-whooping.
Thor finally muttered, “I liked him.”
Tony sat down, blinked a few times, then said, “He just wore the Infinity Stones as rings. Like mood jewelry.”
Bruce nodded solemnly. “He’s not paid enough.”
“Was he even paid at all?” Steve asked.
And somewhere in the realms between life and death, Danny Phantom screamed into his pillow made of souls: “I AM NOT GETTING PAID FOR THIS BULLSHIT!!!”
"I wish for immortality until the last human dies. And I want to stay young and healthy," you tell the genie, proud of your clever wording.
Seventeen quintillion years later, drifting through the dead, silent void, you spot your old co-worker Kyle. He's still alive. And he’s still talking.
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