almost home
Show & Tell
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
ojovivo
One Nice Bug Per Day
RMH
No title available
taylor price
Cosmic Funnies
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
🪼
Origami Around
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n
@theartofmadeline
will byers stan first human second
⁂
oozey mess
Three Goblin Art
Sade Olutola
seen from Ukraine
seen from Czechia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Croatia
seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Hungary
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
@sidlink-ship-fuel
I AM IN DESPERATE NEED OF A FIC SEARCH
It is DPXDC and the majority of the story revolves around Wonder Woman and Danny. He’s time-traveling under CW’s orders and is assisting Diana in all these events, acting like a teacher, please help! I’ve been looking for this fic for MONTHS!
It was so unique, like he would help her and then in her time, it would be years before she saw him again.
Dungeon of the Infinite
DP x DC Prompt inspired by dungeon manhwa, manga, manhua
Lately, Danny has been seeing some beings do something similar to different worlds. He's done some research on what they were doing. He didn't do much research on the world's and the beings, just that all of them had things called "Dungeons" in them, and he's tempted to do the same, just with less stakes and more of something for fun, but still giving a reward to those that complete and participate in his Dungeon.
He chose a random world to do his own Dungeon thing in it and has already selected some of his subjects to help him in it. The people of the world will freely be able to travel between the 10 floors, but with increasing limitations, with floors 9 and 10 being inaccessible until the other floors are cleared.
The people of the DC world will need to defeat:
1. Boxy and Lunch Lady aka the Paired Couple of Boxed Lunches
2. Amorpho aka the Shape-shifting Man
3. Technus aka the Technological Terror
4. Ember aka the Blazing Musician
5. Skulker aka the Greatest Hunter
6. Aragon aka the Scorned Prince
7. Sam and Tucker aka Nightshade and Husani
8. Pandora aka Humanity's Hope
9. Fright Knight aka Fear Incarnate
10. Danny aka the the Great One
The people of the DC world will have helpers in his Dungeon. Lady Gotham is the helper for Floors 1 - 3, and she helps them by providing a small power boost to the people with Shadows. Vlad is the helper for Floors 4 - 6, and he helps by letting his Vultures aid the people. Dani is the helper for Floors 7 - 10, and she herself will be fighting alongside the people. Vlad is currently redeemed and was originally meant to be a Floor boss, but he traded his spot to Aragon, who is currently doing community service for his past actions.
The ghost king is a magical girl
It's been a while since I've looked at your account I really do love your work and I've been having a stupid crack idea where the ghost king AKA Danny dresses like a magical girl read him someone summons him just to piss them off
Okay but like Danny started this shit solely because he kept being summoned by the assholes who are the PEAK of toxic masculinity. So he began acting way to feminine and then upgraded to glitter, skirts and everything.
Danny found out he really liked the style and kinda went on this big gender discovery where Danny learns they're genderfluid.
Still, super magical girl Danny who loves fluttering around in a magical girl outfit.
Danny does a whole transformation sequence when being summoned, so the cultists have to sit through this.
Danny begins getting summoned to Gotham a LOT and they keep making it more and more dramatic. At first, the Batfam was scared but after the fifth time, they begin rating it.
Dick still maintains the floating twirl one was best while Jason says the gun one was.
The Child King's New Knight
DP x DC Prompt
Danny has been trying his best to be the Ghost King. The first few weeks had some ups and downs, mostly him trying to get used to Fright Knight. But he eventually got used to Fright Knight as time went on, and Danny got better at being the new Ghost King.
Danny was about to reveal his identity to his parents, and his friends and Jazz have worked with him to get him out of the house quickly if it turns out to be a bad reveal. None of them expected the GIW to be hidden in Fentonworks and for the Fenton Parent's to be working with them. All of them were captured and taken to different facilities to be experimented on.
The experiments that Danny went through were so severe that the Crown of Flames and the Ring of Rage had changed him into his Ghostly age, that of a 5 year old.
Fright Knight had come to save his King from the GIW. He had come alone because only he could sense that he was in danger, the Ghosts of the Infinite Realms haven't fully accepted Danny as Ghost King, but they were getting there as he became more competent and Clockwork was busy with the Observants to not notice his King's capture.
Fright Knight could do so much, as he's got to protect his King, so he can't fight to his fullest. This leads to Fright Knight being gravely injured by the GIW weapons. He may perish, but fear will still exist, and the mantle of "Fright Knight" will pass on to another his king chooses.
Danny is healed as best as Frostbite can do before he needs to be put in a living world. His memory isn't that great because of the age reversal, but he knows how to use his powers (which have also been weakened because of the age reversal). He is sent to Gotham with the mementos of his friends and sister that Clockwork gave him. One of Tucker's PDA's that has stored information about Ghost culture and the things that severely harm them. A small bag that Sam had enchanted that refills with seeds of various plants. Jazz's USB that contains the blueprints of the non-lethal Fenton inventions, the Ghost Portal, and the Ecto-Dejecto.
Danny stumbled out of a portal in front of the Batfam. The Batfam were ready for something dangerous to come out when the portal appeared, but didn't expect to see a kid stumble out. Danny only sees a lot of things he fears when he laid eyes on the Batfam with their weapons drawn. A large looming figure with a cape and a head with two top points (Batman). Electricity, the very thing that killed him (Nightwing). Guns, which remind him of the GIW and his parents shooting at him (Red Hood). A bo staff that reminds him of his own mom hitting him with that staff, telling him to give her back her baby boy (Red Robin). But when he sees a sword, he is reminded of how safe he was when someone he trusted that would always protect him, so he hides from the others behind Robin.
I'm so glad to see AO3 making it absolutely clear that none of these things are allowed to even be HINTED at.
Here's some of the language from the new post about AO3's police on commercial promotion:
-
There is a wide variety of things that are not allowed under AO3's non-commercialization rules.
Any other language which one might interpret as requesting or having requested financial contributions, whether for yourself or others. This covers indirect references, euphemisms, or other language intended to get around the TOS. Some examples of this include:
Thanks for the coffee!
My ☕ username is the same as my username here
This chapter is brought to you by my patrons
You know where to find me if you want early or bonus chapters
Check out my Twitter to learn how you can donate to me since I'm not allowed to discuss it here
If you want to hear more about my ideas, talk about fandom, or find more of my stuff for a coin, visit my Tumblr
Solicitation is not allowed, whether it's for yourself or on behalf of someone else.
Here's the crazy thing, folks. You *can* day things like "My Tumblr is [username], come over and scream into the void about these blorbos with me!" And then plaster your kofi all over your Tumblr. You can say "Thanks to [someone] for suggesting this fic! I listen to people's suggestions all the time on Tumblr!" for literally any reason someone told you to write a fic.
It's not hard to filter out the things you shouldn't say based on environment. Back when I was in high school you'd hear about all the fun someone had that weekend, but they wouldn't say there was drinking and weed and throwing firecrackers into a campfire where a teacher or parent could hear them.
The reason we're not allowed to post monetary links or use any language alluding to it on AO3 is for our protection. If a copyright holder wants to sue a fan writer for making money or demand their work be taken down as "property" of the copyright holder, AO3's lawyers need to be able to defend us by saying money isn't being made and not perjuring themselves.
It's a LEGAL issue. AO3 has no issues with writers earning money. Just not directly via their platform. Not enough people seem to understand this. There's a very long history of copyright holders throwing their weight around and taking a hatchet to fandom spaces using legal backing, and we're trying to avoid that.
if you're a published author, you CAN mention your penname on Amazon. just not link.
A Little Late (DPxDC)
“You have the absolute worst timing ever, as always” a familiar voice shocked Batman and made him stop and turn around, ready to fight who ever spoke. Only for him to suffer yet another shock that made his insides cold, almost unable to fully register what he was seeing.
Batman stood frozen looking at a Ghost version of Jason as Robin carrying a bleeding Phantom in his arms. Ghost Robin gave the Living Counterpart to his Batman a disbelieving look then glanced over the other Living heroes.
A flair of anger and irritation flash through Ghost Robin. “How dare they!? How many times did his Beloved and his friends have called for help for the Justice League? Sure, the other times there’s a world ending shit to deal with so they are busy and his Beloved was able to fight the ghost. BUT THIS, they had been hounding about the Anti-Ecto Acts for months, this is Living Government Experimenting on HIS PEOPLE and worse they moved on to Liminals! the Living who cannot withstand what the dead could.”
“We had been calling about the Unethical experiments on OUR people, For MONTHS over and over again. It was fine as we could attack and free the ghosts but we increased the calls for help when they started taking the Living. What took you so long.” Batman flinched as Ghost Robin visibly glitched as Ghost Robin seethed. “Just listening to those bastards without checking things.”
Sam stood by Robin’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. She was wounded wearing a hospital gown and holding on a badly bandaged Tucker. Red blood seeped into the cloth, showing everyone how very alive and human the two ‘specimens’ Ghost Robin had liberated. Robin took a deep breath and sighed, though he didn’t need it, it helped regulate his anger.
“Technus, Send the info and videos to them. Not just the Ghosts experiment but the Liminals as well.” Robin held the bleeding Phantom closer to himself. “If they don’t give a fuck about the ghost, at least i hope saving the Living liminals might make them stop these Bastards.”
“Lord Consort, I’ve freed all of the ghosts in the facilities and are ready to leave. What do we do with the Amity residents that are too injured?”
“Lead the heroes to them, let them see and do their jobs. I’m taking my King to Frostbite” Robin replied. He took a spectral crowbar and pried a tear into reality, a portal to Far Frozen. “Sam… I”
Sam shut Robin up. “Just take Danny to the healer. Tucker and I will talk to the Heroes who Finally decided to show up.” She then glared at the heroes standing around. “If push comes to shove, we’ll carry one without them.”
“Indeed, we’ll handle it. Take the young king to the royal healer.” Technus stated.
“At least, your Other Self seems willing to help us blow these bastards up.” Tucker chimed in. Of course, Tucker was referring to Red Robin since they knew the Neverborn was the Spirit of Robin. The term Other Self is one Ghost robin used to refer to any of his living counterparts. Never realizing that yes, RR was willing but it also could also refer to Red Hood whom they didn’t know was a former Robin, just standing there as well. The Red Hood who was once the current ‘Robin form’ the Neverborne was wearing. Red Hood who died and came back.
Ghost robin stepped through and closed the portal behind him. Only then he vaguely realised that the Heroes probably assumed he was Jason’s other self rather than all the Robins, yet he had pressing matters to attend to such as keeping his Beloved half alive. They can deal with complicated human and Living politics later. Robin’s form started cycling through various Robin now that he doesn’t have to hold himself and his emotions in check as he watches Frostbite start healing Danny.
~~~~
The idea won't leave me, so I'm planning on just posting things that I've written about the Idea I have for the fanfic that I never wrote, "Just a Simple Wish." a DPxDC crossover where Danny accidentally spoke a wish to have a proper mentor and a friend that understands him, only for Desiree to drop him in the Cursed City Infinite Realm Gotham in front of Cryptid!Batman and Spirit!Robin who just came to being after death of Jason, hence Cryptid!Batman raising the two Ghostling in the Ghost Gotham.
I figured Someone else might like to give it a try. so im throwing the idea here and hope someone else adopts it.
DPxDC #32
Danny, Sam, and Tucker are on the outskirts of town, waiting for Jack to reveal what he dragged the kids out here to show them. A giant structure is covered by a tarp.
"Hey Dad, whatcha make this time?"
"Danno, my boy, this is," dramatically ripping off the tarp, "The Fenton Trebuchet. It automatically sends out a net to catch the ghost. Fire this bad boy and we'll knock any ghost outta the sky." Jack hits the lever, very excited. Nothing happens; it doesn't even move. "Sigh, another failed invention."
"Oh no, that's too bad, Dad, maybe next time," Danny says while thinking back to the other night when he sabotaged it.
Jack dejectedly drove back to the house, leaving the trio behind. Danny, Sam, and Tucker get very excited. A giant trebuchet the size of Fenton works, and no supervision.
Can you write a fic about this if you can
https://www.tumblr.com/hello-eden/759003690226024449/is-it-a-enemy-or-a-child?source=share
Thanks for the ask, I will try! But first...
Link and credits to the original op: Prompt by @hello-eden
Now onwards! :D Hope you will enjoy....
-----------
Damian stared. There before him was no longer his Grandfather but a boy some years younger than him. He glanced over at his elder brothers. Richard was already on the coms reporting back. Drake was on his wrist computer typing away about something while muttering. He glanced back at the boy, suddenly realising that what he thought was his resemblance to his father could also be resemblance to his grandfather.
The boy before him, probably around the age six, had dark black hair with a white prominent sideburns, similar but far more prominent then Todds white forehead streak. The boy's eyes were not just the simple green Damian had been familiar with but one of the boy's eyes was red, heterochromia. Something Damian hadn't been aware his grandfather apparently had. All his life he had never seen his grandfather like this. The youngest that man had ever appeared had been 60, though Damian was acutely aware that his grandfather was far older than that.
But right now, there sat a six years old boy, his grandfathers ropes, oversized and barely hanging to the boy's shoulders, in the middle of the aftermath of one of his grandfathers plans backfiring. The boy glared at them eyes narrowed as he clutched the robes around himself, Damian noticed the shift in the boy's eyes, red and green wandering around but keeping them in his field of view. He noted how his shoulders tensed before they turned back onto them. It was clear his grandfather did not retain his memories.
I am sick, dizzy, and can barely think but you know what would be WILD?
If the DC universe was an echo of Danny’s world. What if the continents of their planet shifted enough where Amity is now in New Jersey and had then become Gotham.
And when Danny died underneath the portal a part of his death fractured and imprinted itself into those various worlds. One of them being Gotham, where Danny’s home ironically used to be where Wayne Manor used to be.
So just imagine it, you’re coming back from patrol, grimy, sweaty, and with questionable intentions by dressing as an overgrown bat when suddenly the lights dim. It dims and brings darkness, only enough light to catch the beady marble eyes of the bats you fear.
And then electricity jumps in the middle of the room, flinging itself around like an agitated snake in wide open circles.
Everyone is backing away, some weary, some cursing, some just half way out of their own suit.
And then a child — barely as old as your youngest now, flickers to life before you, screaming and screaming, wailing in pain as the scent of burning flesh mingles into the air. You can see the boy, black hair and blue eyes that underneath the bright light that burns them is causing black to turn white, and blue to turn green.
The electricity crackles and when the boy is about the drop, limp, certainly lifeless, he vanishes as if nothing had ever been there.
But he comes back, he always comes back, in the moment of calm and in the moment of despair, echoing that painful wailing of death.
It’s so wrong.
It’s very, very wrong.
It didn’t even matter anymore why the boy showed up, only that this moment of pain continues to haunt the cave of heroes.
Continuously haunting, even as some whispered apologizes when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as some provided songs of comfort when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as stories of Gotham are told and promises (though uncertain and flimsy at best) are spoken to the wailing boy who always drops fast and disappears just as quickly.
Always, it was the same.
Until one day it wasn’t.
The electricity crackled like it always did. A spark, and then a calamity of light. And the boy would be there, uncurling himself into a tense position as he would wail.
But not this time.
Instead the boy curled himself in the air, calm as can be, almost as if he were sleeping. Even the electricity that they have learned to dance away from was calm, gentle, like ocean waves.
And when the electricity vanished, the boy did not, instead dropping to the floor where Dick was quick to catch him, grunting in preparation of weight only to show alarm at how thin the boy truly was.
On that face that has haunted them all for months is just a boy, sleeping, and scarred. A boy breathing very slow, slower than what they would like, but here in the physical realm with them.
Dick brushed back bangs of black hair, and slowly, ever so slowly, glazed blue eyes stared back.
Do Not Weep Now, We've Got You.
"DO IT!" Sam shouted, her face twisted into an angry scowl as she continued to shoot at the agents trying to break down the basement door. "Just another step!" Tucker encouraged, practically dragging Danny toward the portal and away from Sam.
Danny's core flared again as another bout of electricity raced up his wrists, making Danny trip over his feet with a mangled yelp. Tucker cursed, tightening his grip even more as he tried to steady them. "This will all be over soon, man. You just need to get to the portal. As soon as you're through, it'll stop. I promise," Tucker huffed, dragging him another foot forward.
"TUCKER!" Sam shouted, her voice full of worry, "I NEED BACK UP, STAT!"
Tucker cursed, stumbling as they finally made it to the front of the portal. "I'll be right back dude, try and get further in," Tucker commanded, leaning Danny against the portal doors.
"Rejected." "But, Milord, he has been specifically chosen to..." "Rejected. Goodbye."
Wally, tied down to a stone table and about to be sacrificed, feels more than offended.
This particular cult is trying to gift him to some minor god of protection or something, he wasn't particularly paying attention to the specifics, saying that the god needs a new member of his harem.
"But we chose this one because of his qualifications!"
"Indeed, we sense the eldritch within him!"
The god or whatever raises one white eyebrow.
"Re. Jec. Ted. Rejected. That? That whole thing?" The being asks, waving a hand generally at Wally's everything. "That is not going anywhere near my Fraid or my Haunt."
"Hey!" Wally says incredulously, "The hell did I do to you, man?"
"No no, that's the beauty of it!" A cultist interrupts him, also motioning at Wally's everything. "As a member of your harem and also one already tainted by the unknowable, he can stay out of your personal lair and stay in the Eternal Void, and you can just make sure he pleases you in wherever way you desi-"
"That thing is also not getting anywhere near my dick. In fact? This? This is done. I am done."
The being snaps his fingers into fingerguns, points at the shackles on Wally, and breaks them with green beams of light.
"Run free and far away frommmmmmmholy fuck get away from me!"
"So what, am I not good enough for you?" Wally asks, now in the beings face and ignoring the cultists.
Fuck those guys, but this just got personal.
~~~~~~
Danny is being hounded by one of Clockwork's worst nightmares, thanks to a stupid cult that thinks he's A, a god, and B, has a harem.
Great.
He's supposed to be at his 21st birthday party, getting legally wasted, and now he's getting hit on the man responsible for a not one, not two, but three week adventure through the time stream he just got back from.
This man and his ilk are responsible for nearly all of Danny's Clockwork Assignments, specifically to fix the timestream and reality, and he has the balls to ask why Danny doesn't like him?!
Precious Little Half-Life
There's no de-aging. Danny is genuinely eight the day he runs away from Amity Park. He's already had his accident and he's been in ghost fights with entities that are much stronger than him. Unlike what happens in the show, he doesn't always succeed in defending the town, leading to disasters that he couldn't have possibly prevent due to the huge power gap between his opponents and himself. Finally, the pressure builds up and he finds himself running away from his rogue gallery, the GIW and his parents.
He really feels bad for Jazz, since she's obviously going to be the only one truly missing him. Tucker and Sam lack the maturity to see past the rose-tinted glasses of his "superhero life".
Fuelled by his desperation, Danny makes the trip from Ohio to Bludhaven in one sitting, and he decides to crash in the outskirts of the city before he collapses. However, suddenly the city explodes, ending all plans of sanctuary on the spot.
Naturally, this revitalizes him and, terrified, he manages to run to Gotham next. The new city doesn't seem so nice once he's in it - it's dark and oppressive, its only saving grace is that its intact - but Danny has no more energy to spare. He goes into the first uninhabited building he sees and falls asleep instantly.
Next thing he knows, he's woken up by someone falling into the apartment, dangerously close to bleeding out from their throat.
With a whimper, Danny scrambles to save the stranger, after he asks him if he has a first aid kit somewhere in this place for him to use.
Jason’s throat felt like it had been branded with a hot poker. Blood ran freely against his fingers. Getting air without choking was… tricky.
God, he was so fucked.
From the start, Jason had known that the odds were not in his favor. That’s why it he had felt it necessary to stir the nest so damn much and sow chaos after Red Hood’s wake. He’d known that the Bat would have eventually caught onto what Jason was doing, so he’d staged the scene to optimize his chances of winning for himself the most important kill of all.
And he’d failed at it. Quite miserably, as well.
Batman’s betrayal was burned into his mind. Burned the same way the Joker’s laughter grinded against his ears every time his mind tried to recall The Warehouse and His Bitch Of A Mother.
Surprise, surprise! Bruce had chosen his killer over him. His so-called son. What a shocker!
Guess now he knew why his tombstone had the name Jason Todd engraved.
(Why the fuck was it Todd, Bruce? That was Willis’ name. He was meant to be Jason Wayne!)
Damn it, his chest hurt.
Everything hurt.
Jesus.
Every step he took was wobbly and unsteady, but Jason was reasonably certain that he’d managed to scurry away to the closest safehouse without anyone following. As much as he tried, he couldn’t remember if he’d equipped it with a first aid kit. Had he? His mind was caught in a fog and the answer avoided him like the plague.
Sticky fingers pried open the window after a handful of unsuccessful tries. In spite of the small victory, his foot was caught in the sill as he squeezed his large body through the threshold, making him tumble ungracefully to the ground.
Jason groaned. That hadn’t been a pretty fall. And now his face hurt and was wet with something that was undoubtedly blood.
Hahaha… It was funny. Tonight, he was painting the city red, but in a way he hadn’t anticipated until now.
“That’s a lot of blood!”
Taken aback, Jason jolted from his spot on the ground and coughed wetly.
A kid was inside his safehouse, looking down at him with shock. A boy, who seemed no older than six or seven.
Honestly, Jason wanted to shake his head in disbelief, unwilling to believe that he’d been weakened so much by blood loss that he had missed the pitter-patter of tiny feet.
The kid screamed and flapped his hands around in a panic. Even from Jason’s perspective, his face looked ashen, dirty and hollow-cheeked. The only thing that looked even the slightest bit alive about him was the manic look of his eyes.
“Towels! Towels! Oh man, I need something for the cut-”
Cut?
Jason blinked blearily.
Oh, Bruce had- Yeah, he’d hurt him. Badly.
(How come he had forgotten about that, again?)
Not important. If he needed help and the kid was the only thing between him and another visit to the home of their maker-
“Kitchen,” he managed to rasp out. “In- the kitchen- “
The kid nodded frantically.
“Be right back, mister. Don’t you dare die before I come back, please!”
Jason resisted the urge to laugh. The kid was a riot. Making demands and saying please in the same sentence.
What an adorable little tyke…
A DC X DP IDEA #45
Mine, Mine, MINE!
Imagine this….
I know Damian is raised in an environment where he is treated as a prince, the only grandson, the heir. Sure those privileges may come in the price of ripping his innocence and childhood away from a very young age. In the end he got everything he ever wanted nor needed. A single word from him and all gather around to get what he needed.
But there will be a day where there is something you cannot get no matter your demands or commands.
….
By the time Damian could form full sentences, he had learned the art of taking. To demand was his birthright; to receive was merely the universe setting itself right. If another child had a toy, Damian wanted it. If a servant carried a blade of exceptional craftsmanship, it belonged in his collection. Even as a young boy, his chambers were overflowing with silken robes, masterfully forged weapons, and rare treasures pilfered from across the world.
His first words had been "Mine." He was greedy from the cradle, claiming everything within reach with an iron will and a clenched fist. As an infant, a single furrow of his brow or a half-formed cry summoned an entire team of wet nurses, attendants, and servants who scrambled to appease him, terrified of drawing the ire of the Demon’s heir. His crib was adorned with silk imported from lands that no longer existed, and gold-threaded blankets were replaced the moment they became even slightly soiled.
When he took his first steps, the world shifted to accommodate him. Marble floors were polished before his feet touched them, and his path was lined with offerings—daggers forged by masters, scrolls of ancient knowledge, carved figurines from forgotten civilizations. Every item he glanced at was quietly removed from its place and added to his collection, regardless of its original owner. He collected without remorse, hoarded without gratitude. His chambers grew into miniature treasure vaults, filled with relics and riches that served no purpose beyond feeding his insatiable desire to own.
Neither Talia nor Ra’s al Ghul discouraged his possessiveness. To them, it was simply a symptom of his lineage. The blood of conquerors and kings ran in his veins, and if he took, it was only because he was destined to. The League of Assassins reinforced this belief with every passing day. He was not taught humility or restraint—only power, precision, and domination. He was forged to rule, molded to believe that the world was his birthright.
But then there was Danyal.
His twin, born under the same stars, shaped from the same blood, yet utterly alien in his quiet nature. Danyal never demanded, never claimed, never expected. While Damian amassed trinkets and trophies with the entitlement of a young emperor, Danyal existed in the spaces left behind—content with simplicity, with little, with the unremarkable. When Damian snatched one of his brother’s few meager toys and added it to his already overflowing pile, Danyal gave no protest. He simply let it go, his eyes soft, his hands uncurled, his expression free of malice or resentment.
To Damian, this was a maddening contradiction. They were both of noble blood. They were descendants of kings, warriors, legends. Danyal should have yearned for greatness, fought for it. But instead, he bowed his head, stepped aside, and surrendered without a sound. Damian saw weakness. He saw foolishness.
When Danyal died on a mission gone wrong, Damian did not weep. His hands did not tremble, his eyes did not stray from the trail of blood that marked the last place his twin had stood. The League moved on without pause, the death barely a footnote in their endless ledger of sacrifice. There was no funeral pyre, no rites or remembrance. The corpse was retrieved, cataloged, and discarded like a failed weapon. Damian told himself it was fate, a destiny trimming the weak from their bloodline.
Danyal had never fought for more. He had never claimed what was owed to him. In Damian’s mind, that made him unworthy. A noble soul without the teeth to defend its title. A flickering candle smothered by the wind. And so Damian forced himself to move on. He trained harder, sharper, faster. He swallowed whatever little grief he has and reforged it into ambition.
At ten years old, when he was finally sent to Gotham, he carried himself like a young prince returning to his rightful throne. He arrived at his father’s doorstep cloaked in expectation, armored in superiority. His every step was deliberate, as if the very ground of Wayne Manor should bend to his will. He was the blood heir, the legacy reborn. Everything in the manor should have been his.
But instead of reverence, he was met with resistance.
When he challenged Drake—Timothy Drake, the imposter who had dared to stand at his father’s side—Damian expected combat, a duel to settle succession. He anticipated a fight that would end with his place solidified and his father's acknowledgment finally secured. But Drake refused. He did not raise a hand. He yielded with words instead of steel, and Damian, raised in a world where weakness was unforgivable, saw it as cowardice.
Worse still, Bruce his father had intervened. Not as a warrior stepping into the arena, but as a father—shielding the usurper. Protecting someone who had no claim, no birthright, no Ra’s al Ghul in his lineage, no biological connection that is burning in his veins. Damian had lashed out. Fury surged through him like fire through dry kindling. How could his father not see it? He was the true son. The legacy of both Bat and Demon ran through his blood.
But here, in this foreign house built on sentiment and ideals, that blood meant nothing.
His hours of grueling training, his flawless blade work, his mastery of languages, poisons, shadows, everything none of it mattered. In the League, every achievement was tallied like gold, every drop of noble blood a weapon to be honored and sharpened. In Gotham, he was just a child with a name. No better than the orphans his father had chosen. He was expected to earn his place not through heritage, but through heart.
And that was a battlefield Damian had never been taught to fight on.
…..
By fourteen, Damian had changed. The transformation had not come swiftly, nor easily. It had been carved into him over years of clashing ideologies, quiet lessons, and countless moments of silent observation. The boy who once barked orders, who demanded the world bend to his will, had been slowly, methodically unraveled.
Gone was the child who screamed, "Mine!" at every turn. In his place stood a young warrior with weary eyes and calloused hands, one who had tasted loss, rejection, and the sting of unearned entitlement.
He had learned, through long nights spent watching others from the shadows of Wayne Manor’s hallways, that love was not given by birthright but earned through sacrifice. He had watched Dick steady the weight of leadership with a smile, watched Tim endure with patience and quiet brilliance, watched Jason bleed and rage and come back again and again for the family that had once failed him. And he had watched Bruce—not the detective that his grandfather would say nor the beloved that his mother would whisper of bedtime legends, but a flawed, weary man who carried his family not with a sword but with open hands.
The League had taught him to take. His siblings had taught him to stay.
“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He had not heard the phrase spoken aloud, but he lived it in the moments that unfolded around him. He saw it in the way Alfred laid out tea for children who weren’t his. In the way Cass would wordlessly spar with him until exhaustion broke his fury. In the way Stephanie left notes on the fridge with dumb jokes just to make them laugh. These people—none of whom shared his blood—had chosen each other again and again.
And yet… in the quiet corners of his mind, sometimes, he still wished Danyal were here.
Danyal, who would have thrived in this strange and stubborn family. Danyal, whose softness would have been a strength here, not a flaw. Danyal, who had always looked at Damian not with envy or resentment, but with quiet love.
Damian had spent so long dismissing that gentleness as weakness, never realizing it had been a gift. Looking back now, he could see the missed moments—the times he could have shared instead of stolen, the times he could have listened instead of taken. His brother had not been lesser. He had simply been different. And Damian, in his arrogance, had mistaken compassion for cowardice.
Now, with Danyal long buried and the world colder for it, Damian carried the weight of that realization like a blade across the ribs—never fatal, but never forgotten.
…...
Then came the mission with the Flash. A time anomaly had rippled through the fabric of reality. Barry had worked tirelessly to fix the damage, racing through different timelines until order was restored. But this time, though fixed, have a new aftermath. A vision stitched together from remnants of a path not taken.
The Justice League, ever analytical, treated it like a curious glitch in the multiversal code—a harmless projection of a possibility that never came to pass. They gathered to observe it as they would a peculiar ripple in a still pond, detached but intrigued. Damian had been pulled along by Jon, who bounced with his usual boundless energy, unaware of what the vision would show. Damian followed, armored in detachment, a practiced indifference in place.
But then he saw it.
The flickering image glowed before him like a memory he had never lived. There, seated around the long dining table in Wayne Manor, was a scene so mundane, so heartbreakingly normal, it rooted him in place. His father sat at the head of the table, a rare softness in his posture as he poured tea. Nightwing laughed mid-conversation, shoulders relaxed, while Tim rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Jason leaned back with his feet on the table, earning a nudge from Cassandra. And at the center of it all, smiling as if he'd always belonged—was Danyal.
His twin. Whole. Alive.
Danyal passed the bread basket to Tim with a crooked grin, said something that made Alfred chuckle. He nudged Damian's double with his elbow, teasing him, effortlessly folded into the rhythm of a family Damian had once believed unreachable. It was a life that had never happened, a universe where Danyal had lived—not just lived, but thrived.
Damian’s breath caught in his throat. His chest rose and fell once, twice, the motion sharp and sudden. His fingers, usually so still, twitched at his sides, as if the rest of him hadn’t caught up with the emotion rising within. Before he could wrest control back from his heart, his hand extended—reaching, aching, needing.
And the word tore from him before thought could stop it.
"Mine."
It escaped in a whisper but echoed like a roar in his ears. Not the scream of a spoiled prince demanding treasure, but the broken, silent cry of a boy mourning what he had never known he needed. It was not greed that moved him, not anymore. It was grief. Regret. A raw, unfiltered longing for the life that had slipped through his fingers before he had ever realized he wanted it.
Around him, the room shifted. Justice League members who moments ago stood in detached curiosity now exchanged curious glances, as they saw the projection and Robin’s reaction to a projection that is just showing a what-if scenario.
The projection flickered. Danyal’s laughter shimmered and dissolved into static. The dining table faded. The light dimmed.
And Damian remained frozen, hand still half-raised, reaching for a future that was never his to claim.
…..
In the heart of the Infinite Realms, where time unraveled and rewound in endless loops and rivers of light, a lone figure hovered silently above the drifting threads of fate. Clockwork, the Master of Time, ancient and eternal, gazed down upon the scene unfolding within the mortal world. His staff gleamed as it gears ever turning, ticking in rhythm with realities both seen and unseen.
His eyes that is both ageless and all-knowing, rested on the image of a boy no longer a child. Damian Al Ghul Wayne stood still before the dying glow of a vanished vision, his heart laid bare. Once a prince of shadows, molded by assassins and pride, Damian now stood not as a conqueror, but as a brothe still grieving. He no longer sought to possess or dominate, but to reclaim something that had always been just out of reach: family.
The Observers had spoken long ago, their verdicts cold and absolute. Danyal’s future, they had said, was a path carved in steel and soaked in blood. The catalyst of the Infinite Realms, the one who will bring the end. But Clockwork had always known better. Time, after all, was not a straight line, it branched, curved, rebelled. And in one of those near-forgotten offshoots, he had seen a flicker. A possibility so faint it could have been dismissed as error. But Clockwork did not dismiss.
He had seen a future in which the Infinite Realms chaotic would finally know peace. He had seen a king . And that king—against all odds—had come in the form of Danyal Al Ghul Wayne.
A soft, amused breath escaped the Master of Time as his gaze shifted across the layers of existence to a shadow nestled within the Realms themselves. There, hidden among the currents of ectoplasm and fractured echoes of forgotten souls, stood a young ghost. His white hair drifted like mist in the realm’s gentle current, his glowing green eyes solemn yet radiant. Gone were the dark locks, icey blue eyes and quiet smiles of Danyal Al Ghul. In his place stood Daniel Fenton—Danny Phantom—the Halfa. Half-human, half-ghost. A being unlike any other. A bridge between life and death.
Clockwork observed him with fondness, a rare warmth in his otherwise distant demeanor. He remembered the moment clearly, the crack between timelines where fate had faltered just long enough for intervention. The Observers had turned away, believing that Clockwork will carry out their verdict to execute the young boy, but Clockwork had seen the glimmer of what could be. He had rescued the boy from his grave and scattered his memories.
He had delivered the amnesiac child to a quiet home in Amity Park, into the waiting arms of the unsuspecting Fenton couple—eccentric, brilliant, and just compassionate enough to raise him without ever questioning the mystery of his arrival. The boy was given a name, a room, a place to grow. And on that fateful day, when Danny stepped into the portal and his molecules split between two worlds, Clockwork had watched it happen with a quiet, satisfied nod. That had been the moment. The transformation. The birth of a future king.
The Infinite Realms would have their High King.
And now, as the Realms shimmered in resonance with Damian’s grief, and Danny’s own presence and ignorance hummed at the edge of understanding, Clockwork let the corners of his lips curl just slightly.
He had never told the Observers about this faint possible of a timeline. The one he saw only once, a future so far removed it flickered like starlight on the edge of perception. This timeline where, both the Realms have their king but he will have a granchild.
Clockwork kept that knowledge close. Even for a being beyond time, some secrets were too precious to share.
As he look at the grieving Damian telling his family a future could have been and Danny enjoying his somewhat normal routine for a young Halfa like him not knowing the immediate danger that is quickly closing in on him.
Clockwork smiled, All in due time.
…...
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: Again it got too long for my liking....
PPS: I got a bit carried away, hehehehehe.....
“You have your father’s eyes”
Demon twins AU where Danny was created to be “spare parts” for Damian in case of any need for organ transplants.
Damian wasn’t aware of this at first; he thought they were regular siblings. Even once the first pieces were transplanted, he was lied to about their source.
And by the time he finally realized, it was far too late to change anything.
It should have been an innocuous comment—just a random Gotham socialite saying he had his father’s eyes. But then something clicked into place in his mind, and he sprinted for the bathroom before he emptied the contents of his stomach.
Because these weren’t his eyes. His original pair had been lost, replaced with new ones provided by the League. He’d never asked about the source, never let himself consider the truth that literally stared back at him every time he looked in the mirror.
He’d been given Danyal’s eyes.
Damian al Ghul had always known he was special. The heir to the Demon’s Head, the blood son of the Batman—perfection was expected of him. And perfection was what he would deliver, no matter the cost.
But there was one thing that had always unsettled him, a shadow lurking in the corners of his memory.
Danyal.
His twin.
For years, Damian had believed they were simply brothers, two sons of the Bat and Talia al Ghul, raised in the League of Shadows. But Danyal had always been… weaker. Slower. Prone to sickness. Damian had resented him for it, had seen him as a failure.
And then, one day, Danyal was gone.
No explanation. No funeral. Just silence.
Damian had been furious at first—how dare his mother discard his brother without so much as a word? But the League had ways of making disobedience painful, and eventually, he stopped asking.
Years later, after he had left the League and joined his father in Gotham, Damian thought he had moved on.
Until the night of the gala.
A socialite—some vapid, perfumed woman with too much champagne in her system—had leaned in and smiled. "You have your father’s eyes."
A common compliment. Meaningless.
But Damian froze.
Because these weren’t his eyes.
His original pair had been damaged beyond repair in a battle years ago. The League had replaced them without question, presenting him with new ones—perfect, sharp, familiar.
He had never asked where they came from.
Now, staring into the bathroom mirror, his stomach twisted violently.
The same green. The same shape. The same light that had once looked back at him with quiet resignation before Danyal disappeared.
"You have your father’s eyes."
No.
He had Danyal’s eyes.
And if that was true—
His hands shook as he pressed them against his ribs, remembering the surgery after the sword wound that should have killed him. The kidney transplant after the poisoning. The skin grafts after the fire.
All of them had been provided by the League.
All of them had come with no explanation.
His knees hit the cold tile as he retched, bile burning his throat.
How much of him was still him?
And how much was made of Danyal?
Elsewhere, in Amity Park
Danny Fenton adjusted the dark glasses over his cybernetic eyes, the faint hum of their mechanisms a constant reminder of what he’d lost.
His parents had done their best—replacing what the League had taken, piece by piece. His eyes. A lung. A kidney. Patches of skin.
But some things couldn’t be replaced.
Some wounds never really healed.
He exhaled, running a hand over the scars beneath his shirt.
Somewhere out there, his brother was still alive.
And Danny wondered if Damian even knew the truth.
Or if he wanted to.
DpxDc #10
A bit chilly out, isn't it?
kind of gory? Not in a violent way.
Danny felt cold.
Not his core cold, or winter cold, more like a “walking around without clothes cold”.
Skulker was right, at the end.
He got his pelt, and now…
Well, Danny was walking around without skin. Hence, the cold.
He wasn’t really worried, it would grow back like his missing organs did when the GIW emptied him out.
Long story short, Skulker was a bitch, he should probably find a way to stop dripping with blood (and possibly a coat) and try to figure out where he ended up after taking the wrong portal while escaping.
He was doing well at this point, he thought. The city he was in was gloomy and humid, which was nice since he was starting to dry out pretty fast.
————————————————————————
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-“
Jason stared at the walking flayed guy who was taking a nice stroll around the block.
Every step he took left a matching bloody print, and he could see every single fiber of the muscles tense and relax.
The more he stared at it, the more he hated it.
He immediately reached for the coms.
“I fucking hate it, what the fuck-“
He heard the others connecting.
“Hood, everything alright?”
“Fuck no, oh my god, I’m not gonna be able to sleep anymore, that’s the most fucked up shit I ever saw my entire life, what the fuck”
“Hood, report. What’s going on?”
“OH MY GOD!” Everybody heard Oracle almost shout from the coms “That’s ugh- I’m gonna throw up, that- ugh-”
“Right?!”
“Hood! Report right now!”
“It’s like-It’s like this guy, walking around without skin and-“
Hood looked down at it. It was looking back.
“You know I can hear you, right?”
Every time I see a post that's like "haha I wish we could ride other monsters besides seikret" or like "they should add skins to make your seikret other monsters" I start clawing at the walls of my enclosure SOTRIES YOU WANT TO PLAY MONSTER HUNTER STORIES ITS RIGHT THERE. PLEASE. FOR THE LOW LOW PRICE OF $29.99 USD YOU TOO CAN LIVE YOUR MONSTER RIDING DREAMS. PIRATE IT FOR ALL I CARE JUST PLEAAASSEEEE PLAY IT ITS SO WORTH AND I WONT FEEL CRAZY LOOKING AT FANART ANYMORE
Prompt #16
 okay so this idea just popped into my head
So Danny is ghost King and obviously the ghost king has a summoning ritual but people are smart enough not to try and summon him so he did not worry about it but one day someone does summon him and he doesn’t know how to refuse it so I get summoned, but a summoning usually transforms the ghost or being into their true form and since Danny is technically still a baby ghost he transforms into a baby/toddler and with this transformation for some reason mainly because he is a half ghost half human his mental capacity transforms back to the same age
And now there is a baby ghost Danny sitting in a circle surrounded by weird unconscious cultus heroes and someone who looks like his brother but older.
On the DC side of this Damien alongside, Batman and the rest of the bat family and a few other heroes like Superman and Wonder Woman are trying to stop this cult from summoning a very dangerous and evil being but they get there too late and the summoning finishe as they knock out the cultist but what they don’t expect to see is a toddler around the age of four sitting in the middle of the circle,slightly floating off the ground with white hair, green eyes freckles they glow like stars looking confused, scared and uncertain.
Everyone’s obviously confused, but Damien is having a silent panic attack cause that is his twin brother his twin brother who died at the age of four his twin brother that he kill when they were only four years old, his twin who never got to meet their father or live life all because he was selfish and wanted to be the only air to the Demons head. 
Inspired by this great prompt and goes the other way.
Of which Danny goes to Reddit as Phantom.
Now, I dunno much about Reddit due to my country's default system is to ban the site (except if you use VPN or Apple products apparently?), but anyways.
One reckon that r/evilmonologue exists.
Danny-as-Phantom is certainly asking that if he's a bad villain (Am I a Bad Villain aka AIBV) since his "Heroes" (Red Huntress, Fenton couple, and GIW) doesn't allow him to do Evil Monologues at all, when even the weakest "Villain" would even has his "Beware Box" gimmick (tho he certainly wouldn't do anything so cringe).
Ofc it comes from: Yes, GhostNebula is a bad villain to: this kid is handed out such a bad life that he really mistakes "heroes" and "villains" of all things. You sure that the guys in white and ghost hunters are good guys?? to: Flash, get your villain. I think he'll be safer with you since he also got no body count, so surely he was a Flash rogue?
And ofc the heroes of JL (or others) will investigate for some reason or another.
R/evilmonologues
u/GhostNebula
Am I a bad villain because I don't make any Evil Monologues?
Okay, to start off, I (14m) am considered my city's "Main" villain (We have a lot of them, so we are all ranked by severity, I am ranked 1st), but I don't know if it's bad that I have never monologued. Even our lowest ranked villains have a gimmick they monologue about (As an example, we have a guy who rly likes boxes), but I don't have a gimmick or a monologue topic:(
Before you all get on me, I want to at least explain myself.
I have never attempted to monologue, but I am almost certain the local heroes wouldn't let me. There's a hero roughly my age (We'll call her Rh) who would probably maybe let me evil monologue to her, depending on how we are atm, but the others would most definitely NOT let me.
Rh and I normally have a kinda okayish relationship, since I usually deal with the other villains she doesn't deal with. If she doesn't bother me I usually won't bother her, we work together sometimes too, so she probably wouldn't care if I monologue at her. The issue is the others.
Other than Rh, the city has 2 scientists (late 40s F and late 40s M) who basically supply the city with weapons, and a government agency (Idk their name, but we call them The Guys in White) who are a NIGHTMARE TO DEAL WITH.
I am confident the scientists wouldn't give me enough time to evil monologue at them before trying to shoot me, and I wouldn't even bother thinking about doing it to the Guys in White, I'd be deader than dead.
All this is to say, I'm not in a good position to evil monologue at the moment, and I want to know: Does this make me a bad villain?
u/villainoftheyear
I mean its not your fault your heros are not playing the game right.
u/herovsvillian
How are your heroes even called heroes if they don't do step one in fighting etiquette?
u/whatinsupermansbutt
Right? So inconsiderate. Even Martian Manhunter lets people monologue, and he can read minds!
u/totallynotredrobin
Ngl OP, I want more info on that government agency.
u/GhostNebula OP
All i know is that they wear white suits, have bad aim, and are like comicbook style goons. All their banter is like, you are going down scum and we wont let your kind invade earth.
u/tottallynotredrobin
That sounds more like Lex Luthor wannabes than government agents. Are you sure they are government?
u/GhostNebula OP
The scientist couple says so. They called them in when they opened a portal that let everyone come here.
u/riddlemetofoff
Wait. Hold up. The scientists made a portal, so they could fight whatever was on the other side?
u/lexluthorsgoonsquad
Nevermind if you are a villain, that is definitely mad scientist villain stuff.
u/tottallynotredrobin
Hey GhostNebula, please look at your DM's.
Imagine the moment someone ask why he's a villain?
u/riddlemetofoff
These scientists sound like villains. Which begs the question, why are YOU a villain? Not trying to say anything, it just doesn't seem like you're villain material.
u/GhostNebula OP
No worries. Before creating and opening the portal, the two scientists "studied" us, and concluded our entire dimension was full of non-sentient, evil beings.
u/villainoftheyear
I'm sorry? What? How can they do that? Why would they say that people from a completely different dimension, who they haven't even seen first hand yet, aren't sentient?
u/GhostNebula OP
Yeah. We're not even considered animals to them, as they don't believe we live in a way different from humans. Our bodies are energy and emotion based. We only have one organ that acts like multiple of a human's. The scientists, along with the government agents, have gotten the entire species on an exterminations list. Capture, experiment, destroy.
u/GhostNebula OP
Well, I can't say that for myself. I'm actually half human. They don't know I'm only half, though.
u/riddlemetofoff
That didn't answer my question at all. So if they did all that... why are YOU the villain here???
u/GhostNebula OP
Um. Because legally speaking I don't have rights, and the government is actively hunting me? And sometimes I raid their base when they catch another person like me? Raiding government bases seems pretty villainous. And I break a lot of their stuff to make their jobs harder, and sometimes I get my friend to hack in and destroy a bunch of data.
u/riddlemetofoff
Okay, I think I actually get the misunderstanding here. Fellas, is it villainous to actively fight it when the government puts an eradication order on your species?
Tim just freaking the heck out. Along with every hero and villain that read Danny's post.
✨ most definitely! ✨
And I'm living for all of these great additions ✨💖
It's even worse when Danny's identity is revealed to everyone on the Reddit group when they realize that Danny Fenton, son of two ghost hunting scientists, is a dead ringer for Danny Phantom. No one's acting made the comment connecting the dots, so everyone thinks it's their own realization. Cause no one cares to risk this kid's life when they all accidentally got attached.
But one of the villains uploads Phantom saving people's lives and protecting Ghosts from Hunters. And starts on a rant about how the kid isn't even a villain! How the mad scientists are more villainous cause they cause property damage and shoot at everything, even normal humans!
Danny genuinely doesn't understand that this post was to shame him. He's so happy that someone sees him as not inherently evil. And that makes so many on the thread just view him as 'baby'.
Flash has never had so many villains @ his accounts, on all media platforms, to go save a kid.
Flash is so confused as to why his entire rogue gallery has each individually sent him a link to the exact same Redit post sign the comment “read the thread”. Like????
He still confusedly reads the post. Ok, kinda cute, a kid tryna be a little villain and asking if he’s bad at it, but then he scrolls down to the comments like they all instructed and he becomes slowly more and more horrified, wait, is that Red Robin? Not important, wtf is going on here?!
