Ma and Pa were just lazing around the front porch in their farm during a meteor shower night.
Clark and Lois were out for rare time out at the town. Conner was with Tim in Gotham, and Jon was sleeping soundly in his bed upstairs.
It was a peaceful night indeed, but until one shooting meteor light came heading towards the opposite direction, going straight towards their Corn fields.
Pa glances at Ma, who looks to him and smiles back softly. Seem another family member was arriving soon enough indeed.
"Let go see the new arrivals, ma." Pa said softly, already taking his truck key out of his pocket.
5 minutes will go, driving straight toward the crash site where an almost broken apart silver and glowing green ship lies, the front glass shattered with a mere slightest touch.
Lies not one alien, but 6 aliens in total..
Most of them were unconscious, young children, huddle up close in a pile except for one, who was a young lady with bright orange hair, bleeding excessively green blood dripping down her head, a necklace that seem to just stop glowing and shattered to pieces, carrying a very small white haired child, or possibly a baby close with one hand out, tightly holding glowing green gun in her very shakenly grasp.
What came out of her voice was a mere whisper nearly static, like with a slur of very old English.
"Don't hurt them."
saving this for later, and also sharing this with others. An absolutely amazing concept!
Dpxdc Prompt #20
Danny is a blob ghost now and he's fine with that.
Turns out all blob ghosts are just regular ghosts who have expended to much energy and turn into balls of pure ectoplasm and emotion to recharge.
It's honestly a much needed and much appreciated vacation from all of his responsibilities.
He doesn't understand why he's getting so many worship-fear-cowed emotions from these people, but he's a blob right now, he doesn't have to care.
There's one boy that constantly projects awed-love-infatuated towards him. Danny likes him a lot more than all of the other guys.
In the mean time, Ra's Al Ghul has just found what he believes to be the conscious personification of the Lazarus Pits and there is no way he is going to let any of his assassins offend it. If only he didn't have to worry about his grandson being so enamored with the being as well.
Grandfather never let Damian have any pets.
"Distractions," he would say, "Unnecessary attachments."
Damian disagreed, but he was smart enough not to voice his belief. The Demon Head's word is law and he bows to nobody.
Or at least... nobody until the little blob of sentient Lazarus Water.
Grandfather says that it must be the pits personified and therefore needed to be treated with respect so there would be no chance of them being taken away.
Damian has no problem following this rule, he finds the little blob cute, like the pet Damian would never get to have. When nobody's watching he pets the blob, tells it stories about his day, and stays silent as it does happy little purrs.
In the hell that is Nanba Parbat, the blob is a bright spot in Damian's days.
So obviously when he leaves to meet his Father and claim his right as heir to the Cowl he slips the blob into his go-bag. No one will notice, the blob normally floats around as it wishes, sometimes going missing for hours.
By the time Grandfather realizes the blob has been away too long for it to have been without intervention it will have been too late. No one will suspect that Damian took the blob with him.
At least, that's what Damian tells himself to justify taking the little guy with him. He is comforted by the low hum in his bag, the blob is happy, if no one else.
help, someone, we have to come up with another half application that one of the bats would say. I need the chaos!
Duke, who is tired of being bullied for still having only a few spots checked off on vigilante bingo, decides to get even when family game night includes Never Have I Ever. Danny, who is either a friend or basically adopted family at this point, was invited.
He brings up the fact that he has never died and been brought back to life. Multiple fingers are put down, groans and complaints are made, and then they all turn to Danny when he just stares at the ground.
"If it happened more than once, do I put more fingers down? Or just the one?" he asks. The room falls silent for a few seconds before the flood of questions start.
The way I cackled 🤣
Can I talk about Danny Fenton Kills the Joker ? I hope you said yes bc I'm going to.
Now, I like it for the bit. Anyone killing Joker for the bit is hilarious.
But for the serious ? Ouhgggg I love it.
Danny is surrounded by death, he IS dead. He's seen his family die ! He fights ghosts for a living(and a deading too) ! In some fics he's the KING of the dead !
Death is so normal to him, he forgets that most people see dying as the end all be all, the little thing that is total obliteration. To him, people die and then fall under his jurisdiction, or they reincarnate somewhere.
So when he kills this guy who is causing the living a whole lot of strife he thinks "cool. I'll just take him off your hands. You can have visitation rights once you come here too. Bye."
Meanwhile Batman has such conviction about sentencing anyone to the nothingness that death is supposed to be is like "what could this child have grown up around.... To take a life so easily... Was he raised like Damian... ? Oh no..."
I’ve seen DP x DC fics of all kinds where Danny is adopted by, related to, parent of, or dating one of the batfam
But I need more of Ghostling Jason Todd adopted by Danny
Especially if Jason is built like a fridge and Danny is still like 14 in human years
But Jason is like, at 17-19 in human years but in ghost terms he’s at most an older toddler and Danny , a sassy child,sees Jason and like
“Who’s sassy lost baby is this”
And just adopt him?decides”mine, he’s my sassy lost baby”
I really wish there was more like this, if anyone has any feel free to tag them.
Excuse me Op, what’s that supposed to mean? 😟 Why is it in quotes? Also, there’s more than one ending? 😥
The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.
Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.
🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶
🎶long before- it begins🎶
The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.
"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.
"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."
"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.
Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"
"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.
"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"
"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."
Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.
Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.
"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"
"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."
Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."
As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.
"Alfred?"
"W, what?"
"Are you OK?"
Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.
"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"
"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.
Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.
By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?
At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.
"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"
"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"
"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."
The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.
He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.
He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.
Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.
"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???
"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.
"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"
Behold, the hidden gem in the comments-
Headcanon: The ghost yeti’s have special little paw pads that muffle their footsteps and held them stand on snow. They’re like a lynx— their toes spread out when they step. This way, they don’t sink in the snow very much.
This is why Frostbite didn’t expect Danny to straight up vanish when he landed on the snow.
Tuba funny, had to reblog
All these video games with their epic orchestral musical scores. Those concerned moms are right: there’s way too much violins in video games.
Hope this gets a part 2, I had an absolute blast reading it, and I can’t wait to see the Waynes meeting gbr family and just being like: “nani, tf? Is the really the same man? How?” 😂
I love love all your writings!!
I like your depictions of John Constantine.
I'd like to see you write the sad trenchcoat persona as just that a persona in the same fashion as how Brucie Wayne is a persona.
Maybe he's been the de-aged Danny/Dannies father for years and is an actual functional adult. The sad trenchcoat is just used to keep people from calling on him to frequently because he's a dad and has dad-like things to do.
He could help tim with the time stream thing, like 'oh, yeah that does look like Bruce. Alright kid pack a bag we're going in the time stream I know a guy. No Nightwing I'm not joking this looks like solid proof'.
Maybe Bruce has a oh shit he's actually competent and could kill me, that's hot moment. (Kids I have found your other father, help me get him home)
"I would love to offer more of my time to waste on monitor duty, but I have a previous engagement. A particular fit lady needs help getting her dress on the floor. The cloth always gets stuck on her horns. " John leers, wagging his eyebrows at the grimaces his words cause.
He takes a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke like a drowning man. He never smokes at home, not with Danny's sensitive lungs or Dani's general disgust at smoking, so he only had the chance when called away on missions.
Plus, Danny was trying out for ballet soon, and he wasn't going to ruin his son's chances of being a star because of his own poor habits.
It helped that the rest of the heroes believed he was consistently pumping nicotine into his system. Rather irresponsible for the hero to publicly commit frowned-upon activities - at least in the States. Back home, no one cared that much.
It didn't matter that the Justice League was a global team; the main hard hitters and founders were nearly all American, and they tended to uphold those social expectations, either subconsciously or not.
One more reason why they shouldn't bother John, he can't have him smoking at a big awards ceremony or seen going through an entire pack of cigarettes mid-fight. Oh no.
John Constantine was one of the best magic users of this universe, but he was a last resort. There were plenty of other magic users like Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Zatara, or even Etrigan that came to mind first.
John was likely too busy drowning his misery in bottles or the arms of any willing partner. That's what they all thought.
Or more importantly than what he wanted them to think.
"Well, this has been a time." He announces, snapping his fingers to open a portal to his house. "But I have to run. My lady needs a knowledgeable hand to help her-"
"Enough," Batman growls. Though he has complete control over his emotions, John can tell he's irritated by the meaningless detail. He smirks as the hero waves a hand, "Just go."
He offers the rest of the meeting room a cheeky two-finger salute as he struts out, letting the portal close behind him so his trench coat flares dramatically. It's a nice view, he's sure, but it's also unnecessarily showy, and he is sure at least three pairs of eyes are rolling at his exit.
A chuckle escapes his mouth, straightening from his slouch to properly stand straight and bend it far enough to pop. Goodness, his act always leaves him with a sore upper back; maybe he shouldn't hunch over so much, even if he was playing the part of a no-good punk.
John only had a few seconds to shiver at his own thoughts- he was a punk. A real one! He was in a band!- before he heard the tell-tell sign of a rapidly approaching double set of footsteps echo down the hall. He scrambles to fling his lit cigarette into a water portal, chucking the pack for double security, while summoning a random suitcase from thin air.
All that's left is his rather eye-catching coat, a little too worn down and old to work well with his well-put-together outfit underneath. Without it, John has a clean, pressed white shirt, a respectful tie, and a pair of slacks that make more than one head turn as he walks.
All in all, he looks like the office businessman his worthless father always wanted to be.
John throws off his coat over a chair at the same time the door is thrown open with a pair of excited yells. "Welcome home, Dad!"
A grin stretched across his face before he could think about it, feeling his heart swell at the sight of them, as he knelt down, arms open wide. Two tiny bodies slam into him without a second of hesitation, nearly knocking John backwards.
He lets out a soft grunt as Dani's arms attempt to wrap around his left arm and right shoulder. She clashes against Danny, who's trying to bury himself into John's right side, little face squished against one of John's pecs, like a bunny burrowing into the snow.
"Hello, my little lambs!" He gushes, squeezing the kids close. "How was your day with the House of Mystery? Did you two behave?"
"They were angels," Black Orchid confirms, gliding into the room at a much slower pace. They had their regular, impassive expression on their faces, but John could tell that Orchid was happy with the kids by the way they gently tapped the tops of the children's black hair.
"Dad! Dad! Now that you're home, can we please go get my new ballet shoes?" Danny begs, bouncing on his toes.
For a moment, John doesn't see his son, but rather his own blue eyes staring up at his father, when he was also five, begging to join Lily, the next-door neighbor, in beginners' ballet class.
His father had beaten him nearly to death for wanting such a girly interest. It was the last time they spoke about it. It was also the last time John ever bothered asking to start new hobbies.
"Dad! Dad! Can I do Karate?" Dani asks then, snapping John from his memories better left buried, as she presses her check against her brother's in an attempt to get John's attention. "I want to break a board with my fist!"
He gives the children another squeeze, laughing at the squeals he gets. "Of course you can do karate, little lamb. We're going to get your brother his shoes, and then I'll find a gym that offers the classes at the same time."
"I already provided that service." Orchid cuts in, holding a flyer for Flying Graysons' gym, founded and run by the eldest Wayne in Gotham. "I took the liberty of signing Danny up for a class with Casnadra Wayne, and Dani will join Duke Thomas's class. It starts in a week."
"Plenty of time to go get them everything they need and a new book series for our bedtime stories," John announces, loosening his arms so his children can cheer and bounce up and down in excitement. His knee is starting to cramp up, but he ignores it so he can hold his kids.
It's moments like these, so small and mundane, that John is grateful he thought of his persona. When he first learned how to use the magic he was gifted, he always made himself available for any crisis.
This was before the Justice League days, so anyone who sought him out was familiar with the occult world. He adored helping, and he built an incredible amount of skill and knowledge in magic, but soon John was facing disaster after disaster, dragging his exhausted body from one place to another.
Those who came searching for him never cared. They wanted John to jump at the drop of a hat. He tried for years to always be ready, always be willing, but years of isolation and desperate battles tried him to the core.
Then he took in Danny and Dani, finding the pair of babies in a basket at the feet of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He had gone to investigate the legends of the famous King Pariah Dark, only to find what he assumed were originally sacrifices, well and truly alive.
Their names were attached to their feet with a letter written by a Jazz Fenton begging the two to grow and live well. She had died to save them. In her honor, John kept their names.
Daniel "Danny" Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Fenton. He often wondered what Jazz had been to the kids, with their identical last names. It is a question he will never get the answer to.
They could have been no older than five months, but when they opened their eyes and reached up for him, John realized he no longer wanted to be the go-to man of magic.
He wanted to be their father.
To discourage people from calling him away from his children, John created his persona of a man barely honorable enough to join a team. Over the five years of his raising his kids, his reputation plummeted until only Batman called to him unless absolutely necessary.
It was a breath of fresh air. John had fought for too long and too hard. He was retired now, just like his band days, the days when John would speed off to save the world were behind him. He only stepped in if a friend asked for a favor.
He had other priorities now.
The best part? The Justice League would never know that.
"Dad!" Dani screamed into his ear, making him grimace.
"Inside voice, darling."
"Sorry." She twirls her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from John, before brightening up "I'm just super excited. Orichad said Mr. Bruce Wayne will be at the gym! Do you think he'll sign my Wayne Space shirt?"
Ah, yes, the man who was funding some space program or another. He only knew about this because his twins adored anything to do with space travel, as if though he couldn't just teleport them to a different planet.
"I'm sure he will, darling."
OP, I need more. You can’t just leave me here-
Dpxdc Prompt #10
Danny was really excited to spend the summer with his second cousin(?) he didn't really remember, but apparently Jack Fenton's cousin was Gotham billionaire Bruce Wayne, a serial adopter.
Jazz had discovered the connection and gave him a call to see if he'd mind Danny staying over for summer because Danny decided he was going to tell his parents at the end of summer about his ghost problem, and Jazz wanted him to have a safety net.
He didn't really have a big family at home, with his parents being largely... absent and Jazz moving to Gotham for college. It would be great to be in a house that wasn't empty again.
Now if only his newly discovered family could stay awake long enough for Danny to talk to them.
"So how's living with our cousins?" Jazz asked him through his Fenton-phone. He flopped onto his bed and groaned.
"They're all seem nice but I haven't really seen enough of them to know yet."
"Danny, you've already been there a week, shouldn't you know them at least a little bit? You usually warm up to people quickly, as long as they aren't trying to kill you."
"Man I kinda wish they were out to get me, then I'd probably see more of them than I have already."
"..."
"..."
"Okay Danny walk me through our family, and what you know so far about them."
"Well first there's Dick, he apparently lives in Bludhaven and supposedly comes back to Gotham to visit fairly often, haven't seen any of him yet though."
"Then there's Jason, I've seen him come over after dinner a couple of times, but he's seemed in a really bad mood and I'm getting weird vibes from him so I haven't talked to him much yet either."
"Cass, Steph, Tim, Damian, and Bruce are the ones that actually live here at the manor and outside of when I first arrived I haven't actually seen them awake enough to talk to me. Anytime I've caught a glimpse of them they're taking naps and I'd feel bad waking them up, Tim especially (he looks like he needs the rest)."
"What are they, nocturnal or something?
"That's what I thought too! But the Manor is even more dead during the night than the day. If I had wanted to live with a bunch of zombies I'd have spent summer in the zone, not come all the way here."
"The only people that have stayed awake long enough for me to actually get to know them are Duke and Alfred! Duke's great, but he seems to have a day job so I only see him for breakfast and dinner and any time I can catch him before he sleeps after. Alfred's amazing, but he already has so much to do around the Manor, I feel bad bothering him."
"It is only the first week you're there, and there was a huge Arkham breakout your first day so everybody around Gotham is a bit tense while the Bats are trying to recatch everyone. Could you give it another week for me? See if it'll be an option for if our parents react badly?"
"For you, Jazz, I'll give it another week, but I can't just trade one empty house for another."
"Thanks, little brother."
"Love you, Jazz, bye."
Danny hung up the phone and sighed, he new there was something off with his cousins, but he couldn't quite place it. Constantly napping, disappearing during the nights, but always on guard when they were awake.
He had a week to figure it out, but if he didn't there'd be no real lost love. He'd come up with some excuse, stay with Jazz for the summer or something. If his parents reacted badly and he didn't have this safety net, it'd be difficult sure, but Danny and Jazz would figure it out.
Danny thought it would be nice to have some other family that had his back for once, but hey, maybe he just had shitty luck when it came to blood relations.
please read the reblogs. This is crack fic at it’s finest, and I got many giggles out of it.
Ra's smiled as he looked at the young Detective. He was trapped. If he did not acquiesce to Ra's's demands, then his new friend would perish. The other boy's shirt was already soaked with his blood.
The other boy did not look concerned by the fact that he was losing blood in the slightest and Ra's wondered where Timothy had found someone too stupid to realize their mortal peril.
"Well," said the other boy as he stretched--wasn't that the arm Ra's had cut off? "It's nice to know that the whole 'elderly Froot Loop' who wants to force a teen into being his protege is something that transcends dimensions."
Timothy looked at the other boy. Then his eyes moved to the ground, where the severed arm was still lying. "No shit," he asked.
"Sadly, no. Ugh, I'm covered in blood again." The other boy--flickered. That was the best way that Ra's could describe it. The blood then fell through his body to land on the floor. "That's better."
"Oh, that's good. You must save a fortune on cleaning."
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"