#might write the crossover

[dr-dendritic-trees]

Finished my reread of House of Binding Thorns and it was even better than I remember.

Its amazing. Its like if Beauty and the Beast was written by John Le Carre

[ghostbsuter]

"Excuse me?" Jazz's voice echoes in the meeting room in space. She gains the attention of the heroes immediately and sees them tensing up in at her appearance.

Behind her, he swirling green portal is open, waiting for her to return.

A blond, coat wearing man, curses upon seeing her and gives a half bow. "Princess Jasmine," he speaks up, eye twitching.

"What brings you here?"

At the greeting and reveal of her title, few others fall into bows, the lady at the head of the table, wonder woman?, gives her a smile.

Her eyes pin the green skinned man to his seat, who in return tilts his head at her.

"My brothers birthday is soon," she focuses on the man again. "I'm simply here for a present."

The man tenses, another curse slipping. "Ah– king phantom, right? I wasn't aware his birthday would be so soon."

Jazz ignores him, calmly walking to the Martian and placing a picture of Mars before him.

"The tales of your people have brought much interest to my brother. He became a big fan." She tells, sharing her intentions at his light poking.

"I ask for a signature, it would make his day."

Martian Manhunter, alien hero, and once upon a time, a father even smiles. He's delighted yet feeling a deep-rooted sadness. The tales of his people continue to spread in the afterlife, it seems.

Jazz leaves quickly after, not before giving Diana a number, they are cousins after all.

Danny will love her present.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

S̶̤̋̉t̸o̶̝̍r̵̛͠m̸̠͌͝

Look, I know I promised a continuation of "Get in the Water," but I had this idea and just had to write it, okay? So this is the non-canon sequel, the canon one is still in progress.

They escaped. Batman dragged Damian's frozen body away from the Lazarus Pit and through the tunnels as Danyal's screams-sobs-wails echoed behind them. Eventually the sound ebbed away and they emerged to the surface.

A debrief was demanded from everyone; even Todd was in the Cave. Damian trembled, his only sign of distress, his mind stuck on Danyal's face, his brother's voice rebounding around his head.

Father's debrief had been rough. Damian could barely explain what happened, why he was drawn to the waters, why Danyal wanted to drown him. He'd only explained the Danyal was someone he'd killed while with the League, and Father was the only one to doubt his explanation.

Damian took the first opportunity to escape to the showers. Stripping down, Damian turned the faucet and the bathroom lit up bright green.

He flinched away, and when he opened his eyes, the water was just water. A stone sunk into his stomach.

The next day, while Father was consulting with Justice League Dark, Grayson and Drake returned to the caves for their own investigation of the Pits. And while they found the cavern--found by tracking the batarang Father threw--it was desert dry. There was no sign of Lazarus Water, nor did it look like it had ever been there.

That night, as Damian was washing his face before bed, he filled the sink basin with water. He turned away for one second, but when he looked back, he almost dipped his face under the green slime oozing out the spout. He bolted, and when he returned with a startled Father, the water had returned to normal.

Grayson insisted on taking him out for lunch the following day, citing that Damian needed a "break." Damian was furious, but allowed it; Justice League Dark was visiting the cave to discuss the... incident, and Damian wanted to interrogate them. He... he needed to know if that was really Danyal or not. If his sweet brother could have been twisted after his murder into that monster, that Siren crooning at him to choose to die.

He'd never contemplated the fate of his brother's immortal soul before. Had he done this to him? Could Damian had avoided this by killing him honorably, instead of cowardly poisoning Danyal so he'd pass away in his sleep?

Damian allowed Grayson order for him. He wasn't hungry. The clouds above swirled ominously as he followed Grayson to a nearby awning with a picnic bench underneath.

Grayson took a bite of his gyro. "So? How have you been coping these past few days?"

"I'm not an invalid, Grayson," Damian hissed, glaring. "I'm fine."

A frozen breath brushed across his ear. "Ĺ̶̥̲̪̀̐ỉ̷̢̜̚a̴̧͖͛r̶̺̫̾͗̃͜,̶͕̐" Danyal whispered in his ear.

Grayson didn't notice or hear Danyal's voice. "You see, I don't believe you. One of your dead League friends is supernaturally gunning for you, Dami; it's normal to feel out of sorts."

Damian scoffed. "Nothing about this situation is normal."

He looked down at his food and sighed. "Yeah, that's for sure. I'm sorry, Damian. I wish this wasn't happening to you."

"And I wish the creature would just attack already," Damian griped. "It's the waiting that will kill me, not that fake."

Like someone had been listening, the sky opened up and it rained green throughout Gotham.

[medusas-graveyard]

Law abiding citizen....?

Okay I finally have a non-adoptee Batfam & Danny dynamic in mind that I actually liek :∆

Basically ultimate enemy compliant but the timeline wasn't changed so everyone he knows is still dead and Danny decides to actually take his monarch duties seriously and occasionally live in the realms because of it. I'm not talking about him doing a 180° on his personality btw but instead Danny who is still laid back, casual, fun, and likes to joke taking care of the realm one at a time; slowly. Bit by bit building up his knowledge to not only protect the realm, but also the humans.

By 20 he moves to Gotham with (unironically) allowance from CW (that probably came from his current net worth) and all is great. He can freely do his job in his home and isn't constantly bothered by the observants so he's basically slacking off and then on cue; rogue attacks.

And he's suuuuuper chill about them too. Like at some point they all collectively blacklisted him from whatever bullshit they're gonna conjure up because of his out going personality. And he's the same with cops. He's basically the same with everyone.

But he's a neutralist.

He won't and will snitch one side to the other, uncaring of either side going after him. If he's amused then, meh.

Enter: joker. He does not like joker. At fucking all. The only person in Gotham he's actively aggressive with.

Cue: Him almost killing joker.

He doesn't remember what happened, exactly. Something about a joker terrorist attack and how he was oh so fortunate to be chosen as the main hostage. The dogshit attempt of a speech the clown let out to.... presumed audience (?) Behind the camera and the sound of a crowbar dragging the concrete (?) Floor. Something about a bird, before getting hit by said crowbar, and the fact that despite all this he has to pretend like a citizen.

And then, more rambling about batman's Robin.

....

The chair just had an oh so convenient blade behind it.

He's pretty sure the clown is dead, based on the carnage he made with his own two hands. Yet he couldn't stop beating and hitting him even as the sound and picture of the Joker ever change to more and more disgusting. Only after someone tackle him to the ground does he stop.

He blinks and look at the vigilante(s) holding him down and contorts his face to his default face, full of smiles even as the Joker's blood splattered on to his cheeks.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #28

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

Chartreuse

Due to the high levels of ambient ectoplasm, all the citizens of Amity Park gained a permanent change in eye color. They don't glow or flare in response to rampant emotions like true ghosts or the halfas though. They're just an unnaturally bright yellow-green.

The thing is, nobody else on Earth has this eye color, and it's never been seen in the human race until the recently graduated Amity Parkers started branching out to other cities to find jobs.

Nobody paid this any mind at first, though. Many just thought the individuals liked strangely colored contacts or it was a trick of the light. It's not until Danny and Tucker are both hired for positions in Wayne Enterprises that questions start popping up.

At first, the other employees thought the two might be related. It could happen, it's not that strange. However, when both of them said they're nowhere near related, just childhood best friends, it left everyone confused. If they aren't related and they aren't wearing colored contacts, then what are the odds of too completely unrelated people having the exact same strange and unseen eye color?

After a while, everyone just stops asking questions. After all, both men are easy to get along with and are excellent at their jobs, so a strange eye color isn't really something to complain about. Their stares were just a bit more intense than most people, and honestly, they've seen stranger things.

It helps that they've started seeing other people with the same eye color popping up in celebrity, sports, and activist circles. (1)

However, It's not until the power goes out during a late meeting/presentation, and Tim Drake accidentally turns on and shines his cell phone light into Tuckers eyes, that he starts seriously digging.

Needless to say, the animal-like green shine of his pupils scared the shit out of him and got him wondering if two of his new employees were part of a previously unknown alien race that'd recently settled on Earth without anyone noticing. When he looks into the middle of nowhere town they came from, this idea is even further cemented when he sees every person he finds a photo of have the exact same shade of chartreuse eyes. Ignoring the ghost rumors and "sightings" as just a strange tourist trap for the strange little town to make extra income, he brings the info he found to the other bats and birds.

They aren't exactly welcomed when they go snooping around Amity Park, unfortunately... (2 & 3)

✦

Now. To make this a bit more cracky, when confronted, do Danny and Tucker just come clean or do they milk the idea of them being aliens for all it's worth? (4) Add in a few strange, but perfectly normal for them, things they do that have people scratching their heads and make the assumption even worse/more irrefutable. This includes the unexplainable eye shine Tim discovered.

✦

(1) Paulina became a supermodel and is coveted for her striking eye color and beautiful complexion. Dash became a coach for a well known college in Metropolis, while Kwan became a fitness trainer and sponsor for health related items that actually work, also partnered with the college Dash coaches at. Sam became a notorious environmental activist and is the enemy of many companys who are determined to turn the world into a toxic wasteland. With the help of Danny's parents, she's found many eco-friendly chemical compounds that dissolve many of the toxic substances damaging ecosystems around the world. Etc, etc.

(2) Ectoplasm exposure has made everyone a bit more territorial over the town, including their protectors. They don't need outside heroes/organizations interfering with their work and don't/won't take kindly to the sudden interest hero organizations gain over them and their strange little town. That hasn't worked out too well with other government sanctioned organizations in the past and they don't want a repeat, thank you.

(3) Maybe Team Phantom even established themselves right around the same time or even before the Justice League was formed and they just flew under the radar until now. Maybe Amity Parkers feel a bit superior due to their seniority in having an excellent team in the know about the supernatural/non-human side of the world/universe? Who knows? You pick! Amity Park has been through a lot by themselves, so it's no shocker if they have an extreme amount of solidarity towards those they call their own.

(3 cont'd) Also! Since Amity Park has become so rich and saturated in ectoplasm over the years, they were eventually annexed/became an outside part of the Ghost Zone. Jack and Maddy are border patrol and any ghosts coming through need a passport now. Amity Park is basically a vacation hub for ghosts? Ghosts can freely roam the streets, they just don't wreak havoc anymore. That'd basically be terrorizing their fellow citizens at this point anyway and that's a no no. That means jail time with Walker. Amity Parkers also aren't afraid anymore and in fact CAN hit back now. This does not stop the Bat Clan and eventually the Justice League from thinking they're a town full of aliens tho. Some are just more human looking than others. Or they've been on Earth and procreating long enough with humans that their hybrid offspring have also started looking more human, is the ongoing conclusion.

(4) The Anti-Ecto Acts are not an issue here! Team Phantom already dismantled and annihilated the GIW years before they even thought of leaving Amity Park on its own. Before graduating highschool even. Yes, Team Phantom is perfectly self-sufficient and able to handle their own problems and have kept the city-wide ghost infestation pretty isolated outside a few events that were handled quickly and with the world none the wiser. So the world is still pretty ignorant of the existence of ghosts/the Ghost Zone. Would Team Phantom and Amity Park prefer to keep it that way though?

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[dannyphantomr0ck5]

prompt for DeadSerious Ship(DpxDc)

soooo I call this Prompt ‘Photos Of Between Lovers’ BUT I might expand on it later BUT y’all can also expand it!!

Here it is;

Jason goes into Damian’s room searching for his missing gun that he KNOWS the Demon Brat stole! Instead he finds a corner devoid of weapons or his drawings. Instead it’s a whole corner of different photos of this one boy who is young but not much older than Damian by looks(he couldn’t tell for sure).

The photos are uncanny and clear enough that he can see this boy is the center of EVERY. SINGLE. PHOTO. Whether it be like the boy does not know or he is waving.

On the flip side; Danny stalks Damian and takes photos of him too, he is living with his ‘big brother’ Dante(Dark Danny) and the man is uncomfortable because he’s never had a romantic relationship other than that fling with Sam. He didn’t like that…ANYWAY he is concerned mostly about the photos of his crush sleeping. Aka Danny has literal photos of Damian sleeping. Damian and Danny are both aware of the other stalking them and actively enjoy it and approve of it. In fact Damian has locked pictures under his bed of DANNY sleeping.

Meaning; Batfamily sees Damian being a stalker and grows concerned while Dante/Dan is uncomfortable with his ‘little brother’s crush on this rich kid.

[hppjmxrgosg]

to all the fanfic writers who write about small, niche tropes and random crossovers that have less than a thousand works total and rarepairs and one specific vein content so that despite the master pieces you write you only get a couple hundred hits: you are doing god's work. i am kissing you on the head. you are my lifeblood.

edit since its getting lost in the tags: the thousand works comment is not to minimize the people who write for subgenres with maybe 10 works or rairpairs with like 3 works, but to include people who, while garnering more attention than the former, may still feel disheartened for receiving less attention on their work than people who write for megafandoms or very common tropes. 1000 is more than ten, but 1000 is closer to 10 than 200,000.

[reineydraws]

every time i see someone talk about a damian on my dash, it's always like, "is it wayne or desmond?"

(btw the al ghul wayne family portrait--and anya's grapple gun in the first image--is based off this forger family portrait)

[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

[sweeneydino]

Imagine a reaction fic but it's only with the Splinters all in one room and they all have to watch what they and their sons go through.

Or maybe just a Splinter hangout.

MM! Splints is just gaping at the others.

I just want to see the old guys gush and lovingly complain about their kids to the others, okay?

Also some angst but you already knew that.

[aprill-99]

Rhys: “So let’s see if I’ve got this; you have immense shadow power, incredible combat skills, height, tattoos, secrets, dead parents, a thirst for vengeance, the weight of the world on your shoulders, a rebellion to lead, and a dragon?”

Xaden: “Yeah? I mean, there’s also my girlfriend who I’m completely in love with and 107 people under my protection but-”

Rhys: *frantically flipping through papers* “this is the hyper-intelligent girlfriend with unprecedented lightning powers? The one you speak to with your mind and call a nickname permanently?”

Xaden: “I do only have the one girlfriend. Kinda offended you’d think otherwise.”

Rhys: *signs a paper* “Adopted. The rebellion thing is handled. Me and your aunts and uncles have got this. Your new mom is going to need some time to add you and your mate to the family portrait gallery. Your bedroom is upstairs, knives are in the training ring, family dinner is every Thursday, your allowance is infinity and your curfew is never.”

Xaden: “I am…. Older than your wife?”

Rhys: “Did I fucking stutter?”

[ghostbsuter]

John Constantine was in prison.

No, not a normal, mortal prison. Those wouldn't be able to hold him like this one does.

No, he's imprisoned in the Infinity Realm.

The warden of the establishment is Walker, someone whose blood sings Witch Hunter.

If that wasn't bad enough, with every second, it gets worse. Angels decided to interfere in a realm not in possession of their God.

Who's idea was it to go against the Infintiy Realm? Are they nuts?

"John Constantine," One of the messangers steps forward. There is no weapon in sight, yet.

"Under the scrutiny of Heaven, we were sent to retrieve you for a trial." Their voice clipped, blond hair shimmering a soft green and John is sweating buckets.

"Your deals with various demon folk and such shall be judged unter gods court and—"

A loud bang echoes through the hall, Walker's men are surrounding the beings of heaven and particular brave soul steps forward.

The lad is young, can't be older than Bat's Robin. He walks with an air of authority, white hair floating against gravity's rules and towering before the flock of messangers.

"How dare—"

The boy, the godling– growls.

He blocks their view of Constantine, staring them down.

Some of the angels fall back, wings arched and ready for a fight, weapons still not in sight however.

"I am Phantom, King of God's of the Infinity Realm." The child with a title too much for such small shoulders bear, introduces himself.

It sends the flock into mild panic. Constantine is just a bit satisfied at the change.

"Returns to your god and tell him this, every Constantine bearing the title Laughing Magician is under my protection."

For such a small stature, his voice is booming, the command thinly veiled as a threat and icicles forming around him.

"Tell him that if he ever dares to breach my territory once more, I will not hesitate to call war upon heaven."

The main angel of the flock, the one that had read out Constantines sentence, hesitated only for a moment before urging the others to leave.

Posture stiff and movements jerky.

They didn't expect to be told off like this, John muses.

He only slightly dreads when phantoms attention drifts to him finally, a light knock on the metal bars and the whole wall was gone.

"Follow me, John Constantine."

And John does.

He'll sweet talk himself out of this on the way to his doom. Like always.

—

("Unpopular belief, but I actually quite like you." Danny had stated once in the garden, sitting on a table and drinking tea. John hadn't touched his cup nor desert at all, cannot trust those of the infinite after all.)

(A rip into the green before them had created a portal, a gateway.

"Leave, Laughing Magician. Hold onto that necklace, it will ward off anyone with the intent to harm and deals as a warning to those working for the immortal."

And as John steps forward, his eyes meet toxic green.

"We will see one another again, sooner or later. Farewell, Jester."

The portal spat him out in his apartment in New York, if it wasn't for the protection charm, Constantine would have believed it to be a mere dream. A warning.)

[fukcnoplease]

Things always go wrong Pt2 :0

Pt1 Pt3 Pt4

Dani roused from her sleep to see forests rushing passed and the sun beginning to dip behind them. The world was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun and she basked in its beauty. This was why she loved traveling. The beauty, the freedom, the fun.

She turned to Danny to see none of those things. He was gaunt and rigid. Eyes pinned to the road in tense silence as they drove way too many miles over the speed limit. 

“Did you die die?” Dani asked, poking his cheek. He felt clammy. That probably wasn't good. Dani didn't feel great either. Tired and saggy, like all her muscles had deflated.

Danny just grunted in response. That was VERY not good. No Danny banter meant Danny really HAD died.

“So is this a drive to heaven or to hell?” She asked. Danny snorted. That was a good sign.

“Gotham.” He grumbled. It sounded forced, like it hurt to say. Dani frowned.

“So hell it is. Why are we going there?” Danny remained silent and his face fell into a scowl. “You’re doing a pretty good Batman impression but that doesnt tell me why we are going to meet him.”

“We are not meeting batman. We are going to Jazz” Danny said.

“Ooh, better than batman!” Dani playfully punched her arms in the air and Danny winced. Dani noticed but didn’t comment as she went to grab his phone. It was cracked slightly and was full of messages and calls from Sam and Tucker. Notably, it didn't have any directions pulled up.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Danni asked. Danny moved for the first time, shifting uncomfortably.

“...No.” He muttered as he kept his eyes on the road. Dani rolled her eyes at him and started looking through his phone, she had learned his password ages ago and as much as he threatened to change it on her, he never did. Though that might have been more forgetfulness than endearment but Dani would interpret it as she wished.

“You are so bad at road trips.” She said as she connected his phone to the aux cord and pulled up directions to Gotham. They still had almost nine hours to drive and the sun was only getting lower. “There is a rest stop about an hour from here. We can rest there for the night.”

Danny didn't look too pleased at the idea but he knew they didn't have any money for a motel and he couldn't drive the entire night. He didn't want to stop driving so soon though. Moving helped dull the pain.

“Are there any further rest stops?”

“Hmm… Theres one about three hours from us?and then another at the six hour mark. We could stop there for lunch tomorrow.” Dani said. Danny grumbled but nodded. He didn't want to stop at all tomorrow. Stopping for the night felt like too much, let alone pausing midway through the drive tomorrow.

The rest of the drive was Dani playing music and chatting away. Chipping away at Danny’s panicked and suffering walls until he finally relaxed into their usual banter. She played eye-spy and when she got bored of that she played twenty questions. When Danny chose a water bear as his animal she gave up on that too. They devolved into silly arguments about how water bears shouldn't be allowed or how it wasn't fair that Dani kept picking things Danny couldn't see in eye-spy. 

As the sky darkened and the car’s headlights came on they fell into an easy silence. Danny still hurt but it was better and Dani’s core was humming comfort at him which helped.

Dani was half asleep when they pulled into the rest stop. The lights still on but the cafes and restaurants, closed or closing. She woke up fully when Danny moved to look through the back seat. Shuffling through whatever he had thrown back there and forgotten about. 

Gloves, a box of tissues, an empty tote bag and an old backpack he used before he bought a new one. It had a gum packet in it and a pen but nothing else. Groaning, he went and opened the trunk, a black scorch mark from where it had been hit earlier that day. He had camping gear for when he went stargazing. A tent, blankets, portable stove and a lighter, gas for the stove, a pocket knife, a mess kit. He was rummaging through when Dani popped up beside him.

“You got twenty dollars in your phone case.” She said and Danny jerked up hitting his head on the trunk door. He rubbed his head and whacked Dani’s shoulder while she laughed, he was smiling but he wouldn't admit it.

He grabbed his phone from the car and Dani closed the trunk, whistling at the damage.

“Who did that?” She asked, eyeing the marks on the car.

“Some fruitloops after a kidnapped ghost.” Danny said.

“Kidnapped? Me? How awful.” She said, putting her hand up and pretending to swoon.

“You’re right. The poor kidnappers.” Danny laughed and Dani rolled her eyes. She punched him in the side playfully and he hissed in pain. 

They both paused and Dani poked his side and he winced.

“Are you ok?” She asked. He hasn't seemed that injured when he was driving.

“Yeah, just a bit tender.” Danny joked. Dani stared at him, waiting for a better answer than that and Danny sighed. “Leaving Amity was harder than I thought it would be.” Dani still didn't really understand but Danny looked like he would rather be sick than answer her and she really didn't want him to be sick in front of her. 

“Do you want to get food?” she asked and Danny gave her a thankful smile before nodding. 

They grabbed a snack each, bbq chips and oreos,  and a bottle of water to share. Dani nicked a portable charger and some jerky while Danny was in the bathroom and then they headed back out to the door. When they were back in the car Dani pulled out the portable charger and plugged in Danny’s phone.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, eyeing it incredulously. It definitely didn't look under twelve dollars and thats all they had left after the snacks.

“Same place we got the rest of this stuff.” She said dropping the rest of the snacks and jerky between them. Danny noted the extra snack but just rolled his eyes. They ate but Danny kept the jerky for the next day and then he pulled out the blankets from his trunk. 

Snuggled up, with their cores harmonizing, they fell asleep. 

The car shook and a bang followed by the crunching and scraping of metal woke them up. Danny shot up, the sky just starting to lighten, face meeting with the barrel of an anti-ecto gun. He lunged to the side. The headrest of his seat was evaporated and Dani sent out her own ecto blast. The attacker was forced back into the white van that was ramming them and they could hear some colourful words through their panic. Danny jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine roaring to life. Shrieking metal filled their ears as the forced the vehicles apart and booked it out of the parking lot. The road bumps sending pieces of glass flying as Danny realized his window had been smashed during the attack. The back seat window seemed cracked but still intact and the windscreen had a spider web fracture but was holding up. His core shuddered at the damage but the pain was overridden by the need to protect Dani. 

He glanced over and saw a very shellshocked young ghost shaking in the passenger seat. She probably used too much ectoplasm in that blast. Neither of them were recovered enough and even with harmonizing he wasn't sure they would be able to recover enough to take another attack. He shook his head and focused on driving.

It took some maneuvers and some, maybe a lot, of speeding to lose the GIW but they managed. Dani pulled up directions and turned on whatever music she could find.

They spent the next few hours staring out their respective windows. Dani didn't like it. She didn't like the silence or the stress or the way her body shook in fear and exhaustion. Road Trips were supposed to be fun.

Danny didn't speak. His core was barely humming, barely responding to her, as they drove. It wasn't until the low gas symbol popped up on the dash that he said anything and of course it was just another curse. Dani was getting fed up with Danny’s shrinking vocabulary. 

She didn't say anything as she added a new stop to the directions, the closest gas station. Maybe a part of her was hoping her grumpiness would get Danny to snap out of whatever grump he was experiencing. Probably not a reasonable or healthy way to handle the situation, if you asked someone like Jazz, but Dani didn't ask Jazz. 

Danny didn't seem to notice though. He pulled into the gas station and turned off the car. His core buzzing with panic as he set up the gas pump and slumped against the car with a groan of pain. Dani frowned and poked her head out of the car. He looked pale, too pale. They were in their human forms, he shouldn't be that pale. At least she didn't think so. Though maybe she wasn't an expert on normal human medicine.

The gas pump beeped and Danny dragged himself up to remove the pump and go into the gas station. Dani suddenly worried about how they would pay, they had filled the tank up to full and that couldn't be cheap. 

Danny stumbled and fell into someone by the gas station entrance, a big guy with tattoos in a tank top, jeans and were those cowboy boots? Danny apologized and the guy shoved him, making him stumble again. Dani almost flew out of the car at him before she noticed a flash of dark leather in Danny’s hand.

No way.

The big tough guy waved him off and went back to smoking as Danny went inside and paid with a wallet he had most definitely not had five minutes ago. Danni stared at her basically brother, slacked jawed, as he casually dropped the wallet back into the guys pocket with some intangibility and then hurriedly slipped back into the car. His face was hard and he glared forward as he started the car.

“Did you just-?” Dani started, her excitement at her brother's newfound skills making her bounce in her seat. 

“No. Dont. Talk about it.” He cut her off, jaw set. She stilled in her seat and went back to pouting. When she vibrated her core at him he didn't even respond. She felt her core freeze at the lack of reaction and she tried again. There was a thump of something and Danny grunted but that was it. That was all that she got. Dread curled in her stomach as she stared at the road in front of her. 

They drove on and Dani didn't even mention the second rest stop they were supposed to stop at and Danny didn't either. There wasn't even music and the silence was only occasionally broken by a pained breath from Danny or an attempted hum from Dani’s core. It was a painful drive and Dani tried to sleep to help time passed. It worked partially, she slept fitfully for about twenty minutes each rest but it helped her heal. By the time they had found themselves in the midmorning traffic into Gotham she was feeling much more herself.

Danny looked worse and his arm trembled from being kept in a tense position for so long. A thin sheen of sweat covered him and Dani opened to her mouth to say something only to slam it shut at the waves of panic suddenly rolling off Danny. 

The car had rolled to a stop as the traffic came to a standstill. Thankfully they were in the slowest lane and there was a hard shoulder on their right but it did little to comfort Danny’s mounting panic. He didn't want to stay still, he couldn't, they were in danger and needed to keep moving. 

“Hey, are you-” Dani was interrupted by an explosion. They both spun to see billows of smoke about twenty cars back and a familiar white van barreling down the hard shoulder. Danny sucked in a breath of air and hit the gas as he swerved into the hard shoulder himself. He pressed on the gas as they went, coming up on a motorcycle attempting to skip traffic. Dani reached over Danny’s shaking arms and slammed on the horn as they gained on the man in red. He glanced back and barely managed to crash out of the way before they ran him down. As they zoomed passed the poor guy Dani looked out her window to give him an apologetic wave. His helmet was weirder when she saw it close up, less like a motorcycle helmet and more like a mask but for his whole head. She gave him a wave and he stared after them. The white van careening after them and obstructing her view. 

Danny followed the hard shoulder until it turned to grass and he kept going. The grass turned into a ditch and he grit his teeth as he maneuvered his beloved car to keep going. Thankfully the car, even turned at an almost forty five degree angle still kept going, if only slower than he would have liked. The white van on the other hand, hit the ditch and flipped, crashing to a halt behind them. Dani watched people crawl out of the van and try to chase after them but even going slowly their car was still faster. Though a lucky shot shattered the back window.

They pulled the car back into traffic, receiving honks and rude gestures before they went deeper into the murky city. It was only another few minutes of driving before Danny found an empty, unkempt parking lot to stop in. He shot out of the car and ripped the back seat door off its hinges trying to get the backpack he had back there. Dani grabbed his phone, the leftover cash, portable charger, and jerky before joining him behind the car as he stuffed his knife, lighter and a blanket into his bag. She offered her stuff and he opened the bag for her. As soon as everything was in he zipped it shut and went to pick Dani up.

“Woah! No! You’re not carrying me. I can walk just fine.” She said, glaring at Danny as he looked back at her. His eyes didn't seem totally focused and she grabbed his hand instead. “If you need to hold on to me so bad you can hold this. Now lets go.” And she was off, dragging a clearly not ok Danny behind her. 

Did she know where she was going? No, but she would figure it out. Unlike Danny, she was used to finding places to sleep in unfriendly and unfamiliar cities. She could recognize safe places to stay. At least she was pretty sure she could.

~~

Gonna try and figure out how to do the Pt1 Pt2 links I actually have like four chapters(?) written cause i got sucked in last night

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC The Crying Crown

So the ring of rage and the crown of fire are sentient

In the episode “Reign Storm” Skulker gives us information on Pariah Dark

Notice the wording

“Control the entities contained within the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage”

There is something contained within them, not just a power boost, but in controlling the beings within the crown and ring Pariah gains power

So this implies the crown and ring each have a will of their own, some kind of consciousness. They are sentient (though perhaps not sapient)

So whatever happened to them?

Well, if we recall the end of Reign Storm, Pariah got locked away with just the ring, and Vlad flew off with the crown of Fire

So we have a corrupt Billionaire with many shady business dealings, with a sentient artifact in his possession that probably isn’t very happy about that fact, especially as Vlad attempts to control the crown

Enter one detective John Jones aka Martian Manhunter aka a gosh darn telepath

Now, there are probably legitimate reasons the police might investigate Vlad, but J’onn is probably going to get sidetracked when his mind connects to an ancient sentient artifact that’s very upset

[halfagone]

The Power of DPxDC

There has been a lot of anti-DPxDC sentiment going around lately; if you haven't heard about it, then don't worry about it. This isn't a post about the negativity, this is a post celebrating how much we've done as a crossover fandom!

Just as a bit of perspective, I've been reading fics from DPxDC since 2020. Now that might not seem like a long time ago, but back then we didn't even have 100 fics for the crossover as a whole, and look at us now! This is a screenshot from Ao3 just today:

Incredible, isn't it? Look how much we've grown and contributed and shared! And that's not even mentioning all the wonderful Tumblr prompts and posts and incredible fanart. DPxDC has us in a chokehold and it isn't about to let go any time soon.

I know it can be a little disheartening to see all the people trying to drag us down. I know I've been left disappointed in some cases, but I also know that my love for the crossover hasn't abated at all, and I hope it stays that way with you all too!

There is so much engagement in this crossover, I cannot tell you enough how much you all have spoiled me with comments and kudos and fanart. A lot of my fandom friends like to tease me for writing so much, but I don't think I could have written half of those fics had it not been for people like you loving them as much as you do.

Passion is the lifeblood of this fandom, of every fandom! And I don't see that going away any time soon for DPxDC.

I know I want to comment and kudos more. I read a lot of fics, but I don't sign in often so that you can see me leaving that kudos, and it's been more and more apparent to me how many people don't realize how much I adore their writing. I'm hoping to fix that!

Some might say that we don't tag our work appropriately, and while that might be true in some cases, I cannot stress enough just how good of a job we're doing. @tourettesdog made a wonderful post not too long ago about tagging, and we do clean work! Not even a full 3% of all the tags they'd seen included a "main" tag, which has been the frustration for most. 3%? That's incredible!

You all deserve some appreciation for the hard work y'all do, and this is it! I hope you all know how well you've fed creators, readers, and fans like me! Don't let up, because we do amazing work. And that deserves to be celebrated.