DPXDC Prompt №5
Well
Imagine that Danny and Klarion are a couple, and what a mess it could be. And what would be the reaction of the League? God, this idea just occupied my brain.
JL has a problem that neither they, nor JLD, nor YJ can handle. They decide to use their heavy artillery - Phantom. When Danny arrives he is met by a bunch of panicked superheroes who think the world is about to end. They tell him about the problem, for example, huge monsters that cannot be damaged. Danny realizes that he has already heard something similar. After a while, he remembers.
"Hey, do these monsters have some kind of seal or symbol on their side? For example, K with a dot?"
The league doesn't understand what this is about at all, but they say, yes, there is.
"Oh, I've faced them before, but I can't handle it alone. But I know who can help." Danny sits down on a chair, takes out his phone and starts typing. It takes a long time to type.
Half an hour later, everyone was on edge, and the Phantom didn't stop typing.
Superman couldn't stand it first: "Phantom, we appreciate your help, but please specify who we are waiting for." The boyscout is polite as always. The Batman clan looks at each other uneasily.
"My boyfriend. By the way, he's on his way," the Phantom answers nonchalantly, without looking up from the phone and continuing to type.
The League participants are close to a breakdown: not only is the threat hanging over the States, which they are not able to cope with, but the Phantom has added from above. Phantom, is an incredibly strong player by himself, their heavy artillery, the king of the fucking Endless Realms, dates someone SO powerful that this someone can help him stop a potential threat to the country.
Then something in the air changes. Magic users and the League look at Danny, who finally puts the phone in his pocket. He frowns irritably and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Finally," he muttered discontentedly and gets up.
A black-and-red portal appears in the room, from which an irritated Klarion exits. Exactly the one who was least expected to see. YJ are already ready to take up arms, but the Phantom is ahead of them.
"Did you see how much time has passed? You're late." Danny comes closer, still unhappy.
"I couldn't teleport out of YOUR fucking castle. You open portals yourself every day, why ban them in the castle at all?" Klarion goes to meet Danny. "I got lost in the corridors six times. SIX. I am 16 billion years old, I have existed since the beginning of the universe, and I could not get out of the castle!" the distance between them was rapidly shrinking until they were standing close.
In any other situation, many would have laughed at this, but not in this one. Everyone in the room felt the situation escalate. They saw the Phantom in anger, they saw the Klarion in anger, but they never saw them together, let alone together and in anger.
"So you think it's my fault?!" The windows began to be covered with frost, and circles began to appear on the coffee in the Green Arrow mug. The jar with the handles began to bounce, everyone in the room began to feel the force of their anger.
"This is your castle, your ban. Whose fault do you think it is that I'm late?" Klarion's voice dropped. The Phantom looked dumbfounded. "What… How do you even..." Phantom's incipient tirade was interrupted by Klarion's kiss. He pressed his lips to the Phantom's lips, closing his eyes. He ran one hand through the ghost's hair, and the other pulled the Phantom closer, holding on to his waist.
The Phantom relaxed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the chaos lord's shoulders. Teekl stepped onto Phantom's shoulders, settling comfortably on them.
"Ahem-ahem" someone coughed tactfully
The Phantom moved a little away from Klarion, turning sideways to the League.
"Phantom, we understand your situation, however, you must remember the original purpose of our meeting." Batman is as straightforward as ever.
"Oh, right, sorry, guys," muttered the Phantom, turning in arms, but looking into the eyes of Klarion. "Do you remember the creatures we imprisoned in the time of Egypt?"
"Mmm, before or after Cleopatra?"
"After"
"Ugh, those slimy things?"
"Yes, and these slimy things are now taking over the east coast. Why did you put your stamp on them at all?” Phantom asked, leaning back into the embrace.
"I was thinking of leaving them for a rainy day," Klarion replied, stroking Teekl, still sitting on someone else's shoulders. "They had potential. Before they went mad with anger and started consuming each other."
"Ugh, okay," the Phantom grumbled, twisting out of the embrace completely. "Let's go show class"
Having created the portal, the Phantom invited Klarion to go first, gallantly bending over and bending his arm behind his back. "After you"
Klarion grunted, took the Teekl and disappeared into his own portal. Phantom rolled his eyes. "Eccentric"
JL remained in stunned silence, watching the interaction of the two creatures and asking a lot of questions. How long have these two known each other? What is the real age of the Phantom, if it existed before Cleopatra? If the Phantom knows that Klarion is the lord of chaos, does that mean that the Phantom may be involved in Klarion's affairs?
Just a minute after the two creatures leave, JL watches as the two subdue one monster after another. In just ten minutes two of which they kissed Phantom and Klarion defeat all the creatures. Klarion reads a spell, the Phantom opens a huge purple portal, where Klarion sends the bodies of monsters with a spell. When the creatures' bodies have disappeared, the Phantom creates another portal in which they disappear.
JL has literally a few seconds before they feel the familiar chill.
"I'm sorry it took so long. Last time we did it faster," the Phantom's voice rang out at the end of the hall.
Turning around, the heroes saw Klarion supporting Phantom by the elbow. The ghost looked paler than usual, but overall not bad. On the Phantom's cloak was a black slime left over from monsters, which he looked at with undisguised disgust.
"Phe, I thought I didn't get dirty"
"I told you not to kick them, but when you listened to me," Klarion rolled his eyes”
"Hey, ghosts don't attack Amity anymore, it's nice to remember the past sometimes"
"You're a member of the Justice League. Isn't that enough?"
"It's not the same. Okay, guys," The Phantom looked at the League again, "I'm damn tired and I'll answer your questions another time. You've already ruined our movie night. Waiting is the least price you will pay for it. See you soon!"
They were swallowed up by the Klarion’s portal, leaving the League confused and shocked. The first, oddly enough, Constantine came to himself.
"I need a drink"
Klarion and Danny: * kissing while monsters are raging in the background*
Literally the entire Justice League:
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Could you write a drabble for Mikoto and Shidou plus Blood? This request miiight be inspired by the fact that Mikoto mentions his body hurting a lot but doesn't seem to be receiving any medical treatment, either because Mahiru and Fuuta take priority or because there's no obvious cause, and therefore cure, to his pain...
👀👀👀 Thank you, this is such a good combo ough!! It's so interesting how much focus the others get when it comes to physical health, since Mikoto has clearly complained of his condition :( It looks like Milgram is trying to push the idea that he's completely oblivious to his alters, but I spun it where he's aware, just deep in denial. So have some Mikoto angst to get us hyped for Double!
Mikoto should be grateful. He was lucky. That’s what he kept repeating to himself. He had both of his eyes intact. Both his arms. He was strong enough to walk around freely. He wasn’t on the verge of death, or collapse. Thus, he should be grateful no one was offering him any help, because it meant he didn’t need it. He repeated it again. Maybe this time he would believe it.
With a groan, his body rolled out of bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up actually feeling rested. Everything ached. His muscles tightened with soreness. His throat felt as raw as his knuckles, though he hadn’t been using either. He had no desire to lift his arms over his head, or twist around too much, so he didn’t change out of yesterday’s uniform. Maybe the belts and buckles had made it difficult to sleep. The theory wasn’t a convincing one, but dwelling on things like that had never gotten him anywhere.
He ran his fingers once through his hair, combing out a bit of the mess. Looking in a mirror was the last thing he needed. He made his way to the dining hall.
The others trickled in for breakfast. His appetite, at least, hadn’t suffered. He hardly noticed the others giving him wide-eyed stares. What were they expecting? Of course he was looking worse for wear, given the circumstances. He ignored them, glad to focus on the hot meal before him.
A hand weighed heavy on his shoulder.
“Mikoto,” Shidou’s voice may have remained calm, but it was urgent. “Do you need some help?”
“Huh?” He shrugged his hand away, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine! Oh, I think Kazui was saving a seat for you over there, if you --”
“-- How about we go to my cell for a moment? Or yours, if that would be more comfortable.”
What was everyone’s problem this morning? Mikoto did his best to keep his voice pleasant. “Really, man, I’m good.”
Shidou’s expression remained unmoving. Very carefully, he informed him, “you’re bleeding. Pretty badly by the look of it. You’re coming with me.”
Mikoto blinked. He looked over his shoulder, following Shidou’s gaze. The back of his uniform was torn across the center. A significant splotch of blood seeped into the material, growing even larger as he shifted to see it.
“...Oh…”
Back in Shidou’s cell, sad to have left his breakfast plate behind, he slumped into a chair. Shidou gathered together some supplies. As always, he got right to the point. “What happened?”
“I… I’m not sure. I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t remember most nights, recently. I know that sounds crazy, but…”
“It’s fine. I have definitely heard crazier.” He smiled, something gentle and reassuring. As usual, there was something hidden behind his eyes. It was as if he already knew what Mikoto was up to late at night that earned him so much soreness the following days. He didn’t offer an explanation, though. Mikoto didn’t press him for one.
He winced as he was helped out of his uniform. Removing his shirt revealed the mysterious gash. Shidou’s eyes widened at the array of scratches and scars. Some were fresh, but most originated long before Milgram. Though he didn’t ask, Mikoto answered.
“I’m pretty clumsy, huh?” Maybe this time he would believe it.
Shidou was kind enough to pretend to. “Here, allow me…”
Shidou got to work cleaning and dressing the injuries. Mikoto closed his eyes. Even though the disinfectant stung, and sometimes those gloved fingers pressed a little two hard, it felt nice to have things patched up.
“Is there anything else going on? Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”
Mikoto could have laughed. He didn’t. “I’m just sore. And my head’s been killing me, but I’m used to migraines. Perks of the verdict, I’m sure.”
Shidou hummed in thought.
“Thanks, by the way. I’ll try to be more careful.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, it seemed. But he’d do his best.
Shidou kept his face straight, but there were traces of pain in his voice. “I will too. I’m sorry, Mikoto. If I had known… I’ve been distracted lately, but I should have paid closer attention.”
“It’s fine,” he flashed a grin. “I know the others are pretty fucked up. And I’m not dying or anything. I’m lucky, you know?”
“I wouldn’t say so. Doctors don’t only treat the dying.”
Mikoto frowned.
It didn’t take much longer to finish treatment. Shidou gave him a few instructions about the bandages, then offered him a clean shirt. “You’re good to go. I’ll be checking in more often, now. I’ll see if I can find something for your head.”
“Thanks. Really.”
He returned Mikoto’s torn uniform. “You should talk to Es about getting a new one. Until then, you’ll want to clean this with --”
Mikoto waved a dismissive hand, heading out of the cell. “Don’t worry, I know how to wash blood out of my clothes. Er, that sounds bad. I’m just a clutz, yeah? The blood’s always been my own.”
Maybe this time he would believe it.
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I just imagine this person who comes from this planet. A traveller. This traveller appears somewhat human, but upon closer inspection is definitely not. Amongst one of their most non-human traits, they have the power to entirely change their body if about to die, making them functionally immortal (there are rules about this, but who knows the reality of how often this process -- called regeneration -- can occur). The traveller is established to have been exiled from their home planet from the word go, and seems to have stumbled over earth as a secondary home of some sort, alongside their grandchild
and then the traveller takes on a couple of humans, not intentionally, but it's not so bad, travelling with your family and new friends. But then their grandchild finds a reason to stay somewhere, so the traveller makes the choice to leave them behind, the first time this choice has been made without the consent of a companion. And then the humans leave, but it's okay, because there's a couple more humans coming onboard
that's relatively the template -- a strained, often antagonistic, relationship with their own species, and an ever-growing fondness for the humans who travel with them, whom they realise eventually do need to leave to live their own lives, because this is no life for mortals, but that's okay. Except increasingly it becomes more and more difficult to let go of these companions. many of them travel with them for a good long while, and maybe even expect it to last forever, but it never does. The traveller knows forever (or, near enough), and mortals couldn't comprehend it.
it's a manageable system. It's not exactly lonely, because there's always more companions to not fill in the gaps of the ones who left, but to take up new space. And the person (Doctor, their name is) even travels with a member of their own species for awhile, for the first time since they left their grandkid to a different life, and that's a whole other sort of joy, to be with someone who really understands
brewing in the back of all of this there's civil wars, and a growing hostility between their species and a species whose sole goal is to eradicate all life that isn't like them. And eventually the traveller has to leave earth (after eight or so lifetimes, it's hard to keep track sometimes) in order to fight in this war. and during the course of the war (which is incomprehensibly vast to mortal people), the former traveller's species change and twist into a version of themselves that would rather the entire universe is destroyed than accede. And so this person who is now something else, makes the choice to end it
but whatever this person did, and whatever this person became, is so antithetical to who this person usually is, that they completely repress the existence of this lifetime. For several lifetimes after, it simply does not exist
the person then changes again, but everything is different. Gone is the wonder of the universe, the warmth, the joy. The only thing that truly remains is the strange pull of humanity, and of course, the spaceship with which they keep travelling. And so the person eventually ends back on earth, reminded of all the ways that humans are an incredibly fragile, helpless species. Disinterested in getting emotionally close to them again, because the memories of war supersede everything, and they know nothing good will come of it. Except...
then a human being unexpectedly changes things. And the person -- despite themself at first -- clings on for dear life, because if this human is experiencing the wonder, the warmth, the joy, then so can they once more, through humanity's eyes. And they become the traveller again - Doctor -- but it's a journey to return to the right of that title. And maybe none of what came before matters, the war, the genocide, even having an own species to begin with, doesn't matter. The Doctor can convince themself that the two of them are going to travel together forever, because all those built up lessons of the past about the dangers of mortality and all those previous companions have dissipated to be replaced by one bright point on which they hinge their entire being
and then the companion is ripped away from them. And the next companion is scarred by witnessing a genocide against humanity (just like the Doctor witnessed, and caused, the genocide of their own people), and the next companion is taken too, and many many people die, and the ones who don't simply leave, as they should, and even discovering another member of their species survived only leads to disaster. The Doctor carries the weight tenfold this time, as the universe reminds them that they're a traveller not by choice, but because they have nowhere to go, and nobody who can stay with them
all the joy of that first companion after the war is ripped away, and every single hurt from every lifetime fills the gaps. for awhile that drives the Doctor mad, but even that passes, replaced by a different sort of will to live, despite it all
for the first time in their lifetimes, the Doctor admits that regeneration feels like dying, like someone else takes their place every time it happens, and that they're afraid of it. In this particular life, they feel unfinished, incomplete, broken. There's more to do, it can't just be all that pain and grief, they keep surviving in this body for a reason, surely, they have to survive because otherwise what was it for and how will they remember...
and then they die
and they become someone else
and the story continues, and they keep on travelling
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