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lifeontoast · 4 months

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A Very Sokovian Christmas

Baron Zemo x reader

First Danny Bunch thing, here we go! This one’s about making an absolute feast with the Baron. (since Sokovia isn’t a real country, and nothing about its Christmas traditions is in the public domain, I’ve mostly taken inspiration from German traditions). Enjoy :)

…

Christmas in Sokovia (with a Baron) certainly was a very elegant affair. It was a time of champagne, dancing and evening gowns.

But there was another side to it.

There was the side with hot chocolate, candles and Christmas markets. Spending hours bundled up in a certain long leather coat and woollen scarves, wandering through warmly lit ailes of stalls upon stalls upon stalls. Lebkuchen hearts swung slowly in the gentle wintry breeze, and your eyes flickered in the blazing candle light. Hot drinks made your hands glow with warmth. You decorated your Christmas tree with candles too, fake ones that glimmered when the lights were turned off, catching the silvery baubles in a most enchanting way. They threw patterns upon your walls, telling you of long-forgotten tales of cold Christmas nights. It was those cold yet joyful times that made you glad you had someone to spend them with.

Then there was the food: there was no small way to celebrate Sokovia’s celebrated gastronomy at Christmastime. Roast meats (or meat substitutes), stewed cabbage, dumplings… a whole world of flavours that you’d never experienced before. The tang of the cabbage, the hearty cheeses, the softest dumplings. The biscuits alone were something to behold: you made more Lebkuchen, Stollen and Spekulatius biscuits than you cared to mention. Your arms felt ten times stronger than they did in October, before you started rolling biscuit dough for a living (it might as well have been). Who needs the gym? Making biscuits with your Baron was something you enjoyed immensely. Each and every time you vowed that you would make them perfectly, and with a mess-free kitchen at the end; each and every time it looked as if it had snowed inside your house, with every surface covered with flour, including the two of you. You couldn't deny that you thought it was fun, though.

The Baron introduced you to more different foods than you could’ve tasted in a lifetime, and in return you treated him to some of your favourite traditional winter foods. He accepted every dish you made with true gratitude, taking pride in your country’s heritage and traditions. He never stopped telling you how talented you were; how beautiful the food was. This was one of the things you loved most about Zemo - he was so interested in learning everything there is to know about your home country.

One night you decided to treat yourselves and make a veritable feast. You handled the deserts, while Zemo took the savouries. You worked together in the kitchen, so harmoniously, so in sync, it was almost a dance. Waltzing with potatoes, quick stepping by the oven, tango-ing with mulled wine.

The end result was glorious: he whipped up the finest roast meat/meat substitute you’d ever had, it was glazed with honey and lemon, and the delicate flavours exploded in your mouth with every bite. The cabbage was tart, and complemented perfectly the buttery potato salad and soft dumplings on your plate. He truly was a skilled cook, though he never ceased to sing your praises when it came to the dessert course. The flavours of your desserts went together flawlessly, leaving you satisfied with every mouthful. The simmering mulled wine (can be alcohol free) tied everything together, and it slipped down your throat as easily as water. It warmed your stomach and gave you a pleasantly light feeling. All the spices made your nose tingle, and the sweetness was heaven. Citrusy, cinnamon-y, it really was delightful.

Not even the arduous task of the clearing up could spoil the fun; it was so typical of Helmut to turn it into a game. You were singing, dancing and flinging water at each other without a care in the world. By the end of the proceedings you were all but throwing the plates and utensils around, absolutely soaked with soapy water.

The evening ended with more wine beside the roaring fire; dressed in the cosiest pyjamas and slippers, covered with blankets, and chatting away until it was long past midnight. You thought you could never eat another mouthful of anything ever again, but my goodness, it had been a most enjoyable experience to cook this fabulous feast together - you would do it every night if you could.

…

Hope you enjoyed it :)

#lifeontoast #zemo x reader #baron zemo #daniel bruhl x reader #danny bunch #daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl

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shadystarlightgentlemen · 2 years

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Happy birthday to the man that fuels my fanfic addiction, Daniel Bruhl. May you live long and always be the heart stopper you are

#daniel brühl #danny bunch #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #dr kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #marvel #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo

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faeriekit · 4 months

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"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

#I'm very pro Danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of Talons #people have definitely done it before but this scene came to me in a vision #a horrible caffeinated vision #could absolutely be an excuse for #talon!dick #talons #dp x dc #faer fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #talon!au #dcu crossover #death tw #well. the funeral industry anyway #medical tw #just in case #corpse tw #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#free to a good home

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Danny’s Wayne adoption bait. The guy that owns the bodega knows it. Everyone and their mothers knows it. Danny, on the other hand, had no clue. To be fair, he had just crash landed in this dimension a week ago and his back was still sore from the weird design the car had.

(It’s only three weeks of homelessness later does Danny realize that he crash landed on the Batmobile. Whoops. Oh well. He’ll blame it on Clockwork if the vigilante asks after repair costs.)

(Bruce, on the other hand, is scouring the streets for this kid the car cams caught- oddly static filled footage- because his mind jumped to the worst case scenarios: a suicidal meta or a meta being threatened or a meta in a trafficking scheme or even worse all three at once and Bruce just can’t because there is a child in danger, he doesn’t have time to sleep.)

Danny rubbed at his back, eyes going watery at the memory. Sure, his wounds have healed over by now but the- heh- phantom pain is no joke. He shuddered, huddling closer to his threadbare hoodie. His only saving grace from getting jumped while walking the streets of Gotham at night is his invisibility and intangibility. Also, he’s floating, so “walking” doesn’t apply to him.

He’s gotta check on the kid he saved yesterday from a mugging, so Danny hurried along to the depilated apartment complex the kid was squatting in. Turning visible and tangible as he turns the corner, Danny glanced around for Amy.

“Danny!”

“Hey, kiddo. Doing alright?”

“Yeah! Come meet my gang!”

Danny felt his eyebrows rise to form Jazz’s exasperated look. Ouch. Waving the pain of losing Jazz away, Danny smiled at the excited girl.

“A gang? I wasn’t aware I was being brought to your almighty group.”

“Yeah! Uh, you actually helped a bunch of us so…”

Danny thought back to all those times he punted crooks away from robbing kids and shrugged. Yeah, what Amy said was likely.

“Kay, kiddo.”

She scowled, and Danny didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked more like a pout.

“You’re just a teenager.”

“Well, you’re a just a kid.”

Danny cackled as she chased him down the street, trying to kick his shins.

Life is good, even if he’s homeless and hungry.

——

“Jason.”

“Old man.” Jason mocks back, pausing his tasks. He waits as Bruce struggles to put his thoughts and feelings into words.

“There’s… a meta.”

“In Gotham?” Jason tilts back, hands halfway to his guns as a silent offer. Bruce shakes his head.

“A child. In Crime Alley.”

“In my turf?” Jason’s disquieting demeanor quickly swapped to a protective one.

“Trafficking, I think. Male, black hair…”

“Shit. Get Dickwing back here, he’s good with traumatized kids. I’ll go look for him.” Jason’s already moving, mind filtering through the kids he knows might have information to offer.

Bruce nods, shoulders relaxing. Jason smacks down the lump in his throat at the subtle sing of trust. “I’ll get Oracle and Red Robin on it.”

Jason morphs from Jay to Red Hood in one smooth step, helmet firmly placed on his head. He grunts in agreement, slinging his legs over his motorcycle. He roars off, mind half filled with tearing apart whatever traffickers dared to shit near his territory and the other half filled with worry for this possible kid.

——

Danny, as the Bats become aware of his existence, hands Amy and her kiddie gang a bag of fancy beef jerky.

“Try these with peanut butter, it’s kind of good.”

Amy stares at him, the judgement of an eight year old more piercing than anything he’s ever experienced.

“You’re fucking weird-”

“Language!” He squawks.

“-but sure, whatever you say, boss.”

“Boss?!”

The kids ignores his alarmed face.

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #bruce wayne #Danny had minions #Danny saved a bunch of kids from two face and now they’ve imprinted on him #like ducklings #Danny: I’ll have a nice vacation #also Danny: fights a villain and saves like a dozen kids #Danny: unionizes the kiddie gangs via peanut butter and beef jerky #Batman: there is a child #red hood: that needs our help!#dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #Danny dents the Batmobile and leaves an IOU #but doesn’t leave the owner a way to contact him

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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year

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Danny runs for Mayor

Simple Prompt: Danny runs for the Gotham Mayor position

Extended Prompt: Danny is an absolute little shit throughout his entire campaign but still manages to win because he is legitimately one of the best candidates around

Just imagine the crack that could come from this!

Reporter: What is your stance on Vigilantism? Danny: Well I agree that Vigilantes are helpful for the communities that need them, and they should work with the police at every opportunity, I feel like the idea will always be a city where Vigilantes are not needed. Also I fail to see the relevancy of the question, there are no vigilantes in Gotham Reporter: What do you mean? What about the Bat-Family? Danny: No, Batman isn’t a Vigilante. Batman is a Crime Lord.

Danny: As mayor, I promise that I will not be infected by corruption. Not because of my moral standings, but because I absolutely fucking hate clowns and I will never accept a bribe as long as that guy is still alive. Yes this is me putting a hit out on the Joker. Crime Bosses, if you want to try and bribe me, you gotta kill him first or I won’t even consider it!

Batman: Why is a Meta-Human running for Gotham Office? You know this city doesn’t have a very good track record with people like you. Even the Signal had a rough start. Danny: Well, I just had a strong compulsion to help this city reach the peak of it’s potential *looks over Batman’s shoulder to see Lady Gotham holding up Cue Cards telling him what to say. She promised to help with his paperwork for the next 50 years if he became Mayor and helped fix her city* Danny: Such a strong compulsion...

Penguin: Look kid, I don’t care if you have enough power to destroy me at the subatomic level, I have enough money to ruin you, your sister, your parents, even your uncle! Danny: Oh really? I could get the souls of every person you have ever killed to get confessions out of them. Or I could give them the power to rip you apart. Or I could even just possess you and donate all your money to charity.

Danny: Oh god dammit! Vlad: Hello Badger! Glad to see you followed in my footsteps instead of your fathers! Danny: This wasn’t because of you! Lady Gotham asked for help! Vlad: A WIN IS A WIN!

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confessedlyfannish · 21 days

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Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

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darkeneddawning · 10 months

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Escaped clone au

You know all those fics where Danny and Damian are twins but everyone first assumes Danny must be a clone? How about an au where Danny is Damian's clone who escaped the League after he was assumed dead. Damian could even have been the one to have "killed" him, back when Danny was a newly created, fully brainwashed clone minion and trying to kill Damian himself.

Danny gets adopted by the Fentons and canon goes on as normal, until Dan. Witnessing what would happen to the world should he turn evil really drove home to Danny how dangerous he is.

Even if he was confident he could be trusted with his absurd amount of power (which he isn't), what if the League of Assassins found out about him? Does he still have programming triggers from his evil assassin clone conditioning?

So, Danny does the responsible thing: he goes to Batman to turn himself in.

Cue Danny showing up on Bruce's doorstep with ghost hunting equipment, intel on the afterlife, and an almost unbelievable backstory. Somehow he still managed to be more well-adjusted than Damian.

More thoughts under the read more

Here's how I'm thinking Danny leaving the League went down:

After surviving his wounds but failing his mission, Danny (then an unnamed potential Damian replacement) knew there was no point in returning to the League. As a failure, he was meant to be disposed of. He even thought of simply allowing himself to perish, since that was what the League would do.

But he couldn't help but feel as though that would be a waste of a resource. Surely he could be of more use to the League alive than dead?

That tiny bit of rebellious logic is what caused Danny to go into hiding, only living on based on the off chance he would find opportunities to further the League's goals. Obviously, that mentality didn't last long after being exposed to the real world and meeting one Jazz Fenton.

Being adopted by the Fentons was the best cover Danny could have asked for, since any odd behavior he couldn't hide while he was learning how to be "normal" was totally overshadowed by the sheer bizarre eccentricity of his new parents. He was still the neighborhood weird kid, but even that was a major upgrade from disposable tool, so Danny considered it a win.

Anyway, if anyone likes this idea, please feel free to have at it! Interpret it as you please :)

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dawningwrites #Danny: I'm too powerful help please accept this 10 step guide that MIGHT give you a prayer of defeating me #Bruce: and you're saying that on top of all your potentially apocalyptic abilities you're also the ruler of another dimension??#Danny: I know right?? they wouldn't listen to me when I said a teenager wasn't qualified. and technically I'm only 5 years old!#Danny's better adjusted than Damian bc he had Jazz to help him #and he didn't have to be anything other than a “normal” teen until his accident #whereas Damian had a bunch of traumatized and emotionally stunted vigilantes with a complicated family dynamic he walked into #Alfred did his best but there was only so much he could do without undermining Bruce or interfering with their vigilantism #Dan happened before Dani so she might not be in this (yet)#but if Danny's clones are still a thing I think he'd be even more traumatized by most of them melting #Dani: you don't know what it's like to be made by a rich supervillain to replace your original and then be discarded as a failure #Danny: ha ha so funny story #damian wayne #damian al ghul

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puppetmaster13u · 8 days

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Prompt 279

Now Danny didn’t mean to make a Bootube channel. He’d meant to send that sleep deprived ramble to Tucker, but he had clicked on the wrong app and yeah. Apparently people enjoy his space rambles- or it could have been the ghost blob-cats that had decided to flop onto him. (Honestly he wasn’t surprised they would start to mimic the shapes of things in their surroundings)

Tucker? Found it hilarious, as did Sam and Val and… um, okay this has become their shared channel now, nice. Though there are some strange comments on some of the videos. Really, what do they mean green sky and crazy tech???

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breesperez139 · 10 months

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Dc x Dp Prompt #2

Danny loved his life. After his reveal to Jack and Maddie as a half ghost went right, everything started falling into place.

Vlad stopped his insane schemes once his parents were set loose on him. Sure he’s still mayor but he funds the town, keeps them protected from unwanted visitors, and is no longer trying to kidnap/adopt/clone Danny anymore.

Speaking of clones, Ellie was officially adopted into the family. She didn’t live with them full time with her obsession being freedom, but at least she has a home to return to now.

Dan was also adopted into the family. He is still on probation but turns out having their adopted family again (and as many ghost fruits as he wants) helped ease the rage. That’s not to mention Dan’s and Skulker’s bi-weekly figh- errr meetups.

Well at least there’s been no property destruction since he’s been crowned. After he and his rogues began scheduling their own meetups, his grades started going up again. So while he may never become an astronaut like he always dreamed of, he could still go up to space and see the stars whenever he wanted to.

Sure, being king wasn’t exactly what he wanted in life (or death) but he could protect his ghosts and liminals better this way. And considering his entire town is either ghost or liminal, it was just easier to protect them from the GIW and the government in general with a crown on his head.

Besides being king isn’t all bad either. He’s rich now meaning they won’t be racked up in college debt, he has cool artifacts that were gifted to the ghost king over the millennia that were left untouched but he’s not about to return them (they were gifts to the ghost king, practically funeral gifts like flowers but more rare and expensive), and he has crazy powerful Ancients as friends/family/mentors/protectors. He’s still a baby in ghost years and a minor in human years so he’s not expected to do much either way.

Life was going great, especially after Amity Park adopted ghost etiquette and ecto-infused food and beverages.

So why the Ancients are the Justice League of all people standing outside his front door with the Batman looking thoroughly freaked out the moment he opened the door? He hasn’t said anything yet either!! Stupid fucking government heroes.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #adopted danny fenton #ghost king danny phantom #JL discovered Amity too late #they finally went to investigate only to find an entire town of metas #and a whole bunch of ghosts living together #as if this were some my little pony friendship is magic bullshit #and why the hell are everyone’s eyes glowing?!#they think Danny’s a clone when they first see him #but the tests say otherwise #danny fenton is a twin #but you get to choose which member of the batfam is his twin #did he fake his death? run away? kidnapped as a baby?#Bruce is horrified he has not just one other child but three #and neither of them want anything to do with him #because of frootloops??#Danny Dani and Dan are a trio #add Jazz in and they’re a whole package #you either get all of them or none of them #they just got one billionaire to back off they do not need another

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acorviart · 4 months

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danny devitos

#danny devito #tern seagull #seagull #just a bunch of danny devitos by the sea #the danny devitos were also bullying some pelicans

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graveyardgremlins · 2 months

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WIP:

“You have a bat themed computer?! This is somehow worse than my dad naming everything after our family.” “Wait, does he actually do that?” “Yeah, dude. We have the Fenton Bazooka, the Fenton Boo-merang, the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, the Fenton Phones, Fenton Rocket, Fenton Skateboard…” “Wait, wait. You own an assault vehicle? A rocket?” “What? You're saying it as if you don't.” “Yeah, but my… He is Batman. Not exactly the poster boy for sanity, you know?” “Well, look at the bright side! You don't have to feel awkward about it anymore. If anyone gets it, it's me.” Jason smiled, a bit dizzy, and guided him. Jason had never brought anyone to the cave before. It felt oddly heavy in his chest. He had to resist the urge to keep turning around to check on Danny. He felt a bit like Orpheus in a way.

#dp x dc #dead on main #danny phantom #fanfic #jason todd #danny fenton #dp x dc fanfic #fanfic writing #dead on main ship #tsdloo #I'm sorry for taking so long to post this chapter #I've been struggling with it a little #like trying to rein in a bunch of wild horses #it keeps getting out of my control #and the angst is getting closer and i'm scared lol

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lifeontoast · 10 months

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HEY, YOU! Yes, you!

Do you like Paul Dano?

Do you like Daniel Brühl?

Then please, come over to my blog and request away! I’m always looking for requests for these two so don’t be shy!

Check out what I will and won’t write here!

Check out the characters I write for here!

My requests are OPEN!

(PS if a character you want isn’t on my list of characters, feel free to make a request anyway and I will watch the TV show/movie they are in if I can!)

#lifeontoast #danonation #danocel #paul dano x reader #dano!riddler #paul dano #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruehl #Danny bunch #andrea marowski #niki lauda #alex kerner #dwayne hoover #reqs open #requests open #daniel bruhl #danonator

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hypewinter · 11 months

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After Danny exposed Vlad and his corrupt dealings, the older halfa got the last laugh by getting his blacklists from all engineering jobs. Desperate for a job Danny ends up applying for a personal assistant position and he actually gets it. It only takes him a week to see how detached Bruce Wayne is from his own company. AND he has his 16 year old son running it as CEO!? No way is he letting that slide.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #hyper prompts #there's nowhere bruce can go that danny can't find him #his pa is the one person other than alfred that he's actually terrified of #also i imagine the rest of danny's family quickly follows him to gotham #jazz naturally begins working at arkham #a reformed dan opens up a restaurant in crime alley that doubles as a soup kitchen #and ellie helps him out while also doing a bunch of odd jobs around the city #whatever flights her fancy for the day #the bats don't know whether to put them on some sort of supervillain watchlist #or just watch the chaos unfold #it is hilarious seeing bruce squirm though

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faeriekit · 4 months

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#i'm very pro danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons previous installments

The next day, the body was back.

The green was gone from its eyes, but the awareness wasn't; it spent about an hour watching people go around outside Danny's apartment, which was new behavior. None of the corpses that shadowed him had shown any interest in garden-variety humans before. Now it sat at the window and watched families come home from school or head to their afternoon shifts.

That went into Danny's notes.

After that hour, it taught itself to flush the toilet repeatedly, rearranged the contents of Danny's half-assed linen closet (again) and then stood hovering over the safe where Danny had stashed the ectoplasm.

"...Okay," said Danny.

The dead body croaked. It was a new sound, but there was no context for it. Danny just kind of...wrote it down and hoped for the best.

The day after, Danny woke up at a very reasonable ten forty eight in the morning to find stray corpses feeding each other spoonfuls of ectoplasm in the kitchen.

At that point he kind of had to throw out the notes on how much each one was dosed with, because what the fuck.

"Really?!" Danny shouted, spooking the bodies into fleeing behind chairs and doors and back into his closet again. The only one that didn't flee was Danny's ringmaster corpse of the hour, of course. "You really couldn't wait??"

It stuck out a withered black tongue out at the mortician, who was, really, the victim in all of this. A victim to his parents' whims and a victim to the dead people who followed him around all the time.

This was how Danny found out that, when it doubt, the corpses could just tear through solid steel if they were motivated enough. The finger-marks were so deep and so embedded that they actually looked more like rough claws in the metal.

Great.

Danny ordered a new locking cage for the fridge on Prime and darted off to work. One of his regulars was on the table, though, so Danny just ended up doing what he would have at home— sewing up a gash in its neck and reattaching dead fingers back onto dead stumps.

On the third day, in which four of Danny's frequent fliers had learned from the first how to flush the toilet (and therefore raise the water bill immensely) Danny got a ring from a dark voice he (almost) recognized.

"Is he here?"

Danny squinted, jerking the phone further under his ear as he whipped up some scrambled eggs. The dead girl leaning over his shoulder leaned a little closer to watch the egg froth up. "Is who here? Who is this?"

"This is Batman. Is— the body requisitioned from your facility currently at your place of residence?"

Danny fully let go of the whisk. It landed haphazardly in the glass bowl he'd been stirring in. "What on Earth is a Batman?" he asked, incredulous.

"I visited your workplace previously."

Oh! "Yeah, the cop's friend. I remember now." Danny pulled the whisk out of the liquid eggs and held it out to the body. The unusually animate cadaver mostly prodded the whisk wires and paid no attention to him. "No one's here but me, though. Not that it's your business...?"

"And there are no non-living bodies currently in your apartment?"

Danny ignored the flushing noise in the other room. "I don't know, dude. They practically live in the walls at this point. Don't come over unless you have a warrant."

The call ended with a click.

His omelette turned out amazing, by the way. In case you were wondering.

On the fourth day, the ectoplasm was gone, because the corpses had apparently all taught each other how to lockpick the container in the fridge.

"Okay, some of that was meant to be my dinner. No more lotion at the funeral home now, okay? Now you all can be ashy forever. I'm so serious," Danny complained to the only visible dead person in the room.

The dead person held up a cracked egg. It was probably a gesture of peace, but now there was egg on his vinyl flooring to deal with. And. It wasn't exactly all that comforting in the end.

On the fifth day, Danny awoke to the sensation of a hand jamming itself through his neck until it punched into the mattress beneath him.

Fuck.

#dp x dc #I'm very pro Danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons #could absolutely be an excuse for #talon!dick #talons #faer fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #death tw #well. the funeral industry anyway #medical tw #corpse tw #dead people #dcu crossover #the original post is free to a good home but I'm just chugging along here

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deadsetobsessions · 1 month

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I would love to read more of your desecrated Grave AU if that isn't to much trouble?

Tbh, it was supposed to be a one time thing but I can give it another go :))

——

Zatanna's dealt with everything from demons to gods, eldritch horrors to cute little puppies. It says a lot, in her opinion, that the GIW managed to invoke such a response of recoiling horror in her.

The magician took in the blood and ectoplasm splattered walls, the writhing reanimated organism that came from exposure to said ectoplasm, and most damningly, the stacks of cracked and broken headstones piled in the corner of the room.

"Peek ruoy part tuhs!" she snarled, hands thrown out at the whimpering and beaten GIW agents. Her magic activated and sealed their voice boxes shut.

In the sudden silence, Zatanna walked to the stacked gravestones. She placed a hand upon the top most one and uttered a heart-broken apology, wondering how many ghosts perished.

"I'll bring you back to Phantom," she promised them. "Eb derots."

The gravestones vanished into her storage space, ready to be taken out when she willed them to be.

"Zatanna, everything finished?" Black Canary walked in, casting a disdainful glance at the agents. "You okay?"

"I can feel... there was much suffering here. They were supposed to be- dying was supposed to grant them peace. Not. Not this."

"We'll make sure it never happens again. The GIW is getting disbanded as we speak."

Their comms buzzed.

"Zatanna, the U.N. is requesting the presence of the ghost king in order to make amends." Batman said.

"Tell them he's going to be busy grieving the massacre of his people, committed by a branch of their government. We'll be damn lucky if he doesn't start a war over this, Batman. He'd be well within his rights to. It's bad."

"I'll hold them off."

"We're wrapping up on our end."

"Copy."

Zatanna turned to the scientists and agents and intoned "Eb devom edistuo!"

"C'mon Zee, let's go." Black Canary made sure she was out of the way before screaming, unleashing a wave of sound that shattered and crumbled the glass and walls of the facility.

"Fuck the government." Zatanna mumbled. How was she supposed to tell Phantom about the gravestones?

----

Phantom floated, the lost look on the young boy's face pulling at their hearts as his hands hovered above the broken gravestones, not daring to touch them.

"So many..." he whispered. Zatanna could do nothing but offer a nod, jaw clenched and eyes burning with fury and grief.

Phantom looked up at her. "Thank you, Zatanna, for bringing them back to us."

"It was the least we could do." Zatanna replied, and something about her voice must have resonated with Phantom because his apathetic façade broke and suddenly, Zatanna had an armful of a grieving, wailing ghost child. Her magic shielded her, but the glass began breaking at his ghostly wail. Still, Zatanna could tell he was holding back in attempt to not kill them all via the vacuum of space.

"Dleihs eht rewothctaw!" She quickly chanted. "Go ahead, you won't hurt us. I've shielded the place."

The glass stopped cracking and Phantom, no longer worried about killing her, screamed against her shoulder.

"Why?! WHAT CRIMES DID WE COMMIT BY DYING?! IT WASN'T ENOUGH TO SUFFER WHEN WE DIED?! WHY?!"

----

#danny phantom #dcxdp #zatanna #black canary #batman #the justice league #the giw #implications that the giw murdered a bunch of ghosts

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