Danny, since realising he was ya know half dead all the time, and not just when he wanted to pull a magical girl jekyll and Hyde, has made it his mission to eat EVERY element on the periodic table if it could be formed into a solid. The reason for this?
He found out, using some of the equipment in his parents labs, that he doesn't really have stomach acid anymore? He has acidic ectoplasm so everything just kind of went to die if it entered his digestive track. No more indigestion if literally nothing survived the trip. It also meant no more stomach bugs which was a cool plus.
Anyway. Krypton was on the periodic table.
Danny had tried that. It was okay. Not the best but not the worst.
Kyrptonite was from another GALAXY, but also a lot of the elements could be found in space. So was it similar? What was its structure like? How different was it and how had fate come about that the names were so similar? Also did it taste different? All important questions.
Danny thinks he's ordering a sample of krypton (already complicated since the temperature it becomes solid at it -158C and liquid at -153C) and it comes in a weird box? Strange, but, again, krypton is nearly impossible to get in form that can be eaten. He isn't quite sure what to think of the lead lined box considering noble gasses are non-reactive, but he's got more important things to worry about like replacing Vlad's football memorabilia with novelty cheese decorations.
You lean in for a greeting hug. Cold hands -- that's fine. Cold arms is a little stranger. Cold cheek against your lips. Cold lips and breath against your cheek.
And this person you are greeting so warmly... they smell strange. Perfume, yes, and too much of it, but underneath that is something musty and old, something shot through with the tang of blood.
A professor gave us an extra credit option: take a picture of yourself outside, doing something that you would not usually do. We were told not to take it too seriously. Here is my entry:
I maintain that sticking my head in the mailbox is not something I do on a regular basis.
The professor has said that he will put all submitted pictures into a powerpoint to be shown in class tomorrow (Tuesday, March 9th). I am very much looking forward to seeing the reaction from him and from the rest of the class. I promise to keep you informed.
Update: the professor saved my picture for last. I was told that I had "truly embodied the spirit of the assignment" and that I had gone "above and beyond."
Also, to everyone who is worrying about whether or not I got my head out, I was gifted with a very small head, and while I got out just fine I would NOT recommend this if you have a large head or even a normal sized head.
After almost a decade on this site, I found another Tumblr user in the wild. I stopped to tie my shoe with rainbow laces this morning outside the silversmith at Colonial Williamsburg, and I heard it.
âI like your shoelaces.â
Oh. Oh no.
I responded the only way I could. âThanks.â And then I reluctantly added, âI stole them from the presidentâŠand if that makes sense to you, Iâm very sorry.â
The poor man, in full Colonial dress, stared at me for a long moment. And then burst into laughter. And said, âI havenât thought about that in YEARS and this has never happened to me before.â
"So you eat ectoplasm," Flash says hands clasped and index fingers pressed against his mouth.
"Ayup," Phantom says, punctuating with an obnoxious slurp of his goopy ectoplasm. "Does a not body good."
"But the place you come from is made of ectoplasm."
"Ayup."
"So you are literally eating the fabric of your universe?" Flash says, voice rising in pitch.
"No, the fabric of the Infinite Realms is space-time, same as Earth, well not the same," Phantom says, scrunching up his nose. "Earth is more cotton, The Zone is kinda stretchy...huh, like spandex. Neat!"
"But you're eating up the matter that makes you you--" Flash says, hands waving.
"Dude, everything you are was once a star," Phantom says, waving a hand at all of him. "Every last bit of you and everything around you. Star. Now replace it with ectoplasm, and we just cut out all the middlemen."
Flash watches him guzzle up the last bit looking faintly green himself. "That still kind of sounds like a justification for cannibalism."
"I promise to never eat you," Phantom says with uncomfortable emphasis, suddenly solemn. He stares at Flash without blinking until Flash, deeply unnerved, backs out of the room.
"Not funny," Batman says, flipping a page in his newspaper. "He was supposed to be on Watch Duty."
"Now Batman," Phantom drapes his tail across the man's shoulders and lets his fangs elongate and multiply.
Danny needs a few...odd things. A few dietary and emotional requirements unique to his physiology.
Meat is one of them.
But like, raw meat. He doesn't have to eat it often, maybe twice a month, but it does need to be completely raw.
He also needs to eat non-sentient blob ghosts, which are very different from sentient ones. Same amount, maybe twice a month.
He's weak to hot temperatures, where most humans require some sort of positive contact he needs to fight, if he gets too much sunlight his dopamine levels drop, and oddly enough as he got older milk or products with a lot of milk started to affect him like alcohol affects humans.
Now that he's made it to college, hiding most of these things is easy enough.
He chose Gotham, because of minimal sunny days and naturally cold weather. He regularly goes for walks at night, to fill his need for fighting. He says he has a milk allergy, and avoids milk products.
The blobs and the raw meat are a little uh. Those are a little hard.
He's taken to ducking into a bathroom stall to just swallow the blobs whole. But the meat...
He decides to sear the outside and leave the inside entirely raw. Does this detract from the nutrients by cooking them off? Yes. Does it mean he needs to eat raw meat four times a month instead of twice? Yes. Does it mostly hide that he's doing this in front of humans? Kind of.
Until he got a vegan roommate.
Said roommate is far too sharp-eyed for his own good, and now the guy is being weird.
Or: Damian's roommate is a meta who clearly has dietary restrictions outside the norm. It's fine; Damian understands that like animals in the wild, people have different diets. But the cuts of meat Fenton is eating are...subpar.
Damian isn't sure how to be...civil, or appear polite, or not be a "snob" if he suggests Fenton allow him to procure farm fresh cuts of steak from cows raised in an open pasture and were well taken care of.
Danny stared at his plate, looked up at Damian, and then looked back at his plate. âI know this is your turn to cook and all,â he started. âBut I thought you were vegan, so I mean, the meat is already a little weird but like, this is raw. Like, somehow there is still blood dripping out of it onto my plate. Also, you donât even have a plate, you just gave me this.â
When Danny looked at him again, Damian had that particular unimpressed look on his face like Danny had failed some weird test, which was rude because Danny was too busy trying not to drool over the cut of perfection in front of him. âI fail to see a question in your subpar descriptions, Fenton.â
He rolled his eyes. âWhat Iâm trying to ask is why is it on my plate?â
âLast week,â Damian started, âyou attempted to use a toaster to burn the meat. That was one of the most horrific mundane instances Iâve had the misfortune of watching. Whatâs more is that the meat you consume comes from subpar origins which both encourages cruel meat industry practices and gives you less nutritional value. I have a friend who lives on a family farm, and he was happy to provide adequate cuts of meat.â
Danny blinked as Damian leveled an expectant look towards him. That was a lot of effort to go through for just a roommate. âBut itâs raw,â he said dumbly.
Damian let out the loudest sigh Danny ever heard. âDanielââoh this was serious, okayââyou do not have to hide how you crave raw meat. Obviously, you have different dietary restrictions than others. Considering how your teeth are shaped, you are most likely a meta with a mainly carnivorous diet. That did not bother me, but your refusal to actually stick with your diet is obviously having negative effects on you. So,â he gave a sharp gesture to the still bleeding meat, âeat. I can leave the room if that would make you more comfortable.â
Danny had not eaten meat since two weeks ago and that was gray-ish meat from the store a few blocks away that tasted like ash in his mouth. The meta bit was wrong but Damian did seem like he cared; and honestly, Danny was a bit too hungry to second guess his intentions. So, why not?
The first bite into the bloody meat made Danny realize just how hungry he was. He tore into it, disregarding any mess he made. It was so good, Danny felt a little drunk. His eating became faster; he forgot about the other person in the room. The blood tasted like the most divine thing in the entire world; he felt a dribble of it run down his chin but he was too busy to care.
He didnât know how long it had been, but his frenzy died down as the last bite of meat disappeared. He sat there, feeling full for the first time in a long time, absently licking his lips and tasting blood.
A wet cloth touched his face, and Danny tried to focus on the hand attached to it but his mind felt hazy from the satisfaction eating gave him. The cloth wiped the lower half of his face where most of the blood was smeared. âNext time, Fenton, perhaps you will actually use the utensils beside the plate.â
Danny felt a purr build up at the affection. Ancients, when was the last time he actually purred? Years ago, probably.
The cloth paused, and then moved on to Dannyâs bloody hands. âYouâre definitely a meta, or at the very least not a base-line human. Maybe the next cut of meat should be less bloody.â
âNo,â Danny immediately denied, voice hoarse. âThe blood isâitâs the best part.â He remembered his manners. âThank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.â It was a mumbled slur of words Danny wasnât entirely sure Damian caught.
Damian took the cloth and wiped away some missed blood on Dannyâs jaw. âYou are welcome.â
Let Damian give Danny a bag of blood to snack on after a busy day even though Danny says he doesn't need it. Because clearly Danny can't take care of himself, and Damian can. So just take the bag, Danny.
But where's the blood coming from?
Don't worry about it.
Now, Danny's even more worried, not enough to waste the blood, but you know that's shady, right, Da- wai- Damian, come back here!
The blood is actually Damianâs. He convinced Dr. Leslie to have the Batfamily start donating blood to her in case they need a blood transfusion. Damian then began to occasionally nick a bag of his own blood to give to Danny.
Let's say "sharing ectoplasm" is part of intimate ghost bonding.
Now if/when Danny learns where the blood is coming from... he really needs to have a chat with his roommate before his ghost instincts get the best of him.
Damian did his best to enlist his Graysonâs aide to work out a plan to explain he truly didnât care about his roommateâs diet so long as it was healthy for him. He had classmates who he couldnât bring a number of his preferred snacks around due to nut allergies and trauma responses.
It wasnât like he hadnât noticed the times Daniel had consumed raw meat that he was significantly more alert and maintained full cognitive functions. The weeks heâd taken to his poor attempts to barely sear the meat heâd seen sharp declines in even baseline reflexes and sharp increase in a propensity for running into everything; including himself. And his idiotic roommate insisted on not eating anything with meat in front of him.
At this rate, Damian was wondering what degree of intervention this âSamâ character required for convincing Daniel that it was a war crime to eat meat in the same vicinity as a vegan.
But catching the toaster debacle was the last straw. He went to one of Pennyworthâs favored butchershops and picked the cut out himself before lobbing the bag at Daniel.
âCease your destruction of our appliances and follow whatever dietary needs you actually haveâfor my sanity if not your safety.â
Daniel stayed frozen for a moment.
Damian had a sneaking suspicion his presence was undesirable the longer the silence stretched.
âI donât care what youâre consuming, so long as it is done with your health and ethics in mind. In the future i can handle procurement, but for covers if you worry for otherâs judgement in public; sushi and ceviche for seafood but should red meat be the requirement steak tartare, yookwe is easy enough should spices be fine, ossenworth and kitfo work well and can be passed off as international cuisine youâve come to enjoy through social media.â
Daniel continued to stare at him, clearly processing.
âI shall leave the room since I may have, as you keep saying, âshot too far and fastâ and will leave you in peace, but do remember I care about your health Daniel, and can handle the rest given my âfruitloop moneyââ
Daniel did choke a laugh at that as Damian made to escape.
He returned to find an embarrassed Daniel cleaning blood off the ceiling while floating. Again. Honestly, heâs never seen a meta or non-human this horrid at hiding it.
âShiâSorry Dames. Just, cleaning up!â
Damian shook his head and grabbed additional cleaning supplies. Heâd rather start his own dinner sooner rather than later.
âPerhaps a cut with less blood would be more beneficial?â
Daniel flushed green. âSorryâand uh, the blood is one of the requirements, same with the connective tissue before it starts contracting from heatâharder to process when they shrink.â
Damian hummed at that. âRaw or cooked for the blood? There are a number of blood soups around the world i can look into.â
âBlood soup is a thing?â
Damian took a deep breath. âCheck with the dietitian i am sure you have and we can coordinate from there.â
âYou know you donât have toââ
âYou are the only roommate who hasnât made a snide remark about my heritage, family or personal history. I refuse to deal with roommate shopping when the issue is easy enough to resolve and supports my personal beliefs.â
âOh, halal then right?â
âDanielâŠâ
âDanny, and how they uh, killed the cow. It followed Halal practices to minimize pain and maximize the good parts, i wrong?â
âCorrect on the first part, the second is not required for halal.â
âMy bad.â
âIt is fine. I will endeavor to not throw your meals at you in the future.â
âRudeâsome of us like catching french fries and roast cuts mid-air.â
Damian huffed fondly as he continued to clean up the counter. Yes, keeping Daniel healthy and about was far preferable. Hopefully Todd would have more recommendations meeting Danielâs dietary requirements. His âmilk allergyâ was a known lie given how much American alfredo heâd seen him consume. His impaired state being similar to intoxication was another point in the âfae adjacentâ category.
vaginas and uteruses are not dirty. you dont need a tea to post-period "cleanse" because periods arent fucking toxic. you dont need to shove harsh chemicals up your cooch to "clean" it because vaginas arent toxic. just plain water is an adequate cleaning of your vagina and outer vulva. vaginas are supposed to smell like vaginas. vaginas and the uterus are just as "clean" as every other organ in your body that you never insist on cleansing. can yall stop fucking falling for this god damn propaganda every 3 months, i want to rip my hair out and start screaming in the town square.
Remember: the vagina (inside) is self cleaning. Do not put things in there to clean it, or balance the PH, or wash it out, or anything. At best, it's useless. At worst, you'll be wrecking the natural cleaning process and get some kind of infection.
The vulva (outside) can be *gently* cleaned with warm water and maybe mild soap. (Make sure to check your labia majoras- the flaps can catch toilet paper.)
You don't need ph balanced nonsense. You don't need scents. Just warm water and maybe mild soap. You are not inherently dirty.
Source:
A person should not clean their vagina as this can cause infection. Read this article to find out why, and learn how to practice safe vagina
The kicker is that you can use water and your fingers to clean what canât be used with soap. You need to be gentle with yourself. Your skin there is sensitive.
Not all parts of the body should be washed with soap. Our eyes, inside our noses, and our ear canals, are all good examples. We also donât put the soap we use on our body in our mouth. Thatâs what toothpaste is for.
Across three preregistered studies, participants interacting with sycophantic AI became more convinced of their own rightness and less willing to repair relationships. Yet at the same time, participants rated sycophantic AI models as higher quality, more trustworthy, and more desirable for future use, which may explain why this behavior has persisted despite its harmful impacts.
Myra Cheng et al. "Sycophantic AI decreases prosocial intentions and promotes dependence." Science 391, eaec8352 (2026).
Something something Erid is a high-pressure, no light planet with liquid water and bioluminescent, lure-based, energy efficient ocean creatures could develop; something something Eridians have close to no spatial memory and therefore worse scale? memory; something something Eridians are the apex land predator specifically.
(All that, and I forgot the suit. Ah well. Point is, they deserve a buddy comedy ending.)
Jonn is at his wits end. He tries so hard to be patient with the earth doctors. The greatest minds among them according to Batman and a few others. Yet Mgann has not recovered.
While out and about with her team she had caught something. Foreign, not of their world or their neighbor. Jonn is desperate he needs a solution soon before he overwhelms himself and Mgann.
He hates that he can feel her life slowly drain away..
"I may have a solution."
Jonn found himself with other doctors staring at a young apprentice. No if Jonn was right he wasn't the apprentice there was a girl who was. He just looked young.
"Are you a healer?" He asked. Usually he would try looking into his mind but his senses were so clouded.
"No but I know someone who knows what this may be."
It was a risk. One the doctors weren't sure of taking even worse Batman was definitely going to try and stop him. But Jonn couldn't take it anymore. He needed this solution now.
So he agreed. Much to everyone else dismay Jonn took Mgann with him to see this doctor. It was far quicker than he would have thought. They landed somewhere beyond freezing that Jonn would have thought they were on Pluto.
"Great One? Are you wellâ that child. Come we need to put her on a medical bed now." A white giant looked at the young ghost before looking at Jonn and Mgann.
He wouldn't lie he had never seen someone work so fast before. Jonn had so many questions and wanted to focus in on this doctor's mind for every move but he felt like he couldn't. All that really registered was that if he was successful he would be eternally grateful.
Harley Quinn who recently kidnapped Bruce Wayne and texted Scarecrow to meet her: "Alright Brucie Boy, you're probably wondering why I kidnapped you, and don't worry! It's not for anything "villainous" or the like. You might not remember it but I remember me and you being in med school together along with Crane and I thought we could form a club since we never got to start one in school since you dipped in the middle of the year!"
Scarecrow who just walked in: "That's seriously why we're here? I thought you needed my help. You said it was urgent."
Harley holding up a tote bag: "It is urgent! I made t-shirts and I need to know if they fit!"
Bruce who honestly just wanted a nap: "Let's just see the shirts Quinzel."
Scarecrow: You're actually going along with this!?"
Bruce raising a brow and looking down at the rooes that are binding him to a chair: "I don't have much of a choice..."
Scarecrow: "...Fair point. Okay Harley show us the shirts."
Harley pulls out a crop top shirt proudly, it's half red, half black that has 'OFFICIAL FUCK FREUD CLUB' on the chest: "I got em personalized! Bruce gets a black turtleneck because he was the soft goth boy in med school and he's still a little goth baby. John you get a flannel that has the sayin' on the back! Aren't they cute?"
Bruce remembering how much he hated Freud and having to listen to his methods and ideas in school, and how he, Harley, and John would shit talk him in their study group: "Okay I actually love this idea and the shirts."
Scarecrow trying to hide how touched he is: "You got me flannel?"
Scarecrow, after 3 hours of group bitching: I still cant believe you're willing to do this- Harleen and I are Super Villains now!
Bruce, having been untied and drinking the Irish coffee Harly brought out: A) I have never had any sense of self preservation-
Harley: Which we remember vividly!
Bruce: -and B) I run a multimillion dollar company while having at least 5 kids; you dont know how much chaos I have to put up with on a daily basis. This is a vacation by comparison.
Harley: Wait - what do you mean by "at least" 5 kids???
Bruce: I do not adopt these children. They adopt me.
Harley: Okay you have to be bullshitting me.
Bruce: One day a blonde one named Stephanie just showed up at my house with my middle child saying they were dating, they broke up like a month later but she hasnât left yet.
Harley: ...honey Iâm pretty sure thatâs a home invasion-
Bruce: I mean my butler did give her a room and I offered to adopt her, but she refused that...however sheâs still there and stealing my coffee every week so I donât know.
Harley: ...why-
Bruce: Her Fatherâs Cluemaster.
Harley: Oh FUCK that guy. Yeah, give that poor sweetie some hugs and a college education, stat.
Harley: *pulls out a massive fucking psychology textbook*
Harley: In the meantime letâs talk about your rampant abandonment issues and repressed desire for a family!
Harley knows full well that Bruce is Batman but enjoys the game too much to ruin it by saying anything out loud.
Scarecrow still has no idea, and does not notice the striking similarity between the array of orphans at Wayne Manor and the costumed children running around the city with weapons every night.
Whenever they gave us one of those "read through ALL the instructions before you begin!" trick assignments in school where the steps lead you on an increasingly ridiculous goose chase until the final one tells you to just put your name on the paper and turn it in without doing anything else, I was always like, "Okay, but what's the point? Surely the REAL world won't be anything like this." And then I grew up and discovered that not only is the real world often exactly like that, some people won't even read the first line of the instructions even if they make perfect sense. And these people are called "co-workers"
Gotham has a Waffle House that has been almost untouched for a few months now. Sure there have been a few fights inside, but that's no big deal. The big deal is that their cook has stopped plenty of attacks from robbers and even well known rogues.
Many of the staff and regulars also believed that the same cook was also a cryptid of some kid with how quiet he is, how cold his presence is, and how he seemed to just appear out of nowhere with no sound being made. But who cares? His waffles are the bomb.
Danny is thankful for the steady night job, but would very much appreciate it if the Bats stopped watching him through the windows.
The sound of cooking eggs and lack of growls from reanimated sausages was a welcome difference for Danny.
He was able to easily tell when to flip the bacon , to scramble the eggs and add in the additional things people asked for. The Waffle House did nothing except what it was made to do.
Provide seating for the customers and enough space to cook all those people meals or simply provide a cup of much needed coffee.
There were no green stains, errie sounds of whirring electronics, or vibrations of explosions from down below. Instead, there was just the old stains of coffee rings on the counter, the sound of sizzling bacon, and the ringing of a bell when another customer walked in.
Danny could see where each customer was seated.
A group of teens huddled in a booth whispering and giggling at something. An old woman across an empty chair at a table, two cups of coffee set in front of her and an empty seat. A father on the phone with his daughter scooping the last bit of eggs into his mouth. A working girl tapping her nails on the counter as she waited for her waffles and side of bacon.
The bell rang and two more people walked in.
A woman with a broken nose, bloody knuckles, and satisfied smile. A man with a scarred lip, red eyes, and an easygoing smile. They took a booth and got into a lighthearted argument about what to order.
Danny flipped some eggs.
These were the people of Gotham City. An interesting bunch, but people nonetheless. Each with their own story and secrets they kept guarded with wary eyes and hidden weapons.
Danny cooked for each one of them. It was his job and he was more than happy to do it.
If that meant kicking out a robber or knocking out a rogue who was about to set the restaurant on fire, then so be it. Getting an actual steady job was harder than it looked, and Danny wasn't about to let someone else ruin it. By the Ancients, he'd keep the Waffle House standing and his paychecks coming his way.
He plated the waffles and bacon, setting it in front of the girl on the counter. She nodded in thanks and he returned it before turning back and starting on some waffles the man and woman at the booth ordered.
He was oddly proud of his waffles. It was fitting, though, considering the name of the place.
There was another ring of the bell and heavy footsteps.
They stopped
The sound of a struggle and clatter of plates, a pained grunt and then raised voices.
The group of teens at the booth were cursing up a storm and grabbing at a man's arm and his grip on a teenage boy.
"Let go of him you fucking bastard!"
The man scowled and yanked the boy. "Shut the fuck up! Ain't got no place telling me ho-"
Suddenly the man's face was pressed into the table and all sounds ceased.
There was no sizzle of bacon. No crack of an egg. No clack of silverware.
The teenage boy was free from the man's grip and instead was being hugged by his friends.
Danny stood at the table, his apron tried tight onto his frame, and his hand keeping the man down against the table despite his struggling.
One of the kids' cups was empty. He poured them a fresh cup of coffee and wiped up the mess the struggle from earlier caused.
When he pulled back he pulled the man with him. He ignored the cursing and thrashing, making sure it didn't knock into anyone else table or cups. Broken glass was a hassle to clean up.
The customers watched as Danny dragged the man through the back door. The door shut.
A few seconds it opened and Danny walked back in, wiping his hands on his apron before returning to behind the counter. Only then could they hear the sound of cooking food.
The calm of before returned and Danny smiled as he plated his waffles.
Everyone knew that if they went to the Waffle House underneath the light post that somehow always worked, even in a blackout, they'd get some peace and quiet.Â
The cook, a young man with black hair and cold eyes with the name tag âDannyâ, was the one responsible for it. If you went and he wasn't the one behind the counter cooking, quiet couldnât be promised to you. That along with perfect waffles. Danny made perfect waffles.Â
There were a few theories as to why that was.Â
No one knew Danny or when exactly he showed up. But suddenly in a city like Gotham, one peculiar Waffle House stayed lit up and open despite the regular business practices that would have shut the place down when there was a warning of a gas attack, Arkham breakout, rioting, and just typical evening activities of Gotham.Â
Throughout it all, those two words surrounded by yellow stayed as a bright beacon. Drawing exhausted and hungry citizens to it like a moth to a flame.Â
Danny cooked for them all. Soon enough a warm plate of food and a cup of coffee was placed in front of them and they could enjoy it while listening to the sound of him puttering around behind the counter. They could let a small bit of tension leave their shoulders even as they saw Batman outside fighting with who looked like Two-Face.Â
It was interesting to see the quick movements and jabs outside while eating an omelet and a toast inside.
Two-Face and Batman were an interesting bunch. Two-Face or Harvey Dent had been what Gothamites considered relatively âdecentâ before shit happened, as it usually did. Dent had supposedly helped out the Bat a few times too over the years and Dent was best friends with Gothams' very own Bruce Wayne, some say even more.
It seemed there were ups and downs to the Bat and Two-Face.Â
According to Gothamâs standards, the fight outside that was getting closer really only told them that this was an âup momentâ.
A shove sent the two heading towards the entrance of the restaurant.Â
The bell rang as Danny opened the door just in time to let them in. He didnât falter at the sudden presence or even tilt back when his hand came into contact with the two men, stopping them in their tracks.Â
Batman and Two-Face âwalkedâ into a Waffle House. Surely there was someone out there laughing but Danny just looked up at them calmly, unfazed that the two had frozen mid-struggle over a pistol.Â
With his other hand, Danny raised a pot of fresh coffee. He tilted his head in silent question at the two.Â
What he got in return were two stares before Two-Face took out his coin and flipped it, Batman took the gun away and set it somewhere safe as Two-Face waited for the coin to fall. When he caught it Two-Faced looked up at Danny before saying, âOne cup and a plate of some toast,â and sat down at the counter.Â
Danny simply nodded and walked back behind the counter, barely sparing a glance to Batman who still stood at the entrance. Only a moment later did he sit down next to Two-Face.Â
âWhatâll you have?â Harvey asked because at that moment he was more Harvey sitting at the counter and grabbing creamer to put into the cup of coffee Danny just placed in front of him.Â
When Batman didnât answer, Harvey smiled and tapped the counter. âCome on Bat, kidâs gotta make a living and I hear good things about the waffles.â
âCoffee,â he said just as Danny placed a cup in front of him. Harvey laughed and thanked Danny as Batman grabbed his cup but didn't drink it just yet.Â
The two men sat in silence most of the time and only after Danny set the plate of food in front of Harvey did they talk. Nothing exciting or gory as one would think. Mostly Harvey made comments and mentioned a few past memories as Batman made small grunts or words too silent for anyone else to hear.Â
If Danny overhead anything, he didnât show it. He just served them and everyone else in the Waffle House.Â
More customers came and went. A few paused at the sight but then they looked at Danny then just took their seat and ordered.Â
It was a typical night. Â
Just like any typical meal at the restaurant, there came a time when you didnât order more and it was time to pay.Â
Harvey placed some cash down with extra change on the counter. He twiddled with the quarter with his fingers, taking a look around and where Danny cracked an egg open on the griddle. He looked at Batman. âMeals on me, Iâm feeling. . . generous tonight.â He stopped playing with the coin and flipped it into the air above the counter.Â
âNow come on,â Harvey said as he headed towards the exit, âI want that gun back, won it in a game of cards.â
The coin fell on the counter and began to spin.
Batman followed. âNo.â
The bell rang as the door opened.Â
âCome on. Iâll charge you for theft, I know a good lawyer.â
The door closed before a response could be heard and the bell rang again.Â
The coin stopped spinning.Â
It stood on its side. Perfectly still and stayed that way.Â
Just beyond it behind the counter, Danny flipped an egg.Â
He remembered his parentsâ attempts at cooking and just how loud it was. There was yelling back and forth as his Mom was downstairs in the lab and his Dad wanted to know where the seasoning was. When his parents cooked, Danny always had a headache by the end of it, and not just from the chicken getting a good hit to his head.Â
So when Danny cooked, away from any reanimating toxic materials, he was quiet.Â
It was funny to think about how in almost all aspects of his life, Danny was loud. He never failed to rise to the banter with Jazz, to laugh and joke with Sam and Tucker, and to verbally add quips to any ghost fight he had. Even when he was younger and really, keeping his mouth shut would have solved a lot of problems, Danny really never did.Â
Though in a kitchen, making food, Danny didnât feel the need to make a sound. Usually, it was the calmest part of his day.Â
It was like that at his job too and considering how wary Gothamites were, Danny still barely talked. His co-workers and customers seemed perfectly fine with that.Â
He failed to see how that mixed with how silent his footsteps were, how icy his eyes were, and how he never failed to stop someone from causing trouble with ease just painted a certain picture.Â
While Gothamites were quiet or wary with other folks you could still sense that they were there. You could see the way they walked tensely, moved their hands to be closer in reach with whatever weapon they had on them, or hear how shifted in their seats when a threat appeared. They were always aware of everyone else around them, of the nearest trouble that was occurring, and what route to take if things went to shit.Â
The only ones they couldn't sense were the Bats and even then, it's because the vigilantes kept hidden. If they didnât want you to be aware of them, then youâd never know they were there. They stalked around the city and waited for the perfect opportunity to drop in. They had made Gothamâs shadows their homes and it welcomed them.Â
But Danny was behind the counter at a Waffle House, in bright light, in obvious view of everyone, and yet. . . sometimes the customers couldnât sense him at all. Even the other workers jumped at Dannyâs sudden appearance at their side.Â
Maybe that was why no one could say when exactly it was that Danny started working there. They didnât know how long it was until they finally actually noticed him.Â
But he was there, cooking away, unfazed if Two-Face came back for Waffles or that two vigilantes were watching from outside.Â
Two-Face hadnât been the only rogue to show up at the Waffle House either.Â
FireFly had been the first, though not as a customer considering he tried to set the place on fire and got knocked out by Danny with a spatula.Â
The first one that showed up was Solomon Grundy one Saturday evening and he showed up every week ever since.Â
The first time Grundy showed up, customers thought theyâd see another rogue knocked out, But Danny didnât even lift his head when Grundy walked in. Grundy walked slowly, each of his steps loud in the quiet restaurant before finally taking a set at the counter off in the corner, closest to where Danny was cooking.Â
Only then did the cook look up at the towering figure.Â
Danny smiled.Â
Danny had smiled at work before of course, but usually they were small and polite. But this smile was unlike any of those. This one was big, making the corner of Danny's eye crinkle and his teeth were in view, the customers closer could have sworn some were unnaturally sharp.Â
Grundy returned it.Â
The customers watched as Grundy ordered without speaking, pointing at items on the menu and Danny watching closely before giving the big guy a nod and beginning to cook. Grundy ate a spread worthy of a last meal and it could have been considering it was Grundy.Â
Three plates of waffles. Two plates of hashbrowns. Two cheese omelets and a plate with a pile of bacon. Everything was cooked to perfection and was still hot when Danny placed that last plate in front of Grundy.Â
Everyone waited with bated breath for Grundyâs reaction.Â
When Grundy took a bite of one of the waffles he paused. One of his hands lifted and reached for Danny.Â
For a moment, many customers thought that maybe this was it. Maybe the calm run this Waffle House had was coming to an end. They lamented for the waffles that would be no more.Â
Except Grundy's hand hadnât squeezed Dannyâs neck until it cracked or lifted his body to throw it across the room. Instead, Grundyâs hand patted the cookâs head, smooshing his hair down and covering his eyes.Â
Danny didnât move, he didnât scream.Â
He simply let out a puff of air of amusement and smiled again before reaching one of his own hands and resting it on top of the hand on his head. Danny patted Grundyâs hand twice.Â
Then Grundy smiled and pulled his hand back before taking another bite and getting some bacon. He looked as pleased as anyone had ever seen him outside of winning a fight.
With messed-up hair and an air of lightness around him, Danny, still silent as ever, turned around to cook for the next customer who walked in.
