Can any one help me? There’s this prompt her on tumblr that Damien Wayne is the reincarnation of Sam Manson. They realize this after meeting Tucker’s reincarnation and decides to come out the the bat family as trans. They are super supportive of this and when Bruce asks what she wants to be called now she surprises everyone by asking Bruce to name her and all she asks is that it’s a fully Arabic name and starts with the letter S. (As a tribute to her past life)
I mostly wrote this due to the lack of Trans Femme Danny.
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When it came to magic the justice league had 2 people they asked. Zatanna, is the most popular option. She was kind but straight to the point. Knowledgeable and quick to answer even with her busy schedule. The other was John Constantine. They only called him if Zatanna was unavailable. He was stubborn rude and most times cryptic. He was about as helpful as a crossword puzzle. If you got ahold of him then you're either lucky or Batman.
The difference between Zatanna and Constantine was how much people knew about them. Zatanna was public, she was an actress and performer while Constantine only had rumors and speculations around him. His reputation was about as much as people knew about Constantine's private life.
On such occasions, Zatanna actually redirected the league to Constantine. She told them that despite her having her specialities, necromancy and the dead was a Constantine thing. She didn't know why or how he knew so much but he was their best option for the current problem the league was having. They were hesitant but didn't really have a choice. Constantine wasn't in the tower like usual so they had to call him.
"This better be important spooky I am kinda busy." There was a lot of screaming on his end. Batman explained their situation and Constantine couldn't help but chuckled.
"I'm not an expert, but my wife can definitely give you advice on a ghost."
But like, doing magic tricks. The classic "pull rings through each other" and "summon doves from a hat" type. Danny becomes famous because he tells everyone he's an ice-powered meta, which everyone believes when he pulls an intricate ice rose out of thin air, but this doesn't explain how he's going through seemingly solid objects or making items unattached to strings float.
Sincerely, how did he summon a flock of birds through his hat?
For the most part, he doesn't use his ghost powers outside of his intangibility, telekinesis, and his ice powers - but every once in a while, he decides to be a little more flashy, or gets a new power that he immediately thinks of a trick for, and then suddenly he's got lightning in the palm of his hand on stage or an eerie green glow on an otherwise dark stage. Maybe he lifts something that physically shouldn't be possible for him to lift because he forgets that humans of his build can't lift it.
Other career magicians spend their free time trying to debunk his tricks as "not real magic, here's how you do it" but it's obvious that they're not even close in quality to Danny's magic. There's even magicians trying to disprove that Danny is an ice meta and that it's all just sleight of hand.
This continues to increase Danny's fame until, suddenly, he's sharing a stage with THE Zatanna.
AKA "Danny Fenton works as a barista at a late night coffee shop and unintentionally solves crime. Red Robin claims dibs." DPxDC Dead Tired prompt!
The first time Danny meets Red Robin is at 2am and the espresso machine is broken. Izzy, his co-worker, panics and Danny doesn't really understand why - how busy can it get at 2am on a Tuesday?
Turns out, very busy. A certain population of Gotham - goons, students, and bird themed vigilantes alike - seem to flock to the coffee shop like feral turkeys. It slows down a bit by 3am and the only remaining resident is a red-caped vigilante who stole a spot in the corner with a hoard of muffins and three cups of light roast coffee, mumbling to himself over crumpled notes.
Danny happens to be walking by to wipe down a table when he overhears, "What the hell could BM mean??" and he can't help but bark a badly concealed laugh. Red Robin whips his head around, the eerie whites of his eyemask gleaming as he seemingly thinks very hard, before offering a very flattering half-smile.
"No, I'm serious! It doesn't mean what you think it means. It's code for something else, I swear."
"Yeah?" Danny ghosts closer, hip bumping against the table as he crosses his arms. (He doesn't think he's imagining it when Red Robin's gaze seems fixated on Danny's forearms and biceps where his t-shirt cuff rolled up. Unless he is? He can't exactly see the guy's eyes are looking.) "What's the context? The Riddler left Batman a love letter again?"
"Worse. Riddler is smart with his clues. This is like trying to decipher a diary written by a toddler." Red Robin's face scrunches into a scowl with a shake of his head, as if trying to shake a thought away. And what can he say? Danny's intrigued. He may double majoring in rocket science, but he's had his fair share of overly complicated vague comments by an omnipotent entity. He's sure a half-assed Riddler-wanna-be goon can't be worse. Danny nudges Red Robin's arm out of the way (and ignores the way the guy turns stiff as a board, not even seeming to breathe for a second) to look at the crumpled paper.
The riddle is... not a riddle. Danny recognizes it immediately, much to his amusement. It's something the kids in Amity used to do in High School to make up cool new slang words.
"It's short-hand but using trigger words or phrases to replace phonemes. Bm is bat-man, which can be replaced by words like 'bowel movement' or 'shit'. See here? The words 'sw' and 'compass' are repeated, I'd bet that's code for northwest - the abbreviated word is 'nw'. Night-wing." Danny squints down at the page again. Red Robin's expression is stupefied, shifting quickly between amused and baffled.
"So... this says that Nightwing is taking a package to Batman? Or they want him to, or are worried that he will? I don't know for sure."
And the amusement is gone. The vigilante's expression turns placid, almost apathetic, even though his skin looks a little more pale; he murmurs a tepid "thanks" and retrieves the paper with a movement that seems a little too panicked.
(Later, Danny will hear that several Gotham-Rogue-wannabes got arrested for attempting to sell a new version of venom. Apparently their plan was to disguise a deadly airborne substance as their first 'shipment' so they could infect the Bats once it was confiscated and then move out their second shipment to actual buyers. The GCPD couldn't figure out how the Bats always seemed to know.)
Despite Red Robin's abrupt departure, he quickly came back to the coffee shop - and often. Obviously, only to get assistance with more cases.
((Izzy will never forget finding Danny and Red Robin doing stuff in the alleyway behind the coffee stop, despite Danny's red-faced excuses that he was just being saved from a mugging.))
The gala was in full swing at Wayne Manor, glittering with Gotham’s elite. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft strains of a classical quartet played in the background. Danny Fenton, in an ill-fitting tux borrowed from someone much taller, leaned against a column with a flute of something bubbly he wasn't entirely sure was non-alcoholic.
From his vantage point, he had the perfect view of his sister, Jazz, and—unfortunately—Dick Grayson trying, and failing, to flirt with her.
"You're into psychology? That's wild, I'm kind of a master of body language." Dick gave a dazzling grin, eyebrows bouncing like he was in a toothpaste commercial.
Jazz blinked at him, utterly unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you read Freud for the articles?”
Danny winced from across the room. “Oof,” he muttered, sipping whatever this was. “She's not even pulling punches tonight.”
Beside him, Tim Drake appeared with a glass of water and a raised eyebrow. “How long’s this been going on?”
“Grayson’s been at it for fifteen minutes,” Danny said. “It's like watching a golden retriever try to seduce a cat. Painful, but kind of impressive in its optimism.”
Dick tried another move, casually flexing as he reached for a canapé. Jazz didn’t even blink.
Danny snorted. “Dude, give it up,” he called out as Dick stepped back for a breath. “She likes older guys.”
Dick turned and pouted. “I am older than her!”
Danny just pointed across the ballroom. “Not old enough.”
There, Jazz was zeroing in on Bruce Wayne himself—billionaire, philanthropist, and, as far as Jazz was concerned, “a prime specimen of rugged fatherhood.”
“She thinks Bruce Wayne is a total DILF,” Danny added, sipping again, eyes never leaving the trainwreck in motion.
Dick stared, mouth slightly open, watching as Jazz approached Bruce with the confidence of a woman who had studied Freud and Jung and decided to psychologically profile this man in real time.
“Oh my god,” Dick whispered. “She’s doing the eyebrow thing.”
“She’s doing the eyebrow thing,” Danny confirmed solemnly. “It’s over. May Bruce rest in peace.”
From across the room, Jazz offered Bruce a dazzling smile and said something that made the corner of his mouth twitch upward—the Wayne smirk, rare and powerful.
Tim blinked. “He’s smirking. She got the smirk. That’s—kind of terrifying.”
“She once convinced the FBI that our ghost dog was a federal asset,” Danny said. “This is light work for her.”
Meanwhile, Dick looked betrayed. “He’s like a thousand years older than her!”
Danny clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, buddy. You’re a gymnast. Bruce is a whole genre.”
Tim coughed, trying not to laugh. “Should we… do something?”
Danny shrugged. “Nah. Let her cook.”
And across the ballroom, Jazz leaned in slightly closer, her smile brilliant, and Bruce Wayne—Batman, scourge of Gotham’s underworld—looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, flattered, or afraid.
Danny smirked. This gala was way more fun than he thought it’d be.
Oh hey, it's Bruce's type! "I think I may be mildly afraid of you"! This hasn't happened in a while. Thanks... they hate it! (Their dad? FLIRTING? Uuuuuuuuuugh. Oh god END THEM)
See... I need? NEED?? Her to be the scary one. Like Martha Wayne was.
Cause everyone's all "oh, she a young, pretty, gold digger, right?" Only to have-> *Boss Music Starts Playing* Run™
She WILL come for each and every one of your bones, individually. Have you MET her mother? Ha! Fuck. Sweet JESUS. She is HORRIFYING in how Bruce Wayne, NOT "BRUCIE" Wayne's, Type she is.
As is? Catwoman, Talia AL Ghul, Wonder Woman, and now? Jasmine Fenton. It's a very, VERY scary class of women.
He'll hold her delicate lil champagne glass and earrings, while she breaks your knees. She had him read the second she walked in. He likes that in a woman. There are terrifying 25+ layer mindgame-y lvls of flirtation going on here. It's both creepy and bizarre. Freak for freak behavior.
God help us all... He might actually end up happy.
EVERYONE is gonna believe the smart ambitious redhead, young enough to be his daughter, seduced Gotham's beloved dumbass himbo. But? It's the meeting of the minds. Genius to genius communication. She STILL can't aim for shit, but who cares!? He's Batman.
They consume the tabloids.
Her brother is literally Supernatural and has Time itself on speed dial.
You have not BEGUN to comprehend the levels of their new Contingencies™
Honestly this makes so much sense. Bruce's type has always been women who will Domme him. And for once he got one who will actually work to not aggravate any of his mental issues.
At the very least it would almost certainly be healthier on an emotional level than a good chunk of the relationships that he has been in.
I have a mighty need for freak4freak Jazz/Bruce. Tho, checking that one google doc, it looks like their ship name is called “Parent Syndrome”. Idk, I guess that works?
The gala was in full swing at Wayne Manor, glittering with Gotham’s elite. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft strains of a classical quartet played in the background. Danny Fenton, in an ill-fitting tux borrowed from someone much taller, leaned against a column with a flute of something bubbly he wasn't entirely sure was non-alcoholic.
From his vantage point, he had the perfect view of his sister, Jazz, and—unfortunately—Dick Grayson trying, and failing, to flirt with her.
"You're into psychology? That's wild, I'm kind of a master of body language." Dick gave a dazzling grin, eyebrows bouncing like he was in a toothpaste commercial.
Jazz blinked at him, utterly unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you read Freud for the articles?”
Danny winced from across the room. “Oof,” he muttered, sipping whatever this was. “She's not even pulling punches tonight.”
Beside him, Tim Drake appeared with a glass of water and a raised eyebrow. “How long’s this been going on?”
“Grayson’s been at it for fifteen minutes,” Danny said. “It's like watching a golden retriever try to seduce a cat. Painful, but kind of impressive in its optimism.”
Dick tried another move, casually flexing as he reached for a canapé. Jazz didn’t even blink.
Danny snorted. “Dude, give it up,” he called out as Dick stepped back for a breath. “She likes older guys.”
Dick turned and pouted. “I am older than her!”
Danny just pointed across the ballroom. “Not old enough.”
There, Jazz was zeroing in on Bruce Wayne himself—billionaire, philanthropist, and, as far as Jazz was concerned, “a prime specimen of rugged fatherhood.”
“She thinks Bruce Wayne is a total DILF,” Danny added, sipping again, eyes never leaving the trainwreck in motion.
Dick stared, mouth slightly open, watching as Jazz approached Bruce with the confidence of a woman who had studied Freud and Jung and decided to psychologically profile this man in real time.
“Oh my god,” Dick whispered. “She’s doing the eyebrow thing.”
“She’s doing the eyebrow thing,” Danny confirmed solemnly. “It’s over. May Bruce rest in peace.”
From across the room, Jazz offered Bruce a dazzling smile and said something that made the corner of his mouth twitch upward—the Wayne smirk, rare and powerful.
Tim blinked. “He’s smirking. She got the smirk. That’s—kind of terrifying.”
“She once convinced the FBI that our ghost dog was a federal asset,” Danny said. “This is light work for her.”
Meanwhile, Dick looked betrayed. “He’s like a thousand years older than her!”
Danny clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, buddy. You’re a gymnast. Bruce is a whole genre.”
Tim coughed, trying not to laugh. “Should we… do something?”
Danny shrugged. “Nah. Let her cook.”
And across the ballroom, Jazz leaned in slightly closer, her smile brilliant, and Bruce Wayne—Batman, scourge of Gotham’s underworld—looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, flattered, or afraid.
Danny smirked. This gala was way more fun than he thought it’d be.
Oh hey, it's Bruce's type! "I think I may be mildly afraid of you"! This hasn't happened in a while. Thanks... they hate it! (Their dad? FLIRTING? Uuuuuuuuuugh. Oh god END THEM)
See... I need? NEED?? Her to be the scary one. Like Martha Wayne was.
Cause everyone's all "oh, she a young, pretty, gold digger, right?" Only to have-> *Boss Music Starts Playing* Run™
She WILL come for each and every one of your bones, individually. Have you MET her mother? Ha! Fuck. Sweet JESUS. She is HORRIFYING in how Bruce Wayne, NOT "BRUCIE" Wayne's, Type she is.
As is? Catwoman, Talia AL Ghul, Wonder Woman, and now? Jasmine Fenton. It's a very, VERY scary class of women.
He'll hold her delicate lil champagne glass and earrings, while she breaks your knees. She had him read the second she walked in. He likes that in a woman. There are terrifying 25+ layer mindgame-y lvls of flirtation going on here. It's both creepy and bizarre. Freak for freak behavior.
God help us all... He might actually end up happy.
EVERYONE is gonna believe the smart ambitious redhead, young enough to be his daughter, seduced Gotham's beloved dumbass himbo. But? It's the meeting of the minds. Genius to genius communication. She STILL can't aim for shit, but who cares!? He's Batman.
They consume the tabloids.
Her brother is literally Supernatural and has Time itself on speed dial.
You have not BEGUN to comprehend the levels of their new Contingencies™
Honestly this makes so much sense. Bruce's type has always been women who will Domme him. And for once he got one who will actually work to not aggravate any of his mental issues.
At the very least it would almost certainly be healthier on an emotional level than a good chunk of the relationships that he has been in.
I have a mighty need for freak4freak Jazz/Bruce. Tho, checking that one google doc, it looks like their ship name is called “Parent Syndrome”. Idk, I guess that works?
Jason never made it to the Lazarus pit or the league of assassins.
Bruce gave him that excuse for his green eyes and short temper.
Jason knows he didn’t crawl out of his grave with the giant Y that scars his chest.
Jason knows he’s a revenant.
Jason knows he needs to kill to stay sane. To stay whole.
A soul sucker they called him.
Jason agreed not to kill, because he misses his family. No matter how much he starves himself, it’s worth it to get Dick’s hugs, experience Tim’s genius, see Cassandra’s award winning performance, to help Damian experience a childhood.
Jason didn’t realize Bruce doesn’t know what he is. Jason didn’t realize Bruce meant Black Gate when he said he’d take him in the next time he killed. Jason didn’t realize Bruce had no idea about the anti ecto acts.
Jason swore to stay in line, so he’d never end up on that metal table again.
Oh the angst potential. So does that mean Blackgate is connected to the GIW? Has Jason been dealing with GIW goons in crime alley and that’s why he stays away from the manor? Does he remain in contact with any ghosts? Like Danny, Ellie, or Johnny?
And oh boy, the fact that Joker actually has to die so Jason can stop killing. That just adds a whole new level to when Dick almost killed the clown and Bruce revived him.
With Black Gate, the idea was Bruce simply says “if you kill again I’m taking you in” all vague like, bc emotionally constipation of the bats, so Jason thinks Bruce means handing him to the GIW when Bruce means Black Gate. Bruce has no idea Jason thinks Bruce is willing to hand Jason in to be tortured and experimented on.
But maybe Black Gate is connected. Bruce maybe mentioned Black Gate once and it calms Jason down a bit, because even though Black Gate is a prison that is used as slave labor to fund the GIW, at least it would take a a few weeks before the guards noticed anything liminal. Thinks maybe that’s Bruce saying he actually doesn’t want his son used as a pincushion for scientists, no matter how non sentient he believes him to be.
I feel like Dick would be the first to notice anything and say something, Cass being the first to notice (she notices his hesitance, his refusal for eating while over for family dinners, thinks maybe nerves, getting used to the family) but Dick?
He’s the one busting (figuratively and sometimes literally) Jason’s safehouse door down to drag him to the manor for family bonding time. He’s the one that hugs Jason with no hesitation. He’s the one who notices Jason’s skin is peeling, like a a really bad sunburn. Notices Jason’s hands feel boney under the fabric of his gloves (also is the one to notice that the gloves haven’t come off in months).
Had a sudden burst inspiration to do something with this. Inspired partially by the Undertale Handplates AU (not the full series, just a bit of the original prologue comic)
Dick always knew Jason has been acting quite... Odd for the past few weeks, he knew they all noticed something had been up with him ever since he came back to life... But this was the height of his odd behavior.
Ever since Bruce last talked to him he seemed to be dead set on avoiding him at every opportunity, he hasn't stopped wearing gloves in, and he hasn't seen his brother without wearing his mask on for who knows how long...
Eventually while Hood was in the Batcave Dick decided to ask Jason about it directly, wondering what Jason was trying to hide. But the Red Hood simply put his hands in his pocket to further hide them.
Nightwing however was determined, and... Well in hindsight Dick thinks he probably should have handled it better... But in his defense, he wanted to be sure Jason was trying to hide any injuries from them and worried if it was a serious scar...
A fight between brothers broke out, getting the attention of other family members. It ended with Dick finally knocking Jason down, ripping a glove off and...
Dick Grayson felt the air become cold and his breathing freeze when he saw the boney, skeletal hand underneath with barely any skin attached to it.
But the most notable part was the metallic handplate DRILLED into the back of Jason's hand.
G.I.W. SUBJECT 427-85
"Little Wing?" Nightwing reached out to his brother concerned, only to freeze when Jason pulled his back his hand...
"St-Stay back!!!"
Jason's breathing seemed to become rapid as he backed away, only to see the other bats preparing to get involved as Jason turned and ran, throwing his helmet to the side to reveal his now rotted green-ish skin that has begun to peel with glassy eyes that now were glowing green, forcing a few Bats to reflexively enter defensive positions in the face of what they called Pit Madness.
Batman froze and tried to hesitantly approach, reaching a hand out to his second son, "Jason-"
He didn't get to speak as Hood shoved Bruce out of the way as he reached his motorcycle and drove off, not caring about anything but getting away.
Bruce removed his cowl as he stared at the motorcycle racing past the waterfall as the Red Hood drove off.
"...Jason..." The Wayne adult said solemnly as he sighed before looking up seriously. "...Red Robin, Oracle, we need information on what-"
"Already beginning research into this 'G.I.W.'" Tim shouted as he jumped onto the Batcomputer and began typing away / "Way ahead of ya B!" Barbara's voice echoed from his communicator.
Batman nodded before walking over to Red Hood's helmet and picking it up with a silent glare. The image of Jason's face and hand fresh in his mind.
Bruce stared at the research of one Daniel Nightingale, emancipated from two Doctors Fenton that he would be looking into later. Specifically the paper he had written on Revenants. How had he been so blind?
The GIW… they did this to his son. Tortured him. And he had been starving him. But he didn’t want Jason to have to kill but in order for that to happen he would have to break his rule and kill himself. Could he?
“Holy shit!” Duke cursed when they lifted up Jason’s glove a fingernail fell out. He was at the stage where he had begun decomposing.
Bruce took a shaking breath. His son could die again soon. He could fade away before their eyes because Bruce had been starving him.
“Continue your work here in the cave and do what you have to with the G.I.W.,” Bruce instructed as he took off the Batsuit. He ignored what they said, he couldn’t become distracted. Walking up into the manor he went to the one spot he knew Alfred hid some of his guns and grabbed a revolver. His hand shook as he loaded it up.
Getting into his car he drove off, towards Arkham Asylum. Turning on the radio he listened and heard that there was another breakout there. Bruce stopped the car in front of the gates and, to the surprise of the guards, used his strength to bend the metal bars open so he could get through.
Walking past the running guards he again ignored everything that they said. If he got distracted for a moment he would stop what he planned to do and he would never again find the courage to do it.
There was Joker, at the front of the breakout, hurting anyone he saw. The rest of his rogues were doing the same but Bruce only saw Joker. Walking towards him he took out the revolver. Joker saw him but not the gun and began to say something, but Bruce put the gun to Joker’s temple and fired. Everything grew silent around them as Bruce breathed heavily. He fired five more times into Joker’s corpse and then the gun fell from his shaking hand.
Jason was safe now, his kids could handle what needed to come next with the new threat they had discovered. Bruce though, he turned back around and walked up to the nearest guard, “I surrender myself into your custody for the murder of Joker.”
Tim’s hands shook as he continued research into what these monsters did to his brother. Videos of torture, mission logs of them using him as a starved hit man, and a detailed chart of how starved he is to how many he’ll kill without discrimination.
Picture of Jason in shorts, with peeling skin, tanned skin revealing sick green. Standing in front of a wall with lines to show height. His eyes had bags underneath. Info attached: Refused to kill unless pushed to. Took a few weeks of cognitive behavioral therapy to get the subject to kill. Still will chose its own victims instead of hunting the mark wanted. Six months starvation. One death needed.
Picture of him again, this time with a Y scar, a metal collar, and chain hooked to something out of frame. His cheeks gaunt, left hand skeletal to his elbow, his fingers of his right hand in stages of peeling and showing bone. The picture cuts off just past the shorts but the skin is noticeably peeling as well. Some spots on his chest were peeling to show rotten meat beneath.
Will be less picky about meals. But will chose a GIW agent over body provided. 18 months starvation. 5-8 deaths needed.
“The duffel bag,” Bruce breaths out, speaking for the first time since finding the GIW archives.
“…and after that it was anyone listed on the sex offenders list,” Dick says, “and…only one every three months at that, when…when Red Hood was killing.”
Bruce hummed at that. He’s…he’s been starving his son. He can feel the bile crawling up his throat. When Tim changes to the next picture, he’s forced to look away, but he didn’t quickly enough. The image is seared into his mind forever.
Jason, left arm completely bone, right leg skeletal as well, right arm half bone half peeling, so was his face. His chest a patchwork of skin and bone and rotted meat. Patches of skin on his jaw completely gone, showing teeth. God it made him want to throw up. Especially seeing the collar paired with animal control poles tight around his arms holding him back as he looked like he was trying to charge at the photographer.
“Will not stop,” Tim read, “will kill anything in its path. 20+ deaths to satisfy its craving. Two years of starvation.”
Years. His boy was with these…monsters…for years.
Stuck it up Bruce, he thinks to himself, break down after you help your son.
“Did they do any research one what he is or if there’s a cure?” Bruce asks, turning around and stares at the keyboard Tim frantically types on. He can’t look at that photo again.
“Some of their documents label him as a ‘revenant’ but nothing that defines what that is,” Tim says.
“I might have something,” Oracle chimes in.
“I looked into living GIW scientists and found Doctor Fenton and Fenton. Their emancipated son, Daniel Nightingale, seems to be in the same field as them, but his research seems more humane and sees what GIW sees as subjects as humanistic beings. Like a supernatural meta, or supermetanatural as he calls it,” she says, sending a file to the batcomputer, “he states in this that revenants are beings of revenge. Murder victims that are so angry about their death they literally wake themselves up to seek revenge. But if they were to kill their murderer, their ‘obsession’ would be so fulfilled that they would die again. I haven’t read everything to know what an obsession is other than it’s an important part of a supermetanatural’s existence. Without it, they would cease to exist.”
“Anything about how to fix this without Jason ‘ceasing to exist’?” Duke asks, looking at the glove on the ground. Only known his foster brother for a short time but even though they haven’t spoken a word, Jason has protected him any time he needed it. Was there to hold him when he cried over his parents at the hospital.
“Yeah,” Oracle says, and another file pops up, “if someone were to take revenge on their murderer in their name. Death of the murderer shall ‘satiate’ the need to feed. And while the supermetanatural will keep some powers, such as super strength and low level ‘ghost’ powers, they will no longer decompose, and essentially be human.”
Bruce looked over at his eldest. At this moment, this is the first time he wished he didn’t save a life. He can see Dick set his jaw and he knows Dick’s going to go and beat the clown to death again. But this shouldn’t be a burden on his shoulders.
“Continue with your work here in the cave and do what you have to with the GIW,” he says, leaving the cave.
“B?” Dick calls after him, “B where the fu-” the clock door closing cuts him off.
Dick huffed, “probably going to go brood or something,” then he got a quizzical look, “does it say anything on who helped him escape?”
Tim looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “isn’t it obvious? They starved him and he attacked them all.”
“I don’t think so,” Dick stated, “remember when Red Hood first showed up? 8 heads? All child traffickers? He must have been starved for roughly 18 months. Someone helped him escape.”
“Probably Nightingale. In one of his papers he mentions meeting a revenant and ‘helping them out of a sticky situation’,” Oracle interjects, “last known location was a run down apartment building in Crime Alley. Possibly where Red Hood was headed?”
“Could-”
“Um guys,” Stephanie pipes up, “we got a situation,” she pushes Tim out of the way, and starts the live feed from the Gotham Gazette.
“Hey!” Tim protests but when the feed loads he’s stunned.
“That is right Paul,” the news reporter states while in front of the Arkham Asylum, “moments ago during a break out, Jack Napier, better known as the Joker, was gunned down by Gotham’s own Bruce Wayne.”
@professionalranter31 lol I had an idea in middle of work
Jason tore out of the cave, what left of his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t get the look of fear on Dick’s face out of his head. Bruce knew of course, but he covered up, figuring it was best not to push it into his dad’s face. But Dick, and the others, he knows they can’t compartmentalize as well as Batman. That’s all they’ll think about when they look at him, that’s if they can tolerate that.
His fear wanted to turn to rage, rage at them for judging him, rage at them for not seeing he’s still him, but rage turns to hunger. And hunger is monstrous.
He looked up from where he parked his motorcycle, and there stood Danny’s apartment building.
Maybe Dick wasn’t wrong that his mind was taken up by someone.
The elevator is still out, has been for years, even before he was adopted, just like every apartment building on Crime Alley, so he takes the stairs.
Danny already has the door open for Jason when he gets to his floor. There’s soft music coming from the living room when Jason walks through.
“Hey,” Danny says softly from the bedroom, “I’ll be there in a second.”
Jason nods even though Danny can’t see him, and sits on the small couch. When Danny emerges, his hair has droplets on it, and his pjs are slightly sticking to his skin. Upon seeing him, and how unafraid he is of him, Jason bursts into tears.
“Hey, hey,” Danny says, sitting in Jason’s lap, taking his head under his chin, stroking his hair, “I got you.”
“They’re scared of me,” Jason practically whimpers, holding Danny tighter, “and I’m so hungry.”
“I’ll call Waller in the morning. Maybe there’s a good meal over seas.”
Jason nodded and just snuggled closer to Danny. Before long, they were both fast asleep.
Danny woke to the sun shining through the balcony doors. He went to wake up the big oaf on top of him when he noticed Jason wasn’t the same as he was last night. His skin was whole, pale, and soft to the touch. Jason was practically glowing with life.
Jason woke up, and for the first time since coming back from the dead he felt refreshed. Getting up, he actually felt happy without it being tinged by fear or anger like usual. Then he saw Danny staring at him wide eyed. “I know I’m handsome but it’s still rude to stare,” He teased. Then he realized what had happened.
Since the decaying stage had begun Jason’s voice had grown rougher, but now it was light, like it used to be when he first came back to life. Raising his hands, he saw his flesh returned, his light tan back. Jumping out of bed and to a mirror he looked at his eyes, and the sickly green glow that had been there for so long was just gone. Like it had never been there, as though he hadn’t just been decaying last night. And that could only mean one thing. “Jo-“
Before he could even finish the sentence they heard something loud outside. Danny walked over to the window and opened it to you yell out. “FREE BRUCE WAYNE!!!” A bunch of people chanted as they marched in the streets.
Jason’s eyes widened and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He scrambled to his communicator and turned it on to Bruce’s channel. Even as his secret identity Bruce would always keep his communicator on him, he never left home without it. “B? B, pick up!” Jason yelled into but he only got static in return. “Dad?”
“Master Jason,” Alfred suddenly spoke through it, “I am so sorry, but Master Bruce is unable to answer.”
I might use this in one of my fics but it popped in my head and now I need to share. Putting this in my Life on the farm context with Danny Kent;
Johnny likes to flirt. He doesn’t care if you’re a girl, a boy, or undecided, he just really likes to flirt.
And while he may love Kitty, he also really appreciates a well cut figure.
So when he takes a drive through metropolis on his way to fight Phantom, he can’t help but flirt a bit with the hot hero flying around in that tight costume.
He probably should have realized something was off when Kitty didn’t scold him for flirting.
Instead, he’s interpreted mid-flirt, the hot hero’s face a bright red, by the unmistakable sound of boss music.
“Ancients! You didn’t leave ANYTHING to the imagination when you made that-“ he froze mid-air as the hero floundered. “Why do I hear boss music?”
He looks down and sees that Kitty has hi-jacked some rando’s speakers and yells “babe! Why are you playing boss music??”
Kitty just smirks and points behind Johnny. He doesn’t really get a chance to see what she was pointing at before Phantom was on him a feral beast.
Johnny struggled to escape, his hands leaving trails in the concrete as Phantom picked him up from the ground.
“I FUCKING WARNED YOU JOHNNY!” He roared as he beat the shit out of the blonde ghost. He threw him across town, phasing him through the buildings.
“FIRST MY BIG SISTER, NOW MY BROTHER?!?!?!” He screamed as Johnny called for shadow. He barely escaped before Phantom let loose a massive ecto blast.
“IF I EVER CATCH YOU FLIRTING WITH MY SIBLINGS AGAIN, NOT EVEN SHADOW’LL BE ABLE TO HELP YOU!!!!!”
—
When Danny gets back to metropolis he lectures Clark about flirting with ghosts as Lois records the whole thing to use as blackmail later.
(Johnny is unaware Danny has another brother, what happened next is his own fault)
When Danny turned 18 the Observants came calling. Appearing out of nowhere, they insisted that Danny was now "Of Age™️" and therefore must take on the role of Ghost King that he won when he defeated Pariah Dark. Danny vehemently objected to this. He just finished highschool and with most of his rogues now leaning towards the friend part of frienemies, he was really hopeful about going to college and maybe getting to become an astronaut if that was still achievable for him. Then Clockwork came to him with a solution.
Danny was skeptical at first, not entirely sure where he stood with the time ghost though knowing he'd been helpful in the past, but the proposition was a sound one. Danny would become Clockwork's apprentice and run timeline related errands for him and Clockwork would keep the Observants at bay until Danny was ready, if he changed his mind. So Danny agreed.
Being Clockwork's apprentice was actually kinda fun. He got to go see some of the most impressive locations in history in their prime, and it didn't even interfere with his daily life! Clockwork would pull him out of time, send him to go collect samples of an extinct plant or prevent an artifact from falling over the side of a ship, then put him back to the exact moment he left so he didn't miss a thing.
But of course, his luck couldn't let a good thing be. It starts small; an odd sense of deja vu or remembering something having happened days ago and then being told it just happened. Eventually, he starts having full fledged visions of events before they happen.
He asked Clockwork about it, thinking maybe it was a new way of telling him about tasks he needed to do, but Clockwork had nothing to do with it. Danny had developed a new power, one that Clockwork suspected came from being between timelines so much. Danny would get premonitions of events yet to pass. Clockwork made sure to stress that these were not the future but a future. This was the direction the flow of time was heading in but it was not yet set in stone. If Danny wanted he could act in objection to his vision and alter the course of events, but refusing to intervene would let events happen just as predicted. Clockwork assured him it was entirely his choice on whether he altered the timeline or not. Danny could decide which events he changed and how and Clockwork would handle the rest to make sure none of the changes butterfly effected into disasterous consequences.
So Danny continued on as usual, now with occasional premonitions. Sometimes it was something small, like a classmate tripping on untied shoelaces and missing their bus or a stranger getting scratched by a cat they were attempting to lure for pets. Other times it was more serious, a branch breaking and taking out power lines causing a neighborhood blackout or a train derailing due to rocks on the tracks after a mudslide. He almost always chooses to do something about the serious ones and addresses the simpler ones if he has time or it's convenient for him.
He was with Clockwork one day, debriefing on his next assignment, when he gets a new vision. They usually flash instantaneously into his mind, taking the same time and effort as it takes to blink. This one was different. It was longer, for starters, lasting a good few minutes. Physically; his body was wracked with tremors, his knees buckled under his weight, and his eyes darted around at sights only he could see. Mentally; he wasn't just seeing this vision, he was living it.
He was in a warehouse. He could barely see with how much smoke was in the air, much less breathe. A child was tied up in a chair, bloody and bruised, a crowbar abandoned just a few feet away with damning red stains. Behind him was a timer counting down, less than a minute, attached to a mass of wires and explosives. The child called out to someone. In the distance, far enough that Danny could only hear with his advanced senses but steadily getting closer, someone was calling out in return. The timer was almost up. They weren't going to make it.
Danny returned to himself with a gasp of air, sweat trailed down his skin. Clockwork hovered over him as he took deep shuddering breaths, radiating concern like a parent who just watched their child fall while climbing a tree. He held Danny's shaking hands in his until they stilled. When he finally could, Danny lifted his head to make eye contact with his mentor.
"Whatever you just saw, I strongly suggest you go deal with. Immediately."
i love seer danny. i feel like its always a really good take on danny being clockwork's helper. in canon Danny does gain abilities from the ghosts he is around/fighting so it only makes sense when he starts spending more time with Clockwork. id argue that Clockwork knew this would happen and he gave a really vague answer about the new seer powers that Danny took to mean he didnt know
Clockwork to the Observants next time theyre hounding him about needing Danny to be king this very moment: maybe if you think he is ready. btw since he can get visions of the future now he can preemptively stop you guys from doing whatever youre planning. You might want to postpone crowning him for now so he doesn't have the political power to do anything to you. Yet.
Another idea I can't work on because time isn't on my favor, so I'm just begging someone else to write it TwT.
Slightly inspired by this post.
Years have passed by, and the ecto-acts were never repelled. Time has gone by, and Danny’s Jason's husband. Jason, friends and the family have noticed that Danny isn’t human but don’t bring it up because Danny seems terrified every time the subject seems to be about to be brought up (Yes, even Bruce wasn't able to question Danny. How would he? He tried to bring it up once and he was sure Danny was going to faint right then and there).
Danny has some health issues. Fatigueness, muscle pain, random dizziness, fevers that seem to come out of nowhere. Apparently it is a chronic issue, since Jason caught Danny taking some red pills early in their marriage. Jason didn’t recognize the medicine's name, something Blossom, so he imagined it was something specific to his species.
The married couple had been living happily for years and the family adores Danny.
One day a ghost faces into his house asking Danny for help, and of course Danny basically has a full on panic attack at being outed. Jason holds him close, grounds him and lets him calm down.
The ghost tells Danny that they need to do some errands in the human world, but the GIW has become way more active around the area he needs to visit, and needs to know how Danny has managed to hide so far. The conversation goes somewhat like this:
“I’m sorry, I don’t think you would want to do what I do. Even if you do, I’m not sure you can.”
“Please just tell me, I’ll decide if I want it by myself.”
Danny sights. He disappears for a moment in their bedroom and comes back with his medicine. He opens the bottle and inclines it to let the ghost see.
“I take this.”
The ghost looks into the bottle and is absolutely horrorized.
“Danny, you- you’re poisoning your core!”
“I know…”
“What do you mean poison?” Jason asks, alarmed “Isn’t this your medicine?”
Danny won’t meet his face.
“How can you be consuming this!? How long-”
“I don’t have any other options, okay!? I can’t run into the infinite realms and hide like the rest of you! I have to reside on this side of the veil!” Danny snaps at the ghost.
(You always read fics where the pit is instantly calmed by Danny’s presence, but what if it didn’t?)
Now, you have to understand, that Jason was long past attacking strangers in a blind fury. The Bats? Sure, all the time--- but he was working on that.
This particular scrawny, possibly-homeless stranger hadn’t done anything more than simply exist in Jason’s proximity. If it was any other Crime Alley resident, Jason would be much more likely feel a surge of protectiveness.
This guy though– he was different.
Locking toxic-green eyes to toxic-green eyes made the pit in his skin violently react. Before he knew it, he was hitting the guy with everything he had, and the guy was hitting back.
The groceries Jason had left his apartment to get spilled all over the ground as the two rolled.
Pulled hair, split knuckles, and bruised bodies, the guy’s fist hit Jason’s jaw for the umpteenth time, cracking his head back and making him look at the gloomy sky.
They only used their fists. Jason could feel the familiar ghost of weapons hidden under the other guy’s hoodie, but neither pulled their hidden weapons.
Despite it all, Jason and the guy shared blood-tinged smiles. Blood boiled under his skin in an exciting trill. He was angry, and it was fantastic.
He’s pretty sure he just made a new best friend.
Someone hit Jason’s back with what could distinctly be identified as a broom. He vaguely heard the sound of yelling around him, but Jason’s only focus was getting his next hit in.
Eventually, they were stopped by a familiar shade of blue and black. Strong arms pulled him off the stranger and pinned his arms down, locking their arms over his chest to prevent Jason from getting free.
“You need to calm down!” Dickwing’s voice lectured in his ear. “You’re going to kill him!”
Surprisingly, Jason settled in Dick’s hold, fight and anger drained out of him in the space of a breath. The fire under his skin didn’t keep flaming and flaming and building it just– stopped.
“Oh, Please.” The stranger was grinning widely, despite the model of developing bruises and cuts across his face. A burly man who Jason vaguely recognized worked at the store they were standing right in front of was both holding up and holding back the guy. “We were just saying ‘Hi’.”
The guy made eye contact with Jason. Blue, no hints of green anywhere. The guy winked. “Danny.”
Frankly, Jason couldn’t quite explain his actions. He felt stupidly chastized by Nightwing’s patented older brother stare of disappointment. Apparently, the guy couldn’t explain his actions either, as he disappeared the instant no one’s eyes were on him.
-
Jason arrived an hour early to Wayne Sunday family dinner. He missed cooking alongside Alfred, and offered his help.
He let Dick wrap an arm around his shoulder for a few seconds as a welcome. He didn’t seethe at Bruce simply being there. He chose to sit between Tim and the Demon brat when it looked like new fratricide plans were being drawn up by the younger.
The pit didn’t scream under his skin to hurt. Little things didn’t set him off, making him have to leave early. He wasn’t tempted to throttle anyone for existing around him.
The pit was just… quiet. Peaceful even. Well, as peaceful as it could get in the Wayne household.
It was a massive improvement compared to six months ago— hell, compared to last month.
He shrugged off inquiries about his black eye, citing it would heal quickly anyway.
-
Jason should have known he wasn’t safe.
Sure, he was on a roof one could only grapple to, across the city from crime alley, and dressed up as Red Hood.
However, Danny always reappeared periodically like a well-timed extremely therapeutic punching bag.
One moment, Jason was looking down over the streets of Gotham the next, he was being flying-kicked by a lithe frame. Something instantly recognized Danny so, rather the putting a bullet in him, Jason picked himself back up into a crouch and lunged at Danny.
“Hood? Hood what’s going on?” Someone called in his ear— Oh, right he had connected comms with his family that night.
Danny stopped suddenly, straddling Jason’s stomach, one hand fisting his collar, the other posed to strike. He blinked. glowing green eyes turned blue. “You’re not like, busy doing vigilante stuff, are you?” He asked.
Every bruise and cut from their last fight was gone, his baby face appeared as though it had never been punched in his life, making him look all the more punchable.
“Nope.” Jason answered, driving an elbow into the kid’s stomach and in the same motion ripped the comm out of his ear to toss it to the side.
Minutes later Danny was pulled off him, and the fire under his skin died down.
He blinked back into his surroundings to find himself on a rooftop with half of Gotham’s vigilantes standing in a circle around him, an unease that he could only read because he was so familiar with them written in all of their body languages. Batman held Danny slightly behind himself, keeping a firm grasp on the guy so he couldn’t escape.
“You claimed the rage was getting better.” Bruce stated in the way that meant he was supposed to answer his unasked questions..
Jason waited for rage and indignance to rise up in him, but rather he just considered that Bruce saw glowing green eyes and a brutal beat down and made a logical leap.
“It has!” Jason argued anyway. He sniffed and ran a hand under his slightly bleeding nose. It didn’t sting enough to be broken. “I haven’t lost my cool in months.”
“That’s what he has me for!” Danny chimed happily. His nose was broken, but Danny didn’t seem to mind the twin streaks of blood running down his face. “We’re friends with Benefits. It’s always healthy to have a little dead-guy on dead-guy action. You guys should really fight with him more often, his ectoplasm is rank.”
After years of good and bad situations, Danny's life has settled into something he finds satisfactory. After escaping Amity, and all the pain that the GIW and his parents caused, Danny became dedicated to a new type of protection. He spent years helping Frostbite. He became overly invested while healing himself and his siblings. Dante took over as King Regent, and Ellie has her many adventures across the multiverse. Danny has been studying the health and healing of various species and entities. Now in his twenties, the anti-ecto acts have been discovered by the JL, and he can finally return to his home realm and work towards getting his human certificates.
One accidental medical rescue later places him on an advanced meta medical team working on the Watchtower. A healer among doctors. He is one of two young specialists to be still working to get their licenses. The two of them are referred to as 'Rich boy Res' and the 'Witch doctor'. With such a busy schedule, the two haven't met...Yet.
"Good job Nightingale, now get the hell off this satellite and rest before you kill someone." The head of kryptonian care dismissed.
"Or worse, bring something to life again." The nurse chimes in.
"Yeah, yeah." Danny mumbles as he makes his way to the staffroom to retrieve his belongings.
Thankfully, Dante had volunteered to come pick him up after hearing just how long of a week his little brother had had. Between the advancement exams to fast-track his studies, his various arguments with the observants over diplomacy with his mortal realm, and a JL crisis that left a large amount of heroes in need of tending, Danny hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in eight days. Which would have been lethal if he wasn't already halfway dead. Even as it is he was pushing it.
Point is he was borderline delirious with exhaustion, which is his only defense for what happens.
Danny floats up and sprawls himself over his big brother's back, tucking his head into the larger man's neck. He never did catch up to Dante in height or muscle.
"Take me to bed.. or to the grave, I honestly don't even care right now." He groaned into Dante's ear, clinging to consciousness with a thread.
Dante was super stiff under him and didn't even try to toss him across the room. Not even a snarky response about ending him in his sleep. Danny didn't fully register that something was wrong until he chirped, reaching out to try and reassure Dante that he was okay and check in on his brothers core. Only to not find another core or subvocal response.
The first thing he noticed was not the man under him, but the stares of the various nurses and medical staff lingering in the break room. Most look shocked, amused or a measure of both.
When he finally turned his attention to the still figure under him, he realized with horrifying clarity this man was not Dante. They may have very similar bulky builds and exude a grumpy air but this man was definitely not his brother. Which is what he said as soon as the thought occurred.
"You're not my brother... Wow, your eyes are really pretty." Danny mumbled, still draped over the man practically in his face.
The moment only broke when Dantes core chirped out to him from the entrance and Danny was slammed full force into wakefulness at the relization of what was going on.
With the shock, he phased through the not Dante and nearly face planted before spinning on his unsteady feet and flying into his brother’s chest.
Dante, for his part, just cackled before tossing his stupid tired sibling over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"One package of dumbass retrieved. Later bitches!" He called out as he carried Danny to the zeta tubes and their haunt beyond.
"Jazz is gonna love this." He continued to laugh.
"Shut up!" Danny whined, still covering his beet red face.
All around the world, electronics of all kinds screeched with static - everything from cellphones to radios to handheld gaming consoles to hospital machinery to smart kitchen appliances. Anything that had a speaker was screeching. Anything with a screen flickered before showing what appeared to be the air space above the White House in Washington DC. The screeching raised to a high pitched whine before cutting off suddenly, replaced by a low hum.
Everyone had no choice but to watch as a green portal tore in the sky like a rip in the fabric of a sheet. Everyone had to watch as a black and purple glowing set of armor stepped out of the portal with a flaming sword, followed by a being with pale blue skin, pointed ears, red eyes, and flaming white hair. They floated on either side of the portal, seemingly standing at attention as the third and final figure came through the portal.
They were the smallest of the three, but even through the screen of a seven-year-old’s Gameboy Color, it was impossible to not feel the sheer immense power that radiated from the being. Platinum white hair floated in the air and a collection of frozen fractals of ice in the shape of a crown floated above it. Violently neon green eyes glowed with malice. The fine regalia the being wore was made up of armor that seemed to be made of the night sky itself, with stars and nebulas glittering within the plating. A sword hung from the belt on the being’s hip. A wide, billowing cape encompassed the being’s shoulders, lined with white fur and containing the entirety of the galaxy within its folds.
When the being spoke, the sound vibrated in the chests of every living thing in a ten mile radius.
“I am High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms. Ancient-apparent of Space. Bearer of the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage. Keeper of the End and of Balance. I come before you, the Living, to deliver a message and a warning.
For years, the governing bodies of the United States have sanctioned the capture, experimentation, and extermination of my citizens. For years, I have worked tirelessly to keep the denizens of the Realms within my borders and to stop the needless violence between the Living and the Dead. In doing so, I have given allowance to the persecution that, were I less merciful, would have been stopped long ago.
However, I have turned my cheek for the last time.
One week ago, the agents of the Ghost Investigation Ward captured Princess Wraith and Ended her.”
Gravity in the immediate area surrounding the king seemed to increase, as the humans gathered around the site all buckled and fell to their knees.
“A member of my Fraid and of the Crown was Ended at the hands of my enemies. And so, the Crown shall answer in kind.” At this, the knight in flaming black and purple armor drew their sword and held it up. “Today, I stand before you as judge, jury, and executioner, with my Knight and my Hand as witness. Today, the Infinite Realms formally declares war upon the governing bodies of this nation.
“I deliver this warning to the rest of the world and those beyond - do not intervene. The Infinite Realms will not show mercy to those who seek to still the hand of justice. Any nation or organization found to be aiding our enemies will become themselves our enemies, and our swords will come for you as well.”
King Phantom held out a hand, and an hourglass set inside three interlocking rings appeared, slowly rotating end over end.
“In one week’s time, my armies will return, and the siege will begin. Make peace with yourselves, mortals. And pray that when you die, that you do not emerge within the Realms. Because if you do - you will truly learn the meaning of eternal suffering.”
-
Danny is, unfortunately, willing to let a lot slide when it comes to injustices done to himself.
Shot at by both his parents and GIW agents? He bites a towel, stitches up his wounds, and is back out in a day or two.
Villanized by the townsfolk of Amity Park? He still risks more hits from ectoblasts as he takes time to make sure to evacuate everyone from the building currently under attack.
Taken by the GIW himself and partially vivisected? He recuperates in the Ghost Zone and is back at the kitchen table in a week, poking at his casserole as he listens to his parents recount the experiments they hadn’t been able to run before Phantom managed to escape.
An alternate evil version of his future self comes back and tries to ruin his life? Danny makes it his mission to not only routinely check on him in his time dilation prison, but to eventually reform him. He refuses to apologize for that - Dante is the protective older brother Danny didn’t know he’d wanted.
Danny puts up with a lot. It drives his loved ones crazy. It drives his court and advisers absolutely insane.
It turns out, however, that Danny is a lot less tolerant of injustices done to his loved ones.
When Elle's core shatters, Danny feels it like it’s his own. He freezes in place. If he was in human form, his heart would have stopped. His eyes burn with tears and the back of his throat with bile.
In the next moment, he’s in his castle, curled up on the dais of the throne room, keening weakly as his own core cries out in anguish and grief.
Dante is there a moment later, hands on Danny’s back to guide him through the initial onslaught of crying. Danny suddenly understands how Dante could have become who he was, because this… this pain is unbearable. He can’t decide if he wants to rip apart his own skin or the whole world.
The severity of the loss of connection to Elle has Danny out of commission for a week. In that time, Dante and the Fright Knight investigate to learn the fate of the young Princess. Tucker, Sam, and Jazz are moved into Phantom's Keep in anticipation for what both the Fright Knight and the Hand to the King know is coming.
Dante feels his fire core aching with the need to destroy as he watches the GIW base burn to the ground. It’s ghoul fire - it will burn for as long as Dante wills it to. As he cradles the jar in his arms that holds what remains of Elle’s core pieces, he wonders if he will get to burn more.
Danny Fenton had lived a life far too strange for someone who wasn’t even twenty.
He’d died at fourteen, come back with ghost powers, fought his own evil future self, and somehow survived high school. By nineteen, he thought the universe had finally decided to leave him alone.
Then Clockwork showed up holding a tiny, furious, three-year-old version of Dan.
A toddler with glowing red eyes. A toddler who could melt doorknobs with a tantrum. A toddler who refused to be put to bed unless Danny lay beside him and hummed off-key lullabies.
Clockwork placed Dan into Danny’s arms like handing someone a baby tiger and announced,
“Rehabilitation is most effective with early intervention. Congratulations, Daniel. You’re a father now.”
And just… left.
Danny stood there, a nineteen-year-old ex-ghost hero, cradling a three-year-old who—at full power—could disintegrate continents.
Then the toddler nuzzled into his shirt and drooled on him.
Meanwhile, in the Future
Flash arrived in a timeline of smoldering ash, the sky split and warped like reality had been pulled apart by giant claws. The ruins of cities stretched for miles, scorched down to the bones.
The only name whispered by the trembling survivors:
Dan.
A great evil. A monster in a fake human form.
Flash barely escaped with his life. Glowing red eyes haunted him. He sprinted back to the present, heart pounding, mind racing.
Dan was coming.
He had to warn everyone.
The Justice League Meeting
Flash burst into the Watchtower, panting.
“GUYS—WORLD—ENDING—DAN—EVIL—HELP!”
Batman narrowed his eyes. “Slow down.”
Superman gently placed a hand on Flash’s shoulder. “Take a breath.“
Flash didn’t.
“Some guy named Dan destroys the entire planet in the future! I don’t know who he is—I don’t know what he looks like—all I know is that he’s powerful enough to wipe out the League, several times over!”
“Cause?” Batman asked immediately.
Flash hesitated. “No idea. But… It sounded personal. Emotional. Like something broke him.”
That got everyone’s attention.
A being strong enough to unmake the world… driven by heartbreak?
Not ideal.
The League spread out their intel teams.
They dug through databases.
They searched for the name Dan.
Nothing.
But if there was going to be an apocalypse child, they swore they’d find him.
Protection Detail: Beginning Unknowingly
Danny, meanwhile, was living his best low-budget college life.
He was taking night classes, working part-time at a ghost-free café, and raising a toddler who called him “Dada” in a surprisingly demonic tone when cranky.
Dan clung to him constantly—shirt, leg, arm—like Danny was a portable emotional support human.
Danny didn’t mind.
It was weirdly… nice.
One day Danny stopped at a park so Dan could feed ducks without accidentally overshadowing them. Dan's control over his powers was a bit wonky with the de-ageing.
Flash spotted them first.
And immediately froze when he heard the older black haired man call the toddler Dan. and he saw the todllers eyes flash that terrifying Red.
That’s Dan! That’s the world-ender! And that’s—who is that holding him?
Then Dan stretched his arms out toward Danny and chirped,
“Dadaaa!”
And Danny scooped him up with the kind of fond exasperation usually reserved for parents of clingy toddlers.
Flash’s brain did a barrel roll.
Oh god. Oh no. It’s his father. Something happens to his father—that’s what makes future Dan snap!
Flash vanished in a streak of lightning to warn the League.
Screw finding Dan—he’d already found the key.
They needed to protect… the dad.
Within 24 Hours:
—Superman began casually “flying by” Danny’s route to class.
—Wonder Woman “coincidentally” started getting coffee from the shop where Danny worked.
—Batman installed surveillance drones around Danny’s apartment building. (Tim removed the ones Batman missed because they were too obvious, but left the rest. Just in case.)
—Green Lantern offered Danny free rides whenever his car wouldn’t start.
—Martian Manhunter shapeshifted into an elderly neighbor “who needed help carrying groceries,” just so Danny wouldn’t go anywhere alone.
Danny thought Gotham had been weird.
This was weirder.
People were so nice here.
He told Dan, “Wow, buddy. Metropolis is so friendly!”
Dan, perched on his hip and eating Cheerios out of a plastic container, nodded seriously. “Fwiendwy.”
Sure, he still sometimes hissed at Superman (instinct?), but Superman didn’t take it personally.
Danny always knew tax evasion ran in his veins. His parents hadn’t been the most… morally sound of people, and less so as ecto-scientists.
He just didn’t think their lessons would ever result in a criminal empire that spanned the entire city and then some. Danny hadn’t seen it coming. His parents definitely wouldn’t have.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Fox.”
Danny ‘the Phantom’ Fenton sat down across from a rather tense looking (to Danny’s enhanced senses, anyways) Brucie Wayne and his right hand, Lucius Fox. He smiled pleasantly, matching Brucie’s vacant smile with that touch of Midwest suburban mother smile.
With his acquisition of multiple Gotham companies, his rather newly established Fentom Co. became one of the largest holding companies in Gotham, the first being Wayne Enterprises and the second being Drake Industries. After months of constantly working his butt off while fending off assassins, reforming Gotham’s slums and cleaning up some of the streets, and taking care of his nest of street kids, Danny garnered enough power to even stand close to Wayne Enterprises in terms of financial powers.
The topic of this meeting was, of course, the proposed merger of Wayne Enterprises’ Medical R&D division with Fentom Co.’s pharmaceutical department. Usually, Wayne Enterprises wouldn’t even consider such an offer, as their Medical R&D division was the most well funded and least likely to be part of a Rogue’s scheme- and therefore most beloved- department of the same nature in Gotham. However, Danny had something the other offers didn’t.
Blackmail.
His overly polite smile widened as Bruce’s mask twitched. His eyes slid over to Lucius Fox.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve heard much about your genius in… research and development.”
By that, Danny meant that he knew Lucius Fox helped develop Batman’s tech.
He did a lot of stalking that week. It felt rather… invasive, even if he did get a bunch of juicy secrets.
You know what they say: dead men tell no tales… but halfas are generally blabbermouths.
“Is that so? It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Fenton.” The man quickly glanced between the youngsters, accurately predicting that this might have something to do with Bruce’s active nightlife.
“Yes, it is such a pleasure to meet you.”
Wow, Danny didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone sound both so perky and dead inside at the same time, except for Susan at Gotham High’s bake sale.
Bruce wishes he could be a Susan. He’s at best a Becky.
“Will you be staying, Mr. Fox? You’re the head of the R&D department, correct?”
“Ah, yes-”
“Oh, Lucius! I think you had an appointment with the finance department right now! I heard Sally talk about it, you know!”
Lucius Fox sent an unreadable look at Bruce before rallying.
“Oh, it must have slipped my mind. My apologies, Mr. Fenton, it seems as though I can not skip this appointment.”
“That’s alright. I suppose it gives you… plausible deniability… should things go wrong, haha!” Danny allowed his smile to widen a little further than natural. Bruce tensed but Lucius Fox simply politely smiled and left the room.
Ignorance is bliss and all that, Danny amusedly thought.
As the door shut with a click, Bruce dropped the vacant Brucie smile and sighed.
“What do you want,” he gritted out. Danny wasn’t about to let that slide, not after he spent the better part of this month wrangling Bruce’s problem children.
“Ah, it must be because I’m from the Midwest, Brucie, but where I come from, we value these things called manners.”
You uneducated jerk, he doesn’t say.
Danny leaned back in his chair, loosening his smile into something relaxed and sharp.
“…” Oh, boy, Danny could just hear the other man’s blood pressure rising. “What is the purpose of your visit, Mr. Fenton?”
“Relax, Brucie,” Danny sing-songed in a non-relaxing way. “I’m just here to discuss a possible merger that I’m sure you’ll agree to, and give you a couple of updates on your… wayward bird.”
He heard Bruce take a slow, controlled breath. “Very well. Where. Would. You. Like. To. Start.”
Danny ignored the gritted out sentence. He passed a contract to Bruce, who took it like he was handling a live bomb.
“Here’s the proposal, Mr. Wayne. Please, look it over.”
He watched as Bruce looked over the contract with an eagle eye before lowering it, scrutinizing Danny.
“This is… very fair.”
Danny raised an eyebrow. Of course it was fair. Danny wasn’t interested in exploiting the Waynes, despite them being very able to afford it.
He’d brought fifty manufacturing sites for pharmaceuticals, and offered up a building where both companies could send their workers. He provided top notch security- that definitely didn’t have any talons on staff, what were they talking about?- that came from his own security division. Granted, most of them were reformed and trained goons, but hey, creating jobs can only help Gotham’s economy and help break the cycle of poverty, right? Guaranteed by the Wayne name and, most importantly, uncompromised medicine that was accessible to everyone would be a damn good start. He’d also have Penguin’s empire to distribute it to those who couldn’t make it to a clinic or a store, and there were plans in there to work with and establish contracts with Gotham’s welfare department. Well… once Danny finished replacing them with people who wouldn’t try to take a cut of the funds and actually cared about the people. He was thinking… the multitudes of poor grad students and parents that need income. He’s in the process of building childcare centers and…
It’s a good thing he managed to save money from the taxes (thank you, Gotham’s morally ambiguous tax experts that were in desperate need for clients! He could do it himself but having a team of accountants at the ready was seriously so helpful.) because ancients knows the government weren’t about to step into Gotham and help the people here. He needs so much money to pull all of this shit off and a lot of it has to be clean.
Danny inwardly sighed and marked another thing onto his to do list.
Make money laundering fronts.

“Of course, Mr. Wayne. You didn’t think I’d come in here demanding money, did you?”
“I considered it.”
“I am, in fact, trying to help Gotham. You might not agree with my methods, but I’d rather not damage Wayne Enterprises when it’s doing so much to help the people.”
Ugh, he was doing too much work. Danny just wanted to- hah- chill at home and read bed time stories to his kids.
Bruce Wayne, the specific blend between Brucie and Batman, regarded him silently. Danny felt like he went up a few notches in the respect ladder.
Nice.
“You’re a criminal.”
“Says the man in the bat-suit breaking into places and assaulting people.”
Bruce’s hands spasmed around the contract. Danny smiled at him, taking a sip of the coffee they’d prepared. Oo, nice!
“Ah, I heard you’re adopting- pardon, fostering- Tim Drake. Getting empty nest syndrome, Brucie?” He slipped back into using Bruce’s first name. The proposal was formal. This… was very much not.
“What about it?”
“That’s very kind of you. Speaking of which, well, of your birds, I was wondering if you remembered what I asked you to do.” Danny continued, not giving Bruce a chance to reply. “Didn’t I ask for you to keep your birds in line, Brucie?”
The CEO straightened even further, form filling out to be Batman’s imposing figure. “I did.”
“No, you didn’t. Do you know where your charge is, right now? No, not the formerly dead one,” Danny tilted his head, smile shrinking.
“Don’t you dare do anything to Tim. I swear, if you even lay a hand on a strand of his hair, I’ll-”
“Sit your Armani clad ass down, Bruce.” Danny snapped. “Your son’s in your office. I don’t harm children, and your assumptions are deeply insulting. Threaten me again, Bruce, and I’ll make sure you know exactly how much I know about your birds, your cousin, and the commissioner’s daughter.”
Bruce snarled but leashed his anger just enough to sit back down. He itched to go check on Tim, but leaving a threat like Phantom unwatched felt inherently wrong.
“Your other son,” Danny continued. “Is doing quite well. He’s learning that he has hobbies again. He’s actually working under me, you know.”
“He’s what.”
Oh, yeah, that tracks. It figured that Jason wouldn’t tell Bruce about anything. He’s still conflicted about his death. Danny got it.
“Ah, that’s precious information. You’ll have to offer something of equal value if you want to know. There is, on the other hand, a piece of information I’ll give you for free.”
Danny paused for the dramatic effect. It was lost on Bruce, the ultimate drama queen of this world.
“The League of Assassins are hanging around Hotham lately. It’s getting tedious, getting rid of them. I suggest talking to your old flame, you know, with words and what little communication skill you’ve got rattling around in your noggin to get them to pull back. Her interest is… unnaturally focused on Jason.”
Danny read the dark agreement swimming about Bruce’s face and inclined his head. “Should negotiations fail, rest assured that Jason will be protected.”
“…Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. Go ahead and discuss the contract with Mr. Fox, I am sure you’ll find little problems with it. Ah,” Danny stood up, fixing his suit jacket. “And you should probably check up on Timothy. He’s probably having a great time in your office, Mr. Wayne.”
“I’ll see you out.”
“Of course.”
Having Batman escorting him out should probably be more intimidating.
Danny stood in the elevator, waiting for Bruce’s contemplative silence to put itself into words.
Sure enough, “What… what kind of hobbies does Jason have now?”
“I’d tell you to ask him, but you two aren’t on speaking terms, are you? He likes books, of course, but recently, he’s found an interest in glass blowing. He made quite a bit of progress on his attempts at sun catchers.”
“I see.”
Well, Danny’s not about to step on that landmine any more than he has to.
——
“Danny.”
“Oh, hey, Jason. Sit down, we were about to have dinner.”
Jason clambered into the window. Danny sighed. He had a door, but by the way Jason never used it, it was like the door didn’t exist.
“Mind telling me why the old bastard showed up on my rooftops with a bunch of glass and glassblowing tools?”
Danny smiled. “No idea.”
“Uh huh.”
Danny placed a hand on his chest and put on his best woe-is-me expression. The teen’s face twitched in annoyance. “Doubt? At me? Why, I never!”
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