All the dabbles I have posted on my DC x DP account. Under a read more due to how long it is. Broken into three categories:
Multi-parts - Dabbles that have more than one part written.
One-shots- Dabbles with only one part written.
Requests- Dabbles written for the requests of readers. (Note: If a request is for a continuation of the other two categories, they will be filed in Milti-parts)
Master Post 1 Link
Master Post 2 Link
Master Post 3 Link
Master Post 4 Link
Completed AUs Master Post Link
NSFW (+18 ) Link
Fanart for my Fanfic Master Post Link
Shards Aus
Please read the indexes to determine which master post each au is filed in.
As of 5/10/2026: The newest stuff is inside of Master Post 4
(Updated as of 5/10/2026 Stop on One-Shot: The Forgotten Part 1)
Danny Fenton has no plan for when he gets overpowered in a fight. He always assumed that if he lost, he be killed in battle.
His enemies made it very clear they did not expect him to walk away alive. So imagine his surprise when the one ghost who could beat him didn't finish him off. It was an odd blacksmith-themed ghost, going by the name of Forger, who used heated-up metal in deadly attacks. Coupled with his ability to puppeteer suits of armor, Danny found himself slowly being pushed back, having to fight a miniature army at once.
He had been taken down when he got careless and rushed to rescue a few civilians who were caught in the crossfire. He was sure Forger was going to execute him, what with his suits of armor holding Danny down on a mental box, which he had mistaken as a chopping block.
Danny had struggled with every inch of his strength, but he wasn't able to break free from the metal hands holding him down. One of the suits had raised an axe, and for a moment, the young ghost thought this would be the end of him.
He hadn't even noticed them ripping the top half of his jumpsuit, eyes fixed on the axe angled above his neck. His struggle intensified, but more empty armor suits appeared and made quick work of flattening him.
Forger had strutted up to his detain form, giving some grand speech about being the one person who decided the winners and the losers. That his weapons were the real reason wars began and ended. That it was he, Forger, who took down one of the best threats of the Infinite Realms, and this would be the last time anyone heard of Danny Phantom.
In the distance, over the villain's monologue, he could hear his friends and family screaming. They were attempting to break through the row of guards to reach him. He knows they won't make it in time. He was going to lose his head.
Tears stung Danny's eyes, sured he was about to be executeded before everyone.
Instead, Forger picked up a mental pole and burned a mark on his body. It was a scorching white pain the likes Danny had never felt before, even when he had half died in his parents' portal. He remembers screaming so loudly that the street they had been fighting on had been blown away by a ghostly wail.
Forger stood strong against the yell, but his army of suits not so much. The blast rendered them all into hulks of broken metal, and his allies, once able to climb to thier feet, were rushing across the battlefield ready to save Danny.
Forger cursed, obviously knowing that it would take a while to defeat everyone now that his army is down. He grabbed a half-delirious Danny by the back of his neck, agitating the burn mark now taking up most of his back, and flung him into a portal that he created with his hammer. He had been using that to smack suits into existence. Danny didn't know its name, but he knew it was a smithing hammer.
Danny had a few minutes where everything was white, as pain raced from the burnt flesh of his back to every inch of his body, and it took longer than it should have to regain awareness of his surroundings. Phantom didn't have super healing per se, but he did have a side effect of being dead, where his ghost body returned to its original state of death.
If Danny got injured in his human form, he had to wait out those injuries like a normal human. If he got hurt as Phantom, then in a few hours after the injury, whatever level server it was, he would be back to his original ghost-forming body, thankfully without the electric shot. That didn't happen now, because the burn had somehow transferred over to his human form.
Danny had very little recollection from that point on. He remembers the portal flinging him for what could have been hours or mere seconds in a glowing mixture of green and black, he remembers slamming into what looked like a dirty dumpster, but instead of landing inside, he bounced off the metal with a scream, he remember laying on the ground chocking through his own tears and pained breaths, and he remembers what looked like a gaint dark shape bat flying towards him from above, somehow glowing in the rain.
He woke a few days later in Gotham General Hospital, in one of the intensive care units. Apparently, he had been a John Doe that Batman had dropped off, and Bruce Wayne had stepped in to fund all medical expenses. His back, from his shoulder blades to the lower curve of his small back, just met his pelvis, was branded by the metal that Forger used on him. It had not been taken care of, and it suffered heavy bleeding and melted flesh.
The staff and social services, seeing as Danny was only fifteen, were very interested in how and who burned a mark across his back. He hadn't been forthcoming because he literally had no idea what was going on besides being pumped with heavy painkillers. He also realized on day two, between doses of medication, where his mind fog cleared slightly, that he could not transform into Phantom. Every time he tried to call upon his powers, his burn mark flared up like it was renewing, and a nurse had to burst through the room door upon hearing his echoing screams.
His spiking pain had them convince his burn was getting infected- it was- but only because Danny aggravated it. That was because he was trying to be Phantom. He decided to wait until he was healed enough to go ghost and settled into a routine in the hospital. He spent most of his time lying on his stomach, with the nurses coming in and out, each helping with feeding and basic needs. Every day felt worse and worse, not just because of the pain or his trapped mobility, but because Danny never felt as alone as he did then.
The medical staff didn't even know his name (His fault for refusing to say it), and the loneliness was eating him alive. The only thing keeping him going through those horrible two months in the hospital was the knowledge that Bruce Wayne (whoever that guy was) paid for everything and his new favorite show on the TV in his room.
Nail Artist Road Race. A show where nail artists crossed the country, doing challenges and getting eliminated as they tried to be the first to the finish line.
It was likely an old show, since they tended to do reruns for hours on end, and Danny was pretty sure he eventually watched the entire show twice by the time he was able to sit up and start physical therapy in a recovery center. Mr. Wayne once again footed the bill, and Danny- now allowing them to know him as Danny Fenton but playing the animisa card after a scan showed signs of it- was asked if there was anything he would like to make his private room better.
The facility was already one of the best in the country, and Danny honestly felt it was more of a hotel than a recovery center. He didn't ask for much, but he did ask to practice nail art, wanting to try it after watching so many hours of it. Mr. Wayne did not disappoint, and within three days of his request, a miniature studio was set up in a corner of his private room, complete with fake hands for him to practice on.
At first, Danny wasn't the best, but with the laptop Mr. Wayne sent him and a few free video tutorials, he was off. By the sixth month after his fight with Fodger, Danny had realized that he was A. in a completely different world and B. really good at his new hobby and C. He could not go ghost without Forger's mark flaring up. He spent nearly a year before he was finally able to be released from the recovery center, and at age sixteen, Danny was shipped off to the foster system.
Due to being in a new world, Danny had no proof of identity, and it was quickly concluded he might have been trafficked. Likely by a cult or something similar, thanks to the blasted mark burned into his flesh. He had no reason to correct the misunderstanding, yet he pretended to be a scared young man. He couldn't go Ghost and likely never will again, so he had to make sure no one found out about his origins.
Who knows what they would do with a boy so easy to make disappear? Over the course of a year, despite his limited movement, Danny had come to realize Gotham was not safe. Much less for a person with little to thier name. His only saving grace was that Bruce Wayne seemed to have taken an interest in him, and, despite never meeting the man in person, he was under Mr. Wayne's protection.
This is how Danny ended up with Mrs. Hoang, a widow of fifty, who may not have treated him with warmth but made sure he had everything he needed. She wasn't like his parents, who always openly expressed thier love in both actions and words, but she didn't treat him like Danny was a criminal or a slave like the many horror stories he'd heard about Gotham's foster system. Instead, she regarded him as if he were a chore she had to put up with.
He didn't mind too much, since he was able to continue school and found that the world's material was far easier than his, despite the many technological advancements they had. What happened to the academic levels?
He also found a part-time job through Mrs. Hoang, who eyed the nail set he had brought with him from the recovery center (he was able to keep all personal items, though there weren't many) from day one. She knew a nail salon run close to thier house, was a regular client, and was able to sweet-talk the owner into hiring him for weekend overloads.
Danny was overjoyed, even though they had him do mostly pedicures with simple designs, but he was good at what he did and was eventually given his own table to start doing designer manicure sets. As the only male, underage, and non-Vietnamese speaker, Danny felt isolated from the staff, despite how friendly and well they treated him.
He was happy that he eventually started getting his own clients, whom he gossiped with as he worked. This is how he met Rose, a girl one year above him, who had come in with her mom to do a mani-pedi, and had been so excited that he had taken her request, making her nails look pretty with her pride flag, demisexual, that she begged him to come to the next GSA meeting in school and do the other club members.
He didn't see anything wrong with it, and had taken his nail kit to school the following Friday, working on the students' hands as quickly and as creatively as he wanted. He charged him half the price they would have paid at the saloon (after all, most of his equipment was a gift, and thus he didn't pay for any of it) and had found himself with ten loyal customers.
Rose decided she would get him as many customers as she could. She spread the word that he charged very cheaply, regardless of the design, and soon girls (and a few boys) were messaging him to book appointments. Danny had bought himself a phone at his job at the saloon, and it was a great investment for him.
Most of his clients were beyond excited that he was willing to place rhinestones and special metallic effect on the nails for the same price as a regular gel set, and since he only charged twenty, he had almost all of his afternoons booked weeks in advance. His boss at the saloon heard about his increasing popularity, but she didn't seem to mind, only reminding him to push their other services to his clients if he had a chance.
Eventually, Danny turned eighteen, two years after his fight with Forger, and Mrs. Hoang was quick to remind him he had to leave. He didn't hesitate to go because she felt more like a landlord than a caregiver, but he was worried about where he would live. Danny had saved as much as he could over the course of two years, which sadly wasn't enough to live on.
He had enough to find a cheap apartment for about four months before he had to worry. The saloon he worked for offered him a full-time position on his eighteenth birthday, which helped with the extra hours, but it would be a while before he could live comfortably.
He thought a lot about his family, on nights when the walls were so thin he could hear his neighbors drunkly singing at two am, or when he had to duck his head and walk quickly in the street to work or the bus stop (He hoped to buy himself a car before a permanent house). He mourned them often, the lives they could have had and the memories they could have made, while also wondering if they ever stopped looking for him.
If they ever looked at all.
It was a pain that had dulled over the course of the two years, but every once in a while, he was reminded so violently of his parents and sister that his whole day was ruined and nothing could pick up his mood. It was the kind of grief that attacked when he was unguarded and invaded his waking thoughts about what life used to be.
Other times, he just tried to get through the day.
But despite everything, Danny wasn't too sad; he made a life for himself. He had his coworkers, who slowly erased the distance between them. Rose had become his new best friend and often spent time in his apartment when she needed a break from her roommate (she went to Gotham U and hated her roommate). He had a passion for it and was good at it, which made it possible to pay bills and buy himself little treats.
He never met Mr.Wayne in person, but that wasn't uncommon in Gotham. The man sponsored many people for a few years without ever crossing paths with them. It's why so many knew about the rich man despite him not being a formal celebrity.
Forger's maker was still on his back, like an ugly, unwanted tattoo, but at least it was shaped in a cool circle with pretty interesting signs and symbols that might have made a fantastic design were it not the reason his life had fallen apart. No one really saw it, because Danny refused to go topless in front of anyone, but one night, Rose had caught a glimpse of it and had gasped so loudly that he had avoided her for nearly a week in shame.
She apologized a dozen times, feeling horrible about her reaction, and then asked if Danny wanted her to pay to have it covered up. She swore she knew a great tattoo artist- Rose was that type of person who had contacts upon contacts of various people who could do odd jobs for her- and after a month of thinking it over, he accepted. That's how he found himself venturing into Crime Alley (he had been poor but not that poor. Thank the heavens Mrs. Hoang never demanded any of his hard-earned money) following a drawn map to an apartment building.
The man who opened the door was a few years older than him, somewhere in his mid-twenties. His arms were covered in tattoos, the one most eye-catching being the Scorpio on his upper shoulder. He was muscular, in a way that said he could and would break a few bones, but he had a friendly smile stretched across his face.
"Hey there, you're Danny, yeah? Rose sent you to have something on your back covered." The man tilted his ballcap back, peering down at Danny with sparkling green eyes. There was a certain rise in his pitch that told Danny he wasn't originally from Gotham either. Though he couldn't tell where the stranger had originally lived.
"Yup, that's me," Danny laughed, hunching his shoulder and shifting his feet. He tried not to show how uncomfortable he felt with his surroundings, even though he was hyper-aware of the cracked hallway walls and the low lighting that made it look like a horror movie opening scene.
It did help that the redhead in front of him was sinfully attractive. Only a little.
"Great. I'm Roy. Come on in, I have my stuff set up in the corner of the room." Roy stepped back, holding the door wide open for him.
Danny carefully moved through, eyes landing on a corner that looked to be made up of a portable tattoo table and shelves covered in various colors. A little rolling table was nearby with a tray and a few markers. He didn't see the tattoo gun, but Rose said this first meeting would be just to design and see how the scar looked so they could work it into the cover-up. He felt more relieved when he noticed the license and credentials for tattooing hanging on the wall behind the chair.
The second thing Danny noticed was the man on the other side of the room, lifting a bar of weights in arm curls. Danny didn't do much working out, but he could tell that he was lifting a lot of weight just by the size of the circles. If Roy was muscular, then that man was the size of a brick house. His sweat had his sleeveless undershirt clinging to his back- the part facing Danny- and highlighted all of the muscles currently being used as the man lifted the bar back and forth.
A studio was blaring a rock song near his feet, nearly covering up the soft grunts and clanking of the metal as he worked out.
Danny felt his stomach drop. He did not feel safe. Why had he listened to Ross?
"Rose said your scar is big and raised. Do you mind if I see it? We need to know whether the skin can be worked on." Roy said, dragging Danny out of staring at the back of the dark-haired stranger. When he turned to look at the tattoo artist, he found himself at the receiving smirk, obviously having noticed his staring. "Don't mind Jason, he can leave if you're not comfortable showing it here."
"I wouldn't want to make him quit midset." Danny babbled, waving his arms in the air. Who knows if someone like that won't react violently if someone like Danny demands that he leave.
"I don't mind," Jason called over his shoulder. "It's almost time for a break anyway. Besides, Roy told me hours ago you were coming. It's my fault for waiting so long to start."
Danny blinked in surprise even as Roy nodded, "There you have it. It's really all up to you."
"Well....in that case, can he leave?"
Jason didn't need to be told twice. He set the bar down gently on the rack nearby, gathered his speaker and his water before turning around to face Danny for the first time. "You got it. I'm going to hit the shower and watch a movie in my room. Let me know if either of you needs anything."
Roy called out some gratitude for him moving, but Danny couldn't hear anything above the sound of his racing heart and possibly angels singing. Because right there, that man, was the most gorgeous person he had ever seen, and really, it only made sense that he had an angelic choir traveling with him everywhere he went if he looked like that. Even his one streak of white hair didn't seem off-putting; if anything, it gave a striking aspect to his already sharp and handsome features.
Danny was pretty sure the world had slowed down, as Jason wiped the sweat off his forehead with a red hand towel and then took a sip of his bottle. He gawked after the man until the door of what was presumably the bath closed behind him, and it was only Roy's clearing his throat that brought him back.
Flustered, Danny scrambled to sit on the chair beside the tattoo table, attempting to get his red face to cool down.
Roy didn't mention his obvious reaction to Jason, though he did have a teasing edge to his smile now, but that quickly fell away when Danny revealed his back. Then the redhead was nothing but business as he considered the design and the damaged lines, eventually claiming he could make it work, but they had to pick something that favored great detail to get all the symbols.
They discussed a few ideas over the course of an hour before Danny settled on the story of Icarus, specifically the moment when the man fell from the sky, as a sort of ironic explanation for why he was stuck in this world. He did not share that part of his reasoning with Roy.
They decided Icarus would be at the center of the artwork, with clouds and scattered feathers around him, and the man stretching out a hand towards the sun, which would be the majority of Danny's shoulder blade area. Roy promised to work on a few designs for Danny to review, which he would email, and, depending on the one he picked, they could schedule the number of seasons needed to get it done.
Danny winced at the price amount, even with the friend discount Rose was getting him, but Roy was more than happy to trade a few sessions for Danny's services at his daughter's birthday party. He was to do the nails of all her little friends using the princess designs Rose had shown him, and a full set for his current girlfriend. She wanted something dazzling with rhinestones. He also wanted Danny to do a full set for Jason's sisters, whose birthdays were coming up.
Seeing as the tattoo sessions were a hefty price discount for a few sessions of nails, Danny was quick to agree.
He left the apartment as quickly as he could, a little frightened to walk Crime Alley in the dark. Thankfully, it wasn't pitch black when he left, but it was pretty late still, and he all but ran to the bus stop. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, despite being unable to pinpoint where it was coming from.
By the time he got home and threw himself onto his bed, he had half the mind to send Rose a message to complain about not receiving a warning of the location or the attractive men that were in it, but decided against it.
One did not simply threaten Rose Wilson without having a death wish.
Instead, he sent her a bunch of gasping cats and an all-caps message that contained only four words: Those guys were hot!
She replied in three seconds.
I know. I figured you deserved some eye candy, as a treat.
Danny rolled his eyes, curling on his side, trying to hide his smile and smother his racing heart. It would take him days before he realized that whenever he went to his tattoo session, he would feel watched. It would take even longer for him to notice the two figures, one with a bow and another with a helmet, dashing over the rooftops in the same direction as his home.
Alfred: Family emergency meeting! Family emergency meeting in the main sitting room! NOW!
Bruce, running out of the shower: What's going on?
Tim, half-dressed in a wizard costume: I don't know!
Dick covered in flour and tomato sauce: I wasn't trying to cook a pizza in my room!
Jason wearing a bear onesie: No one believes your lies, Dick! But it has to be bad if Alfred called all of us and not just one to yell at!
Damain running by in a prince charming outfit: Reinforcements are on the way, Alfred! Hold the line!
Cass sprinting by with snakes wrap around her entire body: HOLD THE LINE!
Steph, in a star suit that lights up to the beat of her favorite rock song: Bruce, do you know what is going on!?
Bruce: Apparently, I don't know what's going on at any given point in this manor. Why are you all....dressed like that?
Dick panicked: Not to make illegal pizzas in our rooms after Alfred banned us from cooking! Ha ha ha!
Bruce: Right. The rest of you?
Tim: Wizards are cool
Jason: I was taking a nap
Steph: I'm going dancing tonight.
Bruce: None of those answers justified your appearances but we don't have time. Alfred needs us!
Everyone in the sitting room: What's the emergency?!
Alfred: That came back to our doorstep.
Baby Danny Fenton in a basket: *Happy Babbling*
Alfred: It speaks evil.
Bruce: What? Alfred not this again. It's not a evil spirit its just a baby!
Cass: What do you mean, Bruce? Alfred wouldn't let Damian or me get close to the baby.
Alfred: That thing has been attempting to enter the Wayne household for twenty years! It always appears in a basket, trying to play with the strings of employees' hearts to bring it in. It's the same face, the same basket, the same intelligent eyes following every sentence! Its not a human baby! Its A thing of evil!
Damian: I forgot you're from the parts of England that fear the Fae
Alfred: Don't call their name, boy! I always leave it outside, but today someone brought it in. It was here in the sitting room! It can't come into the manor without someone helping it!
Bruce: Because its a baby....
Alfred: Who did this!?
Duke walking with a warm bottle of milk: Oh you guys are all here. Perfect! I found this little guy outside-
Alfred pointing at him: TRAITOR!
Bruce: Alfred please....have you taken your medication?
Tim: Bruce wait, the baby, it's eyes are glowing.
Duke: The baby is a boy Tim.
Tim: Right sorry. His eyes are glowing.
Alfred: It's bonded to the land! We're DOOM!
Dick: Alfred, please calm down. How about a snack? Would some pizza make you feel better?
Jason: Um, the baby is floating.
Steph: They do that sometimes.
Damain nodding: Martians' infants levitate out of their cribs. It's possible for infants.
Bruce: Alfred put down that fire poker.
Alfred: I will sent it back to hell!
Duke: Woah woah! Don't you come near my baby!
Tim: Alfred, don't make me tackle you. Please. I know you will hurt me. I want to avoid that.
Alfred: Out of my way lads. I must do this.
Bruce: EVERYONE ATTACK ALFRED
Dick: aghhhhh we're going to die!
Jason: The baby just went through the ceiling. Anyone else keeping a eye on him? Anyone?
The rest of Waynes in a bar brawl with Alfred: Agggggggggghhhhhhhh
Jason: I guess not. I'm going to go look for the none human baby.
Pa Kent: Good morning Alfred. Are you busy today? Ma and I are in Gotham for that fancy art gallery Clark is writing about. Did you have some time to meet us for lunch before the event?
Alfred: Oh, sorry, Pa, unfortunately, I have my hands full with the latest shenanigans of the children.
Pa: Oh? What happened?
Alfred: Master Dick, has discovered he is a father.
Pa shocked: Dick has kids?
Alfred: Yes, we believe they're from the same place as Mister Bart Allen.
Pa: Oh. That makes sense. How is Dick handling everything?
Alfred: Very well. He's ecstatic to be a father. It's his children who are....reluctant.
Pa: What do you mean?
Alfred: Hold on. Let me send you a picture of the children when Master Dick told them he was thier father.
Danny/Dan/Dani:
Pa: Well....they certainly resemble Dick. He looked the same when I asked him to help me birth a calf. How old are they?
Alfred: Master Dan is the oldest; he's twelve. Master Daniel is the middle one at ten, and Miss Danielle is the youngest at eight. They're sweet children, but they do not seem interested in being brought into the Waynes' home. They've negotiated with Master Bruce to get them rooms at the most expensive hotel in Gotham, in exchange for not running away. It took us months to even corner them.
Pa: Wow that sounds so stressful. I understand that your busy we could reschedule-
Ma taking the phone: Alfred, let Dick handle his kids. You deserve a day off. Join us for lunch, wine and dine at the art gallery with us and if the night goes well, let us get you naked between us.
Pa scandalized in the background: That's too forward!
Alfred: What time and where are we doing lunch?
Bruce sitting across from Alfred and overheard everything: Now Clark will know the pain of the butler dating one's parents. Let's see him laugh now. I hope he suffers.
Dick lying face down on the floor: My kids called me unnatural for being in shape, and now my grandpa is getting more action in one night than I've had in the past six months. This is it. My life has no more meaning.
Maddie: Your father and I knew that you were disappointed to miss out on the family reunion because of your husband's surgery, so we decided to skip it this year and come give you some support in caring for him!
Jack: As well as giving you a break. You must be under so much stress taking care of him and the kids!
Danny, having been lying about his marriage for the past two years to get out of family obligations: Wow... that's so sweet of you.
Maddie: I'm so excited to meet everyone! When you said you were moving to a new Earth, I knew communication through the Ghost Zone was going to be rough, but only being able to connect audio calls once every four months was much harder to endure than I thought it would be.
Jack: Not to mention traveling here. We had to do so many pit stops to fix up the Spectator Speeder and let me tell you, some of those floating rocks were hard to land on. Sometimes makes me wish we had your ghosts powers.
Danny: Yeah....you both went through so much effort. To vist me. In a different dimension.
Maddie: We three! Jazz is here too.
Danny: *gulps* The whole family is here.
Jack: Oh, don't make that face. The Fenton Reunion happens every four years. We'll see your aunts, uncles, and cousins next time. You're much more important to us, so no need for guilt.
Danny: I- right. Of course. Um, have you guys eaten? I can treat us to some dinner before we go back to my place. My, um, husband is at a doctor's appointment with my eldest while I did some work. I'm going on emergency family leave but I had to fill out the paperwork at the office today. Yup yup, thats why I'm here. At my workplace.
Maddie: You alright sweetie? You're sweating a lot.
Danny: I'm fine!
Jack: You work here? This office building is so nice. What does Wayne Enterprise do? I know you have a management position but I never really understood what department exactly.
Danny, who works in the mail room: Um, Wayne Enterprise does a little of everything. I'm in... communications.
Jack: But what exactly does communications do-
Danny: Excuse me for a bit. I have to let my husband know I'm going to be a little late.
Maddie: Oh! Don't tell the kids we're here. We want it to be a suprise. We brought gifts for all of them! Jazz is actually wrapping them up in the Speeder now!
Danny: Ha ha ha ha of course! Excuse me! *walking away pretending to be tapping a contact on his phone* shit shit shit. What do I do???
Damian appearing from the shadows: You told falsehoods.
Danny: Agh!
Damian: ....
Danny: Mr. Wayne Al Ghul! I-ugh- hello! I mean, good afternoon, sir. I ugh-
Damian: Silence
Danny: Yes sir.
Damian: I heard everything, and while I normally find lies distasteful, I find your parents endearing. It could benefit my family. I shall give you aid in your facade.
Danny: What?
Damain: My father recently had surgery on his right hip- a accident on our extreme skiing trip- and refuses to listen to our family doctor. He will not get the proper bed rest he's been ordered, but he would if you acted like his very upset husband with visting in-laws.
Danny: I- Mr. Wayne would never agree to that.
Damian: You seem to believe Father has a choice.
Danny: I-
Damian: I messaged Richard about the plan. He's gathering my siblings' support as we speak. When you arrive after dinner with your family, Father will have no time to deny anything. We shall trap him in social expectations. By the way, you are Timothy's safe queer adult who was there for him in the early years of his self-discovery journey and now he wants to help you. Its how we guilt trip father.
Danny: I can't lie to Bruce Wayne like that!
Damian: It's too late. Timothy already made a shirt of your face with the words "My Gay Yoda" on it. Your path has been chosen.
Danny: What-
Jack: Danny? Who's this?
Damian holding out his arms for a hug: Grandfather, I am Damian, Father's and Dad's youngest.
Jack: Damian! Its so nice to met you. Call me Gran-papa! *crushes him in a bear hug*
Damian in the most monotone voice ever: Gran-papa, I can not feel my arms.
Maddie: Aren't you just the cutest! Danny used to say the same thing at your age whenever his dad hugged him. I'm your Gran-mama, by the way! JAZZ COME MEET THE BABY!
Danny in a horrified whisper: Did my boss trap me in my own web of lies?
Whats a funny meme you use for Danny in Gotham fics?
Danny would have a burn book about the Waynes- both in and out of costume. Instead of one page per person, they would be a page per everything he disliked about them and/or rumors about them.
If he got adopted he would add pages about himself as Fenton and Phantom just to throw off thier scent if they every found it.
Jason: I allowed you to come with me under one condition. Don't forget that condition.
Dick: I know, I know. I'm not allowed to date your friend.
Jason: I mean it, Dick. You have a weakness for red heads and Jazz-
Dick: -Is not looking for a relationship or situationship. I know. You said so at least ten times on the way over here. Come on Jay, have a little faith.
Jason: Alright. Just be cool. *opens door* and welcome to Jazz's Bookshelve. The best place to read and listen to slow jazz.
Dick: *whistles* You weren't kidding when you said this place had a cool theme. But is that shelve all the books they have?
Jason: Nope. I told you the front part was a Coffee shop styled like a bar for a reason. This was a speakeasy back in the 1920s, and behind that bookshelf is the entrance, which leads down into the speakeasy, which is what they turned into the bookshop. The live jazz band plays down there too.
Dick: Very nice. Whoever thought about the idea was a genius
Danny behind the bar: Thank you for the compliment. I'll let Jazz know someone loved her idea today.
Dick: ....
Jason: Hey Danny!
Danny: Hey Jay, back again for another drink and a speakeasy read?
Jason: You know it. By the way, the man frozen in place like a idiot is my older brother. Dick this is Danny Fenton, the owner's brother and my friend.
Danny: Nice to meet you.
Dick:.....
Danny: He doesn't talk much, does he?
Jason: No, he does. A lot Normally he be a chatter box. The only time he freezes is when- Oh come on! I told you the condition!
Dick: He doesn't count! You said the redhead! Not the cute barista!
Danny: Cute barista? Thank you. I try.
Jason: I can't believe you. This is junior high all over again! Stop flirting with my friends!
Dick: *gasp* I don't flirt with your friends! They flirt with me!
Bruce: Yes. His name is Clark Kent. He can be trusted.
Danny: Okay. *Writes note down* What about the woman next to him?
Bruce: That's Cat Grant, and no, she can't be trusted. Everything you say to her will turn into a gossip-lifting, life-ruining article.
Danny: Got it. *writes more notes*
Jason, watching the two from a few feet away: Say, who's that kid Bruce is media training? Is he a new ward he took in?
Tim: No, that's Danny Fenton, the face of Fenton Works. They signed up as a sub-company of Wayne Enterprise. Originally, they were a paranormal investigation and capture company- yes, I mean ghost hunters- but it was discovered that almost all thier tech can be used on metas. Bruce wants to make medical equipment that can be used by our enhanced citizens.
Jason: I see. But why a kid so young? He's your age, right?
Tim: Hmm, apparently his parents, the owners of Fenton Works, made him CEO so they could focus on ghost hunting and the occasional meta medical machines for Bruce. He got here a week ago to shadow me for CEO training, and Bruce stole him after they met outside my office. Danny hangs onto his every word, and I think Bruce forgot what it was like to have a kid actually listen to him.
Jason: Ah thats makes sense. What do you think of him?
Tim: Well, he's a little naive, easy to trick, and has way too much empathy for the cold world of business. I'm gonna have him in my bed.
Jason: Ah....well that took a turn. One I do not like so I'm gonna....*walks away*
Tim: He will be ✨️mine✨️
Bruce overhears everything from the bugs he planted on his kids: Danny, go ahead and change Tim's status. He can not be trusted.
You think Nanny Herding Geniuses Danny would someday wind up as the Drake butler like how Alfred is for Bruce? Or if they'd someday get assimilated into the BatFam?
Danny wants to be a Nanny above all. I think if Tim gets old enough and he be offered a butler position he would leave. Remember he's skilled enough to be considered highly overqualified for his position.
He's on Bruce's level of training in hand-to-hand combat and was an active bodyguard before the Drakes hired him. He worked under the name Phantom, a legend in the Ghost Zone but not in the living world. The Drakes knew he was important, just not how important. (They also have a crush on him which helped)
He doesn't want to serve; he wants to work with children. He wants to protect. It's his core instincts, as well as his itch to be fighting (or in Tim's case running around after an impossibly clever kid that sees trouble and grins before running headfirst into it)
Now, if he got assimilated into the Batfam, that would make him stay, cause he'd have more kids to take care of. He doesn't want to fight for "good", he wants to fight in response to something threatening him or his loved ones.
He would be very stressed and snappy if he were to be watching the kids on the field. He hates knowing thier out there without him to watch thier backs. He doesn't want to be a hero or a vigilante, so he winds up hate-watching the monitors most of the time. He's not a Guy in the Chair. He's the angry parent on the side of a sports field growling whenever his kid accidentally gets bumped or even brushed up against.
His displeased words would be scorching, not just to Bruce but to Alfred, Dick, Jason, Barbara, and Cass (they are all adults and should have known better). They have the unfortunate role of serving as the Referee for Angry Parent Danny in this scenario. Like why are they letting underage kids on the feild??? What do you mean "you can't stop them?"
The only way to calm him down would be Bruce puting his focus on something else.
A.K.A the start of the Wayne Meta Daycare/Boardinghouse. It would be such a 180 to Batman's no Meta rule that everyone would be sure Bruce is not Batman. How could he if the man's partner decided to be a Father to every Meta child in gotham.
Edit: Bruce and Danny are not romantically involved. Gotham thinks so, and rumors about them spread like wildfire; they can't get people to believe otherwise.
Dick: We need to find a way to establish communication with the ghost or we're in for a fight I doubt we can win. Any ideas?
Garth: We already ruled out most of land languages. I could try Atlantean? Or four of the Seven Sea Comman?
Dick: Go for it it.
Garth: *Turns to flouting figure and speaking in clacking tounge sounds*
Dick: Well?
Garth: No reaction. I don't think he understands.
Dick: Drat. Anyone else?
Kori: I have tried using the few languages I know, and I also failed. However, if I can get close enough I could use my people's lip to lip contact to learn his language instantly.
Dick: I doubt that he will let you get that close but we can try- what are you two doing?
Roy: Setting up the ultimate form of communication
Wally: Interpretive dance! Hit it!
Dick: No-
Wally/Roy:
Danny floating down, teary eye: No one has ever said such poetry about my mother.
Dick: you spoke English this whole time!?
Danny: No, I learned it just so I could thank these two for the touching way they spoke of my mother.
Dick in tears: About two days. We were so worried-
Bruce: Where's Tim?
Jason: It's alright Bruce. You both made it out fine. He wasn't hurt at all.
Bruce: No. Where is Tim!? Where is he?!
Damian: Father calm down. Drake is-
Bruce: You don't understand! You all let Tim out of your sight! On the most dangerous night of the year!
Dick: What?
Bruce: If I was out for two days then tonight the stars align. Tim is going to summon the Ghost King!
Jason: Why would he summon one of the most dangerous and evil being in the multiverse B?
Bruce: Because he's crazy! The only thing keeping Tim's mental state together was his obsession with Batman! But his obsession with the Ghost King is much greater! We have to find him!
Dick: B, please calm down. You were out for two days. Let us worry about Tim.
Damian: I found Drake. He's in the backyard.
Dick: See? Everything is fine. Tim isnt summoning anything.
Damian: Richard, stop spreading falsehoods. Look at the surveillance.
Tim in the backyard:
Bruce leaping out bed: We have to stop him! I can not have the Ghost king as a son in law!
Jason: Wait, he's trying to summon the King to date him!?
Tim Drake finds a handheld mirror when he decides to go on a side quest and visit estate sales instead of going to class. Normally, Tim doesn't buy anything other than vintage comic books, but for some reason, the little mirror held together by twisting black metal caught his attention.
It wasn't valuable. He could tell that by a glance, but it had a certain presence that called to him. A charm that was endearing enough, he found himself reaching into his pocket for a crisp ten-dollar bill. With the mirror in his bag and his skateboard under his feet, Tim flew through Gotham, occasionally leaning to avoid obstacles. A stray thought about school entered his mind, but Tim quickly dismissed the idea. He had already missed most of the morning; there would be no point in going for the rest of the day.
Instead, he finds his way to the skate park, pleased to see it empty. For five hours, he boards. Doing flips and tricks that no one but himself could see. It was freeing not to have to put on a show, not to be the little heir his parents wanted, the smartest in the room among his peers, or any other performing or exhausting act.
Here he was just Tim. Another face lost in the sea of people, who always preferred his own company to that of others. It's something his teachers have noticed and brought up to his parents in a "this is an issue that needs to be addressed" sort of tone. His parents nodded and looked appropriately worried, but once they were away from the school, they assured him it was fine.
That Tim didn't have to make friends if he didn't want to. His mom and dad also preferred thier own company as kids, and his grandparents' attempts to force them to do things they didn't like were the reason why his parents refused to speak to them. Both sets of his grandparents had rules for everything. His grandparents had to approve every aspect of their lives, so that eventually their children couldn't even have preferences for favorite drinks or music without asking permission.
Jack and Janet grew up with everything being decided for them by thier parents. Tim, in turn, grew with his parents deciding nothing for him, and letting him have complete freedom. Some say it's because Jack and Janet didn't care, but Tim knew better.
They called every day, smiled when he told his stories, and smothered him in toys and other joys. That was love. They just traveled a lot for work. Plenty of parents did that; heck, three kids in his class had one or more parents in service and were often missing for deployment.
So yes, he did get a little lonely when the three-hour call ended, and maybe he didn't have proper structure, as some adults claimed, but Tim wasn't sad. He lived in a big manor, had plenty of money, warm meals prepared by a cook, a warm bed, and clean clothes provided by a maid service that came every other day. He had everything he needed.
Plus his nighttime hobby. The rush of following Batman and Robin, watching from the scene itself as his heros saved the day and took down evil. There was nothing as addicting as figuring out clues alongside them- even if they never knew that he pieced together the answers- and watching Robin be the light that Gotham desperately needed.
Watching them from behind his camera lends always made Tim feel like he could do anything too. That included ditching a day of class to go do something that actually interested him.
After five hours of skateboarding, Tim was rather hungry and decided to leave the park. He seemed to pick the perfect time because a loud and overly cheerful group of teenagers suddenly burst from the street, each carrying a board or skates. They quickly take over the biggest bowl in the park, standing on the side as each one goes down for a quick routine.
Tim grimaces, only because he knows them. That particular group isn't the friendliest and had practically run him out the last time he was in the bowl. They mostly leave everyone alone, but for some reason, they did not like sharing thier spot, even if it was already in use by someone else.
He's grateful his empty stomach has gotten him out of that particular confrontation as he wanders through the street, board tucked under his arm. He never knows what he's in the mood to eat, until he sees it, which is how he often finds hole-in-the-wall places that taste far better than any chain restaurant can ever hope to come close to. Most of the time, Tim just walks until he finds somewhere new to eat.
He does so now, wandering in a new direction from the park he hasn't taken before.
Tim has to sidestep a lot because most people don't see him (or, if they do, they don't care about bumping into him). His shortness had always belied his age, but Tim knows it's only until he hits puberty.
He'll grow taller then. Bigger. Or at least that's what the books he secertly read in the libary said.
Right now, he has to deal with being nine and small and having people weave out of each other's way except for him. He frowns when one man opens the door to a restaurant, nearly knocking Tim over as he walks outside.
"Whoa! Sorry! Didn't see you there," The man laughs, having twisted on his heel at the last second to avoid Tim.
"It's alright," Tim replies softly, not really forgiving but knowing he should be. It's what is expected of him in situations like these. He's proven right when the man's face relaxes, and he leaves without much fanfare
Tim watches him go before turning his attention to the restaurant. It's a small place, likely owned by the family that works there. The window has some posters of the wares. Tim quickly concludes it's Chinese, likely more home-cooked meals than the regular buffet style he likes to visit. His stomach growls once, and that's enough for him to open the door and go inside. He's greeted by the employees and told to sit wherever he likes.
He picks the far corner, closest to the bathroom, but he hides behind a pillar that practically hides him from the rest. He sits with his back to the wall, facing the entrance, leaning his board against the wall to his right, and setting his bag on the bench to his right. A waitress comes over with a menu and a glass of ice water, smiling at him politely and asking what he would like to drink besides that.
Tim appreciates that she doesn't ask too many questions. Most people look concerned when someone as small as him wanders in, and oftentimes, he has to answer, "Where are your parents?" "Are you lost?" "Do you have money to pay?" before they serve him.
For that alone, he's going to leave her a fifty as a tip.
"An iced tea with raspberry, please," Tim tells her, attempting his most polite voice. She beams, obviously charmed by his efforts, and with a sweet reminder to take his time on the menu, she disappears towards the back. Tim waits until he's sure she won't return, then digs through his bag with the intention of looking over some photos that he had developed (None from his Batman camera of course)
His fingers brush up against metal. Like a jolt of electricity down his spine, Tim has a sudden, inexplicable urge to hold the mirror.
That's not good, he thinks as he tugs it out. It's still the same black metal with green gems- fake ones, he can tell the difference- as it was when he purchased it earlier that day, with a plain reflective surface glass shaped like a heart. The only difference is that, while before it had a presence, now it practically dominated the room. Not good at all.
Tim was no stranger to cursed items. His parents' work meant they often encountered things beyond human comprehension. He could name five times alone when his father called, laughing hysterically, because his mother had set some magical trap in a tome: She really needed to stop touching things that had symbols of birds on them, even if she adored the animal.
His parents also shipped back items that were somehow magical, wanting them on display in the "Magic room". Jack claimed thier family used to have witches and magic sung in the Drake blood before it was smothered out by the new blood introduced in marriages. They weren't about to perform magic, but the Drakes could sense when something was there.
The Magic Room was the place they put all magic, haunted, or otherwise questionable items that could be considered supernatural. Even the family portraits hung there were only of those who had "a closer tie to magic." They only had four hung up.
Tim believed in magic and ghosts and spirits and all that stuff, but he always doubted those in his family could actually do it. He liked to think it was just people who were more intelligent than normal, and that people of the past couldn't understand that without falsely claiming it was due to magic rather than to more advanced individuals. Still, it didn't mean he wasn't aware that he and his father always stiffened up at the same time, always looked in the same direction of empty air when something pings their alertness, and instinctively knew that some items were more than met the eye.
The mirror was one of those things.
It was compelling Tim to look into it, and despite his mind screaming at him to put it down, his body moved on its own. Tim held the mirror up to his face, looking into his own reflection as it cautiously let its eyes roam.
He knows he is looking at himself, but a part of him couldn't help but think it was the other way around. His reflection was the one studying him. He's proven right, for a split second, it smirks at him even though Tim's own lips haven't so much as twitched.
"Are you ready to order?" The waitress returns, breaking the spell. Tim carefully sets the mirror down, making sure it's flipped so the glass faces the tabletop, and smiles at the woman.
He orders something random, letting his finger point to words on the menu. He gets an appetizer, two entrees, and even a dessert for two before he realizes what he's doing. She writes it all down, not questioning the reasoning why someone so small would need that much food, and then she's collecting the menu. He stays silent as she moves, waiting until she once again disappears into the back, before the urge to use the mirror hits like a ton of bricks.
Don't, a voice in his mind hisses Don't do it. Don't let it win.
Tim resists for a solid three minutes before his hand closes around the mirror's handle. He can't remember moving his arm to do so, but it's up and in his face again before he can stop it.
"Crab cakes," He whispers, staring at the glass. Or rather the empty glass. His reflection is gone.
"Is that a swear? You said it like it's a swear, but I'm pretty sure it's food." A voice, an alarmingly familiar voice, asks. It's laced with humor, almost good-natured teasing, but it's coming from across the table from him. The once-empty side of the table. Tim swallows, refusing to look up, even though he can feel someone- or something- sitting there now.
He doesn't lower the mirror, pretending to find it utterly fascinating as his mind whirls. He tried to call upon all the knowledge he knows about magic or paranormal- he thinks this is a ghost thing- that his Dad had tried to stuff into his mind between trips around the world, but he comes up with a blank on what to do about possible mirror-escaping monsters. He just knows he could not acknowledge it under any circumstances.
"Hello," The waitress beams, coming back to the table. Tim jerks about to raise his head and greet, but he's able to force himself still at the last second. He didn't mean to be rude, but he can not- "Your brother didn't order a drink for you. What would you like, dear?"
"A cola, please," The thing sitting across from him answers. Unlike Tim's soft-spoken, well-mannered voice, the thing speaks in a polite, friendly, and open voice, almost jolly
Drat, she acknowledged it.
"Of course. I'll be right back," The waitress replies, equally as charmed by it as she had been by Tim. He can tell by the rise of her voice, the hidden aw in her words.
Tim waits until her footsteps sound far enough away before lifting his head and taking a look at what has managed to escape the mirror. He's not surprised to find himself staring at an exact copy of himself, down to the hidden dimple on his right cheek that only appears when he smirks.
It's dressed the same, with a board and a bag thrown carelessly on the floor. Tim chose the side with the booth because he hates sitting in chairs. They make it impossible to lounge. It's also sitting with perfect posture compared to Tim's slouch, and it's currently trying to brush down the wind-spread hair on its head.
Tim never bothered after riding his board, and always let it fly wherever his hair wanted to, knowing that eventually it would fall back into place. He had extremely straight hair.
Despite the fingers combing through its hair, its blue eyes were on Tim, and its smirk grew wider when it realized it finally had his attention. Counter to the smugness of its expression, its tone was rather friendly as it spoke. "Hello there. I'm Danny."
The thing- Danny- had a name. It had a personality, and, based on the way it was looking at him, it also had a plan.
Likely to replace me, Tim thought wearily, but not allowing that to show on his face. Or trick me into going into the mirror.
There were many ways he could play this, but the best and the most effective way his father ever taught him was the one he chose.
"Hi Danny, I'm Tim. Why do you look like me?" He puts the mirrior down, staring wide eye and captivated at Danny. The being across from him sits up straighter, and despite no change in his expression or body language, Tim can sense that it is satisfied with his response.
You have to trick them into thinking they tricked you. His Dad's voice echoes in his mind. Whenever you encounter something or someone stronger than you, the best thing to do is play along until you can find an opening and break them apart from the inside.
"I look like you because we're twins!" Danny informs Tim as if sharing a great secret. Tim wants to smash the mirror on its head. Does it think he's a stupid kid who would believe such a bad lie?
"Really?" He asks instead, leaning forward as if he had always known his sudden twin brother.
"Really, really," Danny confirms, taking a sip of his water. He beams at the cup, like he's never had something so delicious before. Tim is pretty sure it's just tap water, but he wonders if it's been so long since it was out of the mirror that it's forgotten what water tastes like. "Why don't we eat and then go home. I love to catch up with my baby brother!"
"Okay"
After they have lunch, Tim leads Danny back to the Manor, finding some time to slip away and send his parents a quick email when the mirror creature decides to explore. He makes sure to go into his wooden closet, checking to see if anything reflects before opening his laptop.
It's quick and to the point.
Bad news, picked up a curse mirror, let out a mirror creature that looks like me and is pretending to be my twin. Play along until I banish it.
His father replies within seconds, likely having been glancing at his emails when it happened. Makes sense since he's pretty sure it's in the late evening over there, and that's what Jack does before he goes to sleep.
Alright, pour purified salt in a face mask mix and create a perfect circle on your face to keep it away from harming you without it knowing you know. Keep it out of the magic room. Your mother and I are coming home first plane out. Love you, stay safe.
Tim does as he told, even putting a line of salt in front of the magic room and all the windows, sealing it off. Danny doesn't noticed beacuse it's too busy wandering around the manor, poking at the corners with narrow eyes. The only proper way to banish it, is to find out what it wants. Danny doesn't tell him right away, and after a dinner, a shower, and even giving him a room to sleep in, he doesn't make a move.
Tim still gets his protective face mask on, acting like he was obsessed with beauty trends, even when Danny makes a displeased face at the mixer. He falls asleep much later than usual, but once he confirms that Danny had stayed in his room, he can't find another excuse to stay awake.
The next day, his parents return at midday, acting as if they had always known they had twins, even as Danny seems surprised. No one points out any oddness, no one makes a comment about the strangeness of it all, and over the course of a week, Danny slowly relaxes into his slot in the family.
The Drakes let him- Tim no longer calling him a it after Danny loudly and proudly claimed his pronouns- but all three keep an eye on the situation. They record everything, search for any legend that can tell them about the black mirror, and slowly but surely start to lead the mirror thing into a false sense of security.
It's by the end of that week that they know they will never be able to banish Danny, not without one of them dying in the process, and they decide that the best course of action is to let Danny become attached to them. They treat him as a son and a brother, a valued and important member of the Drake family.
Years go by, and soon everyone forgets that Danny wasn't always there. News report on the twins: Drake employees smile at the boss's kids, equally polite and nervous, and even Batman believes the boy is a real flesh-and-blood little boy.
But the Drakes know better, and they lie in wait to rip the veil off of Danny's facade.
Tim keeps the mirror safely tucked away in a vault in the magic room, smothering its presence with layers of layers of wards placed there by previous Drakes. Danny never asks for it, which leads him to know that it holds the key to sending him back.
Danny kicks open the door: Bruce! Explain yourself!
Bruce: Hello, Daniel. How are you? How are things in accounting?
Danny: Don't try to use socialized manners to distract me! I want an explanation for these accounts! *slams folders on Bruce's desk*
Bruce: Hmm? These are personal accounts.
Danny: I'm aware! What I want to know is why you have so much money being transferred to "Barry's food budget", "Clark's furniture replacement fund," and "Diana's art purchases grant!"
Bruce: I believe the names of the accounts are self-explanatory.
Danny: Who are these people!? Why are you funding thier lives?! You have four other accounts with similar titles!.... Bruce, do you have a secret family? Illegitimate children?
Bruce: Yes, because I adopted a dozen children as a single father, but refused to actually provide for my own. That makes perfect sense. Wow, you caught me.
Danny: Ugh, I hate when you use sarcasm. The whole world thinks you're an airhead with no thoughts, but I know the truth. You're a sarcastic, emotionally broken mess that somehow is the most clever mastermind alive!
Bruce: Thank you
Danny: Uggghhhhh! If we weren't best friends, I would have quit by now! I made enough money to retire early!
Bruce: But you won't~🎶
Danny: Aghhhhh! I won't! If I do, I know you'll mess up all the financial systems I set up and run this company into the ground!
Bruce: You're the reason we aren't sinking.
Danny: Damn right I am! *Agressively sits down and crosses his arms and ankles* Alright, if they aren't your children, then who are these people?
Bruce with the straightest face ever: They're my sugar babies.
Danny: .....What?
Bruce pulls out pictures of the Justice League's civilian IDs: Look at them.
Danny: Wow
Bruce: Yeah
Danny: Okay, I guess it makes sense why you would want to fund them. But Bruce, you can't just-
Bruce: Do you want to be one of my sugar babies?
Danny: I would rather be ripped monicule by monicule than be your sugar baby.
Bruce: What if I made you my Splenda nephew?
Danny: What does that entail?
Bruce: I give you money, but you don't give me any sugar. You just spend time with me.
Danny: No kissing, no sex, no romance? Just friends spending time together?
Bruce: Exactly.
Danny: *Narrows eyes* Bruce Wayne, are you bribing me to turn a blind eye to you toeing the line of embazelement?
Bruce: Yes
Danny: Great! Cause I am totally willing to turn a blind eye to your sugar babies! How much are you willing to give Uncle Bruce?
Bruce: This is why we're best friends.
Bruce: Ugh, thank you, but please don't compare me to an owl.
Dani: Why?
Bruce: I prefer to be wise like....a fox.
Danny: No matter how much you try to manifest it, you will not grow up to be a silver fox. That's Alfred's title and no one can challenge him for it.
Alfred: Thank you Master Danny.
Bruce: No that's not the reason. I just don't like owls.
Dan: Is this about Owlman?
Bruce nervously: Ha ha who?
Dan whispering to his siblings: In an alternate universe, Bruce goes crazy and dresses up as Owlman.
Danny whispers back: In comparison to the sane decision, of dressing up as Batman?
Dan: Owlman liked to murder people. Batman just likes to hit them
Dani: Who's Batman?
Danny/Dan: What? We've been living with Batman for the past eight months. I mean, he doesn't know that we know, but we know.
Dani: Stop talking at the same time. It's creepy. That's how you wind up at the orphanage. Bruce can barely stand that we're posing as triplets and I dont know about you idiots, but I am not going to be a eight year old orphan in a Gotham Orphanage.
Danny: Oh bo-hoo you got de-aged four years, I lost six! I was two years away from a driving license!
Dan: I was twenty four. And now I'm eight. But honestly, I kinda like it. My back pain is gone.
Bruce: Kids? Why are you whispering under the table like that?
Danny/Dan/Danny: I was just telling them how much the nannies at pick up go wild whenever Alfred walks by.
Bruce: .....
Dani: Why are you silent? Was it the weird three voices speaking at once thing? I told them not to do that anymore. We are open to an exorcism if you think it helps.
Bruce: No. I just had flashbacks to when Alfred would drop me off at shcool. So many nannies that were.....excited and verbal about thier excitement.
