Just Kidding

For those times when you're like, I love this, but I need an account to press buttons? I made an account, and now I press buttons.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Dick's Mistake part 1

Sleep-Deprived Shenanigans

Wayne Manor had seen its fair share of chaos—Joker attacks, Batcave break-ins, mind control incidents, and once, a surprise birthday party gone terribly wrong involving a glitter bomb. But nothing in all its storied history had prepared it for this.

It started, as most disasters do, with coffee and sleep deprivation.

Tim Drake-Wayne had been running on fumes. Between patrols, paperwork, and trying to figure out if that weird power surge last night was a metahuman event or just Gotham’s aging infrastructure crapping out again, he was beat. So he retreated to his favorite local café, The Daily Drip, and parked himself at a corner table with his fourth espresso of the evening.

He texted Dick.

Tim: Can u come get me. I’m 97% dead. At the drip.

Dick: omw baby bat 🖤 stay alive til I get there

Tim responded with a skull emoji and then promptly passed out, face down on his notebook.

Two tables over, unknown to either Wayne brother, Danny Fenton—recent Gotham transplant, retired accidental superhero, and fellow sleep-deprived coffee addict—had also passed out after one too many triple shots and an internal monologue about how caffeine wasn't working anymore and sleep was a myth invented by ghosts.

(He would know. He’s half ghost. He's seen the receipts.) Shut up Nocturn. No one asked you!!

Enter Dick Grayson.

He stepped into the café like a knight in stretchy denim armor, scanning the tables for his groggy baby brother. Spotting a short, skinny, black-haired, twink face-down at a table wearing a hoodie and looking like death warmed over, he sighed in exasperated fondness.

“Jesus, Tim…” Dick muttered, approaching and gently shaking the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, c’mon, we gotta go.”

Danny, still mostly unconscious and dreaming about hotdogs that turned into calculus problems, just let out a groan.

Dick took that as permission.

Scooping the boy into his arms bridal-style, Dick nodded to the barista and said, “He does this. Sorry about the tip situation.”

The barista blinked. “Uh… okay?”

Danny snuggled into Dick’s shoulder like a sleepy kitten. Dick patted his back. “Yeah, that’s Tim. Definitely Tim. Smells like espresso and sarcasm. No way this isn’t Tim.”

Back at the Manor, Dick tucked “Tim” into bed, pulled the blackout curtains closed, and left the room with the satisfaction of a big brother who had done his job.

Danny woke up hours later from the best nap he’d had in weeks. For one glorious moment, he didn’t feel like a haunted sleep gremlin. The sheets were soft. The room was quiet. His joints weren’t aching.

And then the confusion set in.

He sat up, squinting blearily at the unfamiliar room with high ceilings, fancy wallpaper, and framed photos of several black-haired guys in increasingly dramatic costumes.

"...Where the fuck am I?"

Meanwhile, back at The Daily Drip...

Tim was being nudged awake by the barista. “Hey, man, I think your brother came and picked up the wrong guy.”

Tim bolted upright, eyes wild. “WHAT.”

Fifteen minutes later, the front doors of Wayne Manor slammed open with the fury of a thousand caffeine crashes.

“DICK!” Tim screeched.

Dick, in the kitchen happily eating a banana and reading a National Geographic, blinked up in surprise. “Tim? But I already got you—”

Tim stormed in, eyes bloodshot, pointing furiously. “No. No, you didn’t. I was asleep at the café. I texted you to come get me. You never showed up. And now I had to take an Uber with a guy named Gary who thinks Batman is a government drone and tried to convert me to his crystal MLM. I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS!!”

Dick’s jaw slowly dropped.

“If you’re here,” he said, horror dawning in his eyes, “then… who did I put in your bed?”

Upstairs, Danny had gotten up, poked around, found a photo of Bruce Wayne, Dressed as Batman with the cowl off in a cave and was currently muttering to himself, “Is this… is this rich dude Batman? Oh my god. I’m in Batman’s house. I’m in Batman’s bed—”

Tim and Dick sprinted up the stairs, yelling over each other.

The door to Tim’s room slammed open to reveal Danny holding one of Tim’s batons like a defensive toddler with a Nerf sword.

Everyone stared.

Danny blinked. “Okay, so... I can explain—wait, can I explain this?”

Tim just gaped at his own doppelgänger.

Dick wheezed, “Okay, you gotta admit—you would’ve made the same mistake.”

Tim turned slowly. “You kidnapped a man, Dick.”

Danny raised a finger. “Technically, I didn’t say no.”

Tim: “That’s not better!”

Alfred chose that exact moment to walk in, take one look at Danny and Tim side by side, and sigh long and deep like a man resigned to chaos.

“I shall prepare tea,” he said.

Because in this house, tea meant: we’re going to need to talk about this for several hours.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Royal Pain in the Butler part 1

Royal Pain in the Butler

Being Ghost King sounded a lot cooler than it actually was.

Danny had thought once he took the crown, things would get quieter. The endless invasions, the constant battling of rouge specters, all that nonsense? He figured it would slow down if he just sat on the throne and ruled like a responsible afterlife adult. Boy, was he wrong. The throne was cold, the crown itched, and there were forms. So. Many. Forms.

And Alfred Pennyworth would not shut up.

The ghost in question hovered nearby with an air of dignified disapproval, arms crossed behind his back, ectoplasm shimmering like mist over crisp dress attire. Somehow the man had managed to materialize into the Ghost Zone fully pressed and polished—Danny wasn’t even mad. Just… exhausted.

“Your Highness,” Alfred intoned, for the fourth time that hour, “you truly must consider returning to the human world. Fresh air, natural light, a proper diet, and human contact—”

“Alfred,” Danny groaned, face-down on his floating throne, his crown hanging loosely off one spectral ear. “I literally can’t eat human food anymore. I am fresh air. And do you see all this glowing fog stuff? It’s basically a ghost humidifier. I’m moisturized constantly.”

Alfred didn’t blink. Danny wasn’t even sure if ghost-Alfred could blink.

“Nevertheless,” the butler said patiently, “you are isolated. Detached from the very world you protected. My offer stands—there are people in the living realm who would gladly welcome you. Who would understand you. And… I would prefer to return home as well.”

There it was. The real reason.

Danny sat up, sighing. “You know you can’t go back without me. You’re tethered here now. Even if you found a way back, you’d need ectoplasm to stay stable, and no offense, but the average Gothamite isn’t exactly stocked on glowing green goo.”

Alfred gave a slight incline of his head. “Indeed. I admit my motivations are not entirely selfless. But I also believe you belong there. With people. Not buried beneath bureaucratic sludge in a realm built on half-remembered regrets.”

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, most ghosts beg me to not send them back. They’re all, ‘I lived, I died, I have no regrets except not haunting my ex.’ You? You’re the first ghost to come here and nag me into un-dying.”

Alfred gave him a thin smile. “I am a butler, sir. It is my sacred duty to improve the lives of my charges. Even if they are stubborn, dimensionally dislocated monarchs.”

Danny pointed accusingly. “You’re trying to adopt me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m simply trying to ensure your well-being. If I wished to adopt you, I’d insist you eat a proper breakfast, get eight hours of sleep, and wear less black.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “You already do that.”

Alfred didn’t deny it.

The problem was—Danny liked Alfred. The guy was sharp, unshakable, and reminded him painfully of Jazz on her best “mom mode” days. He wasn’t pushy, not really. But he was there. Always. Offering advice. Cleaning Danny’s ectoplasm-splattered boots. Refusing to let the skeletal Zone Guards intimidate him. Setting ghost-traps not to capture but to reorganize the wailing hallways.

The Ghost Zone had never run so smoothly.

Still, Danny had his suspicions. “Who exactly are these ‘people’ you want me to meet, Alfred?”

Alfred hesitated. Which meant it wasn’t just “some nice people.”

“…The Wayne family,” Alfred finally admitted. “My family. And I daresay they would be quite interested in meeting a young man with your… unique circumstances.”

Danny blinked. “Wait. You mean the Waynes? Like Bruce Wayne? Billionaire Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes. Though I doubt he’d care much about the money in this case. You see, he’s… something of a night owl. And quite familiar with things that go bump in the night.”

Danny’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, you’re Batman’s butler.”

“I was,” Alfred said gently. “And I think my family could become yours.”

Danny stared at him.

Ghost King. Champion of the Realms. Master of Shadows. He had survived being turned inside-out by spectral entropy, negotiated peace with the Fright Knight, and had once fought an army of ghost bees.

And now the ghost of Batman’s butler was trying to guilt-trip him into letting himself be adopted.

“…Fine,” Danny muttered. “I’ll think about it.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled. “Very good, Your Majesty. Shall I begin packing your cloak?”

“I didn’t say yes!” Danny shouted as Alfred turned and started folding it with expert efficiency.

“But you will,” Alfred said serenely. “Eventually. I’m very patient.”

And damn it, Danny believed him.

part2

[rosemaryhoney27]

Danny's Retirement Struggle part 2 end

“Danny Phantom and the Tiny Terrors”

Danny Fenton’s retirement officially died in a puff of glitter and snot.

Helping that one little girl get rid of the ghost under her bed had been a moment of weakness—one heartfelt moment of compassion. Just one. She’d been scared and crying and way too tiny to be handling a class three wailer by herself. Danny had swooped in, sucked up the ghost, and even tucked her back into bed before vanishing into the night.

That should’ve been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Because the next day, there were three kids waiting outside his hostel in Cairo. The day after that, it was ten in Istanbul. By the time he reached Seoul, there was an organized line.

“Mr. Phantom, my goldfish is acting weird.”

“Danny, the closet door keeps opening at night.”

“I think the janitor is possessed!”

And then the worst one of all:

“My big brother says ghosts aren't real. Prove him wrong. Scare him. Make him cry.”

Danny blinked. “...What?”

“Do it, coward.”

The worst part? They called him “Uncle Phantom.”

Not Mr. Fenton. Not even Danny. Uncle. Like he was the weird family member who showed up at reunions with glowing eyes and awkward ghost stories.

Danny couldn’t go anywhere now. Not without being tracked by the pint-sized public.

He'd tried disguises—hoodies, glamors, shapeshifting—but kids had this sixth sense. No matter what he wore or how he tried to blend in, one of them would inevitably point and shout:

“UNCLE PHANTOM!”

Cue the stampede.

He tried to leave ghost-busting to local authorities.

Except now whenever someone under four feet had a spectral problem, they'd solemnly declare: "We don’t need police. We need Uncle Phantom."

There were posters.

A finger puppet theater where Danny was played by a sock with googly eyes and an unsettlingly accurate mini-thermos.

On the upside, adults were finally leaving him alone.

Lex Luthor hadn’t so much as texted since a toddler in a bunny hat wandered into a LexCorp shareholder meeting with a “Ghost Support Buddy Club” badge and asked him point-blank why he had “mean guy eyebrows.”

(He lost three investors that day.)

Superman sent a polite thank-you note and a letter from Conner that read: "Clones deserve rights. Thanks for being cool. P.S. Kids are scary. Good luck."

Even Batman backed off after Damian Wayne got caught trying to “test” Danny and instead got lured into a crayon-drawn ghost trap by a six-year-old who declared herself the new Robin.

(Alfred framed the drawing.)

Danny tried one last ditch effort.

He flew to the Arctic. No cities. No kids. No problems.

He lasted three days.

Then a tiny pink snowsuit waddled out of the snowbank and tugged on his cape.

“I heard you help kids.”

Danny sighed, sat down in the snow, and pulled out his thermos.

“Alright, squirt. Let’s bust your ghost.”

Danny had saved the world.

He’d ended the ghost war.

He’d retired.

But apparently, fate had other plans.

Not as a hero.

Not as a celebrity.

Not even as a legend.

But as Uncle Phantom, reluctant guardian of the ghost-plagued youth.

And if he was being honest?

...He didn’t totally hate it.

Even if he did wake up with glitter in his hair every morning now.

[rosemaryhoney27]

What’s the harm in asking?

Bruce Wayne had been in his fair share of unexpected encounters — rogue attacks, sudden board meetings, impromptu galas, and Alfred’s lectures about nutrition — but this might have been a first.

It was a quiet Saturday morning in Gotham, as quiet as Gotham could ever get, and Bruce was enjoying a rare day out with his sons. Damian was a few paces ahead, pretending not to be interested in the bookstore they were headed to. Dick was trying to convince Jason that black coffee didn’t count as “breakfast,” and Tim… well, Tim was nursing his fourth coffee of the morning and looked like he hadn’t slept in at least thirty-six hours.

They were halfway across campus — Gotham University — when a young man approached.

Messy black hair. Tired blue eyes that still managed to hold a spark of mischief. Hoodie slightly frayed at the cuffs, jeans a little too worn to be new. He looked like any other college student trying to survive midterms and cafeteria food.

Except most college students didn’t walk straight up to Bruce Wayne with the confidence of someone who’d just decided to gamble with fate.

“Hey, you’re Bruce Wayne, right?”

Bruce blinked. “Yes,” he said slowly, glancing at the boys, who were all watching with varying degrees of suspicion. “And these are my kids. What is your name?”

The young man grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Danny. So, here’s my situation.”

Bruce tensed — half-expecting a pitch, a scam, or perhaps an elaborate attempt at publicity. But the boy continued, perfectly casual.

“I’m a broke college student, and I can’t afford to both feed myself and pay for my books this month. Can I get $200 off of you?”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Feel free to say no,” Danny added quickly, raising his hands. “I just figured — what’s the harm in asking, right?”

Jason actually barked out a laugh. Dick’s jaw went slack. Damian muttered something under his breath about “audacity unbecoming of a commoner.”

But Bruce… Bruce was amused. The kid’s tone wasn’t entitled. Just honest. There was no manipulation in his words — just quiet desperation wrapped in a sort of brave awkwardness that made Bruce feel, for a fleeting moment, like he was looking at a mirror from a long time ago.

Without saying a word, Bruce reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and handed over every bill inside — a solid few hundred, at least.

Danny blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Bruce shrugged. “You were polite. And honest. That’s worth something.”

Danny quickly pocketed the cash, not even bothering to count it. “Counting money in front of the guy who gave it to you is rude,” he said matter-of-factly, as if quoting some universal rule.

He grinned, offered a small wave, and walked off down the street, the morning sun catching faint traces of exhaustion under his eyes — and something else, something… off. For a moment, Bruce thought he saw a faint shimmer, like heat distortion, around the boy’s outline.

And then he was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Did… did that just happen?” Dick asked finally.

Jason started laughing again. “That kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that.”

Damian scowled. “Father, you cannot just hand money to random strangers on the street.”

“Technically,” Tim murmured, sipping his coffee, “he’s not a random stranger anymore. His name’s Danny.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“What?” Tim shrugged, watching Danny disappear into the crowd, that faint smirk still on his lips. “He was kind of cute.”

Jason choked on his laughter, Dick burst out into delighted cackles, and even Bruce — for all his practiced stoicism — had to fight back the smallest, faintest smile.

Because honestly? Danny Fenton might’ve been the boldest person Bruce had met all week.

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[nerdpoe]

"Also did you read what Vicki Vale said about Dick? How has she not had all of her electronics wiped? I'm surprised you held it in, I wouldn't be able to control myself in that situation. Well, I didn't. You're about to get a really angry call, cuz she's absolutely gonna think you did it, since it happened so soon after she posted that shit."

"..."

"Yeah, she deserves it. Oh, also, did you know that there's a new exhibit in the art museum? Can I head over there but at night? I wanna meet Catwoman."

"..."

"Okay no, no, stop, hear me out; I just don't get caught. Huh? How about that? I just go over there and don't get caught by anyone, and then I won't be in trouble."

"Tt."

"Okay fine, or you could just tell her to call me, I guess. Can we at least go during the day to actually look at it?"

"Hm."

"Thanks B! Also I found a really cool bug on the window and it was on the inside and-"

Tim watched with pity as their newest addition trailed after B like an oblivious sheepdog, talking a mile a minute and barely giving B any time to respond at all.

There was no emotion on Bruce's face. No indication that he wanted to be around Danny at all.

They'd been upset at Bruce at first, even Damian, and tried to interact with the meta to make up for Bruce's lack. Danny was delicate, he needed to be around people who didn't communicate in just grunts. They'd just saved him from a meta trafficking operation for shit's sake!

The kid needed clear communication!

Cass was still hunting down the remnants of the operation in Cuba, so unfortunately they didn't have her giving them real-time play-by-plays of Danny's mental state, which meant they had to work with what they had.

In example; keeping Danny with people who weren't so busy they only glanced at, hummed, or answered in terse monosyllabic answers.

But Danny kept circling back to Bruce.

He would leave the room and deliberately drag the older man in. He would phase into the Batcave for the sole purpose of chattering nonstop to the Big Bat himself.

It was increasingly rare to not see Bruce without a shadow trailing after him, filling the air with the most inane shit Tim had ever heard.

Bruce was, undeniably, Danny's favorite.

Eventually they decided to leave it; if it made Danny happy, then fine.

Besides, Tim was just happy Damian hadn't decided to take offense and get jealous.

If anything, Damian took full advantage of the situation; if Bruce was getting uppity about something, or becoming his usual insufferable self, Damian would surreptitiously lead them to Danny, and Danny would, without fail, immediately start his tirade against B's ears.

Honestly, they were all using Danny like that now.

It was fine.

Wasn't like they were any normal sort of family unit to begin with anyways.

~~~~~~

Bruce had that warm fuzzy feeling he got whenever Damian asked for a spar, or when any of his children wanted to be around him.

He'd been panicked at first, not sure why the little meta wanted to be near him all the time, but he wasn't the world's greatest detective for nothing.

Danny responded based on emotional queues, not verbal ones.

He was an Empath, along with his many, many other powers.

Tim, Damian, Dick, even Alfred; they were all some level of nervous when dealing with Danny. Bruce knew where they were coming from, it was hard not to see the boy as though he were spun of glass.

Not after how they'd found him; chained and beaten and too scared to cry.

So he let the kid trail after him, talking about anything and everything under the sun, and didn't even bother responding with words unless it was required.

Honestly, he preferred this.

Talking when he wasn't pretending to be an airhead was difficult. People expected answers with far more words than they required, and took it personally when he misjudged their ability to read between the lines.

But also if he spoke too much, they'd get annoyed.

If he complimented them, he always managed to do it wrong, and they thought he was insulting them.

When he insulted them, if came off as far more harsh than he meant it to, resulting in grudges that lasted years.

But this?

He barely had to say a word, and Danny knew exactly what he was saying.

So sue him, when his other children and he himself got into arguments, he pretended not to notice when they led him to the empathic meta.

To have a conversation where he wasn't misunderstood at all was a fantastic balm on his annoyed mind after such arguments.

Danny was a good kid.

As soon as it was safe to do so, he would ask if the boy would agree to being fostered.

~~~~~~

It had started as teasing the Autistic SuperDad, but Danny just...kinda fell into actually wanting to be around the guy.

He wasn't loud or bright or forcibly cheery, hiding nervousness and discomfort beneath it.

He was just unforgivably The Most Autistic Man Danny had ever met.

And that was fine.

Although Batman being Autistic explained a lot of things, if he was being real.

They had tried to keep their hero identities a secret, but that hadn't lasted very long when Danny had just floated through the floor and into the Batcave, right in the middle of Nightwing trying to solve a really gruesome murder case.

Which, okay. That was cool. Danny was no stranger to heroics and bad things.

But being sold?

It was...

The trafficking thing had been. It. Danny still kept shying away from it. Losing his Mom, Dad, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker had already been painful enough; to be sold the absolute second he-

Danny stopped walking and shook his head.

Adults couldn't be trusted. He didn't need to go into the specifics of it.

But Bruce could be trusted, Danny had run him through every single 'I'm annoying you' scenario under the sun, pushed all the limits, and the man had not once lost his cool.

"...Hey, B. The guy that sold me out is named Vlad Masters, and if he knows I told you that, he's going to kill my twin and my little sister."

Because Vlad still very much had Dan and Dani, and given that the man was willing to throw Danny to meta traffickers in the name of 'teaching him a lesson', he had no doubt; if Vlad knew Danny had just ratted him out to a member of the Justice League, he'd kill them.

Bruce froze.

"Okay."

Underlying that single syllable reply, was a sudden wail of Rage and Disgust and Desire for Vengeance. It was so loud Danny actually flinched back.

Then it toned down.

Then it disappeared.

'Oh,' Danny thought, staring at Bruce with wide eyes, 'Okay. There's Batman.'

"I will handle it," Batman assured, resting a hand on Danny's shoulder before turning to walk out of the room.

[uberguber89]

"I will handle it"

And Danny flinches again because just feels.... nothing. Nothing but the absolute confidence of a man who DOES NOT make promises unless he KNOWS he can keep them. And he almost feels sorry for what's about to happen to Vlad...... almost.......

[nightblackowlbat]

Vlad is FUCKED

[thombtak]

A batfam member lecturing tim on how he needs to go back to the manor and rest because they know hes been overworking himself and hasn’t slept

Danny who is definitely not this tim person, however he has been overworking himself and hasnt slept either and a nap sounds really good right about now, agreeing and just going with them

[raynewolferune]

Danny, sleep deprived short king picking up on the big sibling vibes Nightwing is putting out and too exhausted to think of consequences: *collapses face first into Nightwing's shoulder mid-scolding with a groan* "Fine. Carry me."

Nightwing does.

[apatheticsunday]

Like Bandits Do

AKA "Clockwork assigned Danny with a Ghost King task: learn how to shapeshift. Now Danny is stuck in another dimension and can't ask for help from his friends; worse, he's stuck as a racoon." DPxDC prompt idea!

Being stuck as a racoon sucks. Being stuck in a dirty, crime-ridden city where people hate "rodents" and love tormenting helpless animals really, really sucks. Thankfully, Danny still has a pretty good grasp of his Ghost powers. (Not so thankfully, he also has what he calls "racoon brain" where he does, indeed, act like a feral animal. Several Gotham goons found that out after attempting to curb stomp him; those goons absolutely will need stitches, rabies shots - which he desperately hopes will hurt like a bitch, and will think twice about messing with local wildlife.)

This results in Danny hears an interesting rumor. It turns out that people talk pretty freely around animals when they aren't trying to chase them away. The philanthropist Bruce Wayne's youngest son is an avid animal rights activist and has rescued several unique animals, including a turkey, cow, monkey, and several bats. Danny... can definitely use this to his advantage. He can look cute and harmless (regardless of that one guy who was clutching his bleeding face and sobbing in terror, screaming about Danny being a freaky demon-rat. Shouldn't have messed with Danny Phan-...coon? Danny Racoon? He'll work on it.)

It turns out that getting into Wayne Manor is absurdly easy compared to getting to Wayne Manor. Once he's inside, he drops his invisibility and intangibility, padding along the expensive Persian rugs and probably-real-marble flooring. He follows the scent of food past a room that's a family den of some sort - his snout scrunches up into an amused toothy smile when he hears a stupefied, "Was that a racoon??" come from the couch. He trots onward.

The first thing he steals is some wheat crackers out of the pantry, happily tearing into the cardboard box and plastic packaging. Cheese and meat from the fridge, some grapes. He even snags an apple for later. He's carrying it in his mouth, passing two more bewildered people, and plodding along into the gardens. Danny hears a frustrated groan of Dami, not again and chortles happily to himself. No one stops him. He's literally never felt more powerful. (It may or may not be his raccoon brain speaking.)

The second time he breaks into the Manor is when it's raining. He's taken up residence in the gardens outside the Manor, stealing the outdoor furniture cushions and blankets left out to make a little nest among the trees. Except now it's downpouring and his nest is wet, his fur is wet, and he's more than a little devastated. This time when he breaks in, there's a British gentleman waiting in the kitchen - he only raises an eyebrow before sighing, procuring meats, fruits, and nuts on a little plate as if he was expecting Danny. Danny, also like a gentleman, uses his little paws to shovel the food into his face and snorts a funny little bark in thanks.

The third time is... well, the Manor has a lot of beds. It would be a shame if Danny didn't use one. (His favorite cushions and blanket were still wet from the rainstorm earlier that week). He's sprawled out on his back, snoring lightly, and enjoying the warm bedsheets when a hand carefully strokes his side. It startles him out of his light doze but it's surprisingly nice, so he lets out a pleased little grumble. After a moment of careful petting, the touch firms and he's scooped up into big, strong arms.

"Damian," The voice is deep and rumbly. "I thought I told you no more pets? You won't have enough time to take care of them between school and patrol."

A different, smaller hand hovers over his nose. Oddly enough, it smells like Autosol metal polish, a feline (don't as him how he knows that), and paint. Danny gives the hand an inquisitive lick before remembering he is, in fact, not a wild animal. Well. He kinda wishes he could die again so he doesn't have to face reality. Damn racoon brain! He shoves his face into the crook of the Big Man's arm with a humiliated whine and smacks his paws into his face, wanting to scratch his eyes out. He licked. Someone's hand.

"He is clearly already house-trained, Father, and he is fond of you. Would you be so cruel as to cast him out into the cold, where a fox or coyote would kill him if he survives starvation and hypothermia?"

The Big Man sighs, moving where Danny's squished up against his gigantic chest (wow, Danny absolutely needs to do whatever exercise makes that happen), and there's a moment he wonders if he actually will be kicked out. It won't matter anyway. Danny can literally just keep coming back like a... Yeah, he's not going to finish that thought. This is an assignment. He's learning... something. Racoon brain is tired. He'll learn after the British guy gives him more grapes and he takes another nap.

"What's his name?"

There's a pause before the younger voice says, "Bandit."

Danny lets out a disgruntled little huff. It's Danny, he wants to say, but he'd need to be human for that and he's also probably earned the name. Shoot, the wet blankets and cushions. Whoops. Yeah, he definitely earned that name. The Big Man laughs as if he can read Danny's mind which... would not be good. The Wayne family might be willing to harbor a ghost but he doubts they'd help a blue-eyed, black-haired teenager in desperate need of a mentor. (Ha.)

Cue the Racoon!Danny shenanigans, including staring creepily at family members from atop the fridge, stealing several bat-themed paraphernalia for his den (Damian's closet), and accidentally-on-purpose terrorizing several well-known Gotham Rogues.

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

The bats perspective on this would be wild. Like there's a very smart raccoon Damian never actually brought home (but that's for him and the raccoon to know and everyone else can mind their own business) and no matter what they do he keeps getting into unexpected places he should have no way of getting into. They once found him in the Batcave, watching YouTube videos on the batcomputer.

He keeps following them on patrol, no matter what they do to try to stop him. At this point the goons are more scared of him than they are of Batman ("at least Batman doesn't bite") and keep ditching the rogues whenever they see raccoon!Danny coming.

The first time they had to go to the watchtower after they officially adopted 'Bandit', Batman was unsurprised to notice, far too late to stop it, that the raccoon had decided to accompany him by clinging to his cape. He had no idea how he had not noticed the additional weight but he was also getting used to it after all the other incidents with Bandit. As it was, he suspected the only reason he had known of the raccoons presence before he had started the meeting and Bandit decided to terrorize the other heroes had been because, as soon as they had gotten within view of a window, the raccoon had let out a squeal of delight, detached from his cape and ran to it to see the stars.

[mkarchin713]

Goon: (sees Batman and points a gun at him)

Danny: (pops out from behind Batman)

Goon: (drops the gun and surrenders)

Batman: (patented “your going to tell me why you just did that” glare he learned from Alfred)

Goon: I’ll be honest Mr. Batman sir, if I fought you, at worst I’ll be out of the gooning game for like six months. But him (points dramatically at the raccoon grooming himself of Batman’s shoulder) I saw what he did to Pretty Boy Floyd and let’s just say we’re still trying to figure out his new nickname.

Batman: (glances at Danny who is currently trying to figure out how to get the candy out of Batman’s utility belt)

Goon: plus my insurance doesn’t cover rabies shots. The goonion is working on getting the coverage and frankly I’m not interested in going out like Edgar Allan Poe

Batman: (gives patented “are you being serious” glare)

Goon: what just because I’m a goon you think I don’t know about poetry? Fuck, if you weren’t with that fuzzy demon I’d drag you to the Merry Men’s poetry slam myself.

Batman: (wanting out of this situation quickly grapping hooks away)

[justsenarra]

Tim, probably thinking he's being funny, makes up a little cape and belt with the bat logo on it (it has pockets for snacks or little treasures he discovers on patrol and wants to keep) but forgoes a domino because Danny already has the markings on his fur.

He dresses the strangely compliant racoon and presents him to Damian as Batcoon. Damian is not amused. Danny is THRILLED! He loves it, and none of the bats can figure out how he even figured out it's only for patrol. (Except for the first time.)

After he discovered the pockets on the belt, he immediately dashed off to the kitchen, pawed at the pockets, then held out his hands pleadingly. Alfred (Charmed by the fact that Danny would ask for food and then thank him with a little bark anytime he found Alfred in the kitchen) helped Danny fill a few pouches with nuts and dried fruits. Danny thanked him with his little bark and a handshake and rushed off to catch the bats for patrol.

Batcoon gets his own uniform case, and Alfred makes sure to keep his belt stocked and delivers any 'treasures' he found (and promptly forgot about because he's easily distracted) up to his den in a little basket.

[hdgnj]

Not implying that J'onn and M'gann are clearly not telling the Bats that the raccoon? Yeah NOT an animal, or if he is? A Sapient one. They felt a sapient mind on board and checked to make sure it wasn't an infiltrator. Finding it is the most recent Bat Pet? Not a pet, very firmly on par with a human teen. Either assuming they already know, they ARE the bats after all. Or finding this amusing and wanting to find out how long till they realise.

[somestorythoughts]

I vote pure "of course they know how could they not" and never thinking to mention it.

[raynewolferune]

"Ah, another secret identity being maintained even among friends to protect their new meta child."

[nekomuse]

First Visit

OG

In a series of unknown events Jason woke up to something warm and vibrating on his chest, as well as what he belatedly recognized as purring near his face.

Opening his eyes he found a fluffy black cat on his chest, doing what Damian had called a "perfect cat loaf" once when showing him a picture of Alfred the cat. Rubbing his eyes he stared at the cat, he didn't have a cat.

Bedroom door? Closed.

Window? Closed.

How did a cat get in here? Did Damian need to hide a cat and forget to tell him? He shuddered as he was reminded of that one time out of many in the league where he woke up with some kind of lizard or snake suddenly in his room.

Well, the purring was nice, and Jason knew as well as anybody that you didn't disturb a napping kitty. Reaching over to his nightstand he looked at his phone, no new messages from his family, a pic from Roy with Lian did make him smile at least. Opening the chat with Damian he took a photo of the cat and sent it with the caption " This yours?"

He saw that the message got read, then nothing, okay then.

"Yip!" Suppressing a flinch and clutching his phone, so he didn't throw it, he snapped his head to the side and saw a small, green puppy leaning its head on his mattress while staring up at him.

Slowly Jason turned his phone to snap another picture, this time of the dog, before sending it to Damian with a "What the fuck?" - read again, then nothing. The puppy whimpered. Jason glanced at it again. The puppy seemed to stand on its hind legs while his front legs were now clawing at his mattress so he could get up on the bed.

"The brat owes me so much, up you go, be nice to the cat." Helping the dog up with one hand while trying not to jostle the cat was a bit of a struggle with the pup squirming so much. But as soon as the puppy was up he walked over to the cat, laid his head down on his front paws and gave small licks to the cats' side.

The cat opened its eyes, an intense green, nearly glowing, turned to the dog, gave him a lick over his nosebridge and then went back to napping.

The puppy jumped up, proceeded to hit Jason square in the face with his fast wagging tail and then gave playful growls to the cat, obsiously wanting to play.

The cat ignored it.

The puppy suddenly pounced, making the cat roll off Jasons chest with a squaking meow before it landed on its legs and proceeded to jump off the bed towards Jasons legs and then to the ground. The puppy followed, happily yipping at the cat. White booted paws now visible as Jason feared the worst, but before he could do anything the cat suddenly stilled, ears flickering.

The puppy tilted its head, gave the cat a lick before the cat swished its tail into the puppies face and bolted through the wall out of the bedroom.

Well... that explained how it entered, and the puppy followed, also through the wall, and Jason decided he needed breakfast before he tried to make sense of what just happened.

He stopped when he saw Damian break in through the window just as he entered his living room. The two brothers stared at each other.

"Tt. Where is the cat Todd?" Damian closed the window behind himself, looking around.

"It ran outside through the wall." 'Cause why not? Why should Jason be the only one baffled on this fine morning?

[somthingsomethingblog]

Would be really fun for dannycat (cady? Like kitty? I'm awful, ik) to, at some point, use RH as a cat tree. Just, this intimidating brick house of a man clad in kevlar with twin pistols by his side to just, have a living cat scarf, or walk on his shoulders, maybe even hang off of the helmet like the gremlin he is, i also think Danny would be a really slim and small cat

Give me a moment, I'll be back

[somthingsomethingblog]

Hells, i did try to post this, but something went wrong.

Anyway, danny w his superior senses makes hood turn his dumb head to where danny senses danger by pressing his tail to hoods helmet

[gettingcomfyinyourwalls]

DP x DC prompt #240

Adult Danny Fenton walks into Gotham High, wanting to enroll his daughter/younger sister/clone/it's complicated into their program. But he's not even a few feet in when he's stopped by a faculty member.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne. You're a lot earlier than expected. Please come in, we've had some concerns with your youngest son, Damian."

[luna-moonwolf]

[sleepybutalrightiguess]

[chaoticwriting]

New Gotham Rouge

Okay, in Danny's defense, it sounds like a very good idea when he thought about it. Danny is currently laying on top of the clocktower looking at the smog filled sky. A few stars can be seen occasionally while he is staring and thinking about his decision.

When Danny is outed as Phantom. He ran away as his parents tried to capture and cut him open. He hid in a nearby cave for a few days as he thought of what to do when he suddenly had a brilliant idea. Let's fake his own death!

Danny stole a few parts and materials around Amity Park and made a makeshift bomb and rushed towards the GIW base. He freed all the ghosts and made a cinematic scene of exploding himself thus taking the whole building with him.

Danny also sends the ghost to set up a few bombs in his house after making sure Jazz, Sam and Tucker are not there. Just as he 'exploded' himself, the house also exploded destroying the portal and all the remaining research paper about anything ghost related.

Danny dove into the ground as the explosion distracted everyone and chose one direction to fly towards. A few hours later, he found himself in Gotham and surprisingly there is a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham. He flies around invisible while looking for a place to stay and he lands on the clocktower to rest after flying for so long.

Now, Danny doesn't know what he should do because he realizes one key component in staying alive for him. Obsession. Contrary to popular belief (Sam), his obsession is not protection. It is love. Love as in any act of love will fulfill his obsession. Him protecting his town is an act of love towards his town people. Him loving and studying space is an act of love towards himself. Him not taking revenge against his family and people that wrong him is an act of love towards humanity.

So, long story short, he needs to find a way to fulfill his obsession. He is laying on top of the clocktower and suddenly a very good idea comes into his mind.

A few weeks later

-Batcave-

Dick: Are you still searching for the glitter thief?

Tim: Yes. And it's driving me insane how little clue there is of this thief. I even tried asking Selina and even she is impressed by this thief's MO.

Steph: Are you sure you need to be stressing about this thief? It's probably a group of kids stealing glitters just because they can.

Tim: Are you telling me a group of kids can do a heist better than Selina? And this thief or group of thieves for some reason only stole biodegradable paint and glitters from all across the city without us finding where they store them? There must be something I am missing.

Suddenly, an alert appears at the batcomputer and catches everyone's attention. A live broadcast is showing Joker standing in front of a switch as Commissioner Gordon hanging from a rope on top of a pool of acid. Every single batfam suits up and rushes into Gotham to find the Joker before anything can happen.

Joker: Hahahaha. Good evening Gotham and Bats! Today, I have a dear friend of yours playing my game. In front of me is a switch to activate a time bomb that will explode a whole district if not dismantled. You have 20 minutes to dismantle the bomb and with every minute that passes, I will slowly lower the Commissioner into the pool of acid.

Joker then walks slowly towards the switch and flips it.

Joker: Your time starts now! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Batman and the crew rushes towards Gotham as they turn Gotham upside down for the bomb. 5 minutes passed and they become desperate enough that they even roped in some of the rogues like Penguin, Harley, Ivy and Croc. But no matter what they do, they can't find the bomb.

Just as the last minute passes, everyone expects a big explosion engulfing Gotham. Except there is no sound at all. In fact, it is eerily quiet. Everyone turns on Joker live broadcast to see even the man is confused. He turns around and sees Gordon having his feet inside the pool of acid like nothing is happening.

Suddenly a giggle appears. Everyone that hears the giggles starts to get goosebumps as suddenly, a kid with a half clown facemask at the bottom of his face, a green leather jacket, black jeans and white hair appears behind Joker. His hands are holding his stomach as his giggles turn into laughter that is eerily similar to Joker.

???:Hello everyone. I am Trickster. And I am here to crash the party.

Everyone: ????

Trickster: Hehehe, it's so funny to see everyone's confused expression. But no worries I am here to have fun. See, I even have your toys with me.

The Trickster phases his hand into his body and pulls out a very familiar brick. He throws it to Joker and the Joker runs away screaming and trips on his feet falling down the stairs.

The Trickster: Hahahahaha. Do you see his face? Hahaha. Oh boy, I should have recorded this. Hey this is a live stream right? Someone clip that. Anyway, I have defused the bomb. And the acid isn't actually acid. It's just colored water with a light beam at the bottom. I still can't believe he doesn't check the acid pool first.

The Trickster then goes towards Gordon and pulls him down from the rope. After Gordon touches the ground, he unties him and pats Gordon's shoulder.

Trickster: Well I guess this is good enough for the apology.

Gordon: Apology?

Trickster: *Rubbing his neck* Yeah, about that. I was the one that glitter bombed your office last week. I mistook your office for another corrupt policeman and accidentally placed it on your desk. I am also technically the cause of you getting caught today. In my defense, you shouldn't startle me like that.

Gordon: Wait, you're the kid that punched me.

Trickster: I'm not a kid. I'm 16. Plenty old if you ask me. Whatever, here is your phone. Go call Batman to pick you up. I want to go back to sleep after having fun tonight. Adios.

Gordon: Wait-

Trickster then disappears into thin air like he is never there in the first place. If not for his phone in his hand and later confirmation from everyone that watched the live stream, Gordon might have admitted himself into Arkham.

That is merely the start of the many incidents involving Gotham's newest rogue the Trickster.

[kizzer55555]

Is it really a Rougue if his tricks never do any real harm?

I mean, sure, he replaced the bat signal with a banana, and painted all the skyscrapers pink, and played keep away with Spoiler’s com system. But none of those were actually harmful. Besides, he mostly went after other rogues. And usually just messed up their plans. If anything, his pranks seemed to helm more than harm.

[thatrandomsarahchick]

Further in his defence - the Joker hasn't managed to intentionally kill a single person since Trickster's first appearance. It takes a while for anyone to realise, but once they do, the love for Trickster only grows even more.

Plus, he never goes out of his way to hurt anybody. It's more than they can say for most rogues.

....

Nobody really understands his one-sided beef with Condiment King, though. Not even Condiment King knows what he's done wrong. It's On Sight for Trickster, a full-on brawl ensures every time he catches him.

[oonightmareoo]

DP x DC Prompt Language Barriers

     When the creature- no, being stepped through the portal, Bruce didn’t know what to expect.  He’d created as many plans as he possibly could regarding everything he knew about the entity, which was frustratingly not enough for even twenty possibilities.  Depending on how the meeting went, it was highly possible he’d be cobbling together a plan based on contingencies for Darkseid, Klarion, hell even Superman.  He didn’t know what to expect, just enough to know that the entity was more powerful than anything and anyone that Constantine could think of.

     The first part of the entity visible through the vertical Lazarus portal - and wasn’t that worrisome by itself - was their feet.  Clad in white boots, ones that seemed impractical as anything more than a fashion statement, platforms that led up to buckles and even some chains and ended just below the knee.  The being’s legs were clad in black, a material that looked like something halfway between Kevlar and leather.  They had a black tunic, with intricate silver designs embroidered into the fabric, with long sleeves that tucked into archery gloves, also of a white material.  Over the right shoulder, a white fur-trimmed cape was draped, flapping in the wind that only seemed to affect the entity, with the inside fabric showcasing what appeared to be multiple galaxies.  The entity’s face suggested they were a male-inclined being, taking the form of a young adult male, Caucasian - lacking in melanin but outside of that and the pure white hair, there seemed to be no other signs of albinism - with unnervingly green eyes which swept across the gathering as the entity adjusted one of their gloves.  Elfin ears and sharp teeth completed the look of other as the entity grimaced at what they saw.

     Yet, despite how much this being looked like they’d just stepped outside of one of Tim’s video games, the most eye-catching parts were the glowing ice crown and the gently flaming ring.

     Before anyone could address the entity once the portal had closed, they looked over their own form as if checking something.  Then, holding a finger up when someone tried to speak, looked down at the summoning circle as if to read it.  Slowly turning in a circle, catching at one part, then turning towards Constantine.  “Come hither.”  The entity beckoned the magician as the otherworldly voice echoed in the room.

     “As if, I’m not falling for such a blatant trick, mate.”  Understandably, Constantine was resistant.

     The entity rolled their eyes.  “Your foolish mortal mind will not be capable of understanding mine words.  The rune is doomed.”  It was more obvious now that the being’s words were being translated, words continuing even though the entity’s mouth was shut.  “Even should I attempt thine language, it would be impossible for mere mortals to comprehend.”

     “Yeah?  And you know how to improve a summoning circle?”  Bruce frowned; if the being was truly as powerful as Constantine said they were, then why was he antagon- pride.  Constantine’s pride as a magician was being insulted when another pointed out the flaws in his magic.

     The entity’s grin was too wide with too many teeth, “undoubtedly.”

[sunnysolaria]

The tags-

I myself would love to see a scene where the summoning circle successfully fixed that comes in the MOST teenage slang out of him as possible and the teenage heroes understand him while the adults are dumbfounded, NO. LET THE BAT BE ABLE TO FREELY COMMUNICATE WITH DANNY the adults will just cringe hearing the way the bat speaks, like you'd cringe if they tried to talk in YOUR slang, SO weirded out!

[vi-reads]

[empress-runner]

There's a joke In discworld the assassins guild presents itself as an upstanding institution with noble clientele, and also wants to distance the actual act of murder from the act of being the implement of that murder, so they prefer to not use crass words like "kill" and instead say "inhume" (which is the opposite of "exhume")

Anyway I think about this whenever someone says "unalive"

[xanaxfarts]

Moonbows

A moonbow, also known as a lunar rainbow or white rainbow, is a rainbow created by moonlight rather than sunlight. It's formed when light from the moon refracts and reflects off water droplets, like those in rain or mist, creating a visible arc of light in the sky. Moonbows are generally fainter and less colorful than regular rainbows, and they are much rarer due to the need for specific conditions like a full or near-full moon, clear skies, and dark skies.

[everyday-cutephoto]

[silvermoon424]

As an ace this is the only time "you just haven't met the right person yet" has made me laugh lmaoooo

[serps-up]

so happy and free

[reachartwork]

this is going to be a silly reblog but i have kind of a fixation on animal qualia and the idea of an animal's umwelt, so i ended up wondering whether pudding was actually "enjoying" this.

which meant i went and read about snail brains.

here's the bad news, at least by human standards:

snails do not have anything like a centralized brain. their nervous system is made up of small clusters of neurons (ganglia) that mostly handle very local tasks. they don't have a cortex, they don't build big integrated models of the world, and they almost certainly don't experience things like appreciation, anticipation, or savoring.

pudding is not looking at the sky and thinking it's beautiful.

snail eyes are basically light sensors - they can tell bright from dark, but not form images. snail "taste" is done through chemoreceptors on their tentacles and around their mouth. those receptors don't produce flavor the way ours do; they just detect chemical compounds and sort them into "approach," "ignore," or "avoid."

so there's no evidence that snails enjoy food, or wind, or views, the way mammals do.

and that does sound kind of sad. but then i thought that maybe we are asking the wrong question.

snails do have valence. they detect aversive things (like salt or dryness) and withdraw from them. they detect non-aversive or beneficial conditions (like moisture) and stay extended. when pudding is stretched out like this, it means his nervous system is basically saying "this is safe; nothing is wrong."

if we define pleasure not as our human experience of dopamine and reward chemicals but instead as "the absence of aversion" - a state where the organism is open to its environment instead of defending itself - then this does count as something positive, even if it's extremely nothing like human enjoyment.

pudding isn't appreciating the wind. but his body is registering humidity, safety, and the ability to keep functioning, and that matters to him in the only way his nervous system can make things matter. he does not think "this is great, this is awesome, i love the weather", because he doesn't think in the way we do at all, but the neurological action in his ganglion tell his body that he is safe, that the moisture is an acceptable level, that it's not too dry or windy, and that there's nothing imminently threatening.

i think a lot of the sadness comes from assuming that a good life has to look like ours: full of enjoyment, meaning, and aesthetic experience. but a snail isn't missing those things. its world just isn't built to include them.

snails don't have a sense of flavor. they don't even have tastebuds. this seems like a gimme, right? but again that might be asking the wrong question about what "taste" is. biologically speaking, it's chemoreception. we taste sweet because it indicates high value, high calorie sugar molecules. we taste salty for salt, umami for proteins. so in what way does pudding's chemoreceptors differ from ours instrumentally? we can say "by our human perspective, pudding can't experience "preference" or "savoring" or "anticipation of delicious food"", but from pudding's perspective we have radically overengineered ourselves for the task at hand. pudding can tell what's salty, what's high value, what has the chemicals he needs. the functional outcome is that he can discriminate food souces based on their composition. is that not taste?

so maybe the point isn't "this is sad because he can't enjoy it," but "this is a reminder that minds come in radically different shapes, and value doesn't have to be rich to be real."

[nelkenbabe-deactivated20211107]

"i would die for you" this, "i'd walk through fire for you that"

what about "i'd live for you" romances? what about "i never thought i'd be worth the work it would take to piece myself together"?

what about "i don't believe i'm worth it, but for you i'll try"

[artisimpossible]

Also, my personal favorite "I accepted that I was doomed long ago, but finding you makes me want to live again"

[absolutely-esme]

How about "I'd die for just about anyone. I'm widely known as some who'll risk their life for a complete stranger. But the people I love? Those are the ones I live for, even on days when dying feels like the easier option. They're the reason I get back up and stumble home after every stunt that should've killed me."