A 27 years old Phantom was challenged to a bet, by his co-workers at the watchtower. Green lantern stated along with the the other heroes that If he could help every single one of them at least once in a month while not using any his powers and he also had to be physically and mentally there as he helps them. the cherry on top was that he needed to use his real identity instead of his ghost form in this mission.
If Phantom successfully conceals his civilian identity, while helping them, he gets to know everyone's deepest darkest secrets.
But if he loses, he must do everyone a favor and must keep it no matter how outrageous it is.
Ofcourse Phantom agreed, because he was no bitch, okay so maybe he is, he only accepts bets like this if he knows that'll he'll win. so yeah.
Besides, having no powers for this, is really a piece of cake, if you're a raging gender fluid that knows his way around makeup and can easily change the sound of his voice, to be honest the shapeshifting parts that he got from his powers are basically just add-ons.
Well what was he waiting for? afterall he needed all the blackmail he could get, not as Phantom but as Daniel James Fucking Fenton, this was an opportunity to go batshit crazy and he was absolutely stealing it.
The very first hero Danny approached to help was Wonder Woman, who thanked Danny who was now disguised as a woman wearing a long ass Red wig, and some clothes he "borrowed" from Jazz who just joked about Danny being her twin, and wished him luck.
"Thank you, young lady for your brave actions to help me." Wonder woman sincerely thanked the boy in disguise as she held both of Danny's hands as gratitude "may I ask the name of my savior? "
"My name's El, It's a pleasure to know you." Danny smiled a little wider.
The second was Flash, which Danny found completely amusing because of the way he helped the speedy hero, who tripped while patrolling around the city.
Danny who was now in a more gothic attire( thanks to Sam's help) caught the hero's wrist before he embarrassingly fell face first on the ground.
"You okay there sir?" Danny asked, as he kept a firm grip on the man's wrist to make sure he doesn't fall.
Meanwhile Flash who thought he was in those korea tv romance dramas only blue screened for a few seconds before finally get his shit together. "yeah- um- name's Flash, and you are?"
The hero tripped on his own words, making Danny amused as fuck. "James, it was nice to finally meet you"
Okay, about like three weeks in, and Danny managed to help almost everyone in the watchtower, and only a few more to go,( he didn't get why most of the heroes he helped either started to stutter or blue screen in their spot once they talk to him. like damn is this how all of you treat every civilian who interacts with you? that's just sad) but at this time, Dan and Elle found out, and were now demanding to join, with the excuse of basically being Danny but in alternate or clone form, which Danny had no choice but to give in, I mean he wasn't breaking any rules so technically this was alright.
Danny wanted to take a break so Dan took over this time.
currently Nightwing was observing the outside of the gala, Bruce was invited to, something about a bunch of drugs being hidden within the crowd, and was now being passed around.
He intently remained focused on his observation, while also keeping a conversation with Oracle and the others on the comms, he didn't realize that he was too far off the edge of the railing he was standing on, until he missed a step.
Nightwing would never admit that he let a quiet squeal to his siblings ever as he fell, he closed his eyes and braced for impact, he would never expect to fall into the arms of a man 3x bigger than him, he stared at the man, and the man stared at him. 'holy shit' Nightwing thought.
The man, chuckled making Nightwing internally scream. "When I wished for Desiree, to make someone from above to save me from this trash party, I didn't think it would be one of the birds of gotham, to come and fall for me let alone the handsome one."
Okay Nightwing was now full on red from blushing, he was put down gently by the man on the ground, before offering a handshake, once Nightwing accepted the handshake, Dan pulled the hand closer to his mouth then gave a quick peck on the back of the hand vigilante's hand. "My name's Dan Masters, it's a pleasure to meet you."
his siblings can eat dirt on how they were teasing Nightwing Right now, but this was fucking worth it.
And the last to have gotten help from Danny was John Constantine, Danny actually had a reason on why he saved John for last, and that's because John actually knows Danny's identity, so for this mission he asked the help of his daughter Elle.
Elle had helped John by fixing a ruined summoning circle, who also helped him negotiate with a demon, and somehow all day, Elle just stuck to Constatine's side, her explanation? 'He'll die without me' fair point John thought as he took the kid, to order ice cream and to hangout in the park.
"You know kid, you remind me of someone." Constantine stated while keeping his eyes on what's infront of him, which was just a bunch of trees.
Elle who sat next to him, still eating her Ice cream looked up at him and said. "Really?"
"Yeah like you two literally have the same aura and all just a little different, but I don't know who yet." He replied and ruffled the kid's hair. making the girl laugh.
"Hey John!" Danny greeted behind them, and then all the gears inside of Constantine's head began to work. he let out a groan as he realized the girl beside him was the clone of the man behind him, well he needed to kiss that secret of his goodbye. here on this spot right now or he'll die of embarrassment if he waited any longer.
"Danny, let's go on a date." Constantine stated, not facing the Man.
this comment made the Father and Daughter choke on literal air.
Pairing Off, in which the Waynes meet the Fentons, just not all at once. 2,443 words
-
Damian feels less than positively about the new girl in his grade.
Danielle Fenton has already garnered a bit of a reputation. Her uniform is clearly second hand, and rumors abound about whether she has joined them at Gotham Academy on a merit scholarship or as “one of Wayne's charity cases.” Neither is true; Father has offered no fiscal support to the Fentons, and yet both she and her older brother attend the Academy, leading Damian to believe they've somehow paid their own way.
Her lower class status and midwestern accent ought to make Fenton a target, but her response to being cornered or talked down to by other students was an unsettling combination of cheerful and aggressive. She is now mostly left to her own devices, despite her notoriety.
Damian has no interest in the girl. While it is true that she excels in both mathematics and social studies, her performance in English and science are unremarkable, and she poses no challenge to his rank at the top of the class. If he finds himself pushing harder in certain classes this semester in order to maintain the edge, it's no one else's business.
Now if only she would leave him alone.
Damian preemptively slams his sketchbook shut, just as a brash, inconsiderate, annoying girl hops up to sit on his desk. “Hey Dami, what're you drawing?”
“It is none of your business,” Damian seethes. “Remove yourself from my personal space before I-” he isn't allowed to threaten classmates with bodily harm, imply that he has brought weapons to school, or use words that are derogatory to women “-do so myself. By force.” He would avoid her altogether if he could, but Fenton is annoyingly (suspiciously) sneaky. He can only ever seem to sense her when she's just about on top of him.
Fenton merely laughs, high, bright, and joyful, and Damian grits his teeth. “Did you draw me yet?” she asks, and doesn't move an inch.
“No, I have not drawn you. I never said I would, and I have no plans to. Stop asking me.”
She shrugs and kicks her feet. “Maybe you'll change your mind. Can I see what you're working on?”
Damian pulls the sketchbook a tad bit closer to himself (a protective reflex that shows his weakness, he should be better than that by now.) “Never, imbecile.”
Fenton sticks her tongue out at him like a child. “Mean,” she says, still smiling. “I wanna see your art. It's so good!”
Damian tilts his nose up at her. “Of course it is, plebeian, I have standards-” he starts, but is cut off by the teacher entering. Fenton slides off his desk and heads to her own seat. Damian stows his sketchbook in his bag and tries not to think of the unfinished work inside, featuring a girl with dark hair, light eyes, and a mischievous grin.
-
There's this brownstone on the outskirts of Crime Alley, an old townhouse recently converted into commercial space. There's a coffee shop on street level, a tattoo parlor down the stairs, some sorta wine emporium on the second floor, and on the third, a little second hand bookshop
It's outside the border of Jason's territory, but he feels sorta responsible for it, given that he frequents the place.
It's a little out of his way, but the atmosphere is nice, alright? Clean, with soft lighting, but not sterile or corporate like the bigger places downtown. The owners are an older couple who Jason has met a couple of times, and they seem pretty happy with the new location. They're collectors, really, who run the shop to make ends meet.
Mostly, Jason talks to their employee. Jazz.
Jazz works in the afternoons and evenings, after her classes. She goes to Gotham U, double majoring in pre-med and psych, on top of a full time job, because she's almost as insane as a bat. She assures Jason that she does alright, gets a little downtime to study on her shifts.
She always makes time to talk to Jason.
Jazz is an interesting person to talk books with. She cares less about plot and literary themes, and more about diagnosing every character with their own personal malady of the mind. She dissects their thought processes and behaviors, ruthless in her analysis.
She's gonna be a brain surgeon someday, open people up and see what really makes them tick. Jason doesn't doubt it for a second.
So maybe Jason is a little bit in love with her.
It's not a big deal. Obviously it's not going anywhere. It's just nice to have something normal, to talk to someone normal, about normal stuff like books and college and sibling antics.
Jazz's stories about her sibling, Danny, rival Jason's own, and his family is fucking disastrous. Jason isn't actually sure if Dan is older or younger than Jazz is, or, for that matter, what pronouns he should use for them, since Jazz mixes it up pretty regularly. He knows that Jazz absolutely adores them, though, and it's heartwarming, the way she smiles as she talks.
All of that to explain why Red Hood is keeping an eye on a brownstone that technically falls outside of his territory.
There's a girl inside that he needs to keep safe.
-
“Hey bud, late night?” Dick asks the man lying prone in an alley, a block away from the Iceberg Lounge.
The response is slurred with sleep and muffled by a cheek pressed hard into asphalt. “S'at you, Dick?”
“Sure is. We've got to stop meeting like this,” Dick tells him, and means it.
The guy's name is Dan. No last name offered, which was fair, since Dick hasn't mentioned his.
What was weird was that Dan didn't give Penguin his last name, either, when he signed his employment contract. Just Dan.
Penguin has been trying to expand his influence into Bludhaven, and Dick's been trying to figure out why. Cobblepot is a very Gotham sort of gangster, all wrapped up in the city's ideas of style and respectability; Dick honestly would've thought that Blud was beneath him. He needs to figure out who he's contacting and what they're offering him, and he needs to do it before Penguin can get a foothold on his turf.
Running into Dan was a side effect. Dick didn't mean to keep doing it. It's just that Dan has this weird habit of completely disregarding trivial concerns such as his own health and safety, and doing weird shit like, as a random example, getting tired, laying down, and passing out. In the middle of the street. In Gotham.
The main part of Dan's job seems to be bouncing at the club. It makes sense—if you wanted to hire a guy as muscle, you couldn't do much better than Dan. He's at least 6 and a half feet tall, with a chest wider than Jason's.
But Dick has also seen Dan traveling with Penguin before. Add in the fact that it's almost impossible to dig up info on him, and that tailing him is somehow even harder, and a picture starts to come together. A very vague, very suspicious picture.
It's too bad that Dick sort of likes him, and that he's incredibly hot.
Dan has removed his face from the alley floor, and is in the process of pushing himself up. “Not your business, man,” he retorts. “What are you, a cop?”
Dick can't help a wry chuckle at that. “Not anymore.”
“No shit?” Dan asks, hauling himself to his feet. He towers over Dick like that, but it's hard to be intimidated by a man whose cheek is red and pockmarked by little bits of gravel. Dick is legitimately embarrassed that he finds it charming. He needs to get better taste in men. “Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Dan continues, looking Dick up and down. “No way they could keep your ass on the force.”
“Oh yeah?” Dick asks.
Dan snorts. “I can smell the idealism on you from here.” He starts walking, heading straight past Dick, who falls into step beside him. “You remind me of this kid I know.”
Dick gives an interested hum, hoping that if he doesn't interrupt, Dan will elaborate, but no dice.
“So, where're you taking me this time?” the big man asks, still leading, and Dick stifles a grin at how silly the whole thing is.
“Maybe if I take you out for coffee, you won't faceplant onto any more concrete,” he says, reaching up to brush off some of the little rocks. Dan stutters to a stop as Dick touches his cheek, letting him, then strides off again as soon as he's done.
“Don't care, as long as you're paying.”
Dick stops him with a tug to his arm. “Coffee shop's this way,” he explains, pointing, and Dan doesn't hesitate, pivoting to take the lead once again. Dick rushes to keep up with his not-date, a criminal who he literally picked up off the street and who has no idea where he's going. He can't see his own smile, but he knows from experience that it is both delighted and a little manic. He admits to himself, begrudgingly, that he likes his men with something wrong with them.
-
The biggest reason that Tim played so much Doomed with Ghost_Boy, a couple of years ago, was that they were the only player he knew who kept hours as weird as his were. There were worse reasons to form a friendship. Ghost_Boy was a great player, and was always funny in chat. They were upbeat when things went well, and they were sarcastic but not bitter when things went poorly. Playing for the game's sake eventually changed to booting up the game to hang out with Ghost_Boy. They talked about how different their lives were, with Ghost_Boy in the midwest and Tim in the crime capital of America, and they talked about the things they had in common, like falling asleep in class. It was Tim's favorite form of stress relief, back then, when being Robin was new and overwhelming.
Then Tim got busy. No, that wasn't true—Tim had always been busy. More like, Tim's life fell to shambles, over and over again, and he stopped making time for stress relief when the very concept seemed out of his reach.
That was over dramatic. Tim fell off the game, and didn't keep in contact with his friend. That's all there was to it.
That was all there was to it, until a few nights ago, when he booted up his old Doomed file for nostalgia's sake and found a message from Ghost_Boy, sent a couple months back, that said he was planning to move to Gotham and, if Tim wanted, he'd be happy to meet up.
Tim immediately replied in the affirmative, and then he freaked out that he'd done that and started cyber stalking the guy. He couldn’t be bothered to pretend to be embarrassed by this behavior. He knew who he was.
Daniel Fenton was, in fact, a real teenager from a real midwestern town (Amity Park, Illinois.) He had moved to Gotham right when his message said he would, and lived with his older sister, Jasmine (who had custody over him,) and his younger sister, Danielle.
And that was where Tim was planning to stop his research, for the sake of his friend's privacy. Once he confirmed that he wasn't being catfished by either a supervillain or a run-of-the-mill creep, he was going to stop looking.
But Danielle Fenton's situation was incredibly weird.
Apparently, she had never lived with Daniel, Jasmine, and their parents before. Instead, after she was born, she'd been adopted by the kids’ godfather, eccentric billionaire Vlad Masters, and he was still her legal guardian. It was only after the Doctors Jack and Madeline died that she moved in with her siblings and started attending Gotham Academy, states away from her adoptive parent.
Vlad Masters was a man of eclectic tastes. The stories about him in the news were always covering some weird investment he had made, like purchasing a cheese castle in Wisconsin, or buying up property in Green Bay just to have a stake in the Packers, or pouring money into experimental forms of alternative energy. He was always refined in his public appearances, but he had the desperate edge of new money wanting to fit in with the old. Tim knew of him, but had never given him much thought before. He'd never made a move into Gotham, after all.
But the whole story was bizarre. Masters had gone to college with the Fentons, the three of them creating their own field of study in “Ectology,” before Masters had been contaminated in a lab accident, bedridden and unable to finish his degree. Jack and Maddie had continued their research, garnering just enough interest in their work to receive the funding needed to keep afloat, until some sort of breakthrough a few years ago added validity to their theories. They were practically celebrities in the niche forums Tim skimmed through. Masters, meanwhile, stopped working directly in the sciences and instead turned to networking, gaining some generous help from the friends he made and playing the stock market like a fiddle, until he was one of the most well known and lucrative investors in the world. He owned a few companies publicly, and managed some others under the table (Tim had to snort at the ridiculous naming of Dalv Co.)
And then the Fentons had kids, and they raised two of them (seemingly quite happily, if the photos on their memorialized facebook accounts meant anything.) And then, for some reason, they named the third one nearly identically to their second child and gave her straight to Vlad. Masters raised the girl in Wisconsin, until suddenly relocating to Amity Park and becoming the town's mayor. There he stayed, until the Fenton's recent passing in a lab accident of their own.
Tim doesn't know what it all adds up to. But there was something going on, with both Vlad Masters and the Fentons, and if there's something nefarious in Masters’ actions or his wealth, it could be entirely possible that Daniel was a plant—a way for him to get an in with the Waynes. Tim has to be cautious, and he has to get to the bottom of this.
That's why Tim is waiting in a coffee shop, pretending to be engrossed in his laptop while keeping an eye on the door, waiting for the appearance of a teen with black hair and blue eyes.
Tim idly thinks that Bruce had better not adopt this one.
Putting feelers out to see if anyone would be interested in a fan-run Halloween exchange revolving around the DCxDP pairing Dan Phantom (Dark Danny)/Dick Grayson.
Secret Skeleton is exactly like Secret Santa except, you know, not for Christmas. You can find the link to the interest check here:
An interest check for a potential DCxDP event revolving around the pairing Dan Phantom (Dark Danny)/Dick Grayson. Secret Skeleton would work
Dick Grayson and Dan Fenton are two sides of the same coin
drawn together by the overwhelming force of their shared anger, yet tempered by their differing ways of dealing with it.
Their personalities mirror each other, with subtle but significant differences in how they react to their emotions and the world around them.
Dick Grayson is a person who, despite carrying an intense inner rage, has spent years learning how to mask it, constantly suppressing his feelings because of the responsibility he feels toward those who rely on him.
His anger is like a volatile storm beneath the surface, always simmering, always ready to boil over.
But Dick keeps that storm contained, partly out of a sense of duty and partly because he cannot afford to lose control—not when there are people depending on him, especially after everything he’s experienced.
When Dick does snap, it’s explosive, a red-hot fury that consumes him and everyone around him.
His anger comes from a deep sense of betrayal, loss, and frustration, emotions that are often triggered by his inability to fully heal from past wounds. His guilt over not being there when others need him can push him to the edge, and when he finally lets go, it's intense and uncontrollable.
Dan Fenton, on the other hand, carries his anger like a weapon—he doesn't mask it, doesn't suppress it, and most importantly, doesn't care who sees it.
His rage is a direct expression of his complete disillusionment with the world around him. Dan feels trapped in a cycle of pain and self-loathing, and his anger is a response to that helplessness. His anger is his shield, his way of saying, "I'm not going to be ignored. I'm not going to pretend anymore."
When Dan snaps, it's not just explosive—it's total annihilation. There’s no restraint, no second thoughts, just a primal need to destroy whatever is in his way, whether it's physical or emotional.
Dan’s rage isn't a mere outburst; it's a reaction to everything he sees as wrong in the world, and he doesn't try to control it because, for him, the control is gone.
He feels like he's drowning, but instead of letting others help, he isolates himself, pushing away anyone who might try to get too close, afraid that he’ll drag them down with him.
The bond between Dick and Dan is magnetic because they see themselves in each other.
Dick wants to help Dan because he sees his own unresolved rage mirrored in him. He recognizes that same fire, that same inability to fully trust the world around him, and he can’t help but want to pull Dan out of the abyss that he himself struggles to stay out of.
However, Dick's optimism—his belief that things can get better—clashes with Dan's complete loss of hope.
Dick can't help himself, but he tries anyway because, deep down, he’s terrified of losing someone else.
The fear of someone dying while he wasn’t there for them is something Dick struggles with every day.
This fear pushes him to try to “save” Dan, not just because of his own guilt but because he can’t bear the thought of letting another person slip away, consumed by their anger and pain.
Dan feels the weight of his anger and self-isolation.
He recognizes Dick’s attempt to help, but he feels unworthy of that help. He fears that anyone who gets too close to him will be consumed by his darkness.
Dan feels like he’s already too far gone, that any attempt to fix himself will only result in dragging others into the chaos.
In that way, he isolates himself, pushing away anyone who might care, even if they’re offering a lifeline.
They are drawn to each other because they are two halves of the same broken whole.
Their anger is the bridge that connects them, even as it drives them apart.
Dick’s attempts to help Dan are ultimately a reflection of his own inner turmoil and his fear of being alone in his anger.
Meanwhile, Dan's response to Dick is a reminder of the path Dick could go down if he allows his rage to consume him fully.
They are both fueled by bitterness and anger, but where Dick’s anger is tempered by a relentless hope, Dan’s is an all-consuming darkness.
The fundamental difference is that Dick still believes in the possibility of change, while Dan is resigned to his own destruction.
In many ways, Dick and Dan are forced into a complicated, tense dance. Dick wants to fix Dan, but Dan resists, unsure if he even deserves the help.
But, beneath the resistance, there’s a quiet understanding between them, a recognition of the same pain, the same anger that keeps them from moving forward. They see themselves in each other, and that’s what makes their connection so powerful—and so so difficult.
But Despite the pain, despite the anger, despite the near-constant push and pull between them, Dick Grayson and Dan Fenton would still end up drawn into something deeper. They would love because of the pain as much as despite it.
Because see, most people see what Dick and Dan project—Dick as the golden boy who has everything under control, Dan as an unstoppable force of destruction.
But they both recognize the truth beneath the masks. Dick sees Dan’s pain, the raw vulnerability buried under all that rage, and Dan sees the exhaustion behind Dick’s carefully maintained control. There’s no need to pretend with each other, and that honesty is intoxicating.
And Both of them are angry—but with each other, they don’t need to justify it.
Dick doesn’t have to hold back his frustration and grief, and Dan doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t care. They understand that part of each other instinctively, without having to put it into words. They can be angry together, and instead of it being destructive, it’s relieving—like finally having someone who just gets it.
Neither of them is built for something soft and easy.
They could have quiet, peaceful relationships with people who don’t challenge them—but they don’t want that. They’re both drawn to the fight, to the sharp edges, to the constant tension between destruction and salvation. With each other, love isn’t calm—it’s a storm. But it’s their storm, and they can’t walk away from it.
Even in a room full of people, both Dick and Dan carry a deep, persistent loneliness.
Dick is surrounded by people who love him, yet he always feels responsible for everything, always afraid of letting someone down.
Dan isolates himself because he’s convinced his presence is a threat. But with each other, that loneliness eases, misery loves company, they say
When emotions run too deep for words, physicality becomes their outlet. Whether it’s a fight, a touch, or just sitting next to each other, their connection is tangible.
Dan, who keeps everyone at arm’s length, finds himself unwilling to let go of the warmth Dick offers.
Dick, who usually holds himself back, allows himself to hold on.
Their relationship is a mess of passion, fights, comfort, and raw honesty.
They crash into each other like fire meeting gasoline, but somehow, they don’t consume each other completely. Instead, they ignite something new—something neither of them fully understands, but neither of them can walk away from.
They love in spite of the pain because they are the only ones who can truly see each other, the only ones who can hold on through the worst of it. And even if they hurt, even if they struggle, being together is still better than being apart.
After a long day at his work, Dick starts walking back to his apartment humming his soulmate song. A large man that looks vaguely like Clark shows up and starts calling him "Dan" and telling him that he shouldn't wander off in a new city without letting him know. There was also something about "changing appearances" in the lecture too, but he wasn't able to get a word in edgewise. So, he just stood there letting the man fuss over him.
After a while, another guy shows up whistling his soulmate song! The new guy was just as tall and broad shouldered as the first but with wavy silver hair that he had in a low ponytail. The first guy called him Dan and quickly realized what had happened. He'd been mistaken for his soulmate. How did that happen?
As he starts trying to talk to the guy, the two men apologize and disappear.
Now, Dick had to find his soulmate before he leaves Bludhaven.
The chapel was quiet, the flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the stone walls. Dick grinned as he clasped Dan’s hands, his voice soft but full of playful energy.
“Do you think the gods will bless us?” dick asked.
Dan raised a brow, his stoicism barely hiding a hint of a smile. “If they don’t, I’ll have a word with them myself.”
“For once, you’re not brooding,” dick laughed “I could get used to this.”
Dan smirked faintly. “You have a talent for unsettling me.”
As they exchanged vows, Dan felt something he rarely allowed himself to feel: hope.
It was short-lived.
When dick fell ill years later and succumbed to the plague, Dan begged the gods to take him too. Instead, they cursed him, forcing him to live with his grief.
---
Dan wandered through centuries, haunted by dick's absence. Time didn’t dull the ache; instead, it sharpened it, leaving him restless and yearning for the impossible.
16th-Century venise
The courtesan was beautiful, with dark hair and a sharp wit that reminded Dan of dick. He found himself drawn to her, lavishing her with gifts and stolen moments.
“You seem sad,” she said one night, tracing a finger along his jaw. “You’re always looking at me like you expect me to say something I haven’t.”
Dan forced a smile. “You remind me of someone I lost.”
She kissed him softly, but it felt hollow. No one could match the fire that dick had carried in his soul.
---
17th-Century England
The lively marketplace bustled with activity as Dan passed through, blending into the crowd. A merchant’s voice caught his attention, cutting through the noise with its cheeky charm.
“Careful, sir, you’ll scare the quills if you stare any harder.”
Dan’s gaze snapped to the stall, and his breath caught. The merchant’s auburn hair and bright smile were eerily familiar. He bought a quill just to linger, his heart aching with an unnamed longing.
“You remind me of someone,” Dan murmured.
“Lucky him,” the merchant teased.
Dan left, the stranger’s laughter echoing in his mind.
---
The Napoleonic Wars (19th Century)
The young soldier, Henri, had dick's cheeky grin and quick tongue. They met during a brutal campaign, bonding over shared hardships.
“You’re too quiet, Dan,” Henri said one night by the fire. “You’ve got stories, I can tell.”
Dan chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Henri laughed and leaned closer, his gaze lingering. Dan kissed him, hoping the heat would drown out the emptiness. It didn’t. Henri was kind, but he wasn’t him.
---
19th-Century Paris
The bookshop was warm and dimly lit, a haven from the cold Parisian streets. Dan browsed aimlessly, distracted by the shopkeeper’s lively chatter with another customer.
“You’ve got a serious look about you,” the shopkeeper said, noticing Dan. “Let me guess—love lost?”
Dan stiffened. The man’s blue eyes and teasing smile felt too familiar. He handed Dan a slim volume of poetry. “This one’s good for broken hearts. I’d know.”
Dan nodded curtly, paying without a word. As he left, the shopkeeper’s parting words lingered: “Come back if you need more stories.”
It was sweet, but Dan already knew he wouldn't be coming back
---
20th Century A Bar
In a smoky speakeasy in New York, Dan nursed a drink while watching the barmaid move through the crowd. She had dick's charm and confidence, her laughter cutting through the haze of jazz and cigarette smoke.
She leaned against the bar, grinning at him. “You’ve been staring all night. Care to explain?"
“You remind me of someone,” Dan admitted, his voice low.
“Lucky her,” she teased, pouring him another drink.
Dan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He tried to convince himself that these fleeting connections were enough, but the truth gnawed at him: they weren’t.
---
20th-Century New York
The train station buzzed with energy as soldiers boarded. Dan leaned against a pillar, watching a young man in uniform charm a group of women nearby.
“Not boarding?” the soldier asked, his grin infectious.
“No,” Dan replied.
“Suit yourself.” The soldier extended a hand. “Rick.”
Dan hesitated before shaking it. “Dan.”
As the conductor called for final boarding, Rick tipped his hat. “See you around, Dan.”
Dan watched him go, the ache in his chest a reminder of something he couldn’t quite place.
Dick grayson’s life had always felt... incomplete. He couldn’t explain the strange dreams that plagued him—visions of a medieval chapel, a bustling market, a quiet bookshop. He dismissed them as nothing more than fantasies.
As Nightwing, Gotham demanded his focus. Yet, during a battle with a rogue magician, something changed.
A spell struck him mid-air, throwing him to the ground. Pain rippled through his body, but so did something else—a torrent of memories flooding his mind.
Dan, he mind whispered to him
Oh.
Oh.
Dick spent months tracking Dan down, piecing together clues from his fragmented memories and his skills as Nightwing.
He chased whispers of a man who never seemed to age, stories of someone who disappeared when connections grew too close.
In every lead, dick saw glimpses of Dan’s regret—an unfinished painting left behind in a French chateau, a carefully preserved diary in a London museum, a love letter hidden in the pages of an old book.
Each discovery hardened Dick's resolve. “You won’t run from me this time,” he muttered as he packed his gear.
Dan was sitting in his apartment, staring at the same photograph. The weight of centuries pressed down on him, his guilt and longing a constant ache.
The knock at his door startled him. He wasn’t expecting anyone. When he opened it, his breath caught.
Dick stood there, rain dripping from his hair, his eyes blazing with determination.
“How many lifetimes will it take before you see me for who I am?” dick demanded, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.
Dan took a step back, his mind racing. “dick?”
“Yes, Dan,” dick said, his voice firm. “It’s me. It’s always been me. And you—” his voice broke slightly, “you’ve been running from this for centuries.”
Dan sank into a chair, unable to meet dick's gaze. “I thought I was protecting you,” he whispered.
Dick crouched in front of him, gripping his hands. “You thought you were protecting yourself,” he said, his tone softer now. “But I’m here, Dan. I’ve always been here. And I remember everything,i remember you”
Dan’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to save you from this... from me.”
“You’re not saving me by leaving me behind,” dick said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re breaking us both.”
The room was quiet, and Dan hesitated before reaching out, his fingers brushing against dick's cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” Dan murmured, his voice cracking.
Dick leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “Then stop running. Stop hiding. Be with me this time. For real.”
Dan nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve everything,” dick said fiercely. “But you have to let yourself believe it.”
---
Months later, Dan and dick walked along the Gotham waterfront, the city alive with its usual chaos. But for the first time in centuries, Dan didn’t feel haunted.
“You’re awfully quiet,” dick said, bumping Dan’s shoulder. “Regretting your decision already?”
Dan chuckled, a rare sound that made dick grin. “Hardly. I’m just... grateful.”
Dick smirked. “Good. Because I’m not letting you off the hook this time. You owe me centuries of explanations, love letters, and... well, everything.”
Dan stopped walking, turning to face him. “You have my eternity."
Dick's grin softened, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Dan’s lips. For the first time, they were finally whole.
Blüdhaven’s docks were shrouded in mist, the faint smell of saltwater mingling with industrial grime.
Nightwing perched on a rooftop, scanning the shadows below. Reports of glowing, shadowy figures prowling the area had brought him here, but the silence that greeted him was unnerving.
“You’re going to be disappointed if you’re waiting for them to walk into a trap.”
The voice startled him. He turned sharply, escrima sticks at the ready, to see a figure hovering behind him—white hair, glowing red eyes, and a casual smirk that spoke of confidence and experience.
“You must be Nightwing,” the stranger said, crossing his arms.
“And you are?” Nightwing asked, keeping his stance defensive.
“Dan Phantom,” the man replied, floating closer but keeping his distance. “Ghost expert, problem-solver, all-around powerhouse. You’re welcome.”
Nightwing raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say I’ve heard of you.”
“Figures,” Dan said with a shrug. “I don’t exactly do the whole ‘hero’ thing. I’m here for one reason: to take out the Wraiths before they turn this city into a ghost town. Literally.”
Nightwing studied him. “And by ‘take out,’ you mean...?"
“Exactly what you think I mean,” Dan said, his smirk widening. “These things don’t stop. They’re not people; they’re feral monsters. Only way to deal with them is to end them.”
“That’s not how I work,” Nightwing said firmly.
“Yeah, I figured,” Dan replied, glancing at the escrima sticks. “You seem like the ‘capture and contain’ type. Hope you’ve got a plan, because those things don’t play nice.”
Before Nightwing could respond, a guttural roar echoed through the mist. A massive -Wraith?- its glowing green form rippling with energy burst from a warehouse, followed by a swarm of smaller creatures.
Dan grinned. “Showtime.”
The fight was chaos. Nightwing’s movements were precise and controlled, using his escrima sticks to disable the smaller Wraiths and deploying containment devices to trap them. Dan, by contrast, tore through the creatures with brutal efficiency, his ectoplasmic blasts reducing them to nothing.
“Careful, bird boy!” Dan called, blasting a Wraith that lunged at Nightwing. “These things don’t mess around.”
“Neither do I,” Nightwing replied, flipping over another Wraith and slamming it into one of his containment devices.
Dan floated over, studying the trapped Wraith with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s your plan? What are you going to do with them—teach them yoga?”
Nightwing didn’t look up. “It’s better than destroying them outright.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind them breaking out and trying to eat you later,” Dan said, firing another blast at a charging Wraith.
Despite their differences, the two worked surprisingly well together. Nightwing’s precision and strategy balanced Dan’s overwhelming power, the unlikely pair cutting through the Wraiths with ease.
When the last of the creatures was dealt with, Dan turned to Nightwing, his smirk firmly in place. “Not bad, bird boy. For someone who insists on playing nice, you’re actually useful in a fight.”
“And for someone who doesn’t play by the rules, you’re... effective,” Nightwing admitted grudgingly.
Dan chuckled, a green portal swirling open behind him. “High praise. But don’t get used to me doing the heavy lifting. Your city, your problem.”
“Good,” Nightwing said. “Because I don’t like sharing.”
Dan grinned. “And yet we made a pretty good team. Think about that the next time you’re struggling to keep this city from falling apart.”
Before Nightwing could reply, Dan stepped into the portal, his form fading into the green light.
As the portal vanished, Nightwing stood alone in the aftermath of the fight. He didn’t agree with Dan’s methods—probably never would—but he couldn’t deny that the man had been right about one thing: the Wraiths were a serious threat.
For now, the city was safe. And if Dan Phantom ever returned, Nightwing knew exactly what he’d be up against.
Ive been ́obsessed woth the idea of loving someone through multiple lifetime, sue me
Dan Fenton, an immortal cursed with eternal life, drifts through centuries, unaware of the patterns fate has woven for him.
Unconsciously, he’s drawn to certain individuals across time—people with the same spark in their eyes, the same warmth in their voice.
Each time, the connection is immediate and inexplicable. They remind him of his first and only true love, Richard Grayson, a man he once married before discovering the curse that would doom him to immortality.
Dick was vibrant, cheeky, and full of life—the perfect foil to Dan’s more cold and reserved demeanor. Their marriage was a union of opposites that flourished, until tragedy struck.
Dick died far too young, and Dan, in his despair, discovered his immortality. For centuries, he believed dick was lost to him.
But unbeknownst to Dan, dick's soul has been reincarnating over and over, led back toward Dan by a bond, and neither fully understands. Each time, dick returns in a new guise—a servant, a scholar, a warrior, a thief—but always with the same core essence that Dan can’t help but fall for.
While Dan is drawn to these reincarnations, he never fully realizes what they mean. He refuses to let himself love completely, burdened by the belief that no one can ever replace dick.
Meanwhile, each reincarnation of dick experiences flashes of memories they don’t understand—snippets of a past life, of laughter, of love, of Dan.
One day, dick's latest reincarnation (our beloved nightwing) remembers everything. The flood of memories hits all at once, and he remembers not just their love, but also the pain of each lifetime spent without Dan realizing the truth.
This iteration of dick refuses to let their love be another fleeting moment. He confronts Dan, forcing him to face the truth:
"How many lifetimes will it take before you see me for who I am?"
