Danny: So I May Have Did A Bit Of An Oopsie Daisy.

Danny: So I may have did a bit of an oopsie daisy.

Jazz: … define a bit.

Danny: you know how you were telling me about the two main ways of conditioning?

Jazz: Yes?

Danny: And you remember how I said Pavlov’s dog sounded strangely familiar?

Jazz watching her brother pace: Danny?

Danny: Well, there’s this guy in my lit class who was very pretty and I heard he was vegan and you know that giant bag of vegan candy Sam sent?

Jazz: Please tell me you didn’t.

Danny: Not on purpose! You know how big that bag is! And I can’t just throw it way it’s good candy! So I just, kept giving him a couple pieces when I saw him! I didn’t even realize what I did until I passed him in the hall earlier and he nearly smiled at me and he never smiles!

Jazz: only you little brother.

Danny flopping on the floor dramatically: he just looked to the floor in confusion Jazz! Like visible confusion!

Short DPXDC Prompts #997

Young Dick Grayson is wandering in the JL headquarters in the artifacts room. He’s been just looking around, occasionally reading placards that Zatanna or Dr. Fate have added on the items used and its history.

He pauses when he comes across an old green rotary phone. Next to the phone is a small placard. It reads “never pick this up.”

He knows he shouldn’t touch it. He’s in a room full of magical artifacts. There’s no way this won’t come back to bite him. But his curiosity overwhelms him.

He picks up the phone and dials a random number.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And- “Hello! Fenton speaking! Who am I speaking to?”

Someone answered. —

Danny doesn’t know why this unknown number rang the house phone but ngl, he’s a bit curious. (Nomatter what number you choose, it always goes to the Fentons landline

Gravity Falls AU where instead of dimension hopping after falling through the portal, Ford becomes incorporeal and the only people who can see or hear him are the ghosts (and a few of the other magical beings in the town).

He works out pretty quickly what’s happening. He expects Stan to leave, he expects he’ll be trapped this way forever.

Instead he spends the next 30 years watching Stan try to bring him back.

Bruce “Sad Wet Cat of a Man” Wayne meets Danny “Sad Wet Cat of a Teenager” and immediately adopts him. A prompt? A fic starter?

——

This was pathetic, Bruce groused, wringing his cape under the mostly effective shelter of an awning. Amity’s rain was somehow more potent than that of Gotham and it managed to soak the waterproof fabric of his cape. This was not scientifically possible.

Bruce refrained from giving into the urge of slamming his head backwards into the wall.

“You’re new in town, aren’t ya?”

Bruce subtly startled, head swiveling over to the presence he somehow hadn’t detected. His heart gave a little squeeze- and, uh oh, that’s the squeeze he got when he adopted his kids. Bruce was self aware enough to see where this was going, but as usual, he was helpless to stop it.

Batman slightly dipped his head. How did the child know?

Like he read his mind, the teenager nodded. “You look like it. We know everyone in Amity. And you’re new. Tourists.” He chuckled, brushing the weird rain out of his hair. “And, you’re soaked.”

“This is waterproof,” Batman growled.

“Yeah, in other places of the world, maybe,” At Bruce’s questioning look (not that anyone other than liminal could have figured out his friendly intentions via the scary glare he had on), the kid elaborated further. “but you didn’t get Amity-made textiles. They’re made to last in any weather.”

“This is rain.”

“Ecto-contaminated rain, yeah.” The kid sighed, one hand absently fluffing up his hair and getting rid of stray green-tinged water droplets. “I’m Danny. I guess I’m your Amity tour guide today.”

Well, Bruce wasn’t the type to turn down an advantage. If this was a trap one of his enemies made for him to stumble into, Bruce had to admit it was well made and well researched. He never could turn away kids, especially ones that had that edge of work weary exhaustion to them like Danny did.

Danny, as expected, tried to fill in the silence. Alfred's technique always worked. Even on Bruce himself.

"This is the mall, by the way. It's dead right now because you're here on a Wednesday during school hours." Danny smirked to himself.

"Why are you not in school then?"

"It's called skipping. Or, for you, I guess it'd be 'playing hooky,'" Danny sassed, making quotation marks with his hands. He was exactly like Dick.

Bruce felt his heart melt. Oh no. Alfred was going to be mad again. But... it was for a good cause! And besides, what are the chances that Danny'd be a crime fighting vigilante? Can't be that high, right? (Bruce conveniently avoided the fact that statistically, the chances of him adopting baby vigilantes were pretty much at a hundred percent success rate.)

"Hng." He grunted. Danny rolled his eyes. Like Jason and Damian and Stephanie. "Where are your parents?"

He had to get the important stuff squared away first.

Danny shrugged. "Come on. There's a fabric store that way. We'll make you a rain guard first so your stuff doesn't get wet."

Ah, classic avoidance. Danny sure reminded him of Tim. Bruce inclined his head. "Lead the way."

"So why are all of you some variation of 'Danny'?"

Dan, Dani, and Danny looked at each other.

"Whoever is the supreme Danny gets to keep the name, of course," Dani scoffs, picking up her cappuccino from the counter.

"But like...what's the deciding factor on that?" The baffled barista asks.

"Whoever dies the most gruesome death wins," Dan deadpans, grabbing his macchiato.

"Shut the fuck up, edglord McGee, we've all died," Danny groans, elbowing past him to grab his iced caramel triple shot latte. "You're not special."

"Yeah loser."

"But we all came back, so we can just start from there!"

"Dani wins."

"Yeah, I win. I was melting, like the hot witch from Wicked."

"Only because yours happened in this timeline! Mine was way worse!"

"How else are we supposed to track that, Dan?! You and I share the same death now!"

"Fuck you and your stupid electricity, I still remember it so it happened!"

"Cope."

"So much Copium he's radioactive."

The Barista, who never did get clarification, watches the trio leave the coffee shop still arguing.

"What the fuck?" He whispers.

"Those guys had to be Gothamites," one of the customers sighs, exasperated.

"No. No! Because if they are, what're they doing in Metropolis? Fuck off. If Gothamites come here they'll bring the clown with them. Fuck that."

Within mere minutes, a Twitter war had erupted between Metropolis, telling Gothamites not to move there, and Gotham, telling Metropolitans that they wouldn't want to anyways.

Again.

For the fifth time that week.

On a Monday.

Alfred: Who is this?

Seven year old Bruce: His name is Danny. He's my older brother

Alfred: You're an only child. You don't have a brother.

Bruce: Mom? Dad? Do I have a brother?

Thomas: I only ever loved your mother, and I find baby-making repulsive—no offense, Brucie—so biologically, no, you don't have a brother. Emotionally, on the other hand, if you feel like he is your brother, I don't mind calling him my son. It's not like I can't afford it, nor can this lad outrun me.

Alfred: That's... kidnaping, sir.

Martha: Oh don't be so uptight Alfred. You Brits worrry about the sillist of things.

Alfred: Silly thing? You mean the law!?

Martha: Yes, that's a pesky thing. Besides, he has my eyes and Thomas' nose! That's obviously our son.

Bruce considering Danny: He does have your nose, dad.

Thomas proud: A chip off the old block that one. Good job catching your brother Brucie.

Bruce: Thank you! I used my innocent face like you said, Mom!

Martha beaming: A pretty face is a valuable weapon, darling!

Alfred whispering to Danny: Blink four times if you want me to get you out of here. The Waynes are not entirely sane.

Danny:..... The kid just said he needed someone to walk him home cause he was lost.

Alfred: That's how they get you. I once offered Master Thomas my coat during a suprise downpour. That was four years ago, and now I'm a butler. He gave me an embroidered apron with the words, "You're mine now, Brit"