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The cult of...Danny Fenton?

So! Way back when Danny first moved into his new neighborhood in Gotham, he had some trouble controlling his Powers. The different Types and Levels of Ectoplasm in the air when compared to Amity had thrown off his control.

He was used to being in places where his Ectoplasm meshed well with the Atmosphere, like a Water Balloon in a Pool, but in Gotham that analogy would be closer to a Water Balloon in the sewers. It was too different from what he was used to to fully control his Powers.

So it's understandable that he messed up a few times and his neighbors found out about his Abilities.

They took it well at first, Danny wasn't going to go Rogues or anything, and he never used them maliciously, but eventually they got curious.

They asked what his limits were, how he got them in the first place, and what the hell the Ghost Zone was. The answers "None Really", "I died and was reborn", and "A Collective of every Afterlife at once" did spark some interesting reactions from them.

Most importantly, a few of them joked about him being an Eldritch God that they needed to worship. He was good enough friends with them that at that point they felt comfortable pranking eachother, so they did just that.

Danny woke up one day on his birthday, and saw all of his friends and neighbors surrounding the makeshift Throne they had made and put him on while he was asleep. The entire day they chanted stuff like "The Great One requires Ms. Smiths Apple Pie for his day of birth!" And "The Great One Wishes for us to sing the Ritual Song! Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birth-"

After his birthday, they kept up the joke.

It didn't help that his powers had evolved Again! And now he could bestow abilities onto his friends. The jokes they made about their God granting them Supernatural Powers to rule the world with were insufferable.

Then, one day while he was just resting at home, watching a movie on his TV, he felt a Pull at his Core. The same kind of Pull whenever he was being summoned. But why would they summon hi- Oh Shit! It's Mr Jenkins Party today! He was supposed to meet them at the Warehouse they used for special events an Hour Ago!

He quickly accepted the Summoning, but was met with a suprising sight. His Neighbors all tied up in a pile to his right, a spilled table of party food to his left, and right in front of him, Batman and his Family watching him with wary eyes.

Slowly, he opened his mouth. "...so, did you come for the party or..."

John Constantine was usually on the other side of a Summons. He was the one usually drawing the circle, chanting the chant, dribbling the blood over the runes.

John Constantine was usually the Summoner. He had never, in his very long life, ever been the Summonee. Hell, he hadn’t even thought he could be Summoned. Yet, here he was, in the middle of what was obviously a throne room with bright green walls, eerie blue-flamed torches, and a huge black knight with purple hair-like flames around his head standing at the foot of a dais, hand on the pommel of his giant black sword.

“Yo, Frighty, the dude here yet?” A tall black kid strode into the hall, head down as he messed around on a tablet. The ankh pectoral over his shirt glinted eerily in the strange light.

“Yes, Lord Foley,” boomed the black knight, “the renegade John Constantine has arrived!”

The kid, Lord Foley, looked up and, seeing John, grinned. “Sweet! I’ll get Danny.” Then, without so much as hello, Foley turned on his heel and trotted right back out.

John eyed the knight. “Wanna tell me what I’m doing here?”

“His Majesty Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, Lord Commander of the Dead, Protector of the Grave, has Summoned you.”

“Yeah, got that. Why?” John desperately wished he had a cigarette. If he’d been summoned by the High bloody King of the Infinite bloody Realms, he was fucked. Sure, he knew a new king took over from Pariah Dark—thank you Etrigan and Boston Deadman for that update—but he had never actually wanted to meet the guy.

“Silence!”

“Hey, Frights, thanks for watching him.” A new kid, silver haired and wearing a black bodysuit, floated through the door.

John stared at the kid. And stared. And stared. Because what he was seeing wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. There was absolutely no way some string bean high school-looking kid had the Crown of Fire floating above his head. Absolutely not.

The kid stopped midair, floating in front of John, peering at him with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child. “So, you’re the off-brand Voldemort.”

What the fuck?

John had absolutely no response to that.

The knight’s purple fire hair flared. “Answer His Majesty!”

“I’m John Constantine,” he said because, shit, what else was he going to do? If he really was in the Infinite Realms, he was so screwed. Magic didn’t work in the Infinite Realms. The whole dimension existed outside of time and space, connected to every-where, every-when, all at once. Hell, this was the place actual gods went to retire and this kid wearing the Crown of Fire—and, yep, that was the Ring of Rage right there on his hand—was the bloody High King. John Constantine may be careless but he wasn’t suicidal.

The kid beamed. “Great! I’m Danny Phantom and I wanna make a deal.”

John blinked. “What?”

“I wanna make a deal,” repeated Danny.

The neon green eyes and guileless smile set John on edge. “What kind of deal?”

“I own every piece of your soul and I’ll give it all back if you do one teeny tiny favor for me.”

That uneasy, spine tingling, something-bad-is-definitely-about-to-happen feeling crawling up John’s spine and writhing in his gut? Yeah, John wished he had spent more time listening to that feeling because now he was stuck. Still, he’d spent way too much time making deals. He wasn’t going to commit until he knew all the details. “What kind of favor?”

“Get rid of the Ecto-Acts and Guys in White.”

John blinked. “The what?”

“The Ecto-Acts and the Guys in White,” Danny repeated. “Seriously messed up laws and even more messed up government agency. My hometown is so contaminated with ectoplasm we don’t even register as human anymore. We’re all liminal. I had to pull us all into the GZ to keep people from getting vivisected. So, you and the Justice League need to get rid of the Acts and the GIW.”

John considered Danny. “What if I say no?”

The friendly smile dropped. Danny fixed John with a centuries-old stare of stars and cold and infinite darkness.

“Ị̴̮͐̏̔ ̛̪͎̤̺ͨͮͦ̇o͓̦̰̩̘͎̓͒ͫ͞w̱̲̻ͣ͌̕n̠͖̋̉̆̋͘ ̨͎̺̤̩ͨ͐y͆̉ͦ̎҉̦̬̞̮͈͈͖̮ợ̩͇ͣ̈́͛u̵͍̺̯̻̿r̛̺̹̳̠̫̼̩̺ͩͭ ̷̘̙̮̼̤͉̻̑s͕̝̓̈́͆͜o̵̪̜͔̙̔ṷ̦̩̻̳͂͂͢ͅl̶̯̦̺̼ͨ,̨͎͓͖̥͔̤͐̏ͯ ̺̯̬͎̑́ͯͤ̕J̱͎̜̭̰̍͡o͈̠̘̜ͭ̋ͧ͜h̗͍̖͑͒ͣ̚͘n͚̖̳̗̩͔ͥ̎͗͞ ̷̼̫͙̟ͨC͋͂͋̽҉̞̬̞̜͕̳o̪͎͈̤͚͍̦͖͂͋͟n̡̹̜͚̗͒ͅs̡̰̼̮̲͙̜͓̩ͮ͐t̶̪̻̝̙̯̞ͦ͂ͧa̗̞̹̒̌̕n̨̳͉̱̺̦ͨͨ͛t̻͙͎̖̲̦̗̺̆̀ȉ̥̲̦ͣ͌̀n̺̱̘̜̓̊͡e͐҉̟̘̜̘͉̱,” said the High King of the Infinite Realms, voice echoing in the massive hall and, somehow, inside John’s head. “B̡̳̱͎͎͕̭̖ͤͮͅy̠͖̝͓̣̯͚̓͊̒̀ ̧͍͕͎͈̈́ͅR̷̩̟̘̩̲̖̙̲̽ͥͫi͍̘ͫ̏̈́̔͝g̀͏̪̙͇̫̬h̖̜͚͎̩̖́̏́ṭ̥̳̤͈̚͟ ̸̰̣͓̪̰̙̋͗̈͑o̶̫͓ͬ͊͗f̞͍̰ͭ̒̔̐͡ ̭̟̯ͦ͜ͅYͩ͆̒ͮ͏͈̝o̡̖̖̱͌u̸̥͍͙̮̞͕ͯͣ̅r̵̪͚͉̯̺ͯ ̨̜͕̪͒͊̈́̉O̭͍͔̪̥̞ͬ͜w̠̘̾̈͡n̸͓̣̳̑͒̓ ̝͚̼̻̝̭͚̊ͦ͝ͅC̪̪̦̭͚͋͢o͍̞̅ͧ͝n̦̪͍̜̞ͦͭ͌͑́s̛͖̙̜̱͍̩͕̝̓e̯̲̝͇̭̝ͥͦ̽ͫ́nͧ͏̞̞͍̦̰͉̪̘t͆̆̂͏̙̫ ̅ͣ҉̦͉̗̦͚͙͕̺y̩̹̬̙ͣͯ̊͜ỏ̯̪̦̇ͯͤ͡u̞̝̗̱̿̃͢ ̭̜̊̃ͤ̀ͅa͇̰͚̻ͬͩ̋̏́ṟ̡͕̞͙͓̾̀̀e̢͖͚͈ͯͧ̀̈́ ̢̮̣̭͚̜̏ͥb̢̖͍ͪ͒̑͊o̶͖͓̓̈́̚ͅų̜̝̈́̋n̨̖̫͈͎̱̱̜̔̏̀d̛̬̩̱͉̻̣ͦ͂ ̴͍͈̝͈̥̙̩͎̔̒ͫt̺̞͑͞o͙̬̮̿͌͒ͦ͞ ͖̳̦̫ͣ̀m̪̹̫̟̫̘̪̿ͤ́̚ͅỵ̡͕̣̳̃ ̷̹̳ͦͤ̄̄w̴̱̱̤̙̔͌̒i̖̦̮͙̭̫͙̠͒̊͐ͦ͝l̂҉̯̱͇̘l̵͇͙̮̻̙̦̄̈̑ͣͅ.̴̟̟̮̂ͤ ̷̼̬͌͂̅A̰̦̝̬͌́n̋ͫ̓҉̳̗̦͖̺͖̖d͐҉̬̞͕̪̤̼,̳͔͌͌̒̃̕ ̛̗͕̩̺̯̹̠̘ͪ̓į͈̲̈́f̣͚̭̖͚́̊̊͢ͅ ̶̳̗͎͉̓̉y̠̪͙̯̮̙͗͊̋̀ö̴̦̝͈̣́ͫų͓̜̭̥̙ͮ̿̓͆ͅ ̿͏̝͇ͅͅḏ̢͎̩̬̯̤͛ͨo̹̙͙̱ͫ̃ͯͯ͢ ̮̯̂͟n͔̹̘̝͔̭ͫ͋̓͡o̪͙͚̭̳͛́ẗ̘̭́̀ͬ̈́͡ ̹̭͚͖͎ͨ̆͡s̺̜̟̖̬̝̤̬ͪ͟ü̴̜̫̟͙̘̣̟̚ĉ̡̹̺͚c̗̜̝̹̫ͮ̊͒̀e̖̺͚̩͐͡ȩ̦̪̫̦̠̬̥͐̌d̰͉̘̲̒̀̑͋͠,̺̩͓̻̗̰͎̑͝ ̢͖͓̼̦ͣ̈̔̽i̭̬͓̙̼̟̓̚͡f͖͓̲͋͠ ̴͓̭̦͎̓͂͊͆y̸͔̺̤̯͙̽o̫̻ͯ̉̾͂̕u̧̫͇̮̝͔̠͒ͅ ̳͉͉͔̀̍͑͟a̙̞ͫ̆͞n̮͇̯̆͟d̴̠̰̘́ͥ̑ͅ ̛̬͎̩̻̞͈̟̘̿t̴̲͈̤̱͍̊̚h̜̣̺̯̯̫͒͘e̸̮̻͎͂̅̏͊ ̡͈̱̹̲͔̳̉J̧̼̭̦̼̹ͦͪͤͩù̢̠̟͚̤̯̥̊̈ŝ̬͇͋́t̻̰̤̘̘ͧ͡į͓̦̪ͦ̀͗ͣc̵̭̣̹̜͉̪̔̓ẽ̥̮͡ ̵̜͙͖̘ͭͥL̛̫͈̜͓̰͓̮̒͋̑ͅe͔̲͗ͯ͢a̴̫̞͈͚̲͒̓̊̑ǧ̦͓̝͕ͭ͂̀ù̸̜̰͙͔̟̥ȩ̹̺̭ͭ̈́ͥ̇ ̯̺̖͇͔̐̾͜f͕̺̓͘ͅa̍̎̓̓҉̜͚͕̪̣͍̜̳ĩ̡͎̘̹͙͇̮ͦ͊l̸̞̬͒,̛̙̻͖̱̤̒́ ̢̥̱̄ͅt̴̮͖͎͖̫͓͎ͥ̈h̜̰̝̦͙̫̩̱ͥ̀͑ͮ͘ẻ̵͔̣̼͕̰̲̟ ̵̫͓̤͉̞̲̓̆ͪ͌H̨͕̼̘̮̋ü̝̹͇̤̫͓͋̀m̵̲͓̱̰̼ͫͫͯ̀a̧̙̮̬̭͛n̲̙̝̞̟̦͇̒̾͟ ̶̘̘̺̍̎̈́̇W̛̹̻̫̜̃̄̑o̝̼͛͟r̴̗͚͕͈̗̟̒̿ͥ̚ͅl̸̠̤͙͈͖̩̙̹̔̓̚d̲̩̼͙̩͓͊̉͡ ̞̱͂͑͗͡ẅ̻̟̦͖̹͓̖́ͨ͞i̶̠͕ͯ̿͌ͭl̝̹͕̱͈̟͔̙ͩͣͥ̕ḷ̢̱̖̠̙ͣͅ ̸̮̹̘̱̖̯̣̦̓ͣ͗h̶̠̦̆ͅa̻̘̙̦̥̝̻̒͛͞v̵͖̩ͯ̈ͫě̛̫͎̳͓̙͔ͥͥ̇ ͓̟̗̜̪́͢d̘̻̹̺̳̫̣̬ͤ̋̾ͭ̕e̸̖̬͛ͮc̷͈͇̜̪̬̔ļ̞̤̱͍͈̥̎ͮͩa͔͔͖̣͇͎̺̅̔̕r͔̻͎̭̟̟̙̙ͤ͡ẹ̶͓̗͑̌d̻̯̠̩̝̳́̈̑̀ ̦͓̝͔̼̊̓̕W̬̠̙ͩ̆ͤ̽͟ä̹̯́ͪ̑͡r̢͚̙̘͖͙̽ͪ ̧̳̘̣̿͌ͣo͒͒͏̗̺n̝̯̟ͦ͌͐̕ ̖̫̾̽͐͋͜t̰̮̤̮̣͉̅̔̄͡h̜͇̟̠ͮ͜êͤ҉̤̜̮̯̪͉̮ͅ ̵̻͓ͧ̌͐̏Ĭ̷̲͉̟̩̓̂n̢͎̯̿ͧf̛̦̠͙̖͎̊ͥ̄̌ͅį̘̦͉̫̓̿ͨn̢̼̖͉͕̣̦̗̽i̺̮͍̩̭͐ͫ͠t͋҉͙͇̬̤e̳͓̎͂̀ ̶͍̞̗͖̻̥͔̤͌̎ͫR͚͓͌̐́ḛ̛̤͈̻̩͓̼̲ͤa̟͔̠̝̺̦ͧͥ͟l͉̹̼̈́́m̹̖̿̓͞s̢̭̬͍̙͈̖͓̔̾̿.̬̰͚̖̯ͮ͘ͅ”

“Right,” John managed to drawl even as he desperately wanted to scream and run, maybe crawl out of his own skin, whatever got him away from the High King. “War bad. Got it.”

The High King of the Infinite Realms held out his hand, infinity stare still fixed firmly on John. “D̨͉͇̦͊̆̅o̮̬͓̯̦̒̓͋͐͢ ̤̥̓ͪ̕w̴͉̩̰̰̐̍̾e̸̩ͮ͆̅̏ͅ ̬͖̦̻̥͋͜h̾͒̔͏͎̮͈͓̰͕ȧ̴̭̳͓͙̖v̢̠̮͍̫̓ͨ͑ę͕̘̘̰̯͒ ̴̥̮̟̝͒̆̂ͥa̭̳̼͉̬̟̺̫̎͠ ͍̞̼̍͆ͧ̅͝ḑ͕͉͕̫̫͙̮̈̓ͅe̛͉̻̣̋̊̓̈́ͅȃ̌҉͉͕̟͍̘l͎͓͙̼̏̆ͮ̂͠?̩͔͇̮͇̮̄ͨ̎̕”

John swallowed. He took the High King’s hand with a confidence he definitely did not feel. “Deal.”

Fuck. He needed a drink.

The spirit of Amity Park and Lady Gotham

Amity was a strong spirit. stronger than any city her size or age had any right to be, but she was, and she was going to make it matter.

Gotham was old, she was strong but sick and cursed so she couldn't do much but make her shadows that much darker, enough to be unseen, make her sounds that much louder enough to be unheard, guide the debris or a stray bullet a little to the left so that it would only graze not kill. even sick and hurt she was stubborn and she would make it matter.

Amity was younger than Gotham, most were, but Gotham was impressed with her. just like her Protector Amity was way too strong and way too young and very ambitious and protective of Hers.

they had that in common, Gotham was protective, Possesive. Her people were hers and hers only if they weren't Amity's first she couldn't take them, she would.

Amity was like her people, she was adaptive, sceptical but friendly, hard to gain trust from but loyal if you did. Amity was like her Protectors, she was determined and protective, she was fun but serious.

Gotham was like her people, she was a survivor, untrusting and brash, stubborn but flexible. Gotham was like her Bats, she was curious but secretive, protective to the point of possesivnes, calculated but quippy.

Amity was young and her form reflected that, she looked like a pre-teen like most her Protectors, her wheat blonde hair in star clipped twin-tails, a replica of the Ops Centre for a hat, eyes bright green and glowing freckles dusting her cheeks. her clothes were bright like her houses, always having funny accents and accessories and teared holes, her nails were painted but always chipped.

her laughter was loud with explosions and honking of cars and her voice was chipper and cracking.

Gotham was mature and so was her form, her hair black, iridescent and dripping like an oil spill, her face sickly pale(or ashen) and eyes solid yellow with bat shaped pupils (they were blood red before, just like her lips are) she is always dressed in black, blending with her shadows, clothes elegant but ripped and dirty, bloody pearls on her neck, black claws dripping oil like her hair, breath fogging with smog.

her laughter had clanking of weapons and banging of shots, her voice was raspy and strangled.

Amity looked up to Gotham, her determination and stubborn persistence to protect Hers, her funny quips and sarcastic comments.

They weren't too far by city spirit standards, they were on the same continent after all. And Amity could be that much farther, that much closer, just on the other side of the veil. Amity was in the Realms once, she knew the way back.

The spirit of Amity Park and Lady Gotham

Amity was a strong spirit. stronger than any city her size or age had any right to be, but she was, and she was going to make it matter.

Gotham was old, she was strong but sick and cursed so she couldn't do much but make her shadows that much darker, enough to be unseen, make her sounds that much louder enough to be unheard, guide the debris or a stray bullet a little to the left so that it would only graze not kill. even sick and hurt she was stubborn and she would make it matter.

Amity was younger than Gotham, most were, but Gotham was impressed with her. just like her Protector Amity was way too strong and way too young and very ambitious and protective of Hers.

they had that in common, Gotham was protective, Possesive. Her people were hers and hers only if they weren't Amity's first she couldn't take them, she would.

Amity was like her people, she was adaptive, sceptical but friendly, hard to gain trust from but loyal if you did. Amity was like her Protectors, she was determined and protective, she was fun but serious.

Gotham was like her people, she was a survivor, untrusting and brash, stubborn but flexible. Gotham was like her Bats, she was curious but secretive, protective to the point of possesivnes, calculated but quippy.

Amity was young and her form reflected that, she looked like a pre-teen like most her Protectors, her wheat blonde hair in star clipped twin-tails, a replica of the Ops Centre for a hat, eyes bright green and glowing freckles dusting her cheeks. her clothes were bright like her houses, always having funny accents and accessories and teared holes, her nails were painted but always chipped.

her laughter was loud with explosions and honking of cars and her voice was chipper and cracking.

Gotham was mature and so was her form, her hair black, iridescent and dripping like an oil spill, her face sickly pale(or ashen) and eyes solid yellow with bat shaped pupils (they were blood red before, just like her lips are) she is always dressed in black, blending with her shadows, clothes elegant but ripped and dirty, bloody pearls on her neck, black claws dripping oil like her hair, breath fogging with smog.

her laughter had clanking of weapons and banging of shots, her voice was raspy and strangled.

Amity looked up to Gotham, her determination and stubborn persistence to protect Hers, her funny quips and sarcastic comments.

They weren't too far by city spirit standards, they were on the same continent after all. And Amity could be that much farther, that much closer, just on the other side of the veil. Amity was in the Realms once, she knew the way back.

Amity Parker Don't understand other Hero cities.

And started a massive pilgrimage to Amity Park.

It all started when a few people from Amity Park went on a field trip to other hero cities and got very confused pretty fast. - What do you mean people die here so often in hero fights? - What do you mean by buildings getting destroyed and not fixed? (blob Ghost do that all the time, they seem to love it!) Are your hero not doing their job!!!?

At first, the people of Gotham, Metropolis, Coast City, Bludhaven, or Dakoto City were pissed, but after the people of Amity Park just said they should stay a few weeks in their city, they would notice it. After one week in the new city,  most people moved out of their city to Amity Park. While this city had once a week has a world-ending threat, that threat seems to just have fun with the child hero in a fight. And those people helped them. The Victims of Scarecrow actually got help from the Master of Fear Fright Knight, who fixed their minds.

Number 1 rule in Amity Park - Don't feed the tiny cryptid Fenton after 10 p.m.; the last time we had winter in the summer was because of that. - Yes, they are fangs, and they are real. Don't try to let yourself be bitten. When he slept, the last one almost lost their hand. + The other Hero in their cities didn't take long to notice it, that they have significantly fewer people living in their cities. Like most of their cities, they lost 30–50% of their civilians! And no one seems to want to tell them where they are, as more civilians are leaving!

@nabtime HEY LOOK AT THIS THING.

For those not in the know, it's a scene from "Our Empty Graves" on AO3. Where fetch!Danny meets Jason for the first time.

I've fallen down the dc/dp rabbit hole and can't get up. Highly recommend. GOOD SOUP.

BONUS WIGGLY BOI

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

Dpxdc demon siblings au prompt

So standard demon twin/sibling setup where after dying for dissapointing Ras Danny is thrown into the pit where he doesn't surface. Damian mourns his brother but never tells the bat's at first because it's to painful but then because he doesn't want to cause his family pain with the knowledge that they have a brother/son/grandson respectively. (I personally like Danny being the older one in this whether it's just the first born twin or he's a couple years older is up to you all)

The rest under a read more.

So we cut to an older Damian as Robin and the batfam are fighting a exiled member of the League of assassins who wants revenge on something Ras did and decide that they will hurt Damian to hurt Ras.

So this exile uses a magical ritual to summon the ghosts of every assassin Ras turned on and killed (its a lot of them) so the bat's are not able to stop the ritual in time because they couldn't get a skilled enough magic user to Gotham in time (is there some other threat? Just out of contact? Performing at little Jimmy's birthday party? Who knows.)

So the bat's are getting what anti ghost gear they can (nth metal weapons magic doodads whatever) when the last and most powerful ghost is pulled through. Damian freezes because he knows that face, he's older and he has an unnatural glow, but Damian will never forget his brother.

The exile is laughing taunting the Bats about the dead son come for revenge on his brother who betrayed him Damian is emotionally distraught crying, apologizing, telling his brother that they tried to bring him back but the pit took him from them.

The other bat's are freaking out in their own way because holy shit this is true?! Meanwhile Danny is staring silently at Damian face completely blank. While the feral ghosts of the assassins are trying to break out of the summoning circle.

One ghost manages to find a crack from where it was weakening from the thousands of ghosts trying to break it and rushes to attack Damian who is too distracted and too far from the others to react. He throws himself back scrambling for his sword as the assassins lunges forward to rip his heart out with his bare hands.

Yet as is seems he's about to meet his doom the assassin jerks to a stop before his momentum is reversed and he's thrown back into the circle. Everything is silent because the one who saved Damian was his own brother who was not even slowed by the magical protection (because he's half ghost not that anyone knows this but him)

The insane assassin starts going on about clearly his betrayed brother has decided that only he is worthy of striking down the heir to the demon. Except as he's mid monolog a ice knife is thrown into his leg missing all the arteries but causing a lot of pain. Then Danny speaks.

"I never blamed you little brother. Now dry those tears and Al-Ghul never shows weakness to an enemy."

As he says this for the first time since he's summoned Danny no longer has that blank face instead he has the most affection filled smile you can imagine while he wipes his brothers tears before he turns to the massive swarm of ghosts.

"Any who would seek to hurt my brother must first go through me, The Phantom, Pariah's bane, keeper of Balance and guardian of the mortal realms, but if you think you can take me by all means just do me a favor, let some other poor sap try first."

Now if the ghosts heed his warning or not is up to you if they do then Danny just opens a portal to the ghost zone for them to flee into, if not then he proceeds to beat the unliving shit out of them before tossing them through a portal anyway.

After everything is said and done Danny goes over to Damian talking about how proud he is to see him growing into such a good person and how it's so wonderful to see him again after all these years. Just really heartwarming stuff there's hugs Dick is crying into Jason's shoulder everything.

Then Danny says it's time for him to go he can't stay forever. Damian is upset saying he can't lose him right after he gets him back. Danny then laughs and says..

"This isn't a goodbye Damian it's just a see you later, I promise we'll see each other again before you know it."

And the batfamily are all crying thinking this is him saying that he'll be waiting in the after life for Damian. Before he goes through the portal closing it behind him

The bat's all handle the clean up and police for the crime scene before returning to the manor and getting explanations from Damian.

After all that the family come together to make a shrine to their departed brother with Damian being the last one to walk away to get some sleep.

The next morning everyone feels lighter with this secret no longer between them as they chat and laugh as they get ready for breakfast.

As they are all sat together ready to eat one of Damians siblings asks if there are any pleasant memories about Danyal Damian wants to share and Damain decides to tell a carefully edited version of one of their escapades (conveniently leaving out that he was responsible for the situation in the first place) only right as he finishes a voice chimes in.

"That's not how I remember it little brother." And standing there leaning against a wall is Danny himself.

Dick: so you're Damian's other cousin, Mara's older brother, right?

Danny Fenton: yup, that's me.

Tim: not to be rude or anything but how come Damian's the heir and you're not? You're like a whole five years older than him.

Danny: kinda the same reason my father, Dasun, isn't the heir. I was born with a defect.

Dick: may we ask what defect?

Danny: oh I'm trans, grandfather immediately accepted that I'm a guy now, but he called it a defect that I was born in the wrong body so I'm not the heir.

Jason: that is oddly supportive of him, but still awful of him to say that you're defective of it.

Danny: yeah Grandfather is weird like that, he once said that me being in one of friends' band was foolish but still showed up to one of our bigger concerts.

Dick: why is he a more supportive grandfather to you than he ever was to your sister and Damian?

Danny: oh that's because when Aunt Taila was pregnant with Damian I decided I didn't want to be an assassin and because I'm the child of his least favorite kid I was allowed to go as long as I sent letters every now and then to show that I'm still alive.

I need an AU where Danny and Tim accidentally become the most feared vigilante power couple in Gotham, and they don’t even realize it.

okay, listen—Tim is the master planner. He’s meticulous, always two steps ahead of the rogues, the League, even Batman. Then you’ve got Danny, who’s literally a half-ghost superhero with insane powers. And here’s the thing: they don’t mean to be terrifying. They’re just doing their thing, but together? Gotham villains are shaking.

Imagine Danny using his ghost powers to help Tim patrol. Tim’s grappling onto rooftops, doing his usual stealthy vigilante thing, and meanwhile, Danny’s just casually flying through walls and scaring the absolute crap out of criminals. They’re mid-heist, and suddenly, this glowing kid shows up, phasing through the vault door like it’s nothing. No one’s prepared for a ghost that can literally disappear and reappear wherever he wants, while Tim is in the shadows, taking them down one by one. It’s like horror movie levels of fear for Gotham’s rogues.

The rogues start trading horror stories about the ‘ghost that haunts Gotham’s streets.’ No one knows his name, but they’ve all seen him—pale, glowing, and grinning like he’s enjoying the chase a little too much. And right next to him? That’s Red Robin, cool as ever, silently calculating every move while his ghost partner freaks people out.

Even the Batfam starts to notice. At first, Bruce doesn’t think much of it. Tim’s been working with new people before. But when reports start coming in about how terrified the villains are—like, they’re surrendering before the fight even starts—Bruce is curious. Then he catches wind of the ghost rumors. Now that gets his attention.

Cue the Batfam having no idea what to do with this information. Dick thinks it’s hilarious—‘Timmy? Scary? No way.’ Jason’s a little jealous, not gonna lie—‘So you’re telling me Tim’s haunting the criminals of Gotham, and I’m not invited?’ And Damian? Damian respects it. Ghostly intimidation tactics are just practical in his eyes.

But Tim? Tim’s just trying to do his job. He doesn’t even realize they’ve become the city’s most terrifying duo. Meanwhile, Danny’s having the time of his life. Scaring bad guys? Sign him up. Especially when it makes Tim roll his eyes fondly every time Danny phases into a room with a smirk, all like, ‘What? It works, doesn’t it?’

And yeah, Danny absolutely does the ‘Boo!’ thing just to mess with people. Criminals are terrified, the Batfam is confused, and Tim is stuck between exasperation and amusement because of course his boyfriend is thriving on this ghostly reputation.

Give me a Tim and Danny who become an absolute nightmare to Gotham’s underworld. Give me a Tim who doesn’t realize he’s terrifying, and a Danny who knows it and leans in. Because Gotham deserves to be haunted by a ghost, and Danny’s just the guy for the job.

Danny Phantom x Tim Drake: The Ultimate Campus Power Couple, Football Edition

picture this: Danny has always been a huge college football fan—like, Amity Park goes nuts for it. It’s practically in his DNA at this point. So when Danny hits college, it’s a no-brainer: he tries out for the football team, and obviously, he crushes it. He’s the star running back, fast, agile, and honestly just born to be on the field.

Enter Tim Drake, aka Danny’s ridiculously supportive boyfriend. Tim’s not necessarily a football guy, but for Danny? He’s there. He’s at every single game, wearing Danny’s varsity jacket like it was made for him, sitting front row, screaming louder than anyone else when Danny scores. The other students think it’s adorable (or they’re jealous, let’s be real).

On campus, these two are the definition of “campus couple goals.” Danny’s the football star with all the charisma, and Tim’s the genius who’s always with him, supporting him in his own quiet, unshakeable way. If they’re not holding hands walking between classes, you’ll find them at the cafeteria, Tim quizzing Danny on some class they probably share while Danny’s got an arm around him, nodding but mostly just focused on how cute Tim looks in his jacket.

Game day is serious business. Tim shows up early to claim his seat (always the same one, right where Danny can see him). He’s got his routine down—Danny always gets a good-luck kiss before heading out onto the field, and let’s be real, Danny is 100% convinced that those kisses are why he’s so good at the game. The rest of the team teases him about it, but he doesn’t care—because Tim’s his lucky charm.

Danny loves to show Tim off, too. After a big win, he’s dragging Tim onto the field with him, arm around his shoulders like, “Yeah, that’s my genius boyfriend,” while Tim just stands there, trying not to look embarrassed but totally failing because he loves it. Danny’s got that proud grin, Tim’s got his almost too big varsity jacket, and the entire campus is either swooning or jealous because honestly, who wouldn’t be?

And let’s talk about the post-game routine: after every game, no matter what, they’re meeting outside the locker room. Danny’s still hyped from the adrenaline, all sweaty and beaming, and Tim’s waiting there with a smirk, ready to hand over a water bottle and steal a quick kiss. They walk back together, Danny in his football gear, Tim still in that jacket that’s like three sizes too big, and it’s just… perfect.

the best part? Even when they’re not at a game, they’re still that couple on campus. Tim’s constantly wearing Danny’s jacket, and Danny’s forever pulling him into random kisses between classes. They’re the kind of couple that makes everyone believe in love again—Danny’s the heart, Tim’s the brain, and together they’re just unstoppable.

The entire batfam is, still in their pajamas with coffee fresh in their hands, looking on at the car on fire. Headlights smashed and keyed to high hell. Watching on as Danny, Tim's boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?), goes to town destroying Tim's car.

Or where Danny and Tim have a bad break up and Danny destroys Tim's car.

DPxDC Unhinged Feral Boyfriends

The whole Batfam is under the assumption that Damian is the feral child. The assassin, the wild one, the demon brat that bites and stabs. Jason usually takes the second place, what with guns, heads in the duffelbag, and being a crime lord.

But Tim? Come on, even Duke is more feral than him. Tim is a nerd, and he keeps to his own devices most of the time, and, sure, sometimes he is plenty unhinged. But he's okay. Seventh place on the unofficial List of Feral Bats.

He's got a boyfriend lately, have you heard? Tim hadn't brought him to the manor for dinner yet, but each and every Bat and Bird have already seen the guy - in person or through the surveillance cameras or background checks, doesn't matter. Either way, Daniel Fenton is quite literally a ray of sunshine.

They look very cute together.

That is, until one day, they witness Danny and Tim rip Joker's ribcage out of his chest.

Nothing could have prepared them for it. It was just another patrol, just another night of fighting crime, nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, Joker was on the loose, but so far, no one has tracked the Clown down or seen any of his goons.

But then, Red Robin's tracker went offline. The Bats started searching for him immediately - his last recorded location, his trackers, his route, everything. But when they managed to find him...

Well.

They didn't only find him in that warehouse.

They found Joker, choking on the ground and clawing at his own neck, like trying to force some air inside his lungs. Over him, Danny was squatting on the ground, his eyes thoughtful and not worried in the slightest, tapping on his chin. And, just a step behind him, Red Robin is holding a fucking ribcage in his hands, studying it with calm curiosity.

"Should we put it back now?" Tim asks, relaxed and easy, like they are speaking about whether they should or should not get another box of cereal in a store.

Danny shrugs, "I mean, if you want to. It's not like he's gonna die in the next ten or so minutes, you've got time."

And then, as Batman makes the slightest of noises, Danny's head snaps to him, and the boy smiles, cheerful and bright. Like the ray of sunshine he is.

"Hi, Bats!" Then he blinks and looks down to Joker, who is already frothing at the mouth, "Oh, don't worry about him, he won't die. Red's just putting a tracker in his manibrium."

"I figured it'd be easier to find him next time if he can't get the tracker out," Tim nods, unbothered, as he is tinkering with the ribcage in his hands before passing it back to Danny, "Okay, done. Put it back."

Danny takes the ribcage and presses it to Joker's chest. And, before they know it, the bones sink inside the man, like a hand in a bowl of sand.

Danny wipes his hands on his jeans and stands. Tim smiles at the Bats, none of whom know what to say and where to start.

The next day, Joker is back at Arkham with a tracker in his sternum, Danny is invited to dinner in the manor, and Tim takes the first place of the Feral List, with a note 'never leave unattended when Danny is nearby'.

Red Hood vs. Red Robin: A Boyfriend's Dilemma

So, Danny Phantom has a confession to make: his favorite Gotham vigilante? It’s Red Hood. The sheer chaos, the boldness, the way Jason Todd absolutely doesn’t care what anyone thinks—it just speaks to Danny on a deep level. But the problem? He’s dating Tim Drake. Aka Red Robin. And Tim is not amused.

Every time Danny gushes about how cool Red Hood is, Tim gets this adorable little pout on his face. His arms cross, and he’ll start sulking like it’s some sort of cosmic injustice. And honestly? Danny loves it. He knows Tim’s his boyfriend, but watching him get all grumpy is way too fun to pass up.

But here’s the truth: as much as Danny admires Red Hood, Tim will always be his number one. No amount of Jason Todd fanboying could change that. Tim’s the one who makes him laugh, keeps him grounded, and knows him better than anyone. And when Tim’s sulking gets too much, Danny can’t resist it anymore. He pulls Tim close, pressing kisses all over his face until his boyfriend’s grumpy act finally cracks.

Yeah, he might pretend that Red Robin is only second best, but Danny knows where his heart truly lies. Tim Drake is, and will always be, his favorite.

Danny can't taste- DCxDP Prompt

The problem with being half dead is that so are your senses. While certain foods are still as tasty as ever they are relegated to food found on offering plates like bread, fruits, cheese and wine. But Danny just wants to eat a good burger and unfortunately, those aren't offered to the dead.

This has led to Tucker and Sam burning food offerings for Danny in the past, but there has been another solution.

Danny just adds copious amounts of extra stuff to his food to satisfy his numbed tastebuds.

20 sugar packages to his coffee, a flood of hot sauce on his burgers and anything else he could get his hands on.

One afternoon after class Danny ended up meeting Tim at the Batburger on campus. There Tim watched in horror as Danny filled a cup of Sprite, added blue raspberry sour Death Ball candies to it, added citric acid, added plutonium 9 hot sauce, and extra sugar. It was the most horrifying baby blue concoction Tim had ever seen. It looked like a normal soda but it was liquid death.

And Tim wanted to try it next.

(A drink that would cause a small Victorian child to disintegrate)

Phantom is missing.

The Justice League and the Justice League: Dark have been searching for the spirit for weeks. Everyone available is searching, and not a single hero or hero-adjacent has heard a word.

Even the city spirits have gone silent, according to Zee and Constantine. The Gods of Shazam know nothing.

No one wants to or even knows how to find a Realms being who doesn't want to be found. And that has to be it, there's no other explanation for why there hasn't been any sightings of Phantom since the G.I.W. made a surprise move after the latest big "event" the JL called in Phantom for.

The League had been tangentially aware of the G.I.W. and their actions against the Realms and the denizens of them, and had been working within the word of the law to dismantle them. Seeing them in person was a new thing, especially with how fervently they chased Phantom as he sassed and blew raspberries, treating them like cartoon villains instead of a truly evil organization halfway to interdimensional war.

With an impish grin and a few quips, he had assured them he'd be okay, but they hadn't seen him since. That was over a month ago.

---

Danny, meanwhile, is chilling in a hammock on the far side of the moon, with a pound of his dad's fudge, a thermos full of Ectoplasm, and another full of soup from Tucker's mom.

Going to ground has never been so relaxing.

He wonders what kind of mess the heroes might be in, but he isn't going to go back until Sam and Tucker send him the all clear.

"Date? Me?'

Tim nods, milkshake in hand, sitting outside of McDonald's with his study buddy, Danny.

The other teen looked flabbergasted with a firm blush building up.

Tim found him utterly adorable.

"I can't date anyone? I'm property of.the goverment."

Tim Drake-Wayne, aka Red Robin, has various questions to that statement.

“Welcome to BatBurger. Home of the BatBurger. How may I take your order?”

“With a smile of course!” The Joker cackled as he pulled out a canister and threw it at the cashier.

“Nuh-uh.” The cashier deadpans before throwing the canister back.

“The fuck you mean ‘Nuh-uh’?” Joker yelled throwing the canister back.

“Don’t wanna.” The cashier replied while smacking the canister out of the air and directly into the Joker's hand.

“Why you little!” The Joker threw the canister on the ground and lunged at the cashier.

🕐🕑🕒🕓🕔🕕🕖

“And what happened after that?” Commissioner Gorden asked the young man in front of him.

“He tripped.” The young man said with a shrug.

“Uh-huh.” Gorden hummed as he looked over where the body bag was being pulled out of the restaurant. “And the holes?”

“I guess the canister finally went off. It's such a shame really. I didn’t even get to deliver a decent punchline.”

“Right… And what was your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Danny. Danny Fenton. But you won’t be able to find me if you look me up.” The young man, Danny, said with a shit-eating grin.

“You know you’re not supposed to admit to going by a fake identity right?” Gordan asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Ya, but it is my real name. You just won’t be able to find it.” Danny said as he shifted his gaze to the shadowed figgier in the nearby alleyway. “Not even you, Big Bat. But you're free to try.”

“Hn.” Batman grunted before stepping back further into the shadows and disappearing.

“Why do I feel like you are about to be… and he’s gone. Why do I even bother?” Gordan sighed as he looked away from where the Bat vanished and back to where Danny was supposed to be. He grumbled as he put his notebook away and started for his car. His car, that now had a little green sticky note on it.