All the dabbles I have posted on my DC x DP account. Under a read more due to how long it is. Broken into three categories:
Multi-parts - Dabbles that have more than one part written.
One-shots- Dabbles with only one part written.
Requests- Dabbles written for the requests of readers. (Note: If a request is for a continuation of the other two categories, they will be filed in Milti-parts)
Master Post 1 Link
Master Post 2 Link
Master Post 3 Link
Master Post 4 Link
Completed AUs Master Post Link
NSFW (+18 ) Link
Fanart for my Fanfic Master Post Link
Shards Aus
Please read the indexes to determine which master post each au is filed in.
As of 5/10/2026: The newest stuff is inside of Master Post 4
(Updated as of 5/10/2026 Stop on One-Shot: The Forgotten Part 1)
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Damian: I must admit, I am befuddled, and find myself mystified on how to proceed.
Random Classmate looking at Danny: ....
Danny: He said "I'm not gonna lie, I'm confused as hell"
Random Classmate: Ohhhhh! Okay, so we got to lock in for this project. We can't afford to lose any aura points over this.
Damian looking at Danny: ....
Danny: She said, "We must put our utmost focus on this project. Failure would bring great shame upon us"
Damian: You do a wonderful job translating the common folk language.
Danny: Er, thanks? I'm glad I can help with something. Group projects are never my forte, and I always feel bad that I don't do an equal amount of work.
Damian: I have noticed your participation in group projects before. You are not contributing because you are not trying. It's due to your groupmates' exclusion and isolation of you.
Danny: Yeah, well, I'm poor and dumb. I only got accepted into Gotham Academy because my godfather pulled some strings. No one wants me around.
Damian cupping Danny's face: Never leave my side. I shall protect you in exchange for your translating abilities.
Danny: Um?????
Random Classmate: You guys gonna kiss? Cause Wayne might use fancy words, but even I understood he wants to rizz you up Fenton.
Danny: UM????
Damian tenderly: I have no knowledge of what rizz means. Enlightenment me, my dear.
Random Classmate hand over her chest: That's some Shakespearean shit right there.
Danny: ????????
Damian leaning in only a hair's breadth away from Danny's lips: Most Shakespeare plays end in tradgy.
Danny: What the hell is wrong with this school????
To be honest I have never given out a request but I just really want to say thank you
Your writing has really brightened my days for like three years? I think?? Well when I first found out, about this crossover even existing
I was hooked, I was like I ain't leaving no more so thank you for writing this much at all.
Nah but it for real amazes me how much I reread your posts when I'm just sad and need sth positive. I hop straight to Tumblr to you lol
So again thank you thank you thank you thank you ❤️❤️❤️
(Could you maybe please write another post to mr flavor or pretty alpha and plain omega? Or the one where Alfred and Martha were tricked by clockworks to engage Bruce to Danny ?(I forgot the name ಥ‿ಥ))
Nightwing was doing his best not to look in the corner of the motel room they were cleaning. He kept his eyes firmly on the task under his hands, moving in quick but jerky gestures that belied his grace and body control. He was acting as if looking at him made Nightwing unhappy.
Danny didn't understand why; he wasn't even doing anything. He was just floating there, watching them move all his soda-making supplies into boxes.
It wasn't fair.
They were punishing him for such a silly reason, confiscating all his equipment like that. It's not like Danny knew that getting back Phantom would be an issue. He always just assumed that when his powers returned, it would be the same as always.
He would be a Halfa again.
How was Danny supposed to know that being shot in the chest would cause his ghost side to be a little more permanent? It's not like there was a manual on this kind of stuff. He was just doing what he thought would work. And maybe, he had assumed that recreating a horrible, tragic accident was a good idea, but in his defense, he had been left alone for a long while!
Everyone knew that a Fenton needed someone rational to reel them in, and, frankly, Jazz had not been kidnapped by an odd tribe with him!
"Careful with that!" Danny yelled at Red Hood, who lifted some of his experimental bottles over his shoulder. The Anti-hero didn't reply or even indicate that he heard him. He still jostled the bottles, uncaring of the dangerous clacks they made when they hit each other. Danny flew over, hands waving about in distress, "Come on, man! Those are highly unstable bursts of flavors! I worked hard to get the taste of roast turkey just right. I was really excited to see how they came out once I got away from your safe house with the spray bottle of doom!"
Red Hood still did not look at him, but Danny could see he at least moved a bit more carefully. He sighs, slumping in the air. He could try to take the bottles back, but he found he could not touch anything physical.
Everything just slipped through his hands- literally! It was like his intangibility went haywire, and now he couldn't shut it off. He hadn't been able to touch anything since he died two days ago. It was driving him up the wall.
The worst part about all of this was that, despite looking like Phantom, having Phantom's flight, (broken) intangibility, and ice powers, he wasn't completely Phantom. Not in the way Danny knew. It was as if his powers were limited, instead of the vast range of abilities he was used to commanding.
He had a theory that he might not have them anymore because he was missing his human side, which likely provided the life force to create his usual endless supply of ectoplasm. The more ectoplasm a being had, the more powers they could wield.
That's right.
Danny was fully dead, killed in a shootout between Red Hood's men, who mistook the Gotham vigilantes for the kidnapper who had taken Danny. He had transformed into Phantom, leaving no corpse behind, but that wasn't very comforting, given that he was unable to undo his transformation. It was like his body decided it was one or the other, but no longer the middle.
He is a freshly made, fully pledged ghost.
Which was a lot more boring than he thought it had a right to be. Danny couldn't even get to the Ghost Zone because his body didn't naturally pull him to a gateway like it normally did. This was an instinct that all unchained ghosts possessed, and that meant Danny was accidentally haunting something.
Or more like someone.
"Nightwing. Nightwing. Can you please just let me make one? Just one soda!" He begged, flying down to the blue hero who was carefully wrapping up his vials. The man's hands tighten around the glass, but he otherwise does not react. Danny frowns, turning upside down and flouting right in front of the man's face. "Come on. Don't ignore me. That won't make me go away. I won't find the light and pass like that trench coat guy said. I'm stuck with you, and I can't make sodas anymore. I need your help."
"Robin," Nightwing says, placing the vials one by one in neat stacks inside a cardboard box. "Can you please take these outside?"
"Yes." Robin walks through Danny, who lets out an undignified squack, taking the small box of vials from the hero.
The ghost places his hands protectively over his chest, staring with a dropped jaw at the younger boy. He curled his shoulder, acting like someone had walked in on him in the shower. "Did you just go through me?! The disrespect!"
There was no sign that Robin heard him, no proof that he could even see Danny, but the ghost knows that the hero does, if only because they had seen it fit to request assistance from some magic user after they all stopped screaming the day Danny transformed. How was it possible they could see him then?
"Listen, if you promise not to walk through me again," Danny starts floating closer to the small child, leaning down to stage-whisper, while still holding his pose. "I will teach you my super secret soda-making recipe."
Robin pauses for only a second before taking a deep breath through his nose and walking right through Danny.
"Hey! Do you have any idea how many people would kill for that recipe? At least two confirmed!" Danny yelled at his retreating back, waving his fingers in the air. Robin did not turn around, walking right through the door and disappearing to wherever they were moving his stuff.
Probably a second-hand store. That's what usually happened to the junk of someone who passed.
Huffing, he crosses his arms over his chest, and just because he can, he criss-crosses his legs, letting himself tilt until he is doing slow circles in the air. "My sodas are revolutionary, how dare he not value them."
Nightwing does not reply, but Danny can hear him muffle a small sob so he doesn't bother him again. After three more trips, the motel room was stripped of everything that belonged to Danny, and it was like he had never been there. All his little worldly possessions. Gone.
Danny can't even crack a cold cola to mourn the loss. He just follows behind Nightwing, aware he can not get too far away from the man. For some reason, he was haunting him.
Maybe it was because Nightwing was the cop who allowed Oscar to take him, or maybe it was because Nightwing was the last person he saw while he was alive. Whatever the case, Mr. Flavor's little urban legend in Gotham had come to a tragic end, and now Nightwing had to live with the consequences.
At least until he ignored Danny for enough time that Phantom would lose all things tying him to the mortal world, and he would fade away. That's what the trench coat-wearing magic man claimed after he failed to exorcise Danny.
The blue-wearing hero didn't return to wherever Robin and Red Hood disappeared. Not since learning that Danny went everywhere he did, and instead did a brief patrol of the city. He stopped a few muggings, walked home with a young waitress, and even broke up a gang fight in a bar with Danny flying close behind, running commentary.
Everyone who wasn't there the day he died couldn't see or hear him, but that didn't stop Mr.Flavor from babbling the entire time at them like they could. He knew some of the people; they were regulars of his. Nightwing does not acknowledge any comments, but Danny can tell he hears them.
The man's shoulders were tense, and a few tears rolled down his face whenever Danny talked in the present tense rather than the past tense, as he should.
"Oh, hey! They're having a candlelight vigil in my honor!" Danny cries, pointing at a flyer. It features his Mr.Flavor logo, the leaping boy, a familiar and now beloved image that takes up most of the page. He turns to Nightwing, who is beating the head of a would-be kidnapper into a car window with an alarming amount of gusto.
Danny would have winced in sympathy if the guy hadn't given him major Oscar vibes by the way he spoke of the tied up and gagged teenager staring wide-eyed from inside the car.
"Hey Nightwing, once you're done taking out your guilt of my kidnapping on that guy, can we please go? I want to see who shows up to the vigil!" Danny calls out, cupping his mouth so his voice is heard over the sobbing of the kidnapper.
Nightwing doesn't answer. He is still repeatedly smashing the head of the adult into the car ruthlessly. Danny flies closer, peaking into the hero's line of sight, over the head smashing. "I bet you people will be drinking my soda. How crazy would it be if you showed up with bottles? We should go make some!"
Finally, Nightwing stops letting the unconscious man crumble to the ground. He rips open the car door, helping the teenager free himself from his bonds. The guy seems about Danny's age, and a distant part of his mind feels like he has seen him somewhere before, but he can't quite place him.
"You alright, Tim?" Nightwing asks, carefully checking the victim. He turns the boy's head slowly as if looking for a wound. His hands tremble as he carefully holds Tim's palms in his own.
"Um, I think the better question is, are you alright?" Tim pulls his hands away. He rubs at his wrist where some rope marks have already started appearing, but what surprises Danny is the casual way he sits in the car. One leg up on the car step, the other hand loosely. He's not acting like a scared, almost kidnapped person, but rather like someone who does this sort of thing on the regular.
Oh. Is this another cop? Doing an undercover job but as the bait instead of the goon?
"I'm fine." Nightwing snaps, making Tim's eyebrows raise. The man takes a moment to collect himself, softening his voice as he leans back and crosses his arms. "I'm fine. It's just been a few.....crazy days."
"Did something happen?"
"The boy from the Oscar Fairy case. He didn't make it." Nightwing replies so softly it might have been a confession of sin or even a prayer begging for redemption. Danny half expects the man to hug himself, but he doesn't.
Tim looks gutted for a second as he looks down in shame. "Oh."
"It's not your fault," Nightwing is quick to say. "You did everything you could to find him. We saved him and all the other victims because of your undercover work."
"It wasn't enough," Tim replies in a shockingly feminine voice. It hit Danny like a brick. This was the lady from the antique shop Cysrus Pinkney haunted! The one with the right shade of hair that Oscar liked to make his earth fairies from.
Oh, Tim had been playing bait that day, too!
Wow, Danny honestly wouldn't have recognized him if he hadn't spoken in that voice.
"You have a gift." He tells Tim, one hand over his chest, and awe plays on his face. "Nightwing, tell Tim, he's the gender envy of everyone."
Nighwing ignored him as he placed a hand on Tim's shoulder. "We can't save everyone."
Danny didn't say anything about that. He knew from his own days as a hero that the heavy burden of wanting to save everyone could be soul-crushing. He's never lost anyone from Amity Park before, but he came close enough during a collapsed building that Danny had felt sick from the worry for days afterward.
Thankfully, that person pulled through surgery and was able to sleep at night again.
Maybe he was being cruel with his blase behavoir of his death. Nighwing had to live with the fact he failed to save him properly, and Red Hood had to live with the fact he put him in a position where he was killed under his protection. Gosh, what about Silk and Ginger? They were the ones who fired the guns.
"There is a candlelight vigil for him in two days." Nightwing carried on. He tapped his fingers on Tim's shoulder in an odd rhythm, making Danny wonder if it was an odd attempt at comfort or a nervous tic. "I think you should go."
"Okay." Tim ran a hand through his hair. "I'll go."
Danny smiles. "Thanks, Tim. That means a lot. Nightwing, offer this fine gentleman a soda!"
Nightwing ignores him again as he helps Tim to his feet, and then the duo waits for the police to arrive. Tim plays the sacred, confused victim well, answering questions around a trembling voice, wrapped in a shock blanket. Nightwing lingers to answer some questions, giving Danny a chance to watch and be truly impressed by Tim's performance.
At one point, one of the police officers seems to think Tim is too frightened to talk, so he pulls a bottle from his car and offers it to the boy to help him calm down. At first, Danny thinks it's water, but then his own logo flashes at him when Tim twists the cap.
It's Mr. Flavor Sprite flavor. The very same one that Danny had offered in that antique shop on thier first brief but memorable encounter. Wow, talk about full circle.
Tim takes a giant swing of it, drinking like he was trying to dedicate the bottle in Danny's honor. The ghost's core hums with glee, flouting closer, despite Nightwing starting to get ready to leave. He just wants to see the reaction his drink gets, maybe for the last time since no one seemed to want to bother making his -
A flash of bright lights encloses his chest, as a familiar ring of power zaps over his body. Before Danny can react, his flight is cut off, and he falls face-first onto the cold, unforgiving pavement. He lands with a grunt of pain, sprawled out like a broken doll.
For a moment, everyone freezes, no one sure what to do, and Danny is grateful for that because it gives him a few minutes to feel the adjustment in his center. His powers are flowing through him again, going from a gentle stream into a powerful river that stretches into a vast ocean.
Phantom and Fenton fight for thier share of his soul until they land on an even split, and for the first time in almost a year, Danny is a Halfa again.
"What the hell?" Nightwing finally breaks the silence, which gives Danny enough of a reason to spring to his feet with a shout of glee.
"I LIVE! FOR REAL THIS TIME!" He ignores the police who have pulled out guns on him. He can't blame them, seeing as he literally popped out of thin air. Instead, he points to a wide-eyed Tim, smiling so widely he thinks his face might get stuck as he shouts, "You get a lifetime of Mr.Flavor soda for free whenever you want! Thank you for helping my Secondary Obsession settle!"
"Your what?"
"Secondary Obsession! It's what keeps beings like me together, and we have to participate in them or we start unraveling. I was stuck as a full ghost because no one was giving in to my desire to create and give out sodas, but you did! Thank you!"
"You came to life because he drank your soda!?" Nightwing shouts, waving his arms and looking like he was having three different mental breakdowns when Danny turns to him. "Are you serious!? "
"As the dead," Danny replies with a wink, then because he can, he turns to Tim, leaning in until thier faces are only inches apart. "Would you like to have my entire soda empire before I go home?"
"Um, sure?" Tim only has a second to yelp as Danny grabs him, shifting into Phantom once more and yanking the two into the sky. Below, the police and Nightwing yell in alarm, but Danny ignores it all, laughing wildly and free- ignoring the way Tim clings to him.
"TO THE SODA LAB!"
His shout echoes through Gotham. A few hours later, that is the last time anyone heard from Mr. Flavor, but his legacy lives on in the Drake brand sodas.
OMG OMG OMG I JUST SAW THAT ITS OPEN AGAIN! ASKDKDMD
Do you write Dead in Main (Jason/Danny). If not, I would REALLY like to read about Fright Knight!Jason. Like, in the time when he was dead, Jason was taken in by Fright Knight and by that point Danny was already king. He basically becomes the successor of Fright Knight and becoming Danny's personal guard.
Since time is pretty wonky in the Infinite Realms, the sixth months he was still dead felt more like years to them. And then Jason is brought back and Danny's livid but when he finally finds Jason, he's slowly healing. Danny decides to let him enjoy his living life and just silently heals Jason whenever the pits get our of control.
And then fast forward and there's a ghost problem and the JL have to summon the ghost king for help. Jason's there with the bats and seeing Danny just jogs his memory and his instincts and fright Knight training kick in to recognize his beloved king.
I wanna right this myself but at the same time my brain isn't being nice to me 🥹.
The summons wasn't even complete before Jason felt his Loyalty Vow kick in. It was a rush of adrenaline, nearly addictive if he's honest, and in the next second, Jason falls to his knee, one hand over his chest while he bows his head. One of his fists reaches towards his waist while his other hand reaches to adjust a sword that is not there.
His fingers slam against his belt, causing him to flinch. It's an action born of pure habit, but he has no idea where he formed such a habit. Bruce never trained him with swords, and his time with the League of Assassins was mostly spent with slimmer swords he kept on his back. There really was no reason to expect an arming sword at his hip, and yet his body obviously believed there should be.
"Hood?" Someone asked, over the blowing wind and the odd music that was blaring from unknown locations.
He changed his entrance theme song. An amused voice whispers in Jason's head. It takes him a moment to realize it's his own voice, his own thoughts, and he isn't sure about who he is, but the thought feels right.
Just like this pose.
The music rises, setting an ambiance of a god appearing before the heroes, desperate for a miracle. It's interesting to Jason how the media often reflects life because that is exactly what is happening now. They are asking a god to step in and stop another god.
But while the one that's against the Justice League is known as an enemy, they don't show what this god would do. If it's whims will make them a foe or a friend. A few hours ago, when the idea was proposed, Jason had been uneasy about the idea that they may be getting someone stronger who was far worse than thier current issue. There was never a guarantee that higher beings would share the same moral sense or even consider human lives valuable.
He hated the idea that they needed to rely on something that could be much worse. But Jason was from Gotham, and almost everyone there hated magic and anything to do with the higher planes. There were enough psychotic unpredictable monsters in Gotham created by the human mind; they had no desire to see something that could snap and an entire block disappear before the screams could even start.
Jason had been one of the few who voted against the summons for that reason. But he understood the majority rule more than people knew. On the streets of Crime Alley, if there was ever an agreement, it was that when the people got together, nothing could stop them. He had to settle while the magic users set up the summons, grumbling under his breath and looming like the rest of his siblings.
Hilariously enough, the magic users seemed more nervous about the entire Bat Clan watching than about offending whoever they were calling upon. He even saw one of them- A hero from France working under the name Magie Noire- cast a protection spell against demons, while looking at them.
Tim, the little shit, responded by biting the air towards the Frenchman. Duke made the shadows grow around all the bats a second later, allowing only their narrow eyes to be visible.
Even the Sups couldn't see through the darkness that responded to the demihuman, which made those who didn't work with them often shiver. Then, because something is wrong with Duke, on a psychological level, the shadows swallow them whole, but not before letting them take the shape of screaming humans, stretched around the little corner the Bats claimed as their own.
Magie Noire actually whimpered before John Consitiine reached over and smacked the back of his head, reminding him to focus on the signals they were drawing.
Despite the disapproval, Jason had left the dark corner, stepping back into sight and ignoring anything or anyone as the summons went underway. He couldn't tell why he moved or why he fell to his knee, but everything about this felt right.
Even the amusement of the song choice he made, despite once calling it tacky-
Like a dam breaking, memories overflowed Jason's brain
He was practicing his swings in the training field. Around him, squires of different backgrounds were doing the same. Many were hopefuls from distant territories who had come for the knight selection of the royal guard.
Only the best of the best would be able to move on to serve His Majesty. Those who failed would be sent home in shame. Not everyone would pass the first round of the selection process, but that didn't mean the pressure wasn't high on those from smaller territories to succeed. These were ghosts that were born there, and thier people's survival depended on how much fondness the King had for them. Natural resources were scarce in the Realms.
Jason was a rare ghost. He didn't have a territory to call his own where he served the local lord, nor was he a wandering ghost that had nothing tying him down. He was a new ghost, just arrived after his brutal killing. The older ghosts promised him that his death would eventually fade, and the pain would seem like a bad dream until he could not remember it or his life.
But Jason remembers everything, and sometimes he wants nothing more than to leave the Realms and see Gotham again. But he could never find his way home as natural portals to the mortal world were more scarce than resources; instead, he wandered between territories, treated once more like a street kid.
Back in life, the only way Jason had managed to avoid homelessness was by securing Bruce Wayne's attention. In death, the only way to escape homelessness was to secure the Ghost King's.
"His Majesty is watching," One of the squires whispered, her glowing hands trembling around the hilt of her sword. Jason doesn't dare glance up at the castle, but he can feel the King's burning stare as he reviews all the knight hopefuls. In two days' time, the squire camp would be cut in half as people would be dismissed for consideration. In two days' time, the remaining would be allowed within the castle walls for the next round of selection.
Jason is sitting on his bed in the barracks, his three roommates preparing for bed around him, while he is flipping through his latest book. He hopes to get in at least three chapters before his exhausted body forces him to rest.
He's been a knight for about six months. Back home, that would have been six days, at least he thinks. One of his roommates swore up and down that he could calculate time warping in different realms and mortal worlds, but Jason knew he had never actually been to the mortal world, so there was some doubt about the accuracy.
Still, it was the best guess he had. By that point, he could not remember his death, which was something he was grateful for. But he did remember his love of reading.
His role as a knight wasn't as luxurious or as fulfilling as he thought it would be. Jason was low-ranking, with no money, no connections, and no territory to support him; he was only selected for his impressive display of combat knowledge. He figured he would at least be posted guarding a border, or even standing guard at a gate, from his time as Robin, but instead Jason was assigned manual labor alongside the castle stablehand, despite outranking him.
His roommates were in the same boat, as they were all as poor as he was, even if he was the only unclaimed ghost. One was a gardener, the other worked shifts in the laundry house, and the last was the library aide. Jason burned with jealousy over the library assignment, especially when the other knight didn't value books as he should. But at least the ghost was willing to bring Jason something to read, after catching on to his jealousy.
"Rare that," Piebs mumbled
"What?" Jason grouched back. Piebs was the one who worked in the laundryhouse and treated Jason the worst for his unclaimed status.
"Not often do you see someone who can read." Piebs shrugged, uncaring of Jason's glowing green eyes alight with rage. "Not just the Unclaimed. Most territories ghosts can't. Not unless your parents are nobles, were mortal once, or if one of those wandering ghosts comes through after a trip in the mortal world."
"Jason was a mortal once," Vredoct called out. The anthropomorphic dragon pulled his shirt over his head, getting it caught a bit on his spikes. Jason looks away, blushing slightly. The Realms was an odd place, and interspecies relationships were the norm, but he still found it a bit odd how he could find a dragon attractive. It must be the voice. Vredoct had a seductive voice, smooth, deep, and always slightly amused, speaking in a way that rang true to his noble status despite being the sixteenth son of a poor baron. "He's a new arrival, remember? Most mortals are taught to read from a young age."
"Oh, here we go again. Mr. Expert in Mortal lands. Are you going to calculate how long it's been since my mother died next and the year it's now in her past world?" The final roommate, Bor, cut in, waving his claws around in a mockery of Vredoct's accent. He was a gardener because his territory fell more into the plant-life section of the Realms. He was the son of a Past Mortal Ghost, which wasn't rare, but everyone loved talking about the mortal world. Jason would compare it to asking an astronaut about the moon who's walked on.
"Depends." Vredoct laughed, shaking his long red hair out of his face. "Where did she form, what species is she, and what is the size of her core output?"
Jason ignored the argument that followed, flipping the book back to the front. There he found the same name that had been inside every book he'd requested from Vredoct.
Danny Fenton.
He wonders if he will ever meet the ghost that shares the same interests as him. He had found notes on paper stuck between the book's pages, where Fenton had written out thoughts and comments on the book. Jason appreciated that he didn't actually write in the books.
A year later, Jason has moved up from stablehand. Vredoct had moved back home. His father had arranged a marriage for him that would bring the house some much-needed money, and the dragon had been quick to mention that Jason could read and was perfect to replace him.
He was overjoyed to no longer be shoveling horse manure and now shelving books that were from the largest library he's ever seen. Jason could spend all eternity here, since books were gathered from the start of all time, and varied from genres, cultures, and even some came from the mortal world.
He also met Danny Fenton. He was an aide who worked at the King's office, coming through the library to pick up references for the King. Danny and Jason were closer in age. He thought he wouldn't age while in the Realms, but thanks to his Unclaimed status, he was able to age, and the knowledge did freak him out a little.
Though it did mean dating wouldn't be as weird. Jason was glad because it meant he could flirt with Danny without finding it weird. Danny was also an Unclaimed ghost, which made icebreakers very easy, especially when they realized they were from the same mortal world, the same country, and the same time; the only difference was that Jason grew up in a different state than Danny.
It became a habit for the two to chatter for as long as they could between one browsing for books and the other shelving them. They find little corners to speak, usually about thier lives, the things they missed from Earth, and whatever they wanted in between. Those short conversations became the highlight of his day.
Jason already found himself turning his head whenever the door opened.
Jason is sitting on a bed, nervously looking over his shoulder at Danny's slumbering form. It's been three years since his death; he would be eighteen, and he has grown to that age. He had taken the casual flirting in the library to another level, and he didn't mean inviting Danny to watch him at mandatory knight training.
That was the date that showed how serious they were. Most knights who had partners made things official at the mandatory training days, where those who were given jobs that weren't the typical position of a knight could show off.
He had done something different with Danny. It wasn't that Jason didn't want anything serious; he just didn't think the timing was right. He couldn't lie that the idea of someday making it back to Gotham didn't linger in his mind, but much like reaching the moon without a rocket ship, it was a far-off dream.
Just not one he was ready to wake up from.
Danny seemed alright with that, because his own role in the King's court was daunting and time-consuming. He admitted that he just wouldn't have the time to be a boyfriend. The most that they could be was lovers with no strings attached.
He had allowed the ghost to seduce him and bring him back to his room. The night before, Jason had been preoccupied and hadn't taken in his surroundings, but in the morning he noticed things he had missed.
Danny didn't live in servant chambers. He had a noble's room. Jason could tell that much by the sigils of the King placed everywhere. He wasn't just an aide in the King's office; Danny was likely even part of the royal family.
And Jason had just accepted being in a purely adult relationship with him.
"Today was exhausting," Danny complains, pressing his face into Jason's lap. The two are in thier private room, having requested it after a year of their no-strings relationship, which was full of so many strings that Jason could have opened a yarn store.
He didn't mean for that to happen, but at least Danny also made the mistake. They held hands in the hallway, spent lunch breaks together, went on dates in and out of the castle when thier schedules aligned, and both were exclusive with one another despite having agreed they didn't have to.
Honestly, the whole castle knew that Jason was Danny's boyfriend long before they decided to be official. Rumors started up fast, some speculating that a noble like Danny was only playing with an Unclaimed, while others whispered that it was an ambitious Unclaimed attempting to move up in the world by any means necessary.
It was always fun to watch Danny crush those gossip mongers by confronting them and loudly declaring himself an Unclaimed as well. Not that it helped much since everyone had this fixed idea that an Unclaimed could never be a noble, which was what Danny obviously was.
Jason didn't know Danny's official ranking. No one did.
His boyfriend had high clearance and moved through the inner castle where few were allowed in, but he wasn't allowed to talk about it. Still, he chose to give up his far subpar lodging to move in with Jason, who was able to move up in rank and was now back on the field fighting. He will be honest, he missed the library, but it was nicer to work as an actual knight because he had more privileges and could stand next to Danny better.
He was now part of the strong squad of the Royal Guard. Jason was only a few months away from being assigned as a private guard to a high-ranking noble. He'll be someone important again.
"The council on your ass again?" Jason asked, threading his hand through Danny's white glowing hair. His lover makes a small purr, letting him know that Jason is doing the right thing to comfort him
"I sometimes wish I could poke those floating eyes. Throw some sand into them." Danny groans, and Jason laughs
"Careful. You might be marked for high treason. The King adores those Observants"
Danny turned to stare up at him with one eye, a complex emotion swirling in his iris before he laughed. "The King does not."
Danny looks up from his desk, a laugh bubbling from his lips. "My dashing, brave, and handsome knight! Why are you bowing like a regular knight? You are a noble now, darling"
Jason is still bent down, but he allows his eyes to look at his lover, who always finds it amusing that he has taken his assignment as the King's guard so seriously.
He had no idea that his lover was the actual ruler he had been trying to impress since he found himself on the castle grounds, but in high sight, he should have noticed. No one told Danny no.
No request was ever denied, no matter how out of policy it was. Instead, Danny had ensured he rose quickly through the ranks, not allowing discrimination against Unclaimed ghosts to get in his way. It was a little-known fact that the Ghost King was sensed but rarely seen, because he powered the entire Realms, ruling over it like an unseen god.
Only the most trusted of subjects knew the face of the King. And Jason was the only one who knew the King in private moments.
He was the royal guard to the Ghost King, who was also his lover for the past two years. After five long years of death, Jason was finally happy to be a ghost and accepted his place in his reality
He was brought back to life the day after proposing to Danny
The memories settled just as Danny stepped into the mortal world, smiling at him through some tears. Jason feels joy that he hadn't felt since he was brought back to life bloom in his chest.
As if someone had given him the other part of his missing soul back
Jason: I'm bringing my boyfriend to dinner at this month's family game night. I need you all to be chill about this.
Bruce flipping a table covered in glass figures: YES! YES. BOYFRIEND! MY BOY HAS A LOVER.
Jason: Bruce this isnt a football game stop-
Dick pull out his phone: TIM GET THE FIREWORKS!
Tim on face time: What for?
Dick: Jay has a Boyfriend! ONE HE WANTS TO INTRODUCE TO THE FAMILY!
Tim: WHAT?! YES. GOD YES! I'LL GET MY GUY FOR THE FIREWORK SHOW READY IN A HOUR
Jason: Tim has spontaneous fireworks shows guy?
Damian: Of course, he does. He's not a barbarian. Why are we celebrating?
Jason: Oh, hey, Dami. Sorry to wake you up from your nap. Bruce and Dick are just being dramatic about meeting my boyfriend.
Damian: You have a paramour?
Jason: Yes I do. What's with the tone?
Damian: I'm just surprised anyone would agree to that type of relationship with you.
Jason: The hell is that supposed to mean!?
Damian: I hear you tell Harper once that you would only enjoy the pleasure of flesh and that you would never commit to a relationship. I assumed that meant you would only have brief lovers for debauchery.
Jason: Oh. Yeah I told Roy that but that was before I meet Danny. He's more then a one-night stand.
Damian: Hmm. What does this Daniel-
Jason: His name is Danny
Damian: No. What does this Daniel do for a living?
Jason: He's a brain surgeon
Damian dropping to knees and ripping his shirt from overwhelming glee: YEEEEEESSSS!!!! OH MY GOD, HE'S A BRAIN SURGEON!!! TODD IS BRINGING A BRAIN SURGEON HOME!!! THERE IS HOPE FOR THE BLOODLINE!! FATHER TELL DRAKE TO CALL HIS BOUNCR HOUSE DEALER. WE MUST CELEBRATE TO THE FULLEST!
Jason: This is why I dont bring anyone home. Bruce, you good?
Bruce foaming at the mouth: SON-IN-LAW BRAIN SURGEON.
Jason: Mmh-okay. You're too far gone. I'll have to put you down.
Dick: *Twitching on the ground overwhelmed by happiness*
Jason: This one needs putting down too. Damn, I liked that one.
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Pa Kent: Good morning Alfred. Are you busy today? Ma and I are in Gotham for that fancy art gallery Clark is writing about. Did you have some time to meet us for lunch before the event?
Alfred: Oh, sorry, Pa, unfortunately, I have my hands full with the latest shenanigans of the children.
Pa: Oh? What happened?
Alfred: Master Dick, has discovered he is a father.
Pa shocked: Dick has kids?
Alfred: Yes, we believe they're from the same place as Mister Bart Allen.
Pa: Oh. That makes sense. How is Dick handling everything?
Alfred: Very well. He's ecstatic to be a father. It's his children who are....reluctant.
Pa: What do you mean?
Alfred: Hold on. Let me send you a picture of the children when Master Dick told them he was thier father.
Danny/Dan/Dani:
Pa: Well....they certainly resemble Dick. He looked the same when I asked him to help me birth a calf. How old are they?
Alfred: Master Dan is the oldest; he's twelve. Master Daniel is the middle one at ten, and Miss Danielle is the youngest at eight. They're sweet children, but they do not seem interested in being brought into the Waynes' home. They've negotiated with Master Bruce to get them rooms at the most expensive hotel in Gotham, in exchange for not running away. It took us months to even corner them.
Pa: Wow that sounds so stressful. I understand that your busy we could reschedule-
Ma taking the phone: Alfred, let Dick handle his kids. You deserve a day off. Join us for lunch, wine and dine at the art gallery with us and if the night goes well, let us get you naked between us.
Pa scandalized in the background: That's too forward!
Alfred: What time and where are we doing lunch?
Bruce sitting across from Alfred and overheard everything: Now Clark will know the pain of the butler dating one's parents. Let's see him laugh now. I hope he suffers.
Dick lying face down on the floor: My kids called me unnatural for being in shape, and now my grandpa is getting more action in one night than I've had in the past six months. This is it. My life has no more meaning.
Danny: Is this the location for the casting audition of My Brother's Wedding?
Tim, who was left alone in a newly purchased Wayne Studio and bored: Yes. Yes, it is. Why don't you take a seat in the lobby, and I'll call you in when I'm ready.
Danny: Oh okay.
Tim: It will just be a minute.
Danny: Alright.
Tim is speed-reading the script: Trash. Horrible. The main character is in love with his brother's bride and tries to steal her the entire wedding planning up to the actual wedding. Blah. At least the Best Man knows what he's planning and stops his plans every time- Oh! Plot twist: He ends up with the best man!?? Nice.
Tim opening the door: You can come in.
Danny: Is there a reason why the building is dark like this?
Tim: We forgot to pay the electricity bill. Now, can I have your name and the role you're auditioning for?
Danny: I'm Danny Fenton. I'm interested in Eric. I'll be doing scene seven.
Tim: The Best Man. Good choice. You may begin.
Danny: "You think I didn't notice?! The way you look at her.... She's going to marry your brother!"
Tim: Stop. I've seen enough.
Danny: Oh- I-
Tim: You got the part.
Danny: Really!? Oh my gosh thank you!
Tim: You're welcome. I'll send you details for the script reading and filming. The email on your resume good?
Danny: Yes! Yes, it's good. I'll be waiting. Thank you!
Tim: of course. Okay take care. Bye-bye now. *watches Danny leave then yanks out his phone* Hey Bruce can you buy me a moive? I lied about being someone on staff of My Brother's Wedding and I sort of promised the second lead to some random guy.
Bruce: Why? There was literally no reason for you to do that.
Tim: I have severe mental problems.
Bruce sighs: Alright. I'll pull some strings and get you that moive.
Jon: I will do everything in my power to help you.
Damian: Do not be so quick to offer, this may be the toughest assignment yet
Colin: It doesn't matter how dangerous or difficult this is. You need help. I'm in.
Damian: Thank you. What about you two? I know you're not really trained.
Matt: Oh im definitely going to help a friend! And don't worry about me. Terry taught me the good old one-two! I can definitely handle a fight.
Maps: I can also help! You'll need a master navigator in these parts.
Damian: Very well. Then we are all doing this. Prepare yourselves mentally. We're going in.
Danny smiling at the group of kids: Welcome to Danny's Edible Sculptures. How can I help you?
Damian: I wish to acquire an animal made of sugar glass.
Danny: Sure. What kind of animal would you like?
Damian, with only his eyes visible across the counter: I would like a cow.
Jon: I want a dog, a Great Dane if you can.
Colin: Can I please have a cat?
Matt: Can you make magical creatures? 'Cause I want a dragon-and-bat hybrid! I have a reference picture.
Maps: I'll have a turkey. A pretty one.
Danny: You got it. I'll start working on them right away.
Damian: I heard you only allow one per person. Is that correct?
Danny: Only one sculpture a day. Most people want multiple pieces, and it takes time to make each one, so I limit them.
Damian: I see.....Do you have the same rule for family members?
Danny: Ha! No for them I make many and often. They have special privileges you see.
Damian: I thought so. *snaps fingers* Team! Present profiles!
Jon/Colin/Matt/Maps holding up dating profiles of Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, Steph, and Duke: Yes sir!
Danny: Umm?
Damian is standing on his tiptoes so his chin can go over the counter: These are my siblings. Pick one. I would be honored to have a candy maker with your skill level in my family.
Danny: Oh, that's cute and all, but I'm not really-
Maps: Before you make a decision, please listen to each of our presentations on our respective candidates. I think you'll find yourself quite intrigued
Matt: Plus, ever since one of them is rich, like buy-me-an-island, rich.
Danny: I-
Colin: They're kind and protective too. You'll never be afraid within thier arms!
Jon: They're the perfect match for any young bachelor such as yourself! Just pick any that grabs your attention, and you're on your way to marriage!
Damian: Join us
Danny mentally: Is this a cult requirement tactic????? I'd better make those sculptures and get these little freaks out of here.
The Circus Gothica situation causes Maddie and Jack to worry more about thier son's recent bad behavior. They decided drastic measures are in order. what are those measures?
Danny is sent to his Great-Uncle's. Pa and Ma Kent live in the middle of nowhere
Maddie calls a sorority sister up. Iris Allen works well with "trouble" youth
Jack thinks a job will straighten him out. Danny works at Queen Industries.
Danny is sent to a boot camp. He escapes and hides in Hal Jordan's shed
Jazz recommends creative outlet. Danny's work catches the eye of Diana Prince
Dedicated to @versknobilis. I hope that the programming test went well! I was a little busy, but I finished one of my drafts for you!
Bruce Wayne has always been a prodigy. It's something he inherited from his mother, who had a way of connecting clues and seeing patterns when others couldn't. Unfortunately, she was from an era when women weren't considered intelligent enough to be properly credited, so even though she was the one who always handled any sort of problem, everyone congratulated his father for his quick thinking.
Bruce remembers questioning it aloud, assuming some adults weren't aware it was his mother, only to have them belittle him and his father step in. They attempted to get Thomas to join in their dismissive comments, even led him into insults about allowing his woman to behave that way, but Thomas never let them get away with it
They might have been one of the richest and oldest families in Gotham, but there was a reason why the Waynes were reclusive. Bruce never really questioned it when he was younger, living happily with his family. He just assumed everyone gathered only once or twice a year, since both his parents were constantly working (his father as a surgeon and his mother wrestling for respect at Wayne Enterprise). He had no idea it was because people- escpaically those of the first class- were upset with his parents constantly fighting against social norms.
For example, someone found out Georgie, one of the many butlers at Wayne Manor, had a male lover and went straight to Thomas to expose him. It was expected that they would throw out Georgie, let the wolves of the city tear him apart.
Instead, Thomas had thrown out the woman and then told Gerogie to invite his lover to dinner at Wayne Manor. Bruce later found out that Gerogie's lover had moved into the staff rooms with him because he had lost his job, and his landlord kicked him out when that woman went to spread the word about the nature of the men's relationship. His name was Victor, and he gave the best shoulder rides. They vanished a year later, and Bruce didn't know where they went, but Thomas and Martha had him pick the nicest pebbles from thier yard for them.
Bruce was aware of these things happening around him, much more than a child his age would be, but he didn't understand them. His intelligence let him see past the surface level and maybe even the first layer of social interactions, but adults were complicated and had so many layers to them, and the things they did that Bruce was violently reminded he was a child for all his intelligence.
That's why, despite the way everyone kept telling him that there was nothing he could do after that horrid night in the alley, Bruce used his intelligence and his childlike naivety to find a way to bring his parents back.
He went into his mother's secret safe, hidden under the Manor in a dark cave she thought he didn't know about. There he found a book, created with the blood of the Kane ancestors who weren't dark witches themselves but were great friends of the ones. He flipped through the book, under the covers of his bed, trying to stay out of Alfred's sight.
The Head Butler was busy getting all the affairs of his parents settled, letting go of the staff, ensuring that thier will was followed, and defending Bruce's inheritance against everyone. The man was busy, but thankfully, his parents had made sure he had power in case anything bad happened to them. The only problem was that Alfred was "worried" about Bruce's mental state after watching his parents get murdered in front of him.
Which meant that Alfred barely let him out of his sight. That's why reading his mother's forbidden "Dark Magic from the Coven of Witches, who was welcomed at Kane's table." It was a long title, but it was self-explanatory.
And in the middle of the book, Bruce found exactly what he was searching for.
He waited until Alfred had done his routine bedroom check, pretending to be sound asleep, clutching the book under the covers. Once the Head Butler (soon the only butler) moved on to retire for the night in his room, Bruce got to work.
He quickly pulled a giant teddy bear from his closet, struggling a little since it was the same size as himself, and tucked it into his bed. He made sure to pull the covers over its head and slap on a wig that matched Bruce's hair color, making it seem like he had buried himself in the blankets again.
Then, using a rope ladder he had stolen from the garden when the man was emptying out his worker shed, Bruce carefully climbed out of his window and ran. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, making sure to duck behind hedges, in fear that someone inside would spot him in the many windows of Wayne Manor. The people were all leaving, but the departure was slow, delayed by grief and confusion.
Bruce hoped that by the end of tonight, none of his staff would have to leave. That they could even call back the ones who were gone.
Eventually, he arrived in an area with no coverage, so he had to sprint until his lungs actually burned, but Bruce pushed on. He got to the wall where he had hidden another ladder, this one metal, and it was much harder to steal from the gardener. But it did what it was supposed to do. He was on top of the wall, pulled it up behind him, and used it to climb down on the other side in record time.
Which meant he was standing at the gate just as the taxi he had ordered earlier that night pulled up. Thankfully, he had been able to convince Ronnie, one of the maids, to record a "bedtime story" he wrote, in which she basically placed an order for a taxi. She flattered slightly when she saw he put his real address and actually paused at the destination, but she carried on, which meant he was able to play the recording into the phone receiver. The taxi company didn't suspect a thing.
The driver even helped him into the back seat, smiling warmly, because Ronnie had recorded the words "A ride for the young boy to a movie theater."
The ride was calm, the cabbie playing slow jazz on the radio, and the rain was gentle in the wind. Bruce watched Bristol slowly fade into Gotham, turning darker and grimmer as the cab made its way to the more dangerous parts of the city. He tried not to notice, forcing himself to focus on the water droplets instead of the sinking sick feeling in his stomach. He clutched the book to his chest, squeezing it when the familiar glow of that wrenched movie theater appeared.
The cabbie pulled into the curve, parallel parked, and then turned with a smile. He mentioned the price- much higher than it was because Bruce knew the mileage from his house to this place by heart after the weeks of obsessing over it-, but he paid the man anyway and got out. The gentle drizzle had stopped, which meant it was going to pour in about an hour. Hopefully, after he did what he came to do.
Bruce followed the path from the front of Morach Theater down the street and then took a turn into the alley that haunted his nightmares. He thought he could handle coming back here, but his feet froze only one step in, and the sounds of the gunfire blasted in his ears while his sight was overwhelmed by blood.
Bruce stumbled, landing on his knees, dry heaving as his world spun and the scream of his mother echoed over and over and over again. He was only able to snap out of it when his book fell from his shaking hands, splashing on a small puddle and making a loud bam. He scrambled to pick it up, wiping off the water as best he could. It didn't look too damaged, the heavy back cover protecting the pages inside.
Taking a big breath, Bruce gathered all the courage his eight-year-old body could contain, and he walked into the middle of the alley. A dark stain was near the wall, where his father's body had landed, but Bruce couldn't focus on it.
He flipped through the book until he found the page he wanted. It was hard to make out the words, since his sight was blurry with tears and his hands were shaking badly, but Bruce pushed the words out of his mouth. He had to do this. He had to call upon them.
Hours later, Bruce walked back into Wayne Manor, which was lit up by the red and blue lights of police cars parked in front of his home. Alfred was speaking to an officer, looking as distressed as the night the Waynes went to the movies. A few servants were to the side, some talking to other officers, some hugging themselves, and others just waiting around.
Bruce beamed, raising his voice, "Alfred!"
At once, every head in the yard snapped to him. Alfred all but threw the man he was speaking to as he took off in a run towards Bruce. "Young Master! Are you alright? Did someone take you? What happened? Where on earth have you been!? Why are you smiling like that after giving me nine heart attacks!?"
He clutched the boy to his chest, dropping to his knees and hugging the boy like he was afraid Bruce would disappear. He wasn't sure why, because Bruce wasn't going anywhere, but he hugged back just as tight. While pressing his face into the Head Butler's shoulder, he responded to all the questions with a cheerful chirp.
"I'm okay. No. I went into the city. I used Dark Magic to strike a deal with Gotham and Phantom. I'm smiling because Mom and Dad are home!"
Alfred pulled back, his face crumbled with grief and sorrow, "Young Master Bruce, we talked about this. Master Thomas and Lady Martha passed away. They aren't coming home-"
"That's a rude way to greet the man of the house, isn't it, Alfie?" Thomas joked, strolling in with Martha holding onto the curve of his arm. They were dressed in thier finest outfits- the very same ones Alfred buried them in. The butler froze for a split second before he was yanking Bruce into his arms and rising to his feet. He twisted so that he could shield the boy with his body, glaring at the couple.
"Who are you?" Alfred growled in a cold voice that sent shivers down Bruce's spine. Martha and Thomas paused just a few feet away from thier dear friend, blinking owlishly at the hostile tone.
"What do you mean?"
Martha and Thomas Wayne are dead. Who are you and why are you wearing thier faces?"
Bruce raised his hand, suddenly aware of why Alfred was behaving this way. "It's really my parents. Phantom brought them back for me as long as I keep my side of the deal. I have to become a knight for Lady Gotham and protect her from the crime and corruption in Gotham. Phanotm asked that I have twelve children, whom he will send to me, to raise and protect. They sealed it with a mark on my hand, see? The bat symbol? I'm going to be Batman one day! I have a lot of training to do!"
Martha's bell-like laughter filled the air as the couple continued to walk towards a stunned Alfred. The head butler knew that laughter, knew the way she would raise her hand to tap against her chin as if she were planning to cover her mouth, but didn't go through the full motion. Bruce once heard him joke that he would know her in a room of over ten thousand people, and that holds true as tears slowly spill over his cheeks, staring at her like she was a walking miracle.
"Our Bruce has such an imagination." Martha giggles, causing Thomas' smile to soften, but it falls away into a worried frown. He reaches out, placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder, on the side that wasn't holding Bruce.
"Alfie, are you alright?" Thomas leans in, his blue eyes shining just as warm and kind as the day Bruce lost him. He beams at his father, leaning his head on Alfred's shoulder so the butler can answer.
His butler starts to shake, sobs spilling from his lips as he chokes, "My loves....you came back to me."
Thomas and Martha blinked, turning to give each other questionable looks before Martha carefully asked. "Of course, we came back, Alfie; we just went to the movies. It was only a few hours."
For some reason, those words cause Alfred to sob harder, nearly falling to his knees, and Bruce clings to his shoulders in fear of falling with him. Thankfully, Thomas has great reflexes, so he steps forward, pulling his arm away from his wife, doing his best to keep the sobbing man upright after catching him.
The police surrounded them, questions flying around, while Martha and Thomas scrambled to figure out what in the world was going on. No one noticed the pure joyful smile on Bruce Wayne's face, nor the book held at his chest.
The bat symbol on his hand faded out of view but was never forgotten. He would honor his part of the bargain. He would become the justice and protection this city desperately needed.
For a lifetime with his parents, he would gladly have handed over his own future to Phantom, the bridge between worlds and the Ancient of Deals.
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Damian: *Drops behind a car* What's the situation, Drake?
Tim laying flat on his stomach: One of my worst enemies is in the area. Level nine threat.
Damian: A level nine!? We must call for reinforcements. There is little chance you and I have to defeat them, as much as it pains me to admit it.
Tim: No!
Damian: What?
Tim: No, don't call for help! I don't want the rest to know about this!
Damian carefully moving his hand aside: It is too late. I pressed the panic button.
Tim: What!? When!?
Damian: When the words "level nine" came out of your mouth. It's effective to call as soon as an emergency presents itself. It's why the button is so easy to push.
Tim: NO! We have to leave before-
Danny leaning around the car to stare at them: Timothy?
Tim: *jumps to his feet* DAnIel! hEY! HoW ArE YOu?
Damian: Why did your voice crack like that? You should be far past that stage of puberty.
Tim: Ha HA hA sHUt Up DaMIan! AlLWays MaKIng joKES thAT ONe!
Danny: *laughs* It's good to see you haven't changed much.
Tim: I'M DONE WITH PUBERTY!
Danny: ....Congraulations.
Damian: What is happening? Who are you?
Danny: Oh, sorry I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Daniel Fenton but you can call me Danny. I'm Tim's ex.
Damian: ....what
Tim: MY EX. WHO I DON'T MISS OR RUN AWAY FROM IN PUBLIC.
Damian: Drake why are you shouting?
Danny: Tim has always been been like that.
Damian: ....No?
Tim: WeLP ThIs has been NIce but we gOT to Go-
Batmobile driving through a fire hydrant, smashing it to pieces, water bursting, A voice screaming over a microphone yelling from it's speakers: THE NIGHT, THE VENGEANCE, THE BATMAN IS HERE!
Danny: Wha-
Damian: *Points at Danny*
Tim: NO!
Batmobile: *Runs over Danny*
Tim: This is why I didn't want you to call them! Why'd you have to single Danny out like that when you know Batman is more violent in the daytime!?
Damian: Actions must be taken when the panic button is pressed. Fenton had to be taken out.
Tim: No he didn't!
Danny: *rolling off the Batmobile windshield* Can somebody take me the hospital?
Tim: Danny don't talk! He'll notice you're still conscious and- BATMAN DO NOT PUT THE BATMOBILE IN REVERSE TO HIT HIM AGAIN!
Damian crouching down to Danny crumbled form: How big is your medical deductible? I feel like you're going to use a lot of medical insurance in the next couple of minutes.
Danny: Please help me
Damian covering Danny's mouth and nose: Shhhhhhh...go to sleep. Go to sleep.
Tim: DAMIAN! STOP TRYING TO SUFFOCATE HIM!
Batmobile: *honk*
Tim: I AM NOT GETTING OUT OF THE WAY! STOP TRYING TO RUN OVER MY MAN!
Damian: Your man? *pressing harder on Danny's face* See, Fenton, this is a better fate for you. If you live, you'll have to deal with Drake not being over you, but you can avoid that if you sleep....That's right. Stop struggling. You don't have the strength anymore. Shhhhhhhh. Sleep.
Tim: *kicking Damian straight in the face sending him flying* GET OFF HIM! DANNY ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?
Danny, gasping for air: I'm good.
Tim: Im so sorry about Damian!
Danny: Its...cool....you should see....how my distant Not-relatives are....the day after....Truce Day. This is actually tamed.
Tim: Wow really- *Get hit by the Batmobile* AGHHHH
Has menace Danny ever been in a movie or series or voice acted? Because I feel like with his overall beautiful mysterious vibe, casters would make everything happen for him to star or at least appear for an ep or smth
It starts off as a favor to Jason.
His little brother adored reading, to the point that the Wayne Manor quickly got a miniature library made entirely of all the books Jason owned. Bruce had allowed access to the Manor's library to all, but most of the books were classics and very obscure literature that Waynes of the past had collected more for a show of wealth than for actual enjoyment of reading.
Jason adored it anyway, but he needed something more. Books were the one thing he hadn't been squimish about Bruce wasting money on (his words. Bruce never saw the purchases as a waste). In his first few months, Jason didn't like it when Bruce bought him new clothes, shoes, toys, or even food, but he always lit up at books, and Bruce quickly made it a habit to take him to local bookstores. He handed Jason a basket, told him to fill it up, and let him loose on some local business owners.
Danny watched his little brother devour his books and quickly realized what they meant to him. An escape, a safe haven, and a line that was holding him up, keeping him floating in a sea of fear that the world had thrown him into. Bruce bought the books, but it had been Danny's idea to change the largest bedroom at the end of Jason's hall into a private library.
It had been Danny who hired the contractors to create the built-in shelves, towering windows, twisting wood carvings of warm, light-brown furniture, and low but spacious lighting that could be controlled with a dial. He added the most comfortable round sofas and a majestic desk centered in the middle, designed to look like someone raided a fairy King's office to steal. The one who knew what Jason wanted, based on what he saw the boy stare at in movies filmed in the best old-money libraries. Bruce had helped by forcing the boy to go on a business trip with him for two weeks, so they could work thier magic, but Danny did everything else, including shelving the books in the way he knew Jason liked.
His brother didn't go by alphabetical order, but he did enjoy grouping by genre and by book size, from largest to smallest, starting from the left. When Jason had gotten home, Danny hadn't walked him into it; instead, he left him a letter on his bed telling him that his gift was, knowing the boy would prefer to have his reaction be private.
He had even gotten the boy a personalized embossed stamp that he could use on his books, and Jason had happily spent hours marking, From the library of Jason Todd carefully into the first page. He added more books over the course of weeks, reading them at an alarming speed and officially placing them in his library when he finished. Whenever he felt overwhelmed or struggling, Jason would go grab his favorite ones from his library and reread passages that made him feel better before bed.
It helped with the nightmares.
Then one day, Jason's hands were injured during a mission gone wrong. He blamed himself, despite the fact that he saved the lives of three small children, and even Bruce hadn't been expecting the number of men that jumped the two.
Jason tried to do his comfort activity, but he couldn't hold the book up because of his injury or even get it from the shelves. Danny happened to walk by his room, saw him crying, and desperately attempted to turn the page, but the casts on his hands stopped him. He didn't bother knocking as he strolled into the room, snatched the book up, and sat down at the chair Alfred had placed at his bedside.
Before the boy could do so much as freeze-he was still hesitant about being around Danny because of thier first meeting- Danny had started reading out loud. His voice smoothed out, taking on a warm, welcoming tone as if he were inviting Jason to sit around a campfire to listen to a beloved tale instead of just reading off a page.
His pacing was just right, allowing the young boy to digest the words and setting the mood for the scene, trapping him in the story rather than his own downward spiral. Danny gave each character thier own distinctive accent, putting so much emotion into the lines of speech that Jason didn't need to hear the words they said to know who was talking. Before he realized it, he had relaxed enough to drift off to sleep.
In the following weeks, Danny always read to him, captivating him with every book, every line perfectly. One day, Danny knew he was going to be going on a mission for a while- he hated going on them but sometimes need must- and decided he wouldn't just leave Jason waiting.
He secretly recorded himself using his school broadcasting club equipment until he had hours of reading for Jason to listen to. He placed them in a CD for Jason and left it at his brother's bedside as the boy slept off some pain meds. He once again knew that the boy would want to be in private when receiving the gift.
After Jason got better, he didn't think of the CD. He would even say he had forgotten about it entirely if he didn't start reading to Jason at bedtime from right where he'd left off. He assumed that Jason had either buried the CD in his room or thrown it out, but he didn't mind either option.
He would later find out that Jason had carried that CD with him everywhere, including to school. Now, this was when digital audio media wasn't as mobile or easy to hide, which meant that when Jason pulled his bulky CD player out of his bag during a free period, everyone saw him slapping on some wired headphones and pressing play.
A few kids (specifically some girls who flirted with Jason, though he was never sure whether they actually liked him or just wanted to get some of Wayne's wealth) gathered around Jason, wanting to hear what he was listening to. Not seeing the problem with it, and assuming they would get bored once they realized it was just a reading of his current book, Jason told them what it was.
He left out who was the one reading, because he felt like that was something Danny would want, and after a bit of teasing, he was convinced to put it in the bigger CD player in the room, the one with large speakers.
He started it over, knowing the scream at the beginning- the story opens with the main character's family being murdered, which sets the tale of them searching for vengeance while accidentally setting the country free in a revolt- and Danny did not hold back when he screamed and begged for the main character's father's life. The entire room went silent as Danny's gasping and choking voice overtook the room, narrating as if the third-person god watching the scene were also feeling the family's pain.
The story took off then as the time skip takes the captured audience into the main character's adulthood, where he was planning on attacking a i slave auction because he knew the noble that was connected to his family's murders was among the stands. By the time the free period ended, people were hooked on the story and Danny's voice acting. They begged him to play the rest tomorrow, and he agreed. This went on until they reached the end- only five chapters from the ending- and the class lost thier minds when Jason said the reader hadn't finished.
He was pressured into getting the rest and, with a red face, requested the eldest Wayne to re-read the same book, asking for a CD. Danny once again snuck into the broadcasting club and completed the book. He then decided to do something more lighthearted, because he thought Jason was struggling again to ask for more, and recorded an entirely romance-comedy book that he knew Jason adored but would never admit.
He was right.
Jason was ecstatic to have the book, kicking his feet while lying on his stomach in his room, listening to it play, but he was wrong about the "never admit it" part. In fact, Jason let the class hear the end of the first book- Danny even added ambuance music to the end, giving the hero a grand farewell with a wordless theme song he hired someone to write-and held up the new CD proudly yelling "You bitches want to know what real love is?"
The answer was yes, and this one had soft music playing in the background, making it even more enjoyable.
This went on for all of Jason's school years, and no one had any idea that it was Danny Fenton-Wayne's voice acting. Eventually, technology moves on to pure digital, and Danny buys his own recording equipment, but he still sends books to Jason every now and then. Jason shares them with some friends, who pass them to other friends, who pass them on, and it becomes a free sensation.
It all comes to a head one day when Jason does an interview and mentions the stories his brother recorded. It finally clicks that the voice so many sighed dreamily about, jumped in fright when it screamed, cheered when it cried in victory, and inspired so many romantic fantasies was the same man everyone was terrified of and attracted to.
Why do you always put the important information for your aus in tags?
It's me whispering in your ears like a trickster who is an active narrator in a story. The characters in the stories don't know what's going on, but the audience does.
Danny: Alfred do you have a minute to talk privately?
Alfred: Certainly, Master Danny. How can I be of service?
Danny: Okay *Deep breath* You know how Bruce is known as a playboy airhead and I'm his whimpy, scared-of-everything younger brother to the public?
Alfred: Yes, your personas to misdirect the public are quite entertaining to watch.
Danny: Well, I realize a flaw in my persona.
Alfred: Oh?
Danny: I'm supposed to be scared of my own shadow, so how am I supposed to flirt with someone when I'm acting like being outside the manor is the equivalent of stepping outside a sanctuary during a zombie apocalypse?
Alfred: Hmm? Can you clarify?
Danny: It's just-! There was this really attractive guy at the Gala, and I was acting like the usual Whimp Wayne, so every time he stepped closer, I had to scramble away. How am I supposed to meet someone like that?
Alfred: This may come as a shock to you... But no one is making you put on an act like that. You could simply act like the intelligent, charming man I know you are.
Danny: That doesn't make any sense.
Alfred: Where am I losing you?
Danny: I established a person that the media knows and recognizes. How can I just be someone else?
Alfred: ....You what, just ask Master Bruce to pick your outfit at the next gala. He'll have you in a vest corset or something. That'll get you a man. You can just manipulate him into a corner where you can drop the line "no one has ever made me feel this comfortable before," or something.
Danny: Oh! Great idea! Thanks, Alfred!
Alfred, turning to Martha's and Thomas' portrait: You made some stupid ass kids.
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Odd, your blog isn't marked mature nor is your icon blurry when I look at it. I've screenshot what I see. Am I missing something?
Thank you for letting me know about what you were seeing on your end.
I tried to do some research about it but I couldn't find a definite answer of why it was happening. I didn't have any flagged posts and besides the NSFW hinted tag, I only had one singles post that was flagged worthy. Im jot sure if just that was enough of a reason for Tumblr to blur it out on a few people.
I guess I'll leave it for now until it becomes an issue?
