The Baking Eevee

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Danny is in Gotham (yes, that Gotham, different universe, long story) to finish his education before moving on with his life—or afterlife—and eventually ascending to High King status. It’s a good reveal AU. He still has his parents. He still has his friends. Clockwork just strongly suggested that if he wanted to rule the Infinite Realms one day, maybe he should get some cross-dimensional academic experience first.

So now he’s here.

The problem? Everyone is rich. Not “my dad owns a company” rich. More like “we have generational trauma and private islands” rich. Danny tries being friendly. Smiles. Makes conversation. Offers help with homework. It does absolutely nothing. These people only care about connections.

Which would be funny—if it weren’t so isolating—because they have no idea he is, objectively, the single most powerful networking opportunity in the multiverse.

So yeah. He’s a little lonely.

Enter Damian.

One of Damian’s brothers (who will not be named but absolutely thinks he’s hilarious) jokes that Damian has never had a normal civilian friendship in his life. That if he had to, he wouldn’t even know where to start. He offhandedly gestures at Danny like, there, that one looks harmless.

It’s a joke.

Unfortunately, Damian takes it as a challenge.

Not because Danny is a “target.” He isn’t. Damian just fully decides he will prove he can form a normal, healthy, civilian friendship. Out of spite.

There are misunderstandings, but somehow, despite everything, they start… getting along.

And Damian, internally victorious, decides to present Danny to his family as evidence that he can, in fact, maintain a normal friendship.

Danny is delightful.

He charms Alfred. He debates with Tim. He listens to Bruce. He somehow gets Jason to laugh. He and Dick vibe immediately. He treats Damian like an equal without even trying.

For months, the consensus is clear:

Danny is the only normal person at this table.

And then they find his admission essay.

Titled:

“Why Clowns Are Not to Be Given Human Rights.”

Danny Phantom: no.

JL: what? Why?

Danny: I have yet to receive confirmation from the gods that this action will—*glowing green brick falls on his face, a small sticky note falling off*

JL:

Danny:

JL:

Idea #10

Warning! I use a translator, English is not my native language.

It's a very small idea, but the gist is that Danny has accidentally become a luck magnet after years of Fenton-like luck. For example, he's started finding $20 on the sidewalk almost every day, he always remembers something useful at the right moment, and he usually gets excellent marks on all his tests. Even his literature test score is better than it could have been.

He liked it, even a lot, at first. But over time, it started to get boring. Even fighting with his bullies didn't really help. So after finishing school, Danny decided to make his life more challenging and enroll in Gotham. There, he definitely wouldn't get bored!

Three months after starting his studies at Gotham University, nothing had changed. Sometimes, no one tried to rob him at all, and if they did, they'd incapacitate themselves. And Danny realized: this was fate playing tricks on him.

Danny: Oh my God, by the Endless Realms and the damn ectoplasm, Fate, if you can hear this, then give me some trouble already!... Or give me some kind of sign or drop something on me, even a flower pot *stretches out his arms and closes his eyes*

Danny:...

Danny: *felt something fall into my hands and opened my eyes*

Damian: …. * look of an angry cat who's been picked up against his will and is ready to kill *

Danny: ...Thanks, Destiny! Hello, Problem! :>

Damian: ....

Danny: My wine supplier?

Jazz: Your boyfriend.

Danny: I don't have a boyfriend, call the police.

Bruce, leaning into the house: Your ex-boyfriend.

I even made a little coral for her :3

I was going to add more plants but I don’t know what happened? This is definitely something I need to attempt again! (After I eventually finish the crochet lace durag lol)

No.

Jason: “Just gotta wait until the Stockholm Syndrome kicks in!”

Danny: “Actually, that is a phony diagnosis created by a sexist psychiatrist who saw a hostage situation on TV and decided that the woman, in fight-flight-fawn mode, was in love with the man waving a gun at h-"

Jason: *raises eyebrow*

Danny, realizing: "Oh, you meant it as a joke… Ancients, I sounded like Jazz there.” *shudders*

Dick, exasperated: “Monkey see, monkey do, after all…”

Danny, eating a snack: "Actually, monkeys mimic behavior as a form of communication and survival, while the so-called Chameleon Effect is influenced by a desire to fit in and be liked by the people around us. It's also influenced by a part of the brain that certain- *pauses* *pushes snack away* And that was super fucking weird to bring up all of a sudden, sorry, what were we talking about?" *face screwed up in disgust*

Dick: *is just amused*

Damian, angry enough to turn red: "-I will eviscerate you so much that even your mother would be disgusted by your incompetent-"

Danny, off to the side and kinda zoned out: "Did you know that excess violence in teenagers, while typically attributed towards early childhood development by those around the teenager, is almost always caused by their current situation and a feeling of estrangement, lack of control, or- wow, yea, okay, I'm shutting up now, I just realized what I sounded like. Uegh."

Damian, suddenly calm: "You bring up a valid point, Daniel. Come, make your argument in front of father. Please."

Tim: "I'll sleep when I'm dead; for now, there's coffee."

Jason: "That shit stunts your growth, pipsqueak."

Danny: "That was actually debunked. What coffee does do is it blocks your adenosine receptors and enhances your dopamine signaling, increasing your mood and motivation as well as enhancing your memory, and then it also improves your attention and alertness. However, it also increases your anxiety and sleep disturbances, which can mess up your memory consolidation and brain recovery." *makes a disgusted face* *shudders* *takes a sip of an energy drink* "Anyways, ignoring all that nonsense that I'm definitely ignoring that I've accidentally memorized, sleeping when you're dead is also a myth. I would know." *chugs energy drink*

Danny: As if I would leave you waiting.

Gotham: You have. On multiple occasions sir.

Danny: Yes but I do make up for it. Don't I?

Gotham: Mm yeah I guess you do. Now give me my update, how is he?

Danny: Right, your robin. It may sound odd but it seems like my realm may have misplaced him.

Gotham: WHAT?!

Danny: No need to yell love. It was a simple displacement. He got too close to an exit and it spit him out somewhere.

Gotham: Would that not mean he is back in the land of the living?

Danny: Technically yes. Where? I'm not exactly sure just yet. There was someone punching holes in-between the fabric of the dead and alive. I believe he fell through that and since those aren't regulated...

Gotham: He could be anywhere. Shouldn't I have been able to feel his return though? His body is here, on my lands.

Danny: Doesn't mean his full consciousness returned to it. His mind may just be fogged enough that he escapes both of our detections.

Gotham: Losing my robin again! The fates are cruel.

Danny: He isn't quite lost just yet. If he comes in contact with a gate, enough ecto? I will know where he is.

Gotham: If he is not here. Bring him home. By all means.

Danny: Of course.

2-YEAR CHEDDAR

from GRAFTON VILLAGE

I usually try to review cheeses virginally - that is, ones that I’ve never had before. In this case, this is a cheddar I’ve had many times before. But I couldn’t leave it off the blog, what with its obvious appeal to leather and rubber fetishists.

As far as cheddars go, Grafton’s 2-year aged isn’t going to shock you. It’s mild, light on the salt, with a slightly sweet and grassy flavour. It’s got a nice texture. It’s dense, more moist than I expected, and smooth.

So what is the deal with the gummi suit on this cheese anyway? Well, cheese has obviously been around a lot longer than fridges. Fresh cheeses like mozzarella are too moist to last very long outside of a cold place (bacteria and fungi do so love damp places), though I don’t think anyone was too mad about eating that stuff quickly. But cheeses that have been aged (and dried) more have some more preservation options, which is where cheese wax comes in. The wax is a physical barrier, stopping fungal spores from landing, and also blocks moisture and air, making the cheese a pretty unfriendly place to grow. Even drier cheeses can be bandaged in cheesecloth and then slathered in lard to preserve them while allowing some ventilation.

“That’s the polite descriptor?” Bruce turned to meet blue eyes, “I shudder to imagine the impolite version.”

The room had been empty. He’d made sure of it before allowing Dick to move their… argument. There were no signs of life on this or the next five floors down. Yet, there he was. A beautiful man, too many years his junior for his thoughts to go straight to the man’s looks, sitting on a stool at a workbench.

“Oh, for sure, you definitely don’t want to hear what else I could describe that as.” The man nodded, bringing Bruce’s attention to the jewelry tucked into the man’s shirt and hidden by his hair. “Ignoring all the stuff I clearly shouldn’t have heard,” which meant he did, in fact, notice the Bat-based vocabulary, “you are terrible at communicating with your kids.”

“Oh?” Bruce strained to sound casual, trying not to give away what all he may have not already.

“Oh yeah. Like, clearly you love your kids. Right?” The man waited for acknowledgment, which Bruce begrudgingly gave, before he continued, “right, so, what’s stopping you from saying it? Just a simple, I’m worried about you going on that inter-dimensional mission because I love you and want you to be safe, would work great. Might even get you brownie points, you know? Instead of what you said, which implied a lack of trust and a sense of derision towards your son’s skills, and was never going to be taken well.” Well. That answered well enough what all the pretty man had heard.

“It’s not that easy,” Bruce frowned at him, debating how many NDAs he’d have to threaten the man into signing.

“Sure it is. Just open your mouth and say the words, let them sit there, and don’t take them back.” Blue met and held blue from across the room before the man rolled his eyes, “right, okay, would it help you to think of it as a series of undefined tasks or a science experiment?”

“The latter,” the former sounded like what he’d already been working with.

“Okay, so pull up a stool,” the man twirled a pen as he pulled over a loose sheet of paper, “and we’ll start with the scientific method: if the big bad Bat communicates ineffectively then his children will be upset because they don’t have empathic abilities. What about this sentence can we change to make it better?”

“My ability to communicate,” Bruce admitted.

“Very good,” the man praised and Bruce wondered if he could get away with slamming the man’s head into the table without it being workplace abuse. Probably not. “So, if the Bat communicates effectively, then…?”

“My children won’t be as upset.”

“Because…?”

“They’ll understand what I mean better.”