hello! thank you guys so much for all the support throughout the biodome neighbors comic series. I’m really glad to see it being enjoyed as much as I enjoy creating it!

Lastly, below is a list of the series in order.

If you see any (especially uncredited) reposts or spam/bot accounts posting my art — please tag or message me, block, and report it.

Thank you so much once again for the support, if you have any questions about the series or anything: please don’t hesitate to drop it in my ask box : )!

TABLE OF CONTENTS :

VOL 1:

Mysterious Next Door Neighbors

Step Two in Introducing Your Pets Humans

Clearing the Air

Pre-Meeting Contact

An Open Door Tunnel

Finally Face to Face

VOL 2:

Lesson #17 Apnea

Might do more on the whole holding your breath thing cause I think Rocky would find that weird asf

First lesson Previous lesson Next lesson

Thank you to my wonderful beta readers!

@xushibeetle

@the-asexual-winter

waking up in unfamiliar environments (again)…

bonus:

[PREVIOUS PART]

Tim: oh don't worry we will use guilt cards.

Duke: guilt card?

Tim: yeah, minority pass. If anyone blames us, they are either ableist, homophobic, or racist. I am bisexual, duke is black, and Jason is mentally ill.

If Amity Park has one rule for survival, it's commit to the bit. Whose bit?

Everyone's.

You go to Ember's concerts even though there's a better than even chance of being hypnotized. When Technus turns up you obligingly shriek about how terrifying unfeeling machines are. If Boxy's around, you put up a spirited but ultimately futile fight to protect your precious, valuable boxes.

You confirm it when your neighbor tells the GIW that the ghost went thataway, officer. Phantom says the weird eye-ghosts that are stalking him are delusional and he is not an authority figure of any kind, you agree that he'd be the one to know best. The Fentons are ranting about their latest weapons, you oooh and ahhh over their brilliant creation.

Your eyes glow because of special effect contacts you're testing, anyone who knows you can testify to that.

Don't run, don't break the rules, and heaven help you if a ghost decides you've disrespected their obsession. It doesn't matter how much time passes, they might not chase you, but they will remember the insult.

Ghosts are never more dangerous than when their obsession is disrupted. So smile and nod, or shriek and cower, and play the role you're cast in. You'll get out alright.

**

Gotham natives have a word for people who play along with a rogue's plan instead of getting out at the first available opportunity: morons. The closer you are to a rogue, the greater the danger, and none of them will spare you just because you decided to 'see where this was going'.

Ghosts don’t just converge one (1) rouge though—every rouge that hurt one if their “toys” is on The List and Boxy is incredibly dangerous when it comes to dropping industrial weight boxes on rogues. Lunch Lady is assaulting Rogues in a meat suit and checks up on ‘the toys’ by giving them sandwiches with dietary restrictions in mind. No one knows why adults keep disappearing while kids claim that a pirate kid stole them. Ember may or may not be out-doing Music Meister rn and entrancing the current residents and co in Arkham to mutilate each other.

Skulker shows off Joker’s ‘pelt’ while cackling about a crocodile being next, and Technus livestreams it. And the other’s doing their thing. Oracle Cannot get Technus out of her system (he’s here to Be The Problem for Rogues. No help for those assholes!) Fright Knight is being a Massive Pain for Scarecrow. I find the idea of even Spectra and Bertrum getting in on the action for Misery Feeding as a fun add on.

Only ones universally spared are Ivy and Harley as ‘that one’s related to an Ancients’ cousin (Ivy) and the other is her wife (they are still girlfriends but by ghost standards? Married)

Note: Bats cannot intervene as Tim? young Justice mission, Dick is in Space visiting Kori, Jason has Ellie distracting him with street kids (vengeance for the lives lost in ant form is welcome). Duke? Incapacitated by ecto-induced Migraine. Damian? Supersons mission. Steph? Helping Cass in Hong Kong tracing a gang’s new drug. Batman? JL mission, undercover elsewhere regarding a human trafficking ring.

Babs only has her birds of prey, who are Occupied—Canary on leave with a pregnancy most notably—Cat woman is somehow not being targeted atm and any attempt at intervention puts her as the target for being hunted by Sulker.

Professor Pyg is getting his ass handed to him by a swarm of enraged ectopuses and experimented ecto-wildlife.

Batwoman has not been able to be reached. Largely as she’s arguing the DEO over a case’s jurisdiction; and no one is clear on if any known exorcism would work on what largely seems to be interdimensional beings—possibly 4th-7th dimensional—who are retaliating for the death of their ‘toy’ ‘playmate’ ‘friend’ ‘favorite neighbor’ ect., with targets being only Known Mass Murderers aka Gotham Rogues, it is Low Priority.

DEO is of the opinion Gotham Fucked Around and is in the Find Out stage of toying with extradimensional being’s “toys” that happen to be living.

Scientist, politicians, and thousands of reporters gather to witness the aliens disembark the ship. A group of boulder-like creatures, clicking and whistling to the humans around them.

One of them raises something large and metallic towards the crowd.

There's an immediate recoil of fear (is it a weapon?!) before the audience realises it's human technology. A laptop, old and beaten and looks like it was put back together by a drunk.

The alien presses a button.

"Cheryl, I just locked Joker in the deep freezer, what do I do?" The words came out in a rush as he leaned against the hallway, nervously looking at the door as if the clown demon would somehow punch through six inches of metal and survive subzero temperatures.

"Are you fucking with me, Fenton? You know I'm in the middle of a shitshow right now."

He breathed out a little hysterically. "No, I'm not fucking with you. There's a bunch of Joker goons in the base on 7th street. I lured them into the deep freezer—"

"The one without exits?"

"Yeah, uh-huh, the one with no exits. And then I barricaded the door."

There was an audible muffle of words and a few shouts and what sounded like gunshots. Danny was worried his closest coworker got shot until she came back on the line, out of breath.

"Let me get this straight— your first thought when the Joker invaded our headquarters was to lock him in a freezer?"

"No, I had time to think about it." Danny answered absently as he wandered down to the utility room after he turned on the fans to full blast. He wasn't the designated handyman, but a Fenton with a screwdriver could do anything, really.

Just because he was the janitor didn't mean he somehow lost the ability to fix a washer, oil a door, or wire a ghost electric chair. (Yes, that was a real thing, and yes, he did destroy it when he moved out of Amity Park.)

Speaking of moving, he supposes it's important on A. why he was in a Red Hood base (and more broadly, Gotham), B. Why he was a janitor in a Red Hood base, C. why he knew a lieutenant of Red Hood and D. why he had just committed what most would call felony murder.

(Danny would call it self defense, but potato pahtato when you're working for a gang.)

It all came down to one thing. He was good at cleaning. How, Danny "The Slob" Fenton, do such a thing when his room was sometimes more of a bio risk than the literal lab?

It's that Jazz was constantly stressed with school and taking care of him, so a lot of chores often fell to him.

Which meant cleaning up the lab.

Sure, he was no where near happy about this arrangement, but it wasn't like he could tell his sister "Hey! Stop giving me non-contaminated food and clean, woman!"

He was a lazy, deeply sarcastic, a borderline delinquent and a vigilante, but he drew the line at misogyny And, you know, his hotdogs trying to murk him in his stomach.

Ergo, Danny the bitter cleaner of all things radioactive and probably illegal.

The thing with the Fenton lab? There was always something staining the floor. Whether it be blood, ectoplasm, oil, lubrication for bolts, coffee, or an ungodly mix of all of it.

He had to get creative and fast.

Ectoplasm is a bit corrosive and stains like you wouldn't believe, even on metal floor. So he learned to put a bit of his own ectoplasm and mini ice particles so it would actually be able to be scrubbed out of the floor.

Coffee? Oil? Yeah. Cleaning supplies were mixed together like a potion master, toeing the line between dangerous and genius. He was always careful enough not to make chlorine gas or chloroform.

It became an uncanny skill, along with other things. He knew how to get spots out of clothing, how to make homemade detergent and how to get any stain or blemish out of almost any material.

So, when he moved to Gotham to complete his bachelors in chemical engineering at G.C.U., he knew he had to get a job somewhere.

And there was a lot of benefits for custodial staff in his position. Good hours, mostly at night or afternoons when he'd be free. And he knew a lot about cleaning, so why not?

...He hadn't really planned to be scouted as a crime cleaner, though.

Especially for a gang.

But hey! They even gave dental. Red Hood didn't even seem all that bad, drug peddling and murder aside. (Unsurprisingly, he could put a lot of things aside. His parents and well, Phantom, etc.)

If he kept his mouth shut, head down and hands working, he could get a good wage and even better benefits.

Danny, much to his dismay and minor shock, became known as 'the guy who can get stains out of literally everything.' Goons would literally stop and watch him like he was preforming black magic on a crime scenes walls. Even more surprisingly, he got clients and friends from this arrangement.

(Ignoring that one time of the jackets he was randomly given looks like Red Hood's.

No pressure. Just a crime lord who (allegedly) put heads into a duffel bag and mailed it to another crime boss.

He does it anyway, because he has a reputation (and monetary gain) to keep.)

So! Back to the present.

"What the fuck. What the fuck!" Cheryl hissed, whether at him or what he assumed was a gunfight in the background, "Jesus effin' Christ Danny, get out of there."

The halfa swung open the maintenance/janitorial supply room, trying to be nonchalant as his brain spirals and calculates. "I don't think Jesus can fuck Christ. They seem almost identical, y'know?"

Hydrogen sulfide would be the quickest killer, but chloroform could also do it if they didn't have enough acids and sulfur cleaning products.

Decisions, decisions.

Eh. Fuck it.

Danny grabbed some plywood, a box full of tools, his handy dandy cleaning supplies and a big plastic bucket. He would call his shaky hands adrenaline instead of being absolutely terrified that the most notorious mass-murderer in America was a few rooms down.

"Danny, I'm not fuckin' joking. You need to get the hell out of there. That's an order, you brilliant, stupid piece of shit."

He began trotting back to the deep freezer, inhaling through his teeth and scrubbing his face. "Kinky," he said, with levity he sure as hell didn't feel, "Hey, so, I'm gonna have to call you back. Tell me once you get out of your Nerf gun battle."

"Dann—!"

Danny snapped on a respirator, tucked his phone away, and quickly dumped a mixture of chemicals he knew would kill, well, a lot of things.

He'd heard the screaming and gunshots even through the thickest 1950s subzero room known to man. Kind of hard to muffle even that.

But alas. He went partially intangible, hauling his bucket of unicorn love and sparkles, floating up towards the air ducts. With no pizzaz, he dumped the entire thing in the vent system for the room.

The screams immediately rose in volume, and so did the ping of gunshots. Not wasting the time to poke his intangible head in and see how they were doing, he reappeared back in the hallway.

To be a safeguard even for an empty base, he quickly hammered in some plywood to any vents, duct taping the edges.

And for the coup de grâce, he sealed the door with his ectoplasm ice, cranked up the fan and turned the temperature to the lowest it could reasonably go.

"Have fun in there kiddos," he rapped the door, and then got the fuck out of the base. So really, he was following Cheryl's order. So it wasn't insubordination, no siree. Just insurance.

— — —

Danny found himself grabbing a cup of coffee. It wouldn't help his nerves, absolutely not, but at least it gave him something to do with his hands as he called up Cheryl.

"Danny!" She immediately snapped, and he winced.

"Hi, Cheryl," He demurred, hoping to project the most charming air that she could definitely see through. "How're you doing?"

"Don't change the subject, pretty boy."

He held his tongue at a sarcastic comment to that. "Mmmm yeah, so. About that. Would you mind like, not telling the Big Guy about what I did? Keep it like, anonymous act of charity?"

"Why." The word was sharp, almost unquestioning. Danny kept from squeezing his plastic ice coffee cup so hard that it would explode.

Okay. Okay. He had to do this. "I'm a Meta." He explained. "I really— Like, I left something definitely a Meta could do to keep the Joker in the deep freezer room." He really didn't want to become some super soldier or enforcer. He would quite literally rather kill someone before he did that.

It wasn't like there wasn't Metas in Gotham or, hell, some gangs. But he wasn't just Danny the Throw Him At Any Problem Because He Has Powers guy, and he never wanted to be. He just wanted to get his degree, get paid, and get out.

"Too late. I'd already told him that you'd locked Joker in there."

Danny smacked his head against the cafe table, wishing he inhaled more of the chemical weapon in the plastic Home Depot bucket.

"Cheryl," He said, with thinly veiled horror and dread.

Her voice audibly softened. "Danny. It's fine. You know he wouldn't throw you off the Harbor or anything. Hell, he's probably going to be grateful, however uncharacteristic. Everyone 's gonna be. It's the Joker."

Danny gave a truly pathetic groan as the now murderer of the Joker, and wondered if being fed to the fishes was truly a worse fate.

— — —

Jason was smoking on one of the balcony of his many safe houses, holding a picture of the man in front of him.

It'd been a long night and a long morning. Once he had gotten the intel that the Joker was locked in a deep freezer, in one of his goddamn bases, you bet your lucky fucking stars he had gotten there faster than Bruce had gotten to him.

It had taken hours to get into the room from whatever the hell was coated over the door, and dear fuck was it worth the effort.

The Joker was dead. So were many of his closest lieutenants and underlings. Some had died from GSWs, other from chemical burns or inhalation, and the Joker? The best of all.

He'd died slowly and painfully from hypothermia and the chemicals.

It had been a mixture of vindictive, vengeful glee and deep exhaustion as he carefully monitored the cremation process of all of the bodies.

It was over. It was fucking over. His syndicate would be in pieces that Jason would euphorically grind his heel into.

Now all that remained of the infamous, homicidal Joker was a plastic bag of grey ashes.

Jason wasn't sure what he was going to do with it now. Maybe he could flush it down his toilet. It'd clog, but he wouldn't give two shits.

Maybe he could even sent it to Bruce. The thought brought a huff from his lips as he blew out the smoke from his cig, eyes examining the picture from the file.

Cheryl had referred to this Danny as 'pretty boy' on many occasions, and Jason was inclined to agree. A mischievous, almost boyish face of a 22-year-old. The famed Red Hood Janitor, jack-of-trades.

The killer of the most prominent killer of all time.

He couldn't summon as much jealousy of it should have been me, twisting the knife in his gut rather than the feeling of relief. Red Hood had struggled even getting close, whether it was his obscene amount of gang members or it was fucking Batman or one of his little soldiers preventing him from putting a bullet in his head.

No, it wasn't as much anger but interest that he twisted around in is mind, thumb hovering over the face of Danny Fenton.

He'd like to meet this man. Jason was sure that it would be a conversation he wouldn't want to miss.

"So..." Dnany began that had Cherly looking up with eyebrows raised that said 'yes, go on'. He grimaced, and just blurts it out, "Am I fired?"

So much for that.

Cheryl nearly chokes. "What?"

"I mean..." He made some vague gestures. "I still killed someone."

"Danny, I told you. It's the Joker. Nobody cares. In fact, I wouldn't be surprise if you're getting a promotion after this."

"what?!?"

...

Cheryl has to be lying, because Danny is currently panicking when earlier, he was doing his usual duties (and cleaning some blood cuz he can't let his colleagues get implicated from some crime) till Red Hood just walked into the room and said:

"You. Come with me." He said, making it clear he's talking to Danny, before walking out of the room.

Fuck, I'm going to die, Danny internally wept as he sent pleading glances to Cheryl's way who just cheerfully waved at him. Bastard.

And when Red Hood leads him to his office, a very suspiciously clean office that even Danny had no access to.

He started sweating when Hood just closes the door behind him and ...locks it. That it really feels like a horror movie now.

All Danny could think of: Oh god. This is where I'm getting executed. Crap. how pissed is the big guy going to get if he realizes that I can't die from bullets? as his mind continued to spiral in panic.

Even worse when Hood starts to sit down and open a drawer to pull out...

FUCK HE'S GONNA PUT A BULLET IN MY HEAD! Danny internally screamed.

...and it was a pile of documents.

Danny blinks. Stares. And then looks at Red Hood, and say dumbly, "...huh?"

"Cheryl, I just locked Joker in the deep freezer, what do I do?" The words came out in a rush as he leaned against the hallway, nervously looking at the door as if the clown demon would somehow punch through six inches of metal and survive subzero temperatures.

"Are you fucking with me, Fenton? You know I'm in the middle of a shitshow right now."

He breathed out a little hysterically. "No, I'm not fucking with you. There's a bunch of Joker goons in the base on 7th street. I lured them into the deep freezer—"

"The one without exits?"

"Yeah, uh-huh, the one with no exits. And then I barricaded the door."

There was an audible muffle of words and a few shouts and what sounded like gunshots. Danny was worried his closest coworker got shot until she came back on the line, out of breath.

"Let me get this straight— your first thought when the Joker invaded our headquarters was to lock him in a freezer?"

"No, I had time to think about it." Danny answered absently as he wandered down to the utility room after he turned on the fans to full blast. He wasn't the designated handyman, but a Fenton with a screwdriver could do anything, really.

Just because he was the janitor didn't mean he somehow lost the ability to fix a washer, oil a door, or wire a ghost electric chair. (Yes, that was a real thing, and yes, he did destroy it when he moved out of Amity Park.)

Speaking of moving, he supposes it's important on A. why he was in a Red Hood base (and more broadly, Gotham), B. Why he was a janitor in a Red Hood base, C. why he knew a lieutenant of Red Hood and D. why he had just committed what most would call felony murder.

(Danny would call it self defense, but potato pahtato when you're working for a gang.)

It all came down to one thing. He was good at cleaning. How, Danny "The Slob" Fenton, do such a thing when his room was sometimes more of a bio risk than the literal lab?

It's that Jazz was constantly stressed with school and taking care of him, so a lot of chores often fell to him.

Which meant cleaning up the lab.

Sure, he was no where near happy about this arrangement, but it wasn't like he could tell his sister "Hey! Stop giving me non-contaminated food and clean, woman!"

He was a lazy, deeply sarcastic, a borderline delinquent and a vigilante, but he drew the line at misogyny And, you know, his hotdogs trying to murk him in his stomach.

Ergo, Danny the bitter cleaner of all things radioactive and probably illegal.

The thing with the Fenton lab? There was always something staining the floor. Whether it be blood, ectoplasm, oil, lubrication for bolts, coffee, or an ungodly mix of all of it.

He had to get creative and fast.

Ectoplasm is a bit corrosive and stains like you wouldn't believe, even on metal floor. So he learned to put a bit of his own ectoplasm and mini ice particles so it would actually be able to be scrubbed out of the floor.

Coffee? Oil? Yeah. Cleaning supplies were mixed together like a potion master, toeing the line between dangerous and genius. He was always careful enough not to make chlorine gas or chloroform.

It became an uncanny skill, along with other things. He knew how to get spots out of clothing, how to make homemade detergent and how to get any stain or blemish out of almost any material.

So, when he moved to Gotham to complete his bachelors in chemical engineering at G.C.U., he knew he had to get a job somewhere.

And there was a lot of benefits for custodial staff in his position. Good hours, mostly at night or afternoons when he'd be free. And he knew a lot about cleaning, so why not?

...He hadn't really planned to be scouted as a crime cleaner, though.

Especially for a gang.

But hey! They even gave dental. Red Hood didn't even seem all that bad, drug peddling and murder aside. (Unsurprisingly, he could put a lot of things aside. His parents and well, Phantom, etc.)

If he kept his mouth shut, head down and hands working, he could get a good wage and even better benefits.

Danny, much to his dismay and minor shock, became known as 'the guy who can get stains out of literally everything.' Goons would literally stop and watch him like he was preforming black magic on a crime scenes walls. Even more surprisingly, he got clients and friends from this arrangement.

(Ignoring that one time of the jackets he was randomly given looks like Red Hood's.

No pressure. Just a crime lord who (allegedly) put heads into a duffel bag and mailed it to another crime boss.

He does it anyway, because he has a reputation (and monetary gain) to keep.)

So! Back to the present.

"What the fuck. What the fuck!" Cheryl hissed, whether at him or what he assumed was a gunfight in the background, "Jesus effin' Christ Danny, get out of there."

The halfa swung open the maintenance/janitorial supply room, trying to be nonchalant as his brain spirals and calculates. "I don't think Jesus can fuck Christ. They seem almost identical, y'know?"

Hydrogen sulfide would be the quickest killer, but chloroform could also do it if they didn't have enough acids and sulfur cleaning products.

Decisions, decisions.

Eh. Fuck it.

Danny grabbed some plywood, a box full of tools, his handy dandy cleaning supplies and a big plastic bucket. He would call his shaky hands adrenaline instead of being absolutely terrified that the most notorious mass-murderer in America was a few rooms down.

"Danny, I'm not fuckin' joking. You need to get the hell out of there. That's an order, you brilliant, stupid piece of shit."

He began trotting back to the deep freezer, inhaling through his teeth and scrubbing his face. "Kinky," he said, with levity he sure as hell didn't feel, "Hey, so, I'm gonna have to call you back. Tell me once you get out of your Nerf gun battle."

"Dann—!"

Danny snapped on a respirator, tucked his phone away, and quickly dumped a mixture of chemicals he knew would kill, well, a lot of things.

He'd heard the screaming and gunshots even through the thickest 1950s subzero room known to man. Kind of hard to muffle even that.

But alas. He went partially intangible, hauling his bucket of unicorn love and sparkles, floating up towards the air ducts. With no pizzaz, he dumped the entire thing in the vent system for the room.

The screams immediately rose in volume, and so did the ping of gunshots. Not wasting the time to poke his intangible head in and see how they were doing, he reappeared back in the hallway.

To be a safeguard even for an empty base, he quickly hammered in some plywood to any vents, duct taping the edges.

And for the coup de grâce, he sealed the door with his ectoplasm ice, cranked up the fan and turned the temperature to the lowest it could reasonably go.

"Have fun in there kiddos," he rapped the door, and then got the fuck out of the base. So really, he was following Cheryl's order. So it wasn't insubordination, no siree. Just insurance.

— — —

Danny found himself grabbing a cup of coffee. It wouldn't help his nerves, absolutely not, but at least it gave him something to do with his hands as he called up Cheryl.

"Danny!" She immediately snapped, and he winced.

"Hi, Cheryl," He demurred, hoping to project the most charming air that she could definitely see through. "How're you doing?"

"Don't change the subject, pretty boy."

He held his tongue at a sarcastic comment to that. "Mmmm yeah, so. About that. Would you mind like, not telling the Big Guy about what I did? Keep it like, anonymous act of charity?"

"Why." The word was sharp, almost unquestioning. Danny kept from squeezing his plastic ice coffee cup so hard that it would explode.

Okay. Okay. He had to do this. "I'm a Meta." He explained. "I really— Like, I left something definitely a Meta could do to keep the Joker in the deep freezer room." He really didn't want to become some super soldier or enforcer. He would quite literally rather kill someone before he did that.

It wasn't like there wasn't Metas in Gotham or, hell, some gangs. But he wasn't just Danny the Throw Him At Any Problem Because He Has Powers guy, and he never wanted to be. He just wanted to get his degree, get paid, and get out.

"Too late. I'd already told him that you'd locked Joker in there."

Danny smacked his head against the cafe table, wishing he inhaled more of the chemical weapon in the plastic Home Depot bucket.

"Cheryl," He said, with thinly veiled horror and dread.

Her voice audibly softened. "Danny. It's fine. You know he wouldn't throw you off the Harbor or anything. Hell, he's probably going to be grateful, however uncharacteristic. Everyone 's gonna be. It's the Joker."

Danny gave a truly pathetic groan as the now murderer of the Joker, and wondered if being fed to the fishes was truly a worse fate.

— — —

Jason was smoking on one of the balcony of his many safe houses, holding a picture of the man in front of him.

It'd been a long night and a long morning. Once he had gotten the intel that the Joker was locked in a deep freezer, in one of his goddamn bases, you bet your lucky fucking stars he had gotten there faster than Bruce had gotten to him.

It had taken hours to get into the room from whatever the hell was coated over the door, and dear fuck was it worth the effort.

The Joker was dead. So were many of his closest lieutenants and underlings. Some had died from GSWs, other from chemical burns or inhalation, and the Joker? The best of all.

He'd died slowly and painfully from hypothermia and the chemicals.

It had been a mixture of vindictive, vengeful glee and deep exhaustion as he carefully monitored the cremation process of all of the bodies.

It was over. It was fucking over. His syndicate would be in pieces that Jason would euphorically grind his heel into.

Now all that remained of the infamous, homicidal Joker was a plastic bag of grey ashes.

Jason wasn't sure what he was going to do with it now. Maybe he could flush it down his toilet. It'd clog, but he wouldn't give two shits.

Maybe he could even sent it to Bruce. The thought brought a huff from his lips as he blew out the smoke from his cig, eyes examining the picture from the file.

Cheryl had referred to this Danny as 'pretty boy' on many occasions, and Jason was inclined to agree. A mischievous, almost boyish face of a 22-year-old. The famed Red Hood Janitor, jack-of-trades.

The killer of the most prominent killer of all time.

He couldn't summon as much jealousy of it should have been me, twisting the knife in his gut rather than the feeling of relief. Red Hood had struggled even getting close, whether it was his obscene amount of gang members or it was fucking Batman or one of his little soldiers preventing him from putting a bullet in his head.

No, it wasn't as much anger but interest that he twisted around in is mind, thumb hovering over the face of Danny Fenton.

He'd like to meet this man. Jason was sure that it would be a conversation he wouldn't want to miss.

His roommate, Jake, raised an eyebrow. “Bad night?”

“I’m pretty sure I fucked up, but work friend is convinced at worst I’m getting promoted instead. I just want to stick to being Janitor for now, you know?”

Jake winced for him. “Could be worse—its not like you’re anyone’s goon or hench.”

“Yet,” Danny grumbled into his hands. “I just want to go into general chemical engineering, not what they’re into.”

Jake patted his shoulder as they made their way to their next class together. At least he could steal Jake’s notes for the day later.

He is in a love-hate relationship with medical chemical engineering. On one hand, he and Danny have worked out stable medicine for her goop condition. On the other hand, trial approval is a bitch.

—

Jason was trying to work out how to tell Cheryl he wants to meet Danny. Without sounding like an asshole. Or letting it slip he intends to give Danny his own party. And fund the rest of his college years Personally.

As uh. Danny is very pretty and incredibly competent. And killed Joker. Either of those were enough to get him to joke about proposing.

And from what he’s seen—Danny is single…

Cue Bruce being stared down with a Batman worthy glare by the mountain of a man that is Dan - who Danny only called his little rascal.

I really need to know if Bruce and Danny from Freelance Inventor do get together, everyone wants them to be Boyfriends dammit. (not pressure obv-)

Bruce was terrified.

Danny had contacted him three nights ago, asking to meet up because he had something really important he wanted to discuss. He had an idea of what that was.

Over the past ten years, Bruce had quietly hidden his feelings for his friend. Mostly because he knew where Danny stood when it came to romance and sexuality. His friend had told him a year after they met at that inventor's convention, with open trust, and Bruce had to sit there trying not to show on his face how much it hurt.

Danny Fenton is Asexual and Aromantic.

After years of discovering about his immortality and living through the death and reincarnation of his loved ones, Danny was tired. The world had changed: it had destroyed, rebuilt, reboot, he honestly lost the thread over the years.

Although he could admit that it was interesting to see the evolution, the arrival of heroes on his "original" dimension. And maybe he forced Technus to build him a radio that would alert him to space-related issues there...

He was thrilled when Martian Manhunter was heralded as a hero (Superman was a pretty cool alien yes, but too... human?), though that was basically all the news he had of current civilization (not that he needed further)

The years passed and at the end he decided to live out his retirement on earth out of nostalgia (and by that he means Clockwork got his ass out of the Realms for a break) in what was once Amity a long time ago, he built a nice cabin in the mountains and settled there.

His relationship with Clockwork had evolved over the years, and Danny understood that his mentor (sometimes father) was very concerned that immortality would negatively affect him.

Seeing how he locked himself in his castle for the first few years after Jazz death didn't help alleviate his fears. So Danny didn't complain when the ghost threw him to Earth on that dimension (besides, it had Aliens now! and he missed Amity...even if it was not Amity anymore)

But people won't stop pestering him during his retirement! "Save us" "Help us balance the world, chosen one" "Play with me, let cause chaos!" And more ridiculous phrases. Can the horned boy and wizards leave him alone!? He just wanted to rest!

He couldn't even ask his loved ones for help because their reincarnations didn't recognize him (or did, and made fun of his situation).

I want Batman to use everything to get out of this beings hold only for them not to work.

I want Danny to do this weird ass therapy session by fazing all of Batman’s weapons and cape off of him and place him at the other end of the field. I want Danny to GIVE Bruce a Fenton gun, then stand between Bruce and his weapons.

After years of discovering about his immortality and living through the death and reincarnation of his loved ones, Danny was tired. The world had changed: it had destroyed, rebuilt, reboot, he honestly lost the thread over the years.

Although he could admit that it was interesting to see the evolution, the arrival of heroes on his "original" dimension. And maybe he forced Technus to build him a radio that would alert him to space-related issues there...

He was thrilled when Martian Manhunter was heralded as a hero (Superman was a pretty cool alien yes, but too... human?), though that was basically all the news he had of current civilization (not that he needed further)

The years passed and at the end he decided to live out his retirement on earth out of nostalgia (and by that he means Clockwork got his ass out of the Realms for a break) in what was once Amity a long time ago, he built a nice cabin in the mountains and settled there.

His relationship with Clockwork had evolved over the years, and Danny understood that his mentor (sometimes father) was very concerned that immortality would negatively affect him.

Seeing how he locked himself in his castle for the first few years after Jazz death didn't help alleviate his fears. So Danny didn't complain when the ghost threw him to Earth on that dimension (besides, it had Aliens now! and he missed Amity...even if it was not Amity anymore)

But people won't stop pestering him during his retirement! "Save us" "Help us balance the world, chosen one" "Play with me, let cause chaos!" And more ridiculous phrases. Can the horned boy and wizards leave him alone!? He just wanted to rest!

He couldn't even ask his loved ones for help because their reincarnations didn't recognize him (or did, and made fun of his situation).

After years of discovering about his immortality and living through the death and reincarnation of his loved ones, Danny was tired. The world had changed: it had destroyed, rebuilt, reboot, he honestly lost the thread over the years.

Although he could admit that it was interesting to see the evolution, the arrival of heroes on his "original" dimension. And maybe he forced Technus to build him a radio that would alert him to space-related issues there...

He was thrilled when Martian Manhunter was heralded as a hero (Superman was a pretty cool alien yes, but too... human?), though that was basically all the news he had of current civilization (not that he needed further)

The years passed and at the end he decided to live out his retirement on earth out of nostalgia (and by that he means Clockwork got his ass out of the Realms for a break) in what was once Amity a long time ago, he built a nice cabin in the mountains and settled there.

His relationship with Clockwork had evolved over the years, and Danny understood that his mentor (sometimes father) was very concerned that immortality would negatively affect him.

Seeing how he locked himself in his castle for the first few years after Jazz death didn't help alleviate his fears. So Danny didn't complain when the ghost threw him to Earth on that dimension (besides, it had Aliens now! and he missed Amity...even if it was not Amity anymore)

But people won't stop pestering him during his retirement! "Save us" "Help us balance the world, chosen one" "Play with me, let cause chaos!" And more ridiculous phrases. Can the horned boy and wizards leave him alone!? He just wanted to rest!

He couldn't even ask his loved ones for help because their reincarnations didn't recognize him (or did, and made fun of his situation).