Not that old, but feeling it

Danny: I beg your pardon?

Tim: I know you feed on emotions. You're an ecto-being, known as Phantom, and you're hiding in Gotham from the government. Your real name is Daniel Fenton.

Danny defeated: Who are you working for? How did they find me?

Tim: Don't worry about that. I'm the only one who knows. Listen, I need your emotional eating abilities. Robin died a few weeks ago, and Batman is losing it. Could you eat his sorrow? Help cut through his fog of grief?

Danny: I- ugh I never tried that?

Tim: Well, now is a good chance to try. Pack your bags, you're moving into Drake Manor as my uncle, and we're going to save Batman.

Danny: Okay?

Tim: You seemed confused. Do I need to explain the plan again?

Danny: I'm not confused. I didn't expect this when I opened the door to a seven-year-old.

Tim: I'm thirteen.

Danny: I'm so sorry. Are you not being feed?

Tim: Everyone blooms at their own time!

Danny: Sure, buddy.

Tim: You-! You will actually do really well at posing as an annoying uncle. You're on thin ice, though. So watch it.

Danny: I'll take that threat more seriously when you can reach my chin.

"Is that blood?" the teacher asks. Danny runs his finger through what is absolutely blood, lick it, "Nope, ketchup." Damian wonders why this guy is like this.

THE corpse

@rpepperpotshipssciencebros please forgive me for this one

Danny joins Young Justice (how idk but I would guess chaos) and due to being in constant excessive danger due to all the ghosts, hunters, and his previous home security, tends not to notice things below a certain danger level.

Example:

Danny: *walks over a trip wire, around a pressure plate, ducks under a laser, and continues on completely oblivious*

YJ member behind him: *trips on the wire, causes a cascade of activated traps and barely makes it out* phantom! Why didn’t you tell me about the trip wire?!

Phantom: There was a trip wire???? *genuine confusion*

M’gann: I can tell you are genuinely confused but how did you miss the wire? *baffled*

Danny joins Young Justice (how idk but I would guess chaos) and due to being in constant excessive danger due to all the ghosts, hunters, and his previous home security, tends not to notice things below a certain danger level.

Example:

Danny: *walks over a trip wire, around a pressure plate, ducks under a laser, and continues on completely oblivious*

YJ member behind him: *trips on the wire, causes a cascade of activated traps and barely makes it out* phantom! Why didn’t you tell me about the trip wire?!

Phantom: There was a trip wire???? *genuine confusion*

M’gann: I can tell you are genuinely confused but how did you miss the wire? *baffled*

some people really don’t realize how privileged they are that they get fanfics for free. imagine having access to something for free because someone is kind enough to share it with you… and then being rude, entitled and an ungrateful pos to that person who was kind enough to share their creation with you for free

“almost 1 year is a lil too much for me” fuck off. fanfic writers don’t owe you anything. one of my favorite fics was updated after 13 years, and what I did is that I thanked the author for choosing to continue the work, I didn’t act like a spoiled toddler by asking why they didn’t update sooner. and even if a writer chooses to abandon their fic permanently with no explanation, that is their choice, their hobby, their decision. they don’t owe your entitled ass anything.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

Dante moves to Gotham for a fresh start and opens a bakery called "Dante's Infer-dough" (because he's a pun-loving, quippy dork, no matter how cool or mysterious he acts). He uses his powers to do most of the work (heat core/pyrokinesis for baking & duplication to run the place single-handedly where no one can see).

He also gets ingredients from the Infinite Realms that you can't get on Earth, from Realm-exclusive ingredients to things that are extinct. Super cagey about his recipes, for obvious reasons, but tries to be accommodating to people who need to know the ingredients for health reasons.

Has a sign that says, "START SOMETHING AND I'LL END IT." He doesn't care if you're a civilian, vigilante or rogue, if you cause problems he will HAVE a problem. There's a "NO CLOWNS OR CIRCUS/CARNIVAL SHIT" rule, but he'll allow Harley in if she's not dressed up in her costume.

Red Hood decides to check out the new business, make sure it's not a cover-up for something sinister. I'm a sucker for the whole "gives ecto-infused food to liminal who doesn't know they're liminal" thing, so let's have Dante warm up to the guy and start adding ectoplasm to his orders because he clearly needs it.

Does Red Hood start to fall for the mysterious beefy baker who makes heavenly food? None of your damn business! Do you know who else should mind their business? His family! They noticed his shift in demeanor and are now "subtly" investigating Dante and the bakery out of curiosity. Dante is kinda annoyed that all these vigilantes are sniffing around, because he has to be more careful to not be caught using his powers, but holds to his rule of not starting conflicts.

Just ending them.

Things I can see happening in no particular order:

The Batfam losing it when they realize they can't identify some of the ingredients, or that the only match is a food that doesn't exist anymore. Who is this guy and where is he getting this from???

Red Hood trying to strike up a convo about books (the bakery name is literally a reference), only to be heartbroken when Dante admits to not like reading. He bounces back when Dante explains that he struggled with it in school and an asshole English teacher ruined the subject for him. Red Hood is now determined to fix Dante's relationship with literature

Maybe afterwards he installs a little bookshelf in the bakery and Red Hood falls even further

Dante getting to square the fuck up with someone who breaks his very simple rules of "be chill & no clown shit". No one's really shocked by it, this is Gotham and the guy is clearly jacked. People are still impressed by his clear fighting skill. Mostly Hood. The Batfam are adding this to the list of "BAKERY MAN ODDITIES"

Dante side-eyes Nightwing whenever he's in the bakery, because he may not be in the circus now, but Dante can practically smell it on him. If he does anything too circus-y Dante glares at him and taps the sign. The guy is on thin fucking ice.

Wake up babe, new octopus just dropped