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[noisilyscreechingsong]

Arkham Baby Danny

Danny was sent to Arkham Asylum after being found de-aged by a group of private Ghost Hunters.

The G.I.W. was smart enough not to touch him. It was very bad PR and similar, and they would have more problems from the public and similar and all the organizations who would attack them.

But these Ghost Hunters didn't think much about it; they would just send the "Meta" to Arkham until he was old enough for a buyer. It's not like among the crazy it would be something bad; they take care of him. until the lab is ready to cut him open and sell him.

Well, someone should tell the hunters that while the inmates are crazy, even they knew something was wrong. The ghost hunters had no idea, as the staff put them in Arkham as inmates too. The poor four Ghost Hunters were hated by inmates and staff alike and didn't survive the first few days.

While that time Danny formed an unlikely alliance with the inmates and still was planning his escape. True the inmates didn't fully understand him, but Freeze liked to show the child ice sculpture and Bane and rest playing Poker with Danny.

The Arkham Asylum Guards like Aaron Cash had no idea what to do with the toddler and just waited for Batman and Gordon. If you have a problem, wait for Batman. He should know what to do with them.

Well as Batman came, Danny had escaped through the ventilation shaft. As Danny remembered he was kidnapped, he would miss this place and people but time to leave back to Amity Park. Danny was out of Arkham, time to find a way home. In this new city, how hard can it be.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 1

His parents studied ghosts. Danny didn’t understand as a kid why everyone made fun of his parents. Now that he was 12, the thought was ludicrous and yet his parents continued their work on the portal. Danny had his sister Jazz though and the siblings were rather close. 

Jazz had spent a lot of time studying lately stating that she wanted to get into a good college. Danny understood he did, but being alone sucked and he couldn’t help it as he sighed kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. 

It was a nice hot summer day, the kind of day you’d want to spend at the beach or a pool. Danny however had other ideas. He was on the way to the local library. If Jazz was going to spend her summer studying for the ACTs then Danny was going to study what he wanted, Space. He quickly found a few books and got settled into a chair as he read. Space really was fascinating, he hoped one day his dream of becoming an astronaut would come true. 

An hour or so passed before Danny was interrupted, “what are you reading?” The voice started Danny out of his trance as he looked up at his interrupter. A boy about the same age as Danny with the same black hair and blue eyes that Danny had. His skin was more tan than Danny’s own pale white. 

Danny fidgeted in his seat for a moment before answering, “Astronomy: guide to the stars” Sure, Danny knew the text was college level but he already read all the ones for high and middle school. 

Damian seemed to hum thoughtfully with a hand on his chin before speaking again, “the book you're reading seems advanced, you seem smarter than your age would dictate. Father has requested that I visit the library and try to ‘make a friend or two’ in his words. I don’t see the need for companionship but if I must I’d rather it be with someone intelligent. My name is Damian.” It was a bit much but Danny guessed from what Damian said that he was complementing Danny. 

“Uh, Danny… I guess most of the people in my family are pretty smart.” He replied after a moment. 

Danny thought it was odd that someone wanted to be friends with him. Everyone at the public elementary school he went to knew who his parents were so they wanted nothing to do with him. It was lonely but Danny didn’t mind it too much, but Damian didn’t act like he knew Danny’s Parents. The thought of having a friend that didn’t judge him for who his parents were made Danny a little excited. 

“What occupation do your parents have?” It was a simple question with a not so simple answer. 

Oh, Danny’s heart stuttered a little bit at the thought of Damian knowing anything about. He didn’t want to lie, especially to his new friend but he didn’t want to tell him the truth. 

“Uh, they’re scientists but I don’t really know what they do…” Danny said carefully and slowly. He was sure Damian bought it. 

The two spent the next couple hours just talking in the library. It had started to get late and Damian needed to head back home. 

“Do you own your own phone?” Damian asked, it wasn’t uncommon, for most kids in his class had a cheap hand me down phone for emergencies. Danny unfortunately didn’t as his parents probably didn’t care where he was.

Danny shrugged, “not really, I could borrow my sisters but it really only gets used for emergencies.” 

Damian seemed to frown at this thinking for a moment before nodding as if he came to a conclusion, “my brother Todd has mentioned that it’s hard for low income houses to afford something I’d consider a necessity in this city. You do know how high the crime rate is, yes?” Danny nodded but he didn’t know what that had to do with having a phone Damian cleared his throat before continuing, “as you are now my friend I’d like to offer to purchase one for you.”

Danny hadn’t owned anything like a phone before, “a-are you sure? I don’t really need one, my parents don’t really… care?” He felt uncomfortable with his new friend spending money on him, Damian seemed like an important person especially with the clothes he wore and how he carried himself. Danny felt like he’d be taking advantage of his new friend if he bought Danny a phone. Danny closed the book he was holding and took a breath before speaking again, “I appreciate the offer but I wouldn’t have anything to offer you in return.” He let his gaze fall to the cover of the book, a swirling galaxy on a black background and bold yellow text. 

“I would not have offered it if I wasn’t sure.” Damian stated firmly causing Danny’s head to snap back up, “I do not need anything in return, however if you really intend to pay me back, Father has insisted that I bring a friend home sometime. Since we have established that we are friends I insist that you come visit every so often to, as Richard puts it ‘get him off my back’.” It sounded like a simple request but Danny was unsure. If Damian was someone important then his family was bound to be even more important. 

He took a moment to think about it, but Jazz would be happy Danny finally made a friend…

“Alright, I accept,” Danny said as they shook hands. It might have been a little childish but he could tell he made some sort of bond with Damian. 

After that they had quickly become friends. Once Danny had become accustomed to being in the Wayne house he basically became family, and was often visiting, especially to eat Mr. Pennyworths cooking. Mr. Wayne also seemed fond of Danny, he even offered to pay for Danny to go to Gotham Academy along with Damian. Danny had been hesitant at first but Damian quickly wore him down. Tim eventually wormed his way into the group as he and Danny bonded over the latest video game releases. Soon Jazz got roped into the group too as she started to visit the manor to get away from how noisy the lab got. 

A couple years had passed since the day that started the road to their friendship and the four of them had really bonded since then. Unfortunately their parents had finished the portal and its here where things go downhill for Danny.

In the next one Danny dies and all 4 of them are deeply traumatized.

Damian saw his dad doing research on the Fenton family, Bruce is just looking out for potential rouges and Damian took the opportunity to become friends with Danny. He figured that he could just bribe Danny into being his friend like all the kids at his school try but Danny is a lil cinnamon roll. Taken aback from how sweet Danny is Damian decided that Danny really was smart and worth being a friend. Tim has the same thoughts especially as Danny starts visiting the mansion more. Jazz loved that Danny had a spot to go where people seemed to actually care about him and she eventually gets dragged into the group. You can only drop off your brother at the Wayne’s so often before you get dragged into the group as well and I thought Tim and Jazz can be the same age and can bond over being older siblings.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Just a big scary character meeting danny and becoming completely baffled when danny doesn't look at all scared, not even a quiver of a bottom lip or a hint of disgust or fear in his eyes.

He just continues on with what he was doing before, like eating or idk watering a plant, and the scary villian getting dismayed and thinking 'oh, I guess I'm not scary anymore if I can't even get a small human boy to be afraid of me'.

And it ends with danny comforting the villian, patting their back being like "no no I just have seen much scarier, I swear!" As the villian pouts in a ball.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

In the Danny is Damian’s brother trope what if instead of Damian not telling the family about Danny wasn’t because of grief or shame or any of the more commonly used reasons for his silence. What if it was because he heard about how his father talked about Jason after his death, focusing and exaggerating the negative. That he was violent, angry, never listened to orders but in some iterations and popular fanon is that Jason was a cheerful and studious Robin.

What if while compiling info and researching the former robins during his tumultuous introduction he saw what kind of robin Jason was, good with kids and victims. Talking about his favorite books while on patrol and similar. Reminding Damian of his most Beloved brother.

Then he finds out about how Bruce talked about Jason after he died. Using him as an example as what not to do, erasing his good traits and just using him as a cautionary tale of what happens when you don’t follow orders. Just like what Ra’s said about Danny.

So he didn’t tell the family, not out of guilt or grief. But because his father stripped away Jason’s positive traits after death, the son he chose, adopted and loved. Who when he failed because he was a child led astray by his mother. What would he do to his brother, who loved the stars and excelled in stealth, who was quite in his kills but had no lust for killing.

Whether or not Bruce would do this to Danny’s memory doesn’t matter. B’s actions are gonna affect how Damian views his father even years after the initial actions. Because Damian will protect his brothers memory from being twisted even by their father.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Quick idea before I collapse into the sweet embrace of sleep.

Danny (running on two hours of sleep for the week) stumbled into Tim's apartment by accident. He looks around at the case files strewn about and the mountains of empty red bull cans, ramen cups, and coffee mugs before turning to Tim who's mid sip hunched over his computer.

Danny: Damn bitch, you live like this?

Danny: *proceeds to collapse of exhaustion*

Tim who just got shamed by some rando in his own home and is highly insulted: ...wtf

[noisilyscreechingsong]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Corporate Rivals

Bruce is really excited to hire a boy genius from a small time town. He found him by accident while scrolling through some creative writing competition past winners on various school sites. He originally wanted ideas for his own contest for the annual Wayne Young Writers Scholarship when he stumbled up Amity Parks Youth Authors.

Daniel Fenton's science fiction had won second place, and Bruce thinks he only lost due to the judges not realizing all the science of the gadgets his charaters used were real. Real, well explain and proper research. Daniel obviously knew his stuff and knew it well.

He had reached out to Daniel with a science scholarship opportunity, wanting to see what he would come up with. He gave him a basic assignment asking him to fulfill a prompt "Software or Hardware development for disabled" in either theory or model. If he created something worthwhile, Bruce would send him ten grand.

Daniel did not disappoint, not only doing the theory paper but also sending back a prototype of a pocket ASL translator. It would be an app on a phone that would have an AI watching through a camera of the person doing sign language and say out loud what the person was saying. It had a few bugs here and there, but for a high schooler, those were very impressive accomplishments.

Bruce found himself sponsoring the boy for early high school graduation. The young Fenton boy was a genius just like his parents, but he lacked proper motivation. Bruce suspected it was due to his school not challenging him enough much like Tim.

When Daniel got his diploma Bruce offered a few rid to Gotham University with the condition he would be a employee at WE. Daniel agreed under the condition it was as a proper employee and not a unpaid intern. A little daring for a kid getting already a amazing deal but Bruce liked his moxy and agreed.

Daniel Fenton was to be a worker in the RD department for WE tech in one week.

He couldn't wait to introduce him to Tim. Two young geniuses would get along swimmingly with their shared brain prowess!

______________________________________

Tim hated the new guy.

They were the same age, but everyone acted like he was amazing for finishing high school and starting university while also being a top WE reseacher and Devloper at such a young age.

Oh Tim was CEO, but as many people have whispered, he didn't graduated Highschool or have a GED so the only reason he got to be CEO was because of nepotism. Danny on the other hand got his position through hard work.

Which was ironic, seeing as the company has never done so well since Tim came on board. Their sales, PR, and production numbers all tripled because of him. Danny, on the other hand, was a sloth with little to no ambition. He didn't even work well with others! He mostly did solo projects and everyone seemed fine with that since genius "need their own space"

Tim has been networking since he was three years old, and failure to do so had always reflected badly on him and his company. He spent his entire life careful choosing his words and his actions. Even his appearance, what he wore, his hairstyle even the hand gesture when he talked, were planned before hand.

Then comes Fenton, who avoids crowds, dressed in the worst formal wear Tim has ever seen . Black jeans were not formal!- and acted like this important office was just a after school hang out spot. Now Tim was much more laid back than his board co-workers, who were all in their fifties or older, and even more relax then the mangers or superiors of lower stations but even he could not understand Fenton blaring music, bags of chips lingering everywhere and his ordination skills were none existing!

Not to mention the fact Daniel didn't believe in using computers unless he had to. His office was covered in towers of paper that he scribbled and work on! It was such a waste!

And yet, despite all of that, Daniel was rapidly becoming an asset to WE. His ASL translator app wasn't finished, but it had everyone buzzing with excitement and would be well received when it was released with Wayne Phones as a built in app.

Tim tried to avoid him as best he could least he get offended by his lack of work proper behavior

Daniel Fenton did not understand what it meant to put your all into something that you lost yourself along the way. Best to ignore him.

________________________________________

Danny couldn't stand his company CEO. Timothy Drake reminded him a little too much of the A-listers but without the bulling bit. Somehow, that made it worse.

Timothy was popular because he was well liked. He didn't need to relay on his good looks or aggression to make other yeild to him like Paulina or Dash. Even if he was ridiculously good looking to the point, Danny confused him for a siren when he met him.

He had the ability to walk into any room and take command if it. Timothy didn't even need to speak, his very presence commanded attention and awe. Not to mention how great he was at his job.

WE had always been a popular corporation but under Timothy's command they rose to one of the most important corporations in the world. Bruce Wayne was raised to run a company, Timothy Drake was born to run it. There was a large enough difference between the two that anyone could see Timothy was superior at running things.

Danny was nothing like that. He couldn't talk to people, couldn't make them like him, and often he was overlooked for his sister or his wacky but loveable parents.

He was the other Febton. The one that was there and nothing else. A few months ago he was even considered the dumb Fenton, who somehow was skipped over for intelligence.

Then he wrote a little story and everything changed.

Danny turned out to be a proper Fenton, after all, having gotten the attention of Bruce Wayne for his mind. His parents haven't been so proud of him in a long time, and he found himself accepting the job position after graduating high school early before he knew it.

Along with the job came a move to Gotham city. He went after debating it a great deal with his family and friends, but the deal was too sweet to turn down. Now he was in Gothem and he knew absolutely no one.

Danny didn't know how to make new friends here. Tucker and Sam had been the ones to approach him at the beginning of their friendships. He also was scared of getting close to his co-worker less they suspect his Phantom powers.

He knew that Metas was not welcome, and he thought Batman wouldn't care that he was technically dead and not with a meta gene.

So he focused on his work, avoiding large crowds and keeping his head down. He would turn on music to help pass the loneliness and would gater papers to write down his thoughts less they made him mad by running around his head all day.

This anxious insecurity was something Timothy Drake would never understand. He just shone like a fallen star, dazzling the masses with his neat press suits, easy charisma, and intelligent bedroom eyes. Best to ignore him.

________________________________________

Dick never really ventured to WE now that he moved out. He made a habit of trying to visit Tim every two weeks for lunch to fix this. He also really wanted to spend more one on one time with his little brother now that they reconsidled from Bruce's timeline fiasco.

He was still well known by the employees, even new ones, so when Dick arrived to the lobby he was waved in by security. The receptionists were all huddled together muttering to eachother and missed his entrance since security didn't call out to him.

Dick could tell the gossip they were talking about was juicy based on the way Lola was wiggling her eyebrows and Stacy and Isaiah's reaction.

He creeps closer to the front desk, hoping to hear something good.

"Isn't that against the rules?" Isaiah asks.

"WE doesn't have anything like that. Not since Thomas Wayne married his old PA and had Bruce. I think it's cute that Mr.Drake is following in his adoptive Grandfather's footsteps."

Dick paused, shocked. Tim liked someone at WE!?

"They aren't even dating yet, Lola"

"Yeah but you can cut the sexual tension with a- Mr. Grayson! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. How can I help you?"

Dick blinks. "Oh I'm here to see Tim for lunch. But what was that about Tim you were saying?"

The woman pales as the other two quickly become busy with some email or another.

"Oh, um, I'm so sorry, sir. I shouldn't have -"

"It's fine I don't mind a little chat between co-workers. I'm just curious"

Lola stares before nervously blurting "Rumor has it that um, Mr.Drake has a thing for Daniel Fenton"

"The new boy genius?" Dick thinks about it considering what he knows of Tim's type and his past preferences in partners before nodding "That tracks actually"

He says his thanks and hurries away to Tim's office unaware he may have confirmed a relationship between Tim and Danny.

The gossip circles in WE exploded with the news everyone careful not to let the two subjects hear a whisper.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

“YOU!”

Jason turned his head to see a small guy with black hair pointing at him. He was wearing a light grey hoodie and jeans.

“Your ancestor has been haunting me for MONTHS!” Danny tilted his head, looking at Hood’s chest. “They weren’t wrong, you really do need to see a ghost doctor. What the fuck is up with your ecto?”

“My what?” Red Hood said. “ are you the guy people around here have been talking about? The one who can talk to the dead?”

“More like the dead won’t stop talking to me.”

[noisilyscreechingsong]

DC X DP PROMPT #5

You know those ones where Damian gets adopted by the Fentons? Other way round -> reveal gone wrong Danny gets adopted by Talia Al Ghul.

Danny, after a bad reveal that he loses his friends and sister to in order to escape (they sacrificed themselves for him (taking shots, misdirections)) is tired and low on Ecto. He's hungry and he's so so tired. He's flying which ever way the wind takes him, just a little guy in the sky. And oh, what's this? Some Good Soup™? It smells a bit funky, but that's just flavor.

Talia find Danny bleeding green whilst drinking from the pits. She's feeling maternal (sort of) and Damian has just been brought into the world, what's another son? ESPECIALLY a Lazarus child?

Danny wakes up after taking a nap in his spicy soup to a woman that is more of a mother than his own had ever been (which,, yikes) and he's pretty happy. So what if there are assassins trying to kill him and him brand new brother (literally, that kid is FRESH) it's fun. It's enrichment 🤸 he probably needs to learn how to fight normal humans anyway. Talia doesn't even get mad when he accidentally kills the ninjas!!

He's only there for a few months before he gets another new brother! This one's a little weird, but he's also hurt so that's okay! Danny will support his healing journey!!

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Feet on the Ground

loose phic phight fill for @oldfashionedbattlehymn

warnings for: murder attempt, discussion of child death

********

Danny wakes up in a garbage bag.

It isn’t as gross as it sounds. Danny’s the only thing in there, and it’s not like the lack of air is going to kill him; he could rip his way out, but honestly, going intangible is just as effective and twice as easy.

And, of course, once he’s phased his way out of the dumpster behind the gas station, Danny is very, very grateful that he didn’t even try. Everything else in there is….eeugh. He shivers.

Well. It’s got to be early morning now—it’s dark. There’s no other cars on the highway. Even the gas station itself is closed, and the stars have already lost their spark.

Time to head home.

*

Danny wakes up behind the gas station. Again.

…Okay?

The first time, Danny had just assumed he’d fallen asleep somewhere weird while flying around the neighborhood, but a second time is a pattern. It’s definitely not his fault this time either, because there’s no way he would have duct taped his arms and legs together or slapped a gag on his mouth.

That’s kind of. Ominous.

Danny frees himself of the garbage bag first— and thank goodness he doesn’t have to breathe— he floats himself out of the bag and the dumpster, which had…thankfully been given a good scrubbing since last time? There’s some other trash, apparently, but nothing sharp enough to cut through his durable, tape-based bonds. It takes some finagling and some eye lasers for Danny to finally get his arms free.

And. Hoo Boy. There’s no more liberating a feeling than peeling tape off your mouth, even if your mouth skin kind of comes off with it and you bleed a little. But it’s fine! It’s green, which means it’ll heal.

Fabulous. Danny zooms off invisibly into the night, more than willing to put the night behind him.

*

…Okay, the third time is what makes it more than a coincidence.

Danny shucks out of the bruise-tight ropes around his wrists, torso, knees, and legs, spits out his gag, and flies home. He finally has to give into the inevitable, and attempts the last resort:

“Jazz?” he whispers, slowly rocking his sister in her bed. Jazz mumbles in her sleep.

“Jaaaaazzy…” Danny tries again, trying not to look either too spooky or too imposing. Jazz’s reflexes are such that—

The laser she keeps under her pillow goes off. Danny loses a few millimeters of hair, which means that her aim is getting better.

 He doesn’t have any trouble seeing in the dark (or, uh, not anymore, anyway), but it’s easy to see Jazz’s sleepy squint as she pulls herself somewhat upright. More like a shrimp with scoliosis, but, well. You know.

“Whuh,” Jazz asks. “...Danny?”

“Hey,” Danny whispers, a ghost at her bedside. Jazz grunts. “Uh. What does it mean when you keep waking up in a trash bag behind the gas station?”

Jazz blinks. Jazz rubs her eyes. Jazz blinks again, looking more sleepy than coherent but at least somewhat aware of her surroundings.

“Garbage bag?” Jazz asks blearily. “You were in a garbage bag?”

“Yeah,” Danny whispers back. “My legs were tied down?”

“...Danny, were you murdered?”

Danny stops.

“Huh?” says Danny.

*

“So, if you look here,” Tucker points out, finger not quite touching the glass of his CRT monitor, “That’s when Danny gets murdered.”

There is a collective eeew from the assembled viewers— Jazz, Sam, and Danny, all crowded in Tucker’s room.

“Yeah, Tucker agrees. The light from the black-and-white footage flashes in the reflection of his glasses. “Here’s where he’s tossed in…there. And this is when they tossed him in the dumpster.”

There’s no sound on the gas station surveillance footage, but Danny imagines that his body clanged on the way in. What the hell. Danny got murdered behind a gas station, and he didn’t even notice?!

They watch the archived footage of a Ford F-150 driving off the property, and then Danny’s dead body being unceremoniously tossed in a dumpster. It’s kind of surreal. No one had noticed. There was no one to report the crime committed.

“I can’t believe that guy just clocked you over the head, like that,” Sam points out. “It’s just a regular car jack. It shouldn’t have gotten you in the first place.”

The observation isn’t appreciated.

“Be nice! My brother was just murdered,” Jazz scolds. Danny doesn’t think she sounds as offended as she should be. “Either way, it’s certainly an attempted murder, if not a successful one. We have to do something.”

“…Can’t we just call the cops?” Tucker asks, turning away from the computer. “I mean. Look. That’s proof. We have proof right here.”

Sure enough, there is footage. Right there. There’s Danny’s murder, in 240p black and white.

“Where’s the body?��� Sam asks dryly, and. Uh. That’s a problem they’ll have to solve.

Everyone looks at everyone else. No one has a good solution.

“…Do we have to do this?” Tucker realizes at the same second as the rest of them.

Jazz looks at Danny. Danny looks at Sam. Sam looks at Tucker.

Tucker stares back at them, entirely unenthused with the conclusion they’ve come to.

“…Okay then,” Jazz exhales. “How do you want to do this?”

*

Sam ends up on top of the gas station, a cell phone in her hand.

Tucker, PDA in hand, sits in Jazz’s passenger seat. The camera feed is ongoing and recording for posterity.

Jazz taps her fingers on the wheel of her car. There isn’t anywhere better to hide than down the road and around the corner, so she does, hoping that they’re on the other end of the road from whoever’s killing her brother every night.

Danny is, of course, wandering through the neighborhood.

Losing her baby brother—on purpose—is the worst thing Jazz can imagine. She feels sick. She wants to throw him into the car and speed away, and break every speed limit law in the county on her way out. She wants to pack him in bubble wrap and ship him expedited to France.

But she does leave her brother alone. She lets Tucker look over the footage as Danny roams around town, just as unaware and unsuspecting as his last few outings.

Tucker sees the man first.

He bolts upright, eyes on his PDA. “Jazz.”

Her head whips around. They watch, silently, as someone approaches Danny’s lone figure on the doorstep outside the gas station.

They can’t hear anything. That’s the scariest part.

“Call,” Jazz demands. Tucker does.

Doubtlessly, on the roof of the gas station, Sam is dialing too.

*

So. Danny knows this guy.

And. Uh. It’s kind of embarrassing; he’d asked if Danny was okay walking home alone at night a few hours before his dumpster wake-up call, and Danny had said it was fine.

Apparently, no, it wasn’t fine. That being said, Danny hadn’t been expecting a guy in a button-up and khakis to be the guy murdering him on the down low. He kind of looks like the dude who sells you televisions and burner phones at a Wal-Mart.

The guy comes all the way over to where Danny is sitting on the thin concrete step of the gas station. His breath fogs up from the weather and his eyes rake over Danny, up and down; down and up.

“Hey,” he says, looking all the world like any other concerned citizen. Danny’s heart throbs. “It’s cold outside. You need a ride back to town?”

“…No,” says Danny, who doesn’t.

“Your mom okay with you comin’ home late by yourself?” the man asks nervously, hands going to his hair.

Danny thinks about how many times he’s woken up in the dumpster. He thinks about seeing his own body on the camera tape. Prone. Dead.

“You still keep a car jack in your passenger seat?” Danny asks instead.

The man freezes. An attempted murderer he might be, but he’s not exactly an Oscar-winning actor. “What?”

“The car jack,” Danny repeats. He doesn’t know if he’s mad the man keeps targeting him, or whether he’s grateful Danny’s the only one who’s died so far. “It’s got a lot of sharp corners. They hurt, you know.”

The man…carefully laughs the statement off, but he looks. Nervous.

Danny doesn’t really need to confront him; he only has to stall long enough that Tucker or Sam can call the cops, so that they can see this man’s face and get him on the record. But.

There’s a part of Danny…

The man looks so human. Flush with blood. Solid enough to break. Fragile enough to be made broken.

Danny still resents being made dead. This man didn’t kill Danny—not in any way that mattered, but he’s an easy target.

He doesn’t breathe. The man watches a boy sit in the shadows of a building where he’s been dumping bodies, and Danny can taste his fear.

“It hurt a lot,” Danny says, and he isn’t referring to waking up in the bags every couple of mornings in the last few weeks. “It hurt so much. I was screaming.”

The man is silent.

“Do you like to hear the screaming?” Danny asks, suddenly curious. Did he care, if Danny had screamed, or if he had been too unaware to notice he was dying? Would he have cared, if there were others more breakable than Danny that he had hurt?

He doesn’t answer.

“I don’t like it,” Danny confesses. In a horrible way, it’s easy to tell his would-be murderer about his death—unlike Tucker or Sam, who witnessed it, or Jazz, who loves him, this man can’t be affected by Danny’s take on his own death. In fact, if he is hurt by the thought of Danny’s death…good. It’s better if he is. If there is remorse in him. “I don’t like to hear screaming. I screamed for so long, and so loud. It felt like forever.”

The man’s hands curl. He steps back.

Danny can’t help but to frown. If he leaves, the whole point of calling the cops will be for nothing, and he’ll be warier of coming back to where Danny’s body was dropped. “Where are you going?”

The man takes another step back. Danny rockets upright. He’s on his feet in seconds. “Weren’t you here for me?” Danny asks, genuinely confused, arms outstretched. “We’re here. You dumped me here over and over again.”

“Shut up,” the man snaps, startling the both of them with his volume. “He—you’re not real. You’re… Be quiet. I have real things to get done tonight!”

Danny’s dead heart throbs. Is there another dead kid? Did Danny let another kid get killed in Danny’s place? “Do you?”

The man loses his voice.

“We’re already here,” Danny points out. He steps closer—closer to the truck that drove his dead body around town, further from the dumpster where his body had been dropped. The disposal hadn’t been a funeral, but it’s closer than anything Danny’s ever had. “You’re here. I’m here. Aren’t you here for me?”

A choked breath. Danny gets closer. The ectoplasm in his skin is too warm and too cold—but he has no idea what he looks like from the outside. Is he glowing? Is he see-through? Does he just look like any other dead kid: a little too cold, a little too pale?

They’re eye to increasingly shorter eye. Up close, the man just looks like any other guy. Shaved in the face. Wrinkles around his eyes. A nose. A mouth.

Danny’s not afraid of him. His head tilts. “You’ve already killed me three times. What are you going to do now? I’ll just come back again. I won’t even notice. I died. I know what you look like—I know how to find you. It’ll be easy.”

The man’s pupils dilate—

And then there’re hands on Danny’s neck. And. It’s kind of painful, but Danny doesn’t have to breathe. So. He just kind of…pretends to be hurt?

He’s meant to be stalling for time. The cops are coming. All he needs is time.  

So Danny makes some somewhat dramatic sounds and kicks out with his feet, because a fight lasts longer than a passive victim. He lands a hit to the man’s stomach, and another to his chest—he doesn’t drop Danny the way Danny might have expected, but Danny isn’t going to run out of air, so this can last forever until the man lets go. Or does something.

“Stop— coming— back,” the man snarls, and suddenly sounds nothing like the dudes who man the tech counter at the Walmart. “I got you— you should be gone!” 

Danny is gone. But he’s also here. And he’s also been gone for a very long time, and he’s also getting choked out by a guy in a gas station parking lot. It’s been a rough few hours of waiting for this dude. He might as well make it worth it. 

So maybe his body turns a little translucent. Just a little. Just enough to see the streetlight through his skin, probably, and the hazy road behind them. 

Getting thrown to the concrete hurts, but, you know, not as badly as getting tossed into a wall by Skulker on a rampage. Danny’s barely going to be bruised after this. 

The guy runs to his car, and Danny frowns, scrambling back up, and, wait. Wouldn’t having bruises be better? As evidence? They better not heal too quickly, or else that’ll be it of his physical proof. 

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, more perplexed and angry than anything. Isn’t he supposed to try to kill the witness??

But the guy hauls butt into the cab of his truck— and then the lights go on and the tires start spinning, the engine roaring to life. 

If Danny wasn’t actively on camera at the moment, it would be easy to fly after the car. As it is, he’s pretty fast, but he’s not quite quick enough on his feet to chase after a pickup truck careening down the highway in the dark. 

The man’s gone in a few seconds. Honestly, Danny’s kind of annoyed about the whole thing. It would have been nice for it to work. 

Sam climbs down from the roof of the gas station, phone in her hand. “No, I just— he choked out my friend and drove off! Send someone over here already!! You— do you need the license plate again?!” 

Danny just looks at her. Sam covers her phone’s mic with a hand: “They’re saying five minutes,” she mouths. 

Great. 

Danny hunkers down, throat bruising, and Sam sits down beside him. They wait.  

By the time the cops pull into the gas station, the guy’s more than out of sight. Sam’s the one who takes the lead on dictating their story. Danny sort of doesn’t realize how out of it he is until someone tries to throw a shock blanket on him. He almost hits the guy square in the face— and Sam’s the one who has to catch his arm. 

Uh. Oops. 

Jazz and Tucker roll in, hardly pretending to have not been nearby; Jazz wraps her arms around him, and Danny lets her. 

Sue him. It’s late. He’s tired. 

“...And I can’t believe you weren’t able to get down the road in time to catch a man who choked out my best friend,” Sam snaps, which, aw! Danny’s a best friend. The cop she’s attempting to strip down for parts looks less sympathetic than Danny feels. “You’re barely a ten minute drive up the highway! What were you doing, meandering?” 

“No,” the cop grits out, eying Sam like a bug on his shoe. “We were telling the officer down the road what to look out for.” 

Apparently, jamming the gas down hard enough to bust your speedometer gets you pulled over at the speed check. 

The night is over before Danny knows it. Someone gets him to the station, someone takes photos of his bruises and takes his statement. Someone calls Mom and Dad and then Danny’s in the GAV, half asleep and exhausted beyond belief. 

He falls asleep on the couch, Mom’s fingers in his hair. 

*

It’s not like the Amity Park police tell them anything, but Jazz is the one who finds the report on the news. 

She records it on the TiVo for him. 

“Eustace Miller, from Tennessee,” Sam reads aloud, knee to knee on his couch. Tucker adjusts his glasses. “Looks like he was already on the run.” 

“Or as good as,” Tucker agrees quietly. “Looks like they’re pinning a couple of cold cases to him.” 

They watch; there’s pictures of him from his hometown, and from the towns he would visit on his joyride across the country. There were pictures of his family. There were pictures of kids Danny would never meet: kids who were already dead, and who had been for months. Years, even. 

They’d looked so happy in the photos from when they were alive. 

…Danny could relate. 

Jazz turns the report off that night, thumb on the power button. And that’s all it takes for Danny to stop waking up in a trash bag. 

[noisilyscreechingsong]

The Justice League finds out about the Anti-Ecto Acts, and Batman is the driving force behind condemning them. He even goes so far as to summon popular ghost hero Phantom for advice, given that his son, Red Hood, would absolutely fall under those Acts. Phantom...tells him he's wrong.

Red Hood is 100%, completely and totally alive. Same soul, same body, sort of the same person. Only 'sort of' because people change as they grow, so obviously he isn't going to be the same person he was when he was fifteen.

There's not a trace of ecto in him, or in any of the Bats. None of them are even liminal.

Batman asks if he's sure. If he's really, really sure. Because ghosts run on emotions, and Red Hood came back extremely violent and irrational.

"Well yeah, of course he did," Phantom deadpans, and Batman suddenly feels very, very small under that glare. "He was murdered, unavenged, told that there was no way he was the same person when he came back pissed, and had his words as a victim ignored. I'd get violent too. Look, I gotta go, but thanks for getting the Acts removed."

[noisilyscreechingsong]

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Happy 20th Anniversary 👻💚

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Vampire Misunderstanding

So! Danny got adopted by Bruce Wayne, but he doesn't know that Bruce is the Batman. He is just supernaturally oblivious to all things Batman related going on in the House.

But he does notice that Bruce leaves home a lot at night, that he doesn't like to go out in the day and often has his parties at night, and once or twice he's caught Bruce with a bit if blood still splattered on his cheek.

So he comes to the only plausible conclusion. Bruce is a Vampire.

He starts trying to hint at the fact that he knows, but doesn't want to just go out and say it. What if Bruce reacts negatively to him knowing? He's dealt with enough Supernatural Beings to know that they don't like other people (and especially other supernatural beings) intruding on their lives.

So Danny decided to subtly hint at it.

He started asking questions like "So hypothetically, how would you deal with having a Garlic Allergy in Gotham?" Or "So if you had very sensitive skin that could sunburn extremely easily, how much cloud cover would you need to go outside?" And "So what's your opinion on a High-Iron Diet?"

Basically just tossing out questions and trying to Guage Bruce's reaction.

He thinks he's doing a good job!

...

Bruce is certain that he has adopted a Vampire.

Danny is a good kid, but he has a few oddities that are hard to ignore.

For one, his skin is constantly Ice Cold, but he never seens to be bothered by it. As if he was an Undead that didn't require Body Heat anymore.

He also seems to like Hanging out in the Graveyard outside, and when asked about it he says that he is comforted by the place. Just like the Vampires he has met in the past, who feel comfortable when surrounded by Death.

And of course the biggest reason for suspicion is the fact that Danny seems to be hinting at it to him.

He keeps asking stuff like "How would you deal with a Garlic Allergy in Gotham?", probably trying to hint that he is a Vampire who can't eat Garlic, or asking about easy to sunburn skin, saying that he is probably not a Daywalker.

Bruce hopes Danny will just come clean about it soon, he doesn't want to intrude upon the kid when he is so obviously nervous about how he will react.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

DPxDC Prompt

Danny doesn't have the best spatial awareness, you'd think he would given his bout as a vigilante, but his rogues all had the convenient ability of setting off his ghost sense and letting him know when to turn on his awareness.

So when he was taken in by Bruce Wayne in Gotham, far away from any ghosts or portals, he just didn't have any reason to be on guard. It worked well for him since his vigilante days were over and he could put all his focus on school again.

But you see, when he was first taken in, it was just him and his foster brother Tim staying at the manor.

Fast forward to now, Danny gets home from school to find not only Bruce waiting at the table for dinner, but a kid who looks surprisingly like Bruce??? The kid is small, rude and trying to be threatening in a way Danny doesn't really see as such, like the kid is like 8 how much could they really do???

Turns out a lot.

After Danny and Tim sat down and the introductions were made, Bruce filled them in on the situation that was Damian. Tim seemed to take it as a new puzzle, looking to Damian and Bruce periodically as if he could get answers simply by staring. Danny took it in stride, it isn't that unusually for a rich guy to have secret flings that result in children down the line.

Dinner was in full swing when it happened, there had been some bantering the entire time and many threats of bodily harm coming from Damian which weren't met with as many reprimands as Danny assumed it should. A distinct thunk sound was heard after a particularly harsh threat and Danny looked over to see a knife now embedded in Tim's chair where his head once was.

Before he could react, Bruce was standing with a sharp reprimand and Danny collided harshly with his chair as a new knife embedded itself in his shoulder. He cried out in shock, it has been over a year since his last ghost fight and honestly he forgot how much that hurts!

Aka, Bruce and Dick are forced to take Damian's threats more seriously when the civilian Danny is in the crossfire instead of just the trained vigilante Tim.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Abigail, the 4-year-old hostage who was freed from Hamas terrorists after 51 days in their brutal captivity, is now reunited with her aunt and grandmother.

Why not her parents? Well, they were both slaughtered before her eyes during the October 7th massacre by the same savages who held her hostage.

Her coming home is a joyous moment for us all, but make no mistake, Abigail was orphaned by bloodthirsty, antisemitic Hamas barbarians; her neighbors were slaughtered, burned alive, shot and kidnapped. We will keep fighting these terrorists and make sure that no more 4-year-olds are ever orphaned or held captive by them.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.