#Danny will never forget

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Phantom: You know you could’ve used your authority as Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms to stop him, right?

Red Hood: She could what? You’re a what??

Jazz: I was told to only use those powers in an emergency.

Red Hood: You didn’t think being kidnapped by a fucking robot ghost hunter out to skin us alive and hang our pelts as trophies on his wall constituted as an emergency?!

Jazz: No, that happens like every other Tuesday for Phantom here.

Phantom: …

Phantom: I was going to argue but yeah, that tracks.

Red Hood: un-fucking-believable.

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is an ao3 writer

Hear me out!

Y'know how there's a running joke that ao3 authors/writers will put in the author's notes that they're sorry that they took so long to update and their reason is because of either they got into a horrible accident/ life threatening health issue/serious personal issues/ their life went up in flames figuratively or literally, or somehow a combination of all of those scenarios. And they're all like "Well enjoy the chapter! tee-hee!" and everybody who's reading it all collectively go "are you okay?!" (aka the ao3 writers curse)

So I want to take this, and add Danny

Danny begins taking a liking to the classic literature that Mr. Lancer talks about during class and decides to writes a fanfic about it along those lines. It all starts for when he writes a Pride and Prejudice fic where Charlotte gets a better life where she's both happy and comfortable. And when he gets pretty supportive comments about it. He starts writing fics for other books as well (and it never stops)

During that time, who else but the Jane Austen fan, Jason Todd reads this fic. Yes he reads fanfic (do not ask him about his ao3 history), he yearns for more Jane Austen, but unfortunately she's not exactly able to write more books for him to read. So he turns to ao3 where there are some people who have incredible talent for writing pretty good regency era romance.

So what happens when he finds a couple of Pride and Prejudice stories written by " HalfDeadHalfAliveWriter

And when reading through the stories and looking at the author's notes.

All with very weird scenarios happening to the writer that he can't be sure that if it's a joke or if it's an actual thing he should be very worried about.

Author's notes such as:

Sorry it took so long for me to update this I was being shot at by my parents and ended up getting a burn on my hand and couldn't use my computer for awhile.

Sorry the chapter's so short, all the people in my town are being possessed by a hoard of angry ghosts because somebody had a bright idea to steal an artifact that belongs to an ancient civilization. So I had to get this out quick before they ruin my wifi connection

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I had to fight off a crazy guy that is obsessed with killing my father so he could marry my mother and become my new stepfather.

Sorry for the wait I got sent back to Ancient Egypt by my mentor to hunt down a runaway ghost that was messing with time.

But honestly the most recent author's note on a fic that hadn't been updated in week is what makes Jason really worried.

Sorry for not updating for a couple months guys, I was taken by a government agency that started vivisecting and torturing me. Thankfully my sister and friends busted me out and now I'm working on healing up. Anyway here's the Great Gatsby fic where Nick and Gatsby kiss.

After reading that author's note, Jason just sits there thinking only one thing.

What the fuck?

[confessedlyfannish]

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!"

[bluerosefox]

Tim, buddy, what do you mean you might had accidentally made a Love Child?!

Danny finds out that

1. He's a clonish 'love child' of two heroes

2. He was accidentally created during one of his donors mental break downs after losing his father and best friends (one of which was his other donor)

3. CW interfered before his creator realized what he made and pulled him out of that dimension because "it would had lead that world to true ruin if he found out at his state of mind. He's better now but it would had been the final straw for him should anything had happened to you in his care and given who he had to partner up with later... I did what I had to."

4. Due to Danny having a bad fall out with his parents after he told them about being Phantom (they didn't attack him... but they did disown him.) Danny is left adrift of what to do. He doesn't wanna bug Jazz, she's in college and dorming. Tuckers place has no room. Sam's parents would never let him stay. Vlad was a definitely a no go. And Dani (Ellie) last check in was near the Amazon rainforest.

5. Danny finds out some of his powers might not be as ghostly as he thought... it does explain the huge power boost some of his powers have compared to other ghosts.

6. He went to Clockwork... who proceeded to tell him the truth, smile his cryptic smile while saying "and now. Have fun this time around. I'll see you again in due time Daniel." Before yeeting him into a portal.

7. Danny woke up in his home dimension.... deaged to being five years old (the age he would be if he stayed and grew by now) (DC timeline is slower than DP in this)

8. He woke up apparently his creator's home city... during a Gala (Danny woke up in a garden, dazed and confused. His memories are fuzzy)... and wandered into the party... and apparently he looked like a perfect mix of his.. dads? Which catches A LOT of peoples attention.

9. Especially with Tim Drake-Wayne and Conner Kent-Luthor just announcing they're dating that very night.

10. Rumors and gossip of a random kid, who looks just like the recent happily announced couple, go flying quickly among the elite... and reaches certain ears before it gets to batfam and supers (I have a feeling they learned how to block out rumors and gossips during these events)

11. Those ears happen to be Lex Luthor and Ra's al Ghul (both who are there at the Gala just to annoy and unnerve the Bats and Supers)

12. By the time the rumors get to Tim and Conner, they find Danny almost getting taken away by one of those two.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 26

Robins look of utter rage fills Danny with adrenaline as he puts the petal to the metal to escape the stabby birds vengeance.

Danny wasn't too worried, after all the car he stole was the Batmobile and he was pretty sure Boy Wonder couldn't hurt the car without being grounded or something.

Whatever. He didn't really even plan to keep the car anyway.

He just needed a way to get them to Amity. Sam and a few other kids had gone missing after she lead a protest against the GIW over the anyi-ecto acts and thier treatment of ghosts and Tucker disappeared a few days later after he got back hacked while trying to find where they took her.

Danny wasn't stupid enough to go in as either Fenton or Ancients forbid, Phantom so he needed help. Unfortunately his track record for asking for help usually ended with him being talked over, talked down to, ridiculed, ignored, ect. So naturally he had to take things into his own hands as usual.

Thus stealing the Batmobile and doing the metaphorical equivalent or hitting a bat flavored hornets nest with a stick and hoping he doesn't die the rest of the way.

He is from the Midwest and this situation was awkward enough to activate his hospitality instincts so he offers to take music requests over the com lines (much to Red Robins bafflement). They of course have noticed a lack of Oracles involvement by this point and Danny informs them of his heavily modified Amazon fire stick and that he used it to not only knock Oracle out of the game -mostly to keep her from hacking into the batmobile and giving him a one way ticket to juvie- but also give him what was pretty much an hologram version of an instruction booklet for the fancy car hes driving.

Yeah, he doesn't know any of the bypass or security codes, but now he doesn't have to wonder that all the buttons do...and if they'll eject him.

Eventually they make it out of Gotham, the bats are miffed and tired. The sun is coming up and the fuzzy fighters break off to return to thier city.

They're likely going to use the trackers in the vehicle to find it once Danny parks so they don't end up chasing him all over the continent.

Good. All according to plan.

Except he waits a day after returning to Amity and hiding the car.

Then two.

Then four pass by without so much as a wing beat.

After five days Danny decides he can't wait anymore and goes back to Gotham to steal more bat themed items. That jet looked rather nice...

In the meantime the bats are flummoxed as to why they can't find this kid

Turns out large amounts of ecto radiation renders most tracking useless. Who knew?

Eventually Danny has a whole collection of expensive bat things and he, on the verge of a breakdown, drives back to Gotham in the GAV (bear in mind hes 14 and has no license throughout all of this) uses the GAV to kidnap Bruce Wayne. He apologizes profusely but explains the situation and that he really needs Batmans help but he seems to be refusing to get involved. So naturally he has to kidnap his sugar daddy to force his hand.

[azulhood]

Conversations between best friends has often led to some reckless/stupid/not thought out at all decisions. Like one conversation the amity park trio had where Danny said that he couldn't see Tucker as a doctor (the medical kind) to which Tucker responded with "Alright, bet." and enrolled in medical school. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Bruce Wayne and Tucker Foley somehow by coincidence *cough* clockwork* became friends. And stayed friends even after Bruce dropped out and Tucker went on to finish med school. It was a strange friendship that was mainly just Bruce calling Tucker from the weirdest locations and asking things "Out of curiosity, if an immortal nutjob wanted you to marry his daughter and become his heir what would you do? uh-huh, uh-huh, really? ok, thanks." and meeting up for coffee every now and then. It was during one of these coffee meet-ups that Bruce confessed that he wanted to adopt a recently orphaned child by the name of Richard. There was currently push back from people who didn't think 'Brucie Wayne' would be a good parent and from others who didn't want a random kid having a chance to inherit the Wayne fortune, the media was also having a field day. Everyone kept asking him to "reconsider" and doing everything they can to stall/stop the adoption process. Tucker, being the good friend he was, said "Don't worry, I got this" Stood up from the cafe table, walked to the nearest library and politely asked to use one of their computers, spent a good ten minutes on it, printed something out on the library's printer, walked back to the cafe where he left Bruce waiting. And finally, he handed over the paper with the words "Take this." and continued drinking his now cold coffee. Bruce was, understandably, confused. "What is-" "Trust me, it'll work." Tucker assured him. That is how Bruce Wayne adopted one Richard 'Dick' Grayson.

And after that, Bruce went to Tucker whenever he came across a kid that he wanted to adopt, which was often. It's one reason why Tucker will do everything in his power to make sure Danny and Bruce never meet for fear that the Gothamite might try to add the Halfa to the growing army of children. Aka

Tucker Foley is The Guy

[nelkcats]

Death Loves No One

Cause if he did he'd want to keep them forever

After obtaining the title as Ghost King and losing all his family, Danny started to feel lonely. He had friends, ghosts that would stay for eternity by his side but it wasn't the same. Danny felt that his personal connections were what kept him sane, the evenings with Clockwork calmed him down, but it wasn't the same calm that Jazz used to provide.

So, when he was given the title of Equilibrium it wasn't really a big deal. It was just another title among a thousand others, Clockwork advised him to visit earth to discover his purpose but also warned him that he would not look human.

Danny accepted it but didn't take it seriously, he couldn't help but get scared when people started screaming around him. He wasn't doing anything weird, he was visiting the cemetery, his family's graves, but everyone was running away scared.

He realized that since he lost Jazz (the last one to leave) he no longer looked human. He wondered if it was possible that someone might be interested in talking to him but dismissed it. Some people began to nickname him "Death" because all he did was stay in the cemetery.

That's why it was extremely rare to find a boy calling him every day and making a small talk, he became attached to the boy. The boy would visit different graves but always stayed to talk to him, never yelled, or called him a bad name. Danny couldn't help but love him the same way he loved his family.

He wasn't surprised that the boy died soon after (knowing him brought misfortune didn't it?), but he never stopped visiting the cemetery. So, when the boy rose from his grave completely disoriented, Danny wondered if it was somehow his fault.

[phantom-0-writer]

prompt 03: angry colors

inspired by this post abt dick

tbh idr like this that much but it was a real big brain itch so i thought i'd air it out

-

Dick came back to his apartment much later than he intended, losing track of time while he was tracking a lead he had gotten for a case. He sighed as he slipped through the window of his apartment, taking off his domino ready to face the mess he knew he had left the apartment as. But when he turned into the kitchen the dishes that had been piling up in the sink were gone, and the sink was even cleaned and shining in a way Dick hadn’t seen it ever do. Instinctively he checked the cabinets to check if he had been robbed, but the dishes were inside, clean, dry and put away.

Confused, Dick opened the fridge to get a cold glass of water only belatedly remembering he had forgotten to fill the jug up in his rush to get to work that morning. But there it was, full of water, the frost around the glass providing evidence it had been in there for at least a few hours. Maybe past-Dick had done him a favor that present-Dick had forgotten about. 

Gulping down the cold water, Dick headed towards the bathroom to freshen up and change into comfy sweats. The bathroom was through the living room, where he knew he would find a tower of pizza boxes weeks old, and crumbs would crunch under his feet. There was a pile of dirty laundry that was left in his bathroom floor that he should probably take care of, but Dick couldn’t find the energy in himself to put in the effort. 

“Maybe tomorrow.” Dick mumbled to himself for the 5th time that week, as he trudged through his apartment. His crystal clean apartment. There were vacuum marks on the carpet, no pizza boxes, and the pillows on the couch had been arranged and fluffed. The flowers Kory had given him were pruned and placed beautifully in a glass vase he knew hadn’t been there that morning. The TV was on, he noticed, his current show ready to play at the press of a button, and remote placed on the corner of the sofa he always sat at. 

“What is happening?” Dick asked himself out loud, befuddled. He checked the room for cameras or listening devices. Nothing. 

Alfred wasn’t the type to drop by for a surprise visit and leave without telling Dick. 

The bathroom was also a victim to whatever happened to the rest of his apartment. The floor had been mopped, the clothes were gone, the toilet, shower, and sink were clean and organized. There was even a clean towel and Dick’s favorite lounge set ready folded by the shower. The grime on Dick’s body felt out of place in the pristine apartment. 

Dick would definitely be looking the gift horse in the mouth. But maybe it could wait after he showered. 

While he showered, Dick let his mind wander. He thought about the strange newfound cleanliness of the apartment, wondering what or why it could’ve been. Was this another Tim situation? Something nagged at the back of Dick’s mind, something important, but he couldn’t remember what. 

That something important was in the living room, head snapping in Dick’s direction as the bathroom door opened, and standing at attention. 

Holy shit. Dick forgot he had a kid. He’d forgotten a whole child was living with him now.

Oh, he was such a dick. 

“I didn’t hear the door so I didn’t know you were home yet.” The boy- Daniel - rushed to explain when he caught Dick’s eyes on him. 

Still grappling with the fact that he had fully forgotten there was a child he was supposed to be taking care of now, Dick said the first reasonable response that came to mind. “I used the window,” Daniel already knew about Dick’s night job as Nightwing thanks to the circumstances Dick had found him under. 

Dick wasn’t sure why that answer had elicited a panicked apology from the 8 year old. But Dick wasn’t sure what had happened to Daniel before he had found him, but apparently they would have to dig into that at 4:30 AM. Maybe Dick should call off work tomorrow. 

Dick tried to get closer to Daniel but when his shoulders seemed to go impossibly more stiff, Dick took the sign to stay in his spot and kneeled on one leg so he would be face level with Daniel. “Daniel,” Dick made sure his voice was calm and inviting but the boy still flinched, “Did you clean the apartment?” 

“Yes, sir.” There was fear in Daniel’s eyes that Dick couldn’t help but be concerned by, but his voice was even when he spoke. 

“Why?” Dick asked calmly, making sure to keep his body language open. 

Daniel looked startled by the question, eyes darting over Dick trying to find the answer he thought Dick was looking for. When he couldn’t find it he looked around the room. Dick watched him, waiting for his response. “Because,” Daniel started hesitantly, voice shaking slightly, “Because it was dirt- messy.” his voice was a whisper as he spoke. 

“But you didn’t make that mess, so why did you clean it?” Dick prompted, fearing for where he could see this conversation going. 

“So you- so that-” Daniel looked like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. 

“I want you to be honest, Daniel. You won’t get in trouble.” Dick added quietly. 

Daniel tried to decipher if he was lying, a familiar analytical look in his eyes. After a long moment Dick wondered if he just wouldn’t respond. But when Daniel answered, it hadn’t been at all what he had been expecting. “So that you wouldn’t be angry at me.”

Coupled with his earlier fumble of forgetting the kid, Dick felt like he had just been gutted. “What?” Dick heard himself say. Daniel looked alarmed at the reaction, so Dick spoke again quickly. “I’m not angry at you Danny,” a nickname he had given the boy slipped onto his tongue, “I’m not angry at all why would you think so?” 

Tears were beginning to well in Daniel’s eyes, “You are angry.” He sounded scared, his voice wobbly. 

“I promise I’m not angry. Or mad. Or annoyed. Or irritated.” Dick reassurances seemed to do nothing for the boy. The reservoir under Daniel’s eyes was getting fuller, threatening to spill. So he tried a different approach, “What makes you think I’m angry, Danny?” 

“Because the-” Daniel tried to find the words, so Dick waited. “Your heart has angry colors.” He finally said.

Dick tried to decipher what that meant. Angry colors? He’d have to circle back to that later. “So you cleaned the apartment because you thought I was angry?” Dick summarized. 

Daniel nodded, he considered something for a moment. “Jazz said that if you’re good at something then people will like you and not be angry. And I’m good at cleaning.” 

“Did the people you were with before get angry at you a lot?” Dick asked, trying to keep his promise of not getting angry. 

“That’s why I cleaned.” Daniel nodded. 

Dick forced himself to stay calm. He may have a meta child that could sense emotions in his hands and he did not want to test that theory by blowing up in front of him. 

Not a child- he corrected himself- his child. Danny was his son. And maybe Dick didn’t know how to be a dad, but he knew how not to be a dad. And that had to be some kind of start. Today would be a one time thing, Dick promised himself, and Danny would never know and never feel like he was forgotten much less by his dad.

He would save the conversation about that for the morning, after a good night's sleep. “How about some ice cream, since you worked so hard?”

[imekitty]

It's Jack and Maddie's anniversary~

Also May 9 was a Friday in 2003 so I guess Prisoners of Love took place in 2003.

Also also lmao Jack in his jumpsuit and Maddie in her goggles at their wedding.

I know it's just a cake topper but I have no doubt that's what they actually wore.

[reindeerswillsavethisworld]

Corpse au case fic where the trio decided to try cracking a murder mystery, except instead of angst it's a comedy of errors where they make everything worse.

Like. Danny comes out of a portal dead and translucent and glowing, and there's charred remains of a human body on the floor. So now all three of them are freaking out, and instead of asking for help, or finding an adult, or telling literally ANYONE, they decide to just. Get rid of the body. As one does.

So that's what they do: they break out Tucker's nice shovels (because god forbid Sam's family owned something as pheasant as a shovel, and Danny's too afraid of touching their family's Patented Fenton ShovelsTM for... reasons), they find a nice desolate clearing in the woods, and then they bury Danny's body like one would a very unfortunate hamster who met their demise too soon under very suspicious circumstances. They even stay at the new "grave" in silence for a minute or five in respect and DEFINITELY nothing else, you know. And so, they bury the body, and then they (try to) forget the experience as some horrific nightmare.

And then, a year later, there's an uproar: the Amity Park's police department found the child's remains in the woods! And you see, Amity Park is not THAT big of a town, and the police estimated that the body belonged to a 14-15 year old child, and, look, there's only so many schools in a small town, alright. Obviously, the rumours start very soon in Casper High: about how the kid could've gone to their school, about how they could've died, about whether or not anybody was missing them, about their identity, and some definitely-truthworthy-would-I-lie-to-you-bro-come-on sources insist that the kid was murdered around a year ago, around the time ghosts started showing up. And these rumours obviously reach the ears of Sam, Danny and Tucker.

Now, you would've thought that their first thought would be something like "oh no, they found Danny's body", or "oh no, they know", or even simply "we're sooo fucked". Except. You see, the night they buried the body? It was really cloudy. And dark. And, y'know, it's very easy to get lost in a forest. And they were too high-strung, you see, they completely forgot to leave some sort of a marker or anything. And also like, it was so long ago, you know? A lot have happened, they were sooo busy and the likes, you can't really blame them for forgetting some things.

And here's lies the problem: all three of them just fucking forgot that there was a body left to bury at all.

And then it gets out that the police can't even conduct any sort of DNA test because it became corrupted to the point of being absolutely unrecognisable due to exposure to a large amount of ecto-energy.

It's now looks like a bad set up for a joke: an identifiable body of a child, cause of death unknown; the probable involvement of ghosts or at the very least a very large quantity of ecto-energy; a probable murderer on the loose, which naturally breeds suspicion and speculation; a town full of all kinds of rumours; and a trio of absolute dumbasses, who after hearing that ghosts were involved immediately went to stick their noses where they don't belong.

Rejoice, Amity Park! Sam, Danny and Tucker are now on the case! Except they are all teenagers, and nobody in their right mind will allow teenagers to solve a murder case. Plus, them poking around would be highly suspicious, but Phantom, on the other hand?

(people seeing Phantom helping solve this case and coming to the conclusion that the ghosts were definitely involved was not on their bingo card, but oh well)

They don't go to the cops, obviously: Danny at least in part because he's worried they will call GIW on his ass or try to arrest him, and Sam and Tucker simply because fuck the cops (one because the police is involved in a militaristic, capitalistic corrupted system that breeds injustice and furthers the divide between average people and the wealthy, and the other because cops suck and will probably call GIW on his friend's ass). They also can't go to any other authorities: cops are out of the question, as is the mayor; laboratory personnel will most likely just throw them out; and there're no witnesses or known relatives, so they're stuck.

Therefore they decide that desperate times need desperate measures, and so they enlist all of their ghost allies on a quest, hoping to find the ghost of the kid. Considering the amount of ecto-energy they were subjected to, they MUST have formed a ghost, they only need to find them.

Except. The Ghost Zone is a big place, and they only have so many allies, even if some of them are a queen and a god. So Danny bites the bullet and does the most stupid (debatable) thing he has ever done: he goes to his enemies for help. They're surprisingly understanding and willing to help, even if some of their reasons are a little... strange (Skulker and Johnny entered some sort of competition on who finds the ghost first, Box Ghost starts to seek out coffins (??) and Youngblood is not above to start torturing people to finally have a friend that is not either an adult or a complete stick in the mud). And even then they still can't find the ghost.

In the end Danny goes to Clockwork in a desperate hope that he will be able to glimpse at least a little of what had transpired on the night of the murder, and to Danny's annoyance Clockwork laughs so hard he almost pops a ghost equivalent of a blood vessel.

A few weeks down the line Sam hesitantly brings up Danny's buried corpse ("MY WHAT" "Your corpse which we buried in the woods, Danny, don't you remember?" "Yeah, bro, I think you dissociated the whole time we were digging the hole and carrying your dead body" "WE DID WHAT-"), reasonably saying that, you know, they ALSO technically buried a body in the woods. On that Tucker just shrugs because obviously it was not Danny's body, the place of the burial was way off, he remembers that there was a really big stone to the left of the grave (he doesn't and there wasn't), so they are in the clear. During that exchange Danny's sitting on the floor and having a panic attack, because he really did dissociate the whole time and afterwards legitimately forgot that there was a body to bury at all.

After that conversation all three of them leave with a certainty that Danny's body is still there where they left it, whenever it was. And so the shenanigans continue.

[fuckinart]

The most important factor in toxicity is the chemical structure of a substance—what it is made of, what atoms and molecules it contains and how they are arranged.

[katandmouse]

Tonight’s show was absolutely insane. They were unhinged!! THEY PLAYED CARAVEL!!! And Josh started singing Flower Power on B stage but was all like oh never mind! We were all so sad we thought we were getting Flower Power 😭 and when Josh came out in the black jumpsuit I nearly lost it… plus JAKES NEW SUIT WITH THE BLOODY DAGGER? And Sam’s new suit is so freaking cool, and Danny in red makes me feral, actually… tonight was all around incredible, I can’t wait to go through my concert videos 😩 nobody was prepared for tonight and it was such an unforgettable night with amazing new friends 💗

[anthemofgvf]

so many thoughts…so many thoughts

[kiachnishsblog]

this trend has been dead but I wanted to draw my fav characters together so…

[thatrandomsarahchick]

New headcanon of mine: someone from the GIW wished that they could go after 'ectoplasmic entities' without opposition. Desiree had to grant it, and this is how the anti-ecto acts were actually passed into law. The other side effect is that any calls for help get redirected to someone who either won't believe or won't help them.