DPXDC Prompt# 7- Phantom Ph.D

who is this divaaa

I need more of Danny and Sad Tench-coat man/Tired Dad Constantine

Danny gets summoned by the Justice League and it’s playing along as the terrifying Ghost King when Constantine bursts through the door to ask them ‘What the bloody hell they think they’re doing?!’ Before he spots Danny and just sighs

Danny however just does a 180 from >:( ‘Big bad Ghost King’ to :D “Constantine!”

Everybody is just watching as Danny opens a portal to his office and reaches in, pulling out Constantine’s ridiculous amount paperwork.

Danny: :D

Constantine: nO-

Danny Does like spending time with Constantine, and spends time and even stays over in the House of Mystery when he needs to take a break from King Stuff-

Constantine: What are you doing in my house…what are you doing in my hOUSE

Danny: I want Waffle Fries 🟢w🟢

hey

hey friend

dont kill yourself tonight ok

you have a really pretty smile and i know its not always easy to manage one but itd be a bummer if we never had the chance to see it ever again

youre really important and you matter a lot so stay safe and try and have a nice sleep

DP X Marvel #14

It all started with a ghost. A very loud, very neon, very annoying ghost that thought it was a great idea to haunt Stark Tower. Danny Fenton—part-time student, full-time accidental hero, and perpetually exhausted teen—was just trying to track the damn thing through the Manhattan skyline when his portal malfunctioned (again), exploded in his face (again), and slingshotted him across the sky, straight through a window that turned out to be reinforced vibranium glass.

It should’ve stopped him. It didn’t.

Cue the alarms. Cue the dozens of defense drones locking onto his energy signature. Cue a 19-year-old Danny dangling upside down in the penthouse, surrounded by billion-dollar murder bots, trying to explain to a very confused AI that he was not, in fact, an alien invader.

But before FRIDAY could blast him into oblivion, a small voice piped up from behind a couch. “Are you a fairy?”

Danny blinked. Dangling upside down. Singed suit. Ectoplasm dripping from his hair. “Uh. Sure.”

The voice belonged to a tiny, curly-haired gremlin wearing a tutu, light-up sneakers, and what looked like Tony Stark’s old Iron Man helmet—three sizes too big and twice as chaotic. This was Morgan Stark. Age: five. Chaos level: eldritch god. She approached him like a cat approaches a new toy: equal parts curiosity and threat assessment.

“Can you do sparkles?” she asked.

Danny shot a tiny beam of ecto-energy at the ceiling light, which exploded into fireworks.

Morgan gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A FAIRY.”

And that was how Danny Fenton became Morgan Stark’s official babysitter.

It wasn’t like he volunteered. Or got paid. Or even agreed. Tony Stark had been out of the country—something about a diplomatic mess in Wakanda and a golf game with T’Challa. Pepper had begged Steve Rogers to watch Morgan, but Steve’s idea of babysitting was forcing a child to recite the Constitution. So Pepper, desperate and very, very sleep-deprived, walked into her penthouse to find a teenage boy hovering in midair while her daughter screamed “FAIRY GODBRO” at him and decided, “Yeah. Sure. This’ll do.”

“Can you keep her alive?” Pepper asked, not even blinking at the glowing green eyes.

Danny shrugged. “Uh. I guess?”

“You get dental.”

Danny had no idea what that meant but was too scared to argue.

By Day Three, he was in hell. Not the Ghost Zone. Not some apocalyptic alternate timeline. Actual hell. Or what felt like it. Morgan had no concept of mortality. She once duct-taped kitchen knives to her arms and yelled “I’M WOLVERINE NOW.” Another time, she tried to feed their Roomba peanut butter and sobbed when it wouldn’t eat.

Danny tried to keep up. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was also being hunted by an interdimensional ghost warlord named Balthazar the Undying who decided Stark Tower was a great place to stage his declaration of conquest. So in between coloring pages and singing “Let It Go” for the 57th time (because Morgan said if he didn’t, she’d tell everyone he “pees ectoplasm”), Danny was banishing ancient horrors to the Shadow Realm.

“Why does the air taste like sadness?” Morgan asked one morning, sipping chocolate milk while a spectral hand clawed its way out of the floor behind her.

Danny shot it with a laser without looking. “That’s just the trauma, kid.”

She nodded like that made sense.

By Day Five, things got weirder.

Bruce Banner came over to “assess the babysitter.” What he found was a 19-year-old ghost hybrid making chicken nuggets with one hand while performing an exorcism on a sentient blender with the other. Bruce blinked. “You’re multitasking.”

Danny, dead-eyed and covered in slime: “You’re not my real dad.”

Bruce left after Morgan bit him.

Then Peter Parker dropped by. He took one look at Danny—haggard, twitching, wearing a tiara—and whispered, “Oh my god, he is a hot mess.”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, using his foot to hold down a haunted Roomba. “Help me tie up the possessed dolls.”

Peter did not help. He just filmed everything for TikTok. The video went viral under the title “Me when I leave a random ghost fairy babysitter with Tony Stark’s child and come back to find him summoning the underworld during snack time.”

Nick Fury saw the video and sent a S.W.O.R.D. strike team to investigate.

Morgan beat them with a plastic lightsaber.

On Day Seven, Danny woke up to find Morgan riding a flying toaster around the living room like it was a dragon.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?”

“I summoned it,” she said proudly.

“HOW.”

“I made a deal with your ghost friends.”

Danny’s left eye twitched so hard he saw the Ghost Zone.

Pepper walked in on him mid-breakdown. “You’ve been great with her,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We haven’t seen her this happy since… well, ever.”

Danny, clinging to the ceiling like a feral raccoon, wheezed, “I think she opened a portal to the Necroplane. There’s a demon named Craig living in the fridge.”

Pepper patted his arm. “All babysitters say that.”

Craig opened the fridge and waved. “Sup.”

By Week Two, Danny had stopped pretending to be normal. He phased through walls, levitated toys, vaporized anything that smelled like danger, and occasionally screamed “I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS” into the void.

Tony finally came home. He blinked at the scene: Danny napping upside down like a bat while Morgan built a nuclear reactor out of old toaster parts and a Roomba named Kevin.

“Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “My fairy godbrother. He banished an evil frog ghost and helped me build an orbital laser.”

Tony stared. “Huh. Alright.”

And just like that, Danny Fenton became part of the Avengers.

He didn’t sign anything. He didn’t train. He didn’t even get a uniform. But every time something exploded or a portal opened or some ancient deity said “BEHOLD MY TRUE FORM,” Danny just floated into the air, cracked his back like an old man, and said, “Not in front of the child, you drama bitch.”

Morgan, from her juice box throne: “YEET HIM INTO THE VOID, DANNY.”

And he did.

It only got worse when the other Avengers got involved.

Natasha tried to teach Morgan how to do spy stuff. Morgan used the techniques to sneak into Tony’s wine cellar and replace the labels with glitter glue and threats.

Thor visited once. Morgan asked if she could ride his hammer. He said no. She cried. The hammer floated toward her on its own. Danny had to wrestle it away.

Clint brought over a bow and arrow set. Morgan hit Peter in the ass with a suction cup dart. Danny laughed so hard he choked on ectoplasm.

Wanda stared at Danny for a full ten minutes before whispering, “You’re not from this plane.”

Danny, deadpan: “Neither is your eyeliner.”

They became friends.

One night, Danny woke up to find Morgan drawing summoning circles on the walls in glitter glue.

“Whatcha doing, champ?”

“Trying to summon a unicorn for Auntie Yelena.”

Danny blinked. “Go back to bed.”

She glared. “You don’t support women in STEM.”

By Month One, SHIELD had officially labeled Danny as a “Class 7 Unexplainable Being with Babysitting Potential.” He had a badge. He had clearance. He had no idea what was happening anymore.

All he knew was that if Morgan Stark said “Danny, I wanna adopt a ghost puppy,” then by God, he was going to march into the Ghost Zone and wrestle a spectral hellhound into a leash.

And he did.

Its name is Toast.

Danny Fenton—ghost boy, half-dead teenager, babysitter of the year—accidentally became the most powerful figure in the universe. Not because of his powers. Not because of his knowledge. Not even because of his tragic backstory.

But because Morgan Stark liked him. And if you hurt Morgan Stark, you would be introduced to Craig, the fridge demon, and Kevin, the haunted Roomba, and Toast, the ghost puppy, and then, finally, the very angry, very tired, very over-it Danny Phantom who could—and would—yeet you into another dimension for interrupting nap time.

The Avengers knew better than to interfere.

Even Thanos came back to life once, took one look at Danny and Morgan, and said, “No thanks.”

He snapped himself back out of existence.

Danny didn’t even flinch.

Morgan dabbed.

And somewhere, in the vast multiverse of chaos and consequence, Tony Stark looked at his daughter, his haunted apartment, his glowing ghost babysitter eating fruit snacks while levitating a possessed microwave, and muttered to himself—

“Yeah. That tracks.”

I have some older art tips that I keep forgetting to post here. I'll add a few in the next few days, at least those that aren't too outdated!

This one is about giving an extra feel of weight to your characters.

DP X Marvel #16

It started, as these things often did, with Clockwork showing up at 3:07 AM in Danny’s bedroom and dragging him out of bed by the ankle like a disappointed father dealing with a child who had failed Algebra. Again.

“Wha—Clockwork?!” Danny shouted, flailing in his space-themed pajama pants as he was unceremoniously yanked into a swirling portal of green and purple time goop. “I have school in four hours!”

“You won’t need it where you’re going,” Clockwork said with the kind of deadpan that made you suspect he hadn’t laughed in several centuries.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

Next thing Danny knew, he was falling face-first onto a Persian rug that smelled faintly of incense, ancient secrets, and emotional trauma. He groaned and looked up just as a swirling portal closed behind him, revealing a tall, caped man sipping tea with the patience of a man who had seen God, mocked Him, and been promptly smacked in the face for it.

“Stephen Strange,” Clockwork said, materializing again because apparently he didn’t believe in exits, “meet Daniel Fenton. You’re going to teach him how to not accidentally vaporize the concept of space.”

“I what?” Danny blinked.

“Wait—this is the child you were talking about?” Strange said with a distinct expression of “I expected someone taller and more eldritch.”

Danny raised a hand. “Hi. Still in my pajamas. Please explain.”

Clockwork gave him a look. “You’ve been randomly tearing holes in the multiverse with your emotions. If you continue, you’ll accidentally delete the timeline where pizza was invented.”

Danny went pale. “That’s my favorite timeline!”

“That’s why you’re here.”

And that’s how Danny ended up training at the Sanctum Sanctorum instead of going to college like a normal eighteen-year-old. Not that Danny was ever normal. Or functional. Or even consistently corporeal at this point.

“Why is there a ghost teenager eating cold Pop-Tarts in my artifact room?” Wong asked the next morning, frozen mid-step with the sling ring still on his fingers.

“I live here now,” Danny said through a mouthful of Strawberry Frosted. “Clock Daddy said so.”

Wong stared at Strange. “We don’t even let you eat in here.”

“He’s technically a spectral demi-being empowered by quantum echoes,” Strange muttered. “I’m not sure he can be stopped.”

Danny quickly became the Sanctum’s chaos gremlin. The Cloak of Levitation hated him, loved him, used him as a chew toy, and then dragged him into a corner and cuddled him while he tried to watch anime at 2AM. Danny responded by naming it “Blanky.” The Cloak permitted this. Wong did not.

There was one particular week when Danny got stuck halfway between dimensions because he got emotional watching a Pixar movie. “I JUST—THEY FORGOT ABOUT BING BONG, STRANGE, THEY FORGOT—”

“Kid, I swear to the Vishanti, if you collapse another nexus realm because of children’s media—”

“HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR JOY, OKAY?”

Training with Strange was like being punched in the brain repeatedly with Shakespearean insults and quantum theory. Danny tried. He did. But he was more of a vibes-based learner, while Strange was a “recite this 900-word incantation backwards while dodging metaphysical arrows” type of teacher.

“I can just blast it, though?” Danny argued, half-asleep, floating upside-down above the kitchen one night.

“No. No blasting. No phasing. No yelling ghostly wail and reducing my library to ash.”

“But I’m good at those!”

“You also set the Time Fractal on fire.”

“It had a face. It looked at me first.”

Clockwork would appear now and then, mostly to drop Danny cryptic warnings like “Avoid the one with the metal arm,” or “Never trust a raccoon with a gun,” or “Don’t play Uno with Loki. He cheats.”

“I don’t even know a Loki,” Danny protested.

“You will.”

Danny’s powers kept getting weirder. One time he coughed and spat up ectoplasm that turned into a sentient clone of himself, but with an Australian accent and a nicotine addiction. They had to banish him to the Mirror Dimension after he started flirting with Strange.

“Who made you like this?” Strange hissed, trying to undo the spell with rapidly twitching fingers.

“I think I made myself like this,” Danny whispered.

Somehow, the multiverse noticed. A portal opened on a Tuesday—because of course it did—and dropped in Peter Parker mid-panic with a half-dead demon strapped to his back and a terrified expression.

“HELP! I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!”

Danny stared, eating a microwaved burrito. “Are you a spider?”

“Are you a ghost?!”

“Do you want a burrito?”

“Yes?!”

And that’s how Danny accidentally made a new best friend. Peter and Danny had exactly the same amount of brain cell(s), which meant Strange had to install magical barriers to keep them from combining into a singularity of disaster.

“Stop bringing the Spider-Child into my Sanctum!”

“He brought himself! Through a hole! In the air! Like me!”

“Oh god, there are two of them now,” Wong muttered, lighting incense aggressively.

The Sanctum slowly became a hub for the weird and unstable. Kamala Khan stopped by and declared Danny her new weird older cousin. America Chavez tried to punch him once and fell into his thermos. Loki found him and said, “Ah. You’re one of those,” and walked away very quickly.

One particularly cursed day, Tony Stark walked in, saw Danny floating above a bowl of ramen while casually moving furniture with his mind, and said, “Nope,” before immediately walking out.

Danny’s magic was…unconventional. When Strange taught him how to summon a shield, Danny ended up with a glowing neon green circle that said “NOPE” in ghostly cursive. When told to summon a blade, Danny pulled out a glowing halberd shaped like a Fenton Thermos with an axe edge.

“I call her ‘Big Suck.’”

“I hate you,” Strange said.

“I love me.”

Then came the Incident. Danny got bored, which, to be clear, is always the beginning of the apocalypse. He found a cursed artifact that looked like a snow globe with a tiny screaming soul inside and thought, this seems fun.

It was not fun.

He broke it open trying to use it as a nightlight and released an ancient chaos entity named The Unfathomable Carl. Carl had a god complex, seventeen mouths, and a Twitter account within four minutes of escaping.

“HOW DID HE EVEN GET A PHONE?!” Strange screamed while fending off a barrage of cursed pigeons.

“HE FOLLOWED ME ON INSTAGRAM!” Danny shouted from behind a sofa.

It took three Avengers, a packet of Mentos, and Danny screaming “YOU’RE NOT EVEN THAT SCARY, CARL!” to trap him back in the snow globe. Clockwork appeared mid-chaos, sipping ecto-tea.

“This was necessary for your growth,” he said calmly.

Danny hurled a shoe at him.

Eventually, Strange came to a horrifying realization: Danny wasn’t learning magic in the traditional sense. He was absorbing it. He was like a sponge that had been dunked in eldritch Kool-Aid and now radiated unpredictable power every time he sneezed.

“Do not, under any circumstance, let him near the Time Stone,” Strange told Wong.

“He already touched it.”

“WHAT?!”

“He said it ‘smelled like cosmic fruit roll-up’ and tried to lick it.”

“I HATE THIS CHILD.”

Danny was currently learning how to open a rift without screaming “YOLO” at the top of his lungs. Progress was…questionable.

“Did you just use Ebonic incantation slang to fold space?”

Danny grinned. “Magic, but make it ✨feral✨.”

“You’re going to give me an aneurysm.”

“I already gave Wong one.”

“You what—?”

At some point, Nick Fury showed up, stared directly into Danny’s glowing green eyes, and immediately called for backup.

“He’s a threat to national security.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“You’ve destroyed seven timelines.”

“Okay but they were minor timelines! Who needs a universe made of talking cats, anyway?”

“…I did.”

Even the Watcher started side-eyeing Danny like a nervous babysitter. Carol Danvers tried to spar with him once and ended up in a ghost trap he made out of duct tape and ambition. “I respect you,” she told him from inside the glowing cube. “But I hate you.”

“Get in line.”

By the time Danny hit six months of training, he’d accidentally absorbed a minor chaos god, reinvented ice magic as a form of dance-fighting, made friends with Mephisto (“He’s not that bad once you get past the brimstone”), and turned his hair permanently silver-blue from temporal exposure.

Strange sat in his chair, robes scorched, tea long gone cold.

“Wong,” he said softly. “I think the child is the apocalypse.”

Wong nodded solemnly. “And yet…I fear I love him.”

Danny phased through the wall with sunglasses and a churro. “Hey! Want to help me prank Odin?”

Strange sighed like a man whose karma had caught up with him.

“I’ll get the goat.”

And so it continued. Danny Phantom: Ghost Kid, Sorcerer-In-Training, Time-Space Menace, and unofficial emotional support chaos goblin of the multiverse. He may not have understood quantum geometry, astral projection, or taxes—but damn it, he had style.

And, apparently, a date with the Living Tribunal next Tuesday.

“I hear he’s into jazz,” Danny said. “Think I should bring cookies?”

“You’re going to destroy everything.”

“Yeah, but like—charmingly?”

Sound on folks

Part 2: The Watchtower

Danny wasn’t technically a member of the Batfamily. But considering he had been crashing at one of their safehouses for the past couple of weeks and running night patrols with Robin, he was basically an honorary stray at this point. Which is how he ended up at the Watchtower when the Justice League was holding a debriefing.

Danny didn’t expect much to happen—until Superman walked in, took one look at him, and froze.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to Batman. “Bruce,” he said, voice laced with suspicion. “Is this the same one from the cleanup?”

Danny blinked. “Oh, cool, I get to be a ‘this one.’ That’s not ominous or anything.”

Superman ignored him, gaze locked onto Batman. “You know his heartbeat is wrong, right?”

That made Danny pause. He put a hand over his chest, mildly offended. “Uh, rude?”

“It’s not human,” Superman said firmly. “It’s close—but there’s something off about it. Bruce, tell me you did not just bring home an unknown meta without vetting him first.”

Batman, to his credit, didn’t even look up from his data pad. “I know what he is.”

Superman frowned. “And?”

Batman didn’t elaborate.

Danny grinned. “See, this is why I love working with Bats. So good at keeping a secret.”

Superman wasn’t amused. “What are you?”

Danny tilted his head. “A guy who really likes pancakes.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Wow, rude again.”

Superman’s frown deepened. Danny could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him.

The kid’s heartbeat wasn’t human. That was odd enough. But something about it nagged at him—because it wasn’t just different. It was familiar. He couldn't place it exactly, but it reminded him of something. Kryptonian? No, that was impossible. …Right?

Superman listened closer, trying to pick apart what exactly was off about it, but the more he focused, the more the suspicion dug in. His mind whirred, running through possibilities. Half-Kryptonian? A clone? A hybrid of some kind? The lack of information was driving him insane.

By the time they left the Watchtower, Superman was still staring at Danny like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. 

Then Danny, ever the dramatic little menace, casually floated up into the air like it was nothing.

Superman stared.

Danny caught his expression, grinned, and gave him a mock salute. “Later, Big Blue.” And then he shot into the sky, disappearing into the vastness of space like it was just another Tuesday.

Superman turned to Batman, expression unreadable. “Bruce.”

Batman didn’t look up. “Clark.”

Superman pointed at where Danny had disappeared. “He flew.”

“Yes.”

“Without a jetpack. Or wings.”

“Yes.”

Superman folded his arms. “You cannot tell me that didn’t look Kryptonian to you.”

Batman smirked, finally glancing his way. “I collect strays, Clark. That doesn’t mean I always explain them.”

Superman huffed.

That kid, no Bruce said his name was Phantom, is definitely Kryptonian.

And Clark was going to prove it.

----------------------------------------------------

2.5: Danny vs. Superman (on Behalf of Kon)

A couple of weeks later, Danny met Young Justice. And by met, he meant he immediately took interest in Kon-El—aka Superboy, aka Superman’s clone—because, well. Having a clone of yourself was a whole mess of weird, and Danny had some very strong opinions about it.

At first, this whole thing had just been funny. Messing with Superman? Hilarious. Letting him think he was Kryptonian? Comedy gold.

But now? Now it was personal.

Because the more he learned about Kon, the more pissed off he got.

Superman didn’t even acknowledge him? Treated him like he wasn’t worth his time? Oh, hell no. Danny knew what that was like—the existential crisis, the what even am I spiral, the feeling of being ignored by someone who should have given a damn. But Danny had figured it out. And Ellie—his own clone, his little sister—was one of the best things to ever happen to him.

Superman didn’t get to just pretend Kon didn’t exist.

So yeah. Maybe Danny had started this whole thing as a joke.

But now?

Now he was going to teach Kon Kryptonian. And they definitely weren’t telling Superman.

Masterpost

A DC X DP IDEA #41

Say Uncle.

Imagine dis…

I don’t have much to say about this one just the fact that when you are buying alcohol to celebrate New Year just make sure not to drink it all at once despite the holidays…

Ah, the hangover: nature's way of reminding you that your liver is not, in fact, a miracle worker, and your brain did not sign up for the tequila marathon.

And no, this prompt is not about just that. I want to get this idea off my list before I completely forget about it.

…

The night when both Martha and Thomas Wayne met their demise Alfred already swore himself to protect the two young masters that were left behind. Bruce at the young age of eight witnessed his parent's murder and death, just because the boy insisted on watching the latest film with only the three of them young master Daniel’s insistence. Daniel, who was only 5 years old caught a nasty cold and was prompted to stay inside the manor to get better. Young master Daniel insisted on the three of them enjoying the film instead of staying at home just reminding them to bring him souvenirs to not be completely left out.

Tasked with raising two young boys both boys felt sadness and guilt for each of their own despite not having to feel guilty about it. Young master Bruce for insisting to go at the theaters and young master Daniel for insisting on a souvenir.

The media with all of its cameras stared down at the Wayne name and manor as it was the tragedy of the century as the Waynes are not only the wealthiest of the socialites but also one of the founders of Gotham City. All metaphorical eyes went to Master Bruce, why only him you ask? It is all because young master Daniel had not been introduced to the public eye as it had been some sort of tradition to the Wayne’s to teach their children at the age of 7 to have them enjoy privacy and have the children at a certain age to understand the dangers of media.

With young master Daniel still technically hidden Alfred made the hard decision to further hide the young master through the system. Both boys of course protested through tears and shouts from both boys. Of course, Alfred tried to explain to the boys for their protection and Alfred assured the boys that he would use his connections to watch over Daniel.

…

Fast forward and the two brothers despite having a secure line of communication simply strayed apart. Maybe it’s because of the distance or maybe it’s because of talking to each other less when both entered their teens, but I say because of secrets…

With Bruce, he had traveled the world training to become somebody, somebody who can prevent tragedies like his can ever happening again. To protect and make a difference to the place that took his parents away. He kept silent about Danny, his training, and his turning into a crime-fighting vigilante. He wanted Danny to stay safe the last family he had, to stay in the life he had built, from what Danny had told him from the rare chances that they both got the time to chat. Bruce kept on thinking to himself that it was safer for Danny. The lack of knowledge of both the public about his bio brother and Danny’s knowledge about his nightlife made Bruce’s nightly chant to himself justified.

…

Danny scanned the manor, it had been a while since he adjusted the cuff of his fitted suit. He hadn't been here in years, and Bruce hadn't gotten in touch with him outside of Alfred's regular chats and the rare times the brothers even called the other.

As far as the world was concerned, Bruce was "dead." The family he hardly knew was shocked to learn that Danny was named guardian of the remaining Waynes in his will. This prompted Alfred to explain who the supposed relative of theirs and began tidying the manor as if the queen herself was going for a visit.

The moment Danny entered the manor both Dick and Jason had their eyes on him. As the two who had been with Bruce the longest apart from Alfred, they should have already heard something about the man from Bruce, even a slip of the tongue but nothing, so they have every right to be wary of their supposed uncle who has actual biological connection to Bruce.

Their apprehension was only increased by Danny's striking similarity to Bruce. He had the same sharp blue eyes, but his expression was gentler, and the same sharp jawline, but it was tempered with fatigue rather than unwavering resolve.

Danny made significant adjustments during his brief time as their new guardian. Without Damian ever hanging onto Dick like some sort of life Line, Dick has now the time to properly sort out his feelings and mourn for Bruce. Jason despite the bad blood between father and son is also seeking professional help as per Danny’s wishes to sort out his thoughts and with Danny slowly filtering out his ecto to a much healthier one. Tim finally had a sigh of relief when he saw their supposed uncle handle the board like an iron fort. He had managed those elites as if Danny had the experience dealing with old men that thought to be the center of the universe. Finally, Damian, who at first struggles with the supposed usurper to his supposed birthright begins therapy that focuses on undoing the works of a cult, as per the suggestion of the usurper’s foster sister.

Slowly but surely they finally had a sigh of relief to the civilian side of their lives, as Danny kept the Wayne co flourishing and the nosy journalist away from them especially Damian since he is the only biological son of Bruce Wayne despite adopting Dick, Jason, and Tim first.

 On the other hand, their vigilante life is full of tension, as Tim supposedly found evidence of Bruce being alive. Dick and Jason kept pushing on to Tim that he is full of grief to accept Bruce’s death and brush his claims. Of course, Tim tried to find more definite evidence but was later banned from the Batcomputer for his mental health.

…

It all came to a head when a sleep-deprived Tim stumbled into the dining area for breakfast with the rest wearing his robin suit and sweatpants and a haphazardly worn domino mask on his face. As Danny is about to ask Tim about his sleep, Tim not recognizing who he is talking to begins a floodgate of information.  The partial evidence, Gotham’s criminal activities, the number of vigilantes needed to wear the cowl to ensure no one could suspect that something happened to Batman and so much more.

By the time Tim ended his rant he saw a pale-faced Dick looking at him with pure disbelief, Jason and Damian looking at him with murder in their eyes, and finally, Alfred holding a tray of freshly squeezed orange juice so tightly that it began to shake.

Tim is now dreading whatever expression the person is in front of him. Tim now slowly looked at Danny’s… Contemplative face?

All of them are now holding onto their breaths looking at Danny waiting but for what?

Danny blinked, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he muttered something under his breath, too low to catch. Then, slowly, he raised his hand and tore open the air, as if cutting something in midair.

A green rift shimmered, pulsing with an eerie light reminiscent of the Lazarus Pits, though a bit brightener. Before anyone could react, Danny reached into the rift with the ease of someone retrieving a misplaced item and yanking a battered figure through.

Bruce Wayne, still wearing his Batman suit, though, stumbled into the hallway, his cowl pushed back to reveal a rare expression of wide-eyed shock.

The rift closed as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving only each of them with their respective jaws dropped and wide open.

Danny looked at Bruce as if scanning any injuries and let out a deep sigh of relief.

And uttered a single sentence that seemed to come from Danny’s inner mind.

I can't believe you turned into a furry fruit loop.

Immediately turned around and left the still-shocked family with their minds still rebooting at what had just happened. Bruce, for his part, could only stare after him, his mind racing to catch up.

…

Danny on the other hand is mildly a bit stressed, don’t get him wrong. Having Dan, Ellie, and Klarion as his kids is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to him, he just wished that the kids the rare chance they have their truce would send their home straight down the deepest rings of hell. As much as he had a clear reason to fight off some demons after so much adventure in terms of retrieving their house it got so old that it became a hassle.

 Let's also talk about how chatty Mom and Dad have been ever since his older brother Bruce became a crime-fighting furry, and when he started adopting kids as if they were Pokemon. Bruce doesn’t have to catch them all, and stop encouraging him, Danny wailed to his ghostly biological parents. As much he adored his nieces and nephews, he densest need to know from his ghostly parents how many flips Dick did with one hand or how many books Jason added to the library or how many albums of pictures Tim had, or even how adorable Damian is.

So imagine his surprise that in the middle of him sorting out paperwork, he is now an official guardian to his nephews since Bruce had “died”.

At first, he was hesitant on top of his children, for, he has an entire realm to sort out. Add to the fact that he didn’t feel Bruce’s spirit enter his domain. Bruce’s kind of lifestyle along with his nieces and nephews already guaranteed them a spot in the realms.

So when Tim exploded out of sleep or just needed someone to vent it made him send out a silent question to Clockwork. There he was, his dumb older brother, falling through each timeline, he simply grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled him back to the present.

As Danny left the manor, he silently wept for the added paperwork that he expected to be added as well as damage control to whatever chaos his children got themselves into.

….

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

A Good Boy

DP x DC Prompt

There has been a glowing green dog that's been playing with Ace and Titus whenever Damian is not with either of the dogs of Wayne Manor.

The entire Wayne brood has tried to catch the dog, and Damian especially wanted to catch it. They all failed at even laying a finger on it, as it has flight, a form of density shifting much more refined than J'onn's own, and is very playful.

It had taken about 6 months for the family to finally put their hands on the glowing green dog. It was Damian, of course.

Soon after that, the glowing green dog was following them during patrol and helping them out, but it mostly stuck to Damian's side. The first time they had seen it turn into a massive hellhound was a shock to them all.

Then, one night during patrol, the glowing green dog looked troubled. When Damian had approached the dog, it turned into its massive form, grabbed Damian in its mouth, and then began to run away with him. The rest of the family had began to chase after the dog, worried about Damian mostly.

The dog had taken Damian to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Gotham, where it placed him down in front of a teenage boy that's collapsed, barely breathing and surrounded by blood that has some Lazarus Water coloring to it, the boy is also clutching his chest like one does when they're trying to soothe a pain there. The dog is very affectionate towards the boy. Perhaps the dog is his.

Danny had escaped the horrors his parents and the GIW put him through in the lab they took him to, but it's only a matter of time before they find him again. He was lucky enough to encounter Cujo in Gotham of all places, but he's just happy to see his favorite ghost dog. Danny is on the verge of passing out when Cujo came back after he told him to 'fetch help'. Danny was expecting Cujo to bring Jazz, but instead, Cujo brought Robin of all people.