VALENTINES EPISODE!:

“Hello, Mr. Wayne. I’m calling on behalf of the Amity Park police department. I… god, there’s no easy way to say this. We found a dead body, and genetic tests identified you as the next of kin.”

A mixture of icy fear and confusion pooled in Bruce’s chest, and he felt himself lean against a wall for support. “What? Who? But, Damian was just here!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not him.”

“He’s the only blood relative I have.”

The officer sighed. “I dunno what to tell you. We don’t know. Kid was dead for months before we dug ‘im up, so identifying any other details towards his previous identity has been… difficult. Doesn’t even match any missing persons reports. Quite frankly, we were hoping you’d know something, ‘cause we’ve been coming up blank.”

“I will,” Bruce rushed out unthinkingly, his mind still caught up on the word ‘kid’.

“What?”

“I’ll help however I can. Amity Park, you said? Where is that? I’ll book a flight right away."

“No, really, sir. I appreciate it, but you don’t need to do that. No offense, Mr Wayne, but you’re not a forensic analyst.”

The words ‘yes I am’ balanced on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. Batman was the detective, not Brucie Wayne. But Batman didn’t have any reason to travel so far afield to investigate a single dead kid, so Bruce Wayne would have to do.

“I at least want to take a look.”

Danny's Wail is strong, and it's only getting stronger.

It's getting to the point where he opened his mouth to sing in the shower, and he cracked the wall with his voice.

If he tries to use it in human form, it physically damages him. It's a "ghost form" only power, now.

To mitigate any potential incidents, he starts to talk less and less.

The school, usually uncaring of anyone not an athlete, notices.

They assume abuse.

How could they not? Bruises he refuses to explain, developing selective mutism, shying away from his parents?

Danny's horrified when Social Services is waiting for him in the principals office one day, and even more horrified that they're accusing his parents of abuse.

They aren't!

It's just his stupid body!

Thinking fast, he scrambles to write down a bullshit excuse, and lands on;

'I'm a meta like Black Canary, but way, way stronger! I can't talk or I'll hurt someone! The bruises are from like my parent's inventions and also me throwing myself into walls with my power! They don't know!'

Which leads to some uncomfortable talks about whether or not he feels safe enough at home, if there's a reason he didn't tell his parents, etc.

Then there was the whole thing of asking if he was lying, and Danny, annoyed and tired and ready to prove a point, just said

"No I'm not." In a normal voice, promptly bursting a few eardrums and shattering any glass.

Eventually he and the Social Workers come to a compromise; he does feel safe enough to tell his parents, and he will, and also Social Services will reach out to the Justice League to see about getting him some training from an official hero, especially if his Voice is that dangerous.

And that's how Danny ends up as the only civilian allowed in Titan's Tower; his access card sends out an alert so all the teen heroes keep their masks on, he has a zeta installed in Amity just for him, and he has to train with them. He also has special training instructions from Black Canary herself.

There's singing in the Wayne Manor, echoing through the halls and swirling through pillars like a choir in a cathedral. Like a bird amongst the trees.

Faint as it is from the foyer, Bruce has to strain his ears to make out the lyrics, but it is, without a doubt, singing.

He is very, very careful to slip his shoes off without making a sound. Takes extra care to not let the door slam behind him, lest he interrupt the song floating through the house and alert the source of his arrival.

Alfred has never sung in the years Bruce has known him. Not when he was a child, not as a teenager, and not now as an adult. He will play music at times -- when he's cleaning, or cooking, or doing something that doesn't require is upmost attention -- but he doesn't sing.

Besides, even if Alfred did decide to change his tune about his tunes, the voice singing like a bird up on a line is too high and young to belong to him.

So it must be Danny instead.

The door closes behind him without so much as a click, and he creeps down the hall towards the source. Naturally the closer he gets, the louder the singing becomes, and the louder it becomes, the less sure Bruce is that Danny is singing an actual song. The sound shapes the air in what he thinks may be a language -- and if it is, it's one he's unfamiliar with. It comes as a surprise to him.

He's learned many languages on his travels to become Batman, he could write entire books in a dozen different ones. He's learned languages that have nearly been lost to time and have rarely seen the written word -- and yet this, whatever the sound spilling from Danny's mouth is. He doesn't know it.

Danny's full of surprises, he's learning. A clear pond with a bottom deeper than it looks. Bruce is trying to reach that bottom.

Alfred is already there as well when Bruce finds the room Danny's in, his back to the wall and his hands resting against his cane calmly. His eyes turn to him easily, Bruce doesn't dare speak.

He does, however, dare to peek around the corner and peer into the room Danny's in -- just for a moment. Just long enough to check on him. There's been a handful of times where he's accidentally startled the boy without meaning to, and the times he hasn't, Danny's revealed to have whip sharp senses, head snapping up if he even so much as catches Bruce in his peripherals.

He's laying on the ground. Again. Feet propped up on the cushions of the sofa like he's sitting sideways.

("S'comfortable," he tells Bruce when asked, "helps me think.")

His eyes are closed, an arm thrown over his forehead, the other resting across his stomach with his cane. He's stolen one of Bruce's shirts again. He's still singing, Bruce would dare call it vocalizing, simple as that, but it sounds too much like he's trying to speak for him to suggest otherwise.

Slow and sleepy, Danny sings like he's trying to turn his voice into a flute and an old lullaby. It sinks molasses slow and mud-thick through the meat of Bruce's arms to twine around the bone, soaking into the marrow, and he sings like he's trying to wrap ribbon-thread music around Bruce's ribs like a garland.

Music is, of course, supposed to speak to you. Bruce has heard that enough times to repeat it deaf. This though, feels like Danny's trying to speak and it just happens to come out music. Vowels and consonants forming lazy like the slow pull of a river, its current meandering with the pace of a ticking clock.

Bruce once heard Alicia Walker call Danny "songbird" through the phone during one of their weekly talks, he sees why that is now.

He swears though, that Danny is trying to speak a language Bruce can't understand. The phonetics too deliberate to be otherwise, words trying to take shape that just aren't quite right. He knows, the same way he knows someone is watching him by the rise of the hair on his neck.

Danny's eyes are closed, so Bruce lets himself slip out fully from behind the wall, and leans against the doorframe. Just to listen, and decipher what it is that Danny's trying to say.

Safe to say, he doesn't figure it out when Danny finally stops. He's sure that his voice has thoroughly sunken into the stones of the manor, and the only way Bruce could get it out is if he wrung it out. He will not.

"I've never heard that language before." He says quietly, before the air can fully settle and the thick melody thins.

He can feel Alfred's eyes burning holes into his temple as Danny full body flinches and jerks like a fish out of water. Ah, whoops.

Danny's head whips around to him with a wide blown look. Hair falls over his face, messy from the rug and curling around the ends. "Uh--I--" he stammers, Bruce waits for him to find his tongue, "I- uh-- I'd be, uh, surprised if you did."

Bruce pushes himself off the frame, lets his arms drop to his sides. "What was it?"

Danny turns his gaze to the rug, ducks his head as his shoulders curl up. Bruce recognizes the response, it reminds him of a turtle retreating into its shell, or a clam trying to hide.

"Just, just something I learned as a kid."

Phantom Manor

Danny had been through a lot. He’d been half-killed in a lab accident, gained ghost powers, and then been chased through the multiverse by a government that would’ve loved to dissect him like a frog in eighth-grade biology. So when the portal spat him out into this dimension—one packed with capes, cowls, metas, and aliens—he figured he’d finally caught a break.

No GIW agents. No Fenton parents shouting about ectoplasmic anomalies. No Skulker showing up to hunt him down in the middle of English class. Just... peace.

Well, almost.

The major snag? He was homeless. Again.

No ID, no money, and the last place he tried to haunt had been a warehouse with exactly three raccoons who did not appreciate his presence. He couldn’t go back to school, didn’t know how to get a job, and sleeping on rooftops got old fast, even for a ghost boy.

That was when Danny heard the most ridiculously useful rumor ever: Billionaire Bruce Wayne had a habit of adopting black-haired, blue-eyed children like it was a competitive sport.

And Danny? Well, he had black hair and blue eyes... at least half the time.

Good enough for government work.

So one night, in the dead of moonlight, Danny phased through the locked gates, passed the high-tech security system, and slipped straight into Wayne Manor. The place was huge, quiet, and oddly comfortable despite its bat-themed overtones. He didn’t even try to sneak around like a spy—he just floated through until he found an empty bedroom with a made bed, thick curtains, and a view of the garden.

He claimed it.

No one said anything.

So Danny just... stayed.

Danny didn’t mean to con anyone. It’s just that no one noticed him. He figured maybe there were already so many black-haired, blue-eyed kids around here that adding one more didn’t even make a blip on the radar. And since Jack and Maddie Fenton may not have taught their kids about interdimensional politics, they did make sure their kids had proper manners.

So, the first time he ate in the massive kitchen, he washed the dishes afterward. Alfred showed up just as Danny was drying the last fork, his sharp eyes watching from the doorway.

“...I see Master Grayson’s taste in midnight snacks has rubbed off on someone,” Alfred remarked.

Danny froze. “Uh—yeah. Sorry. Just thought I’d clean up after myself.”

The butler narrowed his eyes. Then nodded. “A rare instinct in this household. Continue.”

And from then on, it became a routine.

Danny helped in the kitchen. He helped clean the manor. He weeded the garden (phasing out any actual creepy-crawlies). He carried laundry baskets. He repaired a broken picture frame. When one of the Batmobiles needed a patch-up job on a fin, Danny phased into the engine and fixed it from the inside out while humming along to an old Ghostbusters theme remix.

Alfred was absolutely delighted with the newest, polite, respectful, and hard-working “Wayne.” Even if he had no earthly clue when exactly this young man had joined the family.

It took a few weeks before anyone realized something was off.

“Alfred,” Bruce said over breakfast one morning, “why is there an unfamiliar teenage boy pressure-washing the back patio with what looks like... green plasma?”

Alfred sipped his tea without looking up. “That’s Master Daniel. He’s been most helpful.”

“…We don’t have a Master Daniel.”

Alfred finally looked up, deadpan. “Master Bruce, I have tolerated you bringing home orphans like stray cats in the rain. The boy helps clean. He gardens. He fixed the coffee machine. I will not be chasing him out. Adopt him, give him a room, or be quiet about it.”

Bruce blinked. “...Fair.”

Meanwhile, Danny was just glad he hadn’t been blasted with a Batarang on sight.

He had a bed, food, quiet (well, relatively), and access to the Wayne library’s wi-fi. He was pretty sure Damian glared at him more than necessary and that Jason kept trying to figure out if Danny was secretly a zombie, but otherwise?

He was kind of fitting in.

At least until someone walked in on him halfway intangible while reaching through the fridge for leftover pie.

“…Master Daniel,” Alfred said from behind him, entirely unshaken. “If you are going to help with the silverware later, do remember to phase after you wash your hands.”

Danny, still half inside the fridge, stared.

“…Yes, sir.”

And thus, somehow, without anyone signing a single form or asking too many questions, Danny Fenton became the most ghostly Wayne sibling yet.

And honestly?

He was kinda cool with that.

So, there’s this idea that Captain Marvel is the idealized form of Billy Batson, right? Like, the version of himself he aspires to be. The hero he wants to become. The face he wants the world to see-- strong, bright, safe, inspiring.

And, well… Captain Marvel looks a lot like C.C. Batson. His father. That’s Billy’s hero. That’s the face that makes him believe in good. The smile that gives him hope and faith in his dreams. With a few traces of his mom, like her eyelashes, her ears, nose

But… that can change. Right?

Billy’s going to meet new people. He’s going to have new heroes in his life. New people to look up to. New versions of “who I want to be like.”

So one day, Marvel looks like a perfect blend of C.C. and Marilyn. And then, after a particularly emotional moment with John Constantine, he shows up at the Watchtower… with a different jawline.

His bone structure is slightly off. You wouldn’t notice unless you were really paying attention. But Bruce was. Bruce always is. He doesn’t say anything, just quietly writes it down with some suspicion of a possible shapeshifter.

And then, boom-- WHERE THE HELL ARE MARVEL’S DIMPLES?! They’re gone. Just gone. When he smiles, it’s a completely different smile. No dimples. There’s… are those canines? Slightly unhuman teeth and-- wait, Is that SUPERMAN’S smile? A perfect, radiant replica??

The next day, the dimples are back. Because Marvel caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he missed them. Not consciously. He didn’t even realize it. But they’re back anyway.

It all happens unconsciously. And it changes from time to time.

One day he’s got feline eyes and sharp little teeth, a goofy yet oddly charming (and a little predatory) grin. That’s Tawky Tawny’s influence.

Another day, his eyes aren’t blue anymore, they’re green. Sharp. Focused. But also warm. You feel seen, and still, oddly… safe. (Catwoman likes Cap. She’s been nice to him ever since he introduced her to Tawny.)

Then-- No freaking way he’s BLONDE. (Thanks, Constantine.)

One day, his eyes are still blue, but now they’re icy. Almost crystal. Batman nearly has a heart attack because it’s his father’s eyes. His father’s eyebrows too. (Billy was just really happy with Bruce Waynbe since he donated a massive bunch of money to Fawcett’s homeless shelters.)

And then.. pointy ears. A different nose. (Kon.)

J’onn shares his special cookies with him one afternoon and now Marvel’s got a little green tint in his cheeks instead of red.

He never hides it. If someone asks, he just shrugs and goes, “Oh yeah, my features kinda shift based on people I admire? I guess. I don’t really notice until you guys point it out. I can’t control it.”

A lot of people think his tall, muscular body comes from Superman. But nope. It’s from Diana.

Billy sees her: tall, powerful, graceful, hair always a little wild but somehow perfect. Elegant. Commanding. He thinks she’s incredible. So he becomes tall, powerful, elegant. Hair that never moves out of place (but still has a charmingly messy style). All that’s missing is a little more confidence and posture.

And Flash? Flash nearly dies of happiness when Marvel shows up one day— with his awkward little half-smile.

The first time Danny sees Dick Grayson he calls him Tata.

Danny, in his Ghost Zone travels, befriended the Flying Graysons. John and Mary like him so much, that it started as a joke, sort of.

"Ahhhhh, the son we never had! Welcome!"

"My little Robin's long lost little brother, come, come!"

And it morphed into him jokingly calling them Tata and Daj. Then it wasn't really a joke anymore.

Then the Observants inform him that as far as Ghost Law is concerned, they're his Ghost Guardians.

This means that Danny has two sets of parents; Jack and Maddie on the human side of things, and John and Mary on the ghost side of thing.

So when he sees Dick Grayson, who looks a lot like John, it just slips out.

This leads to a very awkward stare off in the middle of a coffee shop.

Danny has no idea how to explain himself.

Marzipan Boy part 1

Tim shot a quick message to Tam, letting her know that he would be busy for a while, and then he shoved his headphones on and pushed the button to darken the windows of his office.

Tam thought he was taking a nap, and encouraged his daily hour of “dark time”.

Tim was NOT taking a nap, he was watching the love of his life play video games (sue him, he might doze off once or twice during the stream, but it wasn’t on purpose.)

“Good afternoon, gamers. It’s NightenGames here, and I have not had enough coffee.”

Chuckling at the semi-regular intro, Tim took a sip of his dark roast and settled back into his desk chair.

“Today we’re playing Elder Ring- My friend PharaohTuck finally finished setting up my mods.”

Tim wasn’t entirely sure what exactly the mods NightenGames used did, but apparently they were necessary for him to play. The Yeddit threads were full of speculation- from control mods meant for metahumans/aliens, to cheats to make the games easier.

Very few fans believed that one- Nighten died too many times to be cheating with his mods.

“Ooooh, what a fancy character creator! Alright, folks- who should we mock this time? I’m seeing a lot of votes for Lex Luthor in the chat, a few for Bruce Wayne- which, let me remind you, I’ve already done both Wayne and Luthor in the last month, so they’re out.”

This was why Tim had originally followed NightenGames- the streamer would pick a rich person and then pretend to be them for the entire stream, as if they were playing the game. Yeddit had checked- most of the quotes Nighten used were straight from public videos of the target.

“Tim Drake, huh? CEO of Wayne Industries? Isn’t he, like, the same age as me? I dunno, guys- like, nepo baby for suresies, but…”

Tim startled at the sound of his own name, and swooned a little at the way it rang out in Nighten’s rich baritone.

“You’re right, BarleyWater32, I have not picked on Tim Drake yet. In my defense… I have no defense. He’s hot and I’d smash. Don’t want to spoil my minuscule chances, right? Right. Anyways. Oh! Oliver Queen, I can do him. Well, not DO him, but- make me shut up.”

Blinking at his computer, Tim couldn’t help but flush at the knowledge that his internet crush thought he was “hot and would smash”.

Tim would smash too, honestly. He’d done his research. Daniel ‘Danny’ Nightengale was VERY attractive behind the virtual avatars he used.

“Let me pull up Ollie-boy’s avatar- ah ha! Can’t miss that mustache anywhere.”

The avatar finally popped up in the video- Nighten didn’t usually have one up until the chat had chosen a victim, even if he did have a standard avatar for after he was done gaming.

If he had to pick, Tim liked the avatar for Queen the best. He wore a silly pair of green sunglasses, and his matching green mustache twirled far beyond his face- the real Oliver would never, but the mockery was funny.

“Ahem. Yes. Hello. My name is Ollie Queen and I’m richer than anyone else in this city. Let’s get this bread!”

Elder Ring went well- through some chance Nighten picked an archery build for his run through, which Tim thought was quite ironic- and the stream went on for a whole hour before Nighten switched to his standard avatar.

“Okay, folks, I’m going to shut down now- and Tim Drake? If you’re watching? DM me.”

Nighten chuckled a little, like he’d made an impossible request, but Tim was vibrating in his seat, reaching for his phone to DM the streamer.

The video ended abruptly, and Tim’s autotimer on the darkened windows ran out.

Tam was standing expectantly outside of the door, smiling serenely in- but her arms were full of folders that she undoubtedly need signatures on.

With a sigh, Tim took off his headphones, dropped his cell on his desk, and waved her in. Work waited for no man.

~~~

“Danny, are you sure you don’t want me to make you an avatar for one Tim Drake?”

“Positive, Tuck.”

Tucker pouted and draped himself over the back of the couch, leaning his head into Danny’s space as he worked on his essay.

“It would give you an excuse to watch videos of your cruuuuush!”

Danny felt his face go hot, and he shoved Tucker’s face away from his ear.

“Get off, man. I have to finish this paper before midnight.”

His friend stood straight, presumably looking at the clock on the oven.

“Oof, bro.”

10:30PM wasn’t a great time to be writing an essay. Danny knew he should have done it earlier, but, well. He had to film and edit a video for his second channel. UTube wasn’t earning him money yet, but hopefully soon?

Who was he kidding? He would probably have to go back to Vlad for money soon, and he hated the thought of it.

It was hard enough to live in this ramshackle Gotham apartment with both Tucker and Sam, keep up with UTube and streaming, and get through school, without having to cater to Vlad’s whims on top of it.

Sam had only promised to help with his portion of rent for two years, and he was almost hitting that deadline. He hated taking advantage of her guilt for getting him killed in the first place, but she had insisted, even if she couldn’t sustain it for their whole college career.

Danny groaned and turned his attention back to his paper.

11:15 rolled around, and Danny finished checking his paper for mistakes before sending it in. He shut his laptop, planning to brush his teeth before crashing out on the couch.

Tucker had already gone to bed, and Sam was out on an internship trip for the week, so he didn’t have to worry too much about being disturbed after he fell asleep.

His phone chimed with a donation notification and he lazily opened the message.

Tucker came running out of his and Sam’s bedroom, wrapped in a bathrobe and wielding a Creep Stick at Danny’s resulting screech.

“TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS? FROM TIMOTHY DRAKE-WAYNE?”

Woooo pot pie casserole let's gooooo

4/5

Dcxdp trope twist

This was just supposed to be Danny’s introduction to the watchtower.

Tim and Kon had finally decided that, Danny, at six years old, was old enough to be introduced to the rest of the Justice League, while wearing a mask of course. While Young Justice knew he was Tim Drake, Batman still hadn’t outed himself as Bruce and Tim certainly wasn’t going to do it.

It had been going well too. Danny loved looking out at the cosmos, and everyone had been doting on him. He had chosen the name Crow, wanting to commit to the bit of birds. He looked adorable in his little suit and small cowl, and everyone loved him.

Then, Constantine walked in, made eye contact with his son, and paled before swearing wildly and fleeing. Now, Diana and Bruce were trying to get Constantine to explain, while Danny kept sticking his tongue out at Constantine whenever Constantine looked at him.

Meanwhile, Constantine is grappling with the fact that the Bat’s grandkid was king of the dead, and had a claim on his soul. That part was more worrying since Constantine had only ever dealt with one Infinite Realms being.

Danny is just trying to figure out if he should give Constantine his soul back, or let Constantine know part of his soul was currently being housed in a teddy bear.

One thing was for sure, Danny wasn’t letting Constantine take Dr. Bearbert the second.

Random idea Sorta Maybe Blind

Clockwork has been teaching Danny how to do pretty much everything blind. why is unknown

Untill now

After a way too close call with his parents/GIW he almost got fully dissected! He decided to initiate plan 42 Stich wounds,Grab shit,and hall ass to Gotham. Gotham has enough ectoplasm for him to stay long term not nearly as much as Amity Park but it has enough

After one pain filled flight he arrives in a dungey bathroom in Gotham. He looks in the mirror and sees

Oh

What the fuck!?!?

Apparently even though Gotham has a decent amount of ectoplasm He didn't know he needed way more to look alive. He looks ill!?! his skin became three shades paler making his bruises and eyebags stand out more. his hair being way more wild than usual and fluffy-er? He somehow looks smaller and skinner than before, and his eyes

Oh ancients his eyes

There still blue but they're diluted they have that heavy milk quality to them and his pupils are permanently dilated. He can see but he looks like he can't

That's why Clockwork taught him how to do things blind so he can pretend to be blind! cuz there's no way people are going to believe that he can see!?!

He grabbed his bag packed and gifted from Sam, Tucker, and Jazz left the bathroom, clossed his eyes, and started to figure out what he should do.

Bruce's adoption sense seems to be tingling He wonders what that's about.