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#don't be like tim kids

puppetmaster13u · 5 months

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Prompt 115

“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire.

They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him.

“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.”

The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone.

Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”

“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.”

Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #league of assassins #Are Danny and Ras married? Who knows #They did raise their kids together #Well technically Dan & Ellie got de-aged but still #They met during time shenanigans for Danny #Trained together for a bit and became a tiny bit of rivals #Ras missing his platonic or romantic partner: If I adopt-steal these teens/children I can pspspspsps them back #Jordan looking down at Talia: Hello demon child #Talia: Brother Damian isn't talking to me anymore and I don't know what to do T-T #Ellie: Would he like more siblings?? That made us feel better???#Talia: Of course I can make clones to send to him he shall surely call me back then!#Dusan: Sister I don't think that is what they were saying-#Talia: I have things to do out of my way Ghost!#Tim is so tired and has no clue what's going on #Jordan: Whelp I'm going to help you out because I'm always one to take Mom's side against pops #Tim: What #Jordan: Let's go bother the primordial being of Time he happens to find us amusing anyway #Tim: W h a t #deadly decisions

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spacedace · 1 month

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Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

#batman #batman au #batman rogues #batman rouges gallery #dc penguin #dick grayson #jason todd #jason todd robin #dick grayson robin #bruce wayne #the joker #tim drake #dc robin #gotham city #open season au #i don't go in for Jason being the 'angry' robin or the 'violent' robin #he was the lil chainsmoking ball of sunshin robin that made sure to do his homework first before going out to fight crime #dick was the scariest robin because he was BOTH incredibly violent & full of rage AND a ball of sunshine & unrelenting hope #Jason was a Gotham kid (an Alley Kid) and I think a lot of the rogues would have respected that #dick got his respect by teaching them how many of their bones a tiny 9 year old could break in a single kick #feel like there's a scene in the extended au in which Tim gets kidnapped but instead of being held for ransom or threatened #it's just the Rogues aggressively mother-henning him and trying to make sure he's alright #Dick gets a call from Harley later that the newest Robin is fine he and Riddler are coming up with deadly traps together #No she doesn't see anything wrong with that - it's just some enrichment activities for them - why do you ask?

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aingeal98 · 8 months

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The other funny in a bad way thing about Bruce beating all his kids so effortlessly in a fight is like oh. So when you took them in and trained them, this is what it amounted to? You took the girl who could previously dodge bullets and now she can't even dodge a grappling hook? Why was Duke more capable a fighter before he had powers? Why did you let Steph's new costume have no eyemask when she started out with one? Dick has fought world level threats with the Titans yet he can't even take down one old man now that he's mostly working with the batfam? Forget the whole Selina and Bruce spiralling out of control thing the batkids deserve to beat Bruce's ass solely for his awful training if they can't even last five seconds fighting him all together.

#dc #batfam #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #dick grayson #duke thomas #Obviously I don't mean any of this seriously. Just pointing out the absurdity of the whole dumb fight #Like I knew they were going to make the kids job but what I didn't know #Was that they were going to put even less effort into making it believable than the time Jason took on Dick Cass and Tim

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voiider · 25 days

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I need more batfam sibling dynamics where it's you and your sibling(s) vs. your parent(s)

Like in the way that you might not always get along with/like your sibling but your alliance is with them first and your parent second.

Bruce talking to Tim about Damian and saying "but don't tell your brother" and Tim IMMEDIATELY finding Damian and telling him bc it's ride or die

Or one of them doing something stupid and messing up/getting hurt but we do not tell Bruce and your sibling helps you clean it up and you take that secret to the grave

Also finding out family drama or a secret about Bruce and IMMEDIATELY sending it to the group chat

#bruce Wayne #dick grayson #jason Todd #damian wayne #tim drake #batfam #my dad “i think your sister has ___ but don't tell her i said that”#me immediately barging into my sister's room #GUESS WHAT DAD SAID #also her being like 'omg i learned this thing about dad“#like in highschool we didn't always get along great but it was still Us against Them #kids v adults #she's like my best friend now lmao

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givemewallywestorgivemedeath · 1 year

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I need everyone to know that speedsters are allergic to nanobots.

No, seriously. They're allergic to nanobots.

Speedsters have absolutely insane metabolisms, which means that they have an absolutely insane immune system. They don't get sick. Ever. Their immune system works at warp speed and takes out germs the second they enter their body. Call germs 'the Rogues' because they're getting tackled by super speedy blurs before they can even think about causing issues.

Okay, so they have a great immune system and don't get sick ever. What does this have to do with nanobots?

Great question! When nanobots are injected into a speedster's body their immune system sees them as a threat. Only problem? It doesn't matter how fast or efficient their immune system is, their body can't destroy a bunch of tiny metal robots.

Because their bodies can't fight off the nanobots they start to display typical cold/flu symptoms instead. Vomiting, fever, runny nose, coughing, being tired, ect. The nanobots aren't causing this reaction. Their own immune system causes this reaction. The fever is the bodies attempt to kill off the 'germs'. The vomiting, runny nose and coughing is the body's attempt to expel the 'germs'. They feel tired because their body is putting everything into fighting off the 'infection'.

In a normal person the nanobots wouldn't even be an issue because they'd be able to avoid detection. They can't avoid detection in a speedster body because their immune systems are dialled up to 500 out of 10.

As a result you get instances like this:

(Inertia had injected Bart with nanobots and Bart had a reaction)

Just an FYI for people because this is extremely fun and versatile information. Especially because none of the speedsters are really aware of this and it doesn't kick in right away. I could totally see a situation where a mission requires nanobot injections and mid mission the speedster goes down out of nowhere. It's also great if you want to do a stereotypical sick fic or something and want to get around that pesky speedster immunity.

Anyway, it's fun information so I thought I'd share

#anyone watch that episode of TT where all the titans are injected with nanobots that'll kill them if robin doesn't work with slade?#and everyone is all 'WHY HAS ROBIN BETRAYED US?!?'#anyway im just saying that if Wally was there he would be on the ground delirious and vomiting #which #i don't know if it makes the situation better because the team would be looking into why hes sick #or if it makes it worse because wallys out of commission #but its 10/10 either way #i just want a yj mission where tims like 'hey we are going to space so here are gps nanobots'#and then like three hours later Bart is burning up delirious and vomiting #and tim (who knows that speedsters ONLY show symptoms of sickness if they have the plague or have been poisoned or something) FREAKS OUT #throws him into quarantine. stops the mission. gets an emergency surgery room ready. has doctors on the line.#Kon goes into quarantine with him cause hes 'AN ALIEN AND CAN'T GET SICK FUCK YOU TIM'#meanwhile hes like #completely fine #he just has flu symptoms #dc #dc comics #the flash #impulse #kid flash #wally west #bart allen #barry allen #speedsters

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frequentderealizationcore · 5 months

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Just saw a "hot take" where someone said jason's anger isn't justified?? That's not a hot take that's just wrong lmao. Oh murdered child who got resurrected and found out your death was so insignificant that nothing changed, how dare you feel angry about that? Like you can say whatever about jason's character, that he isn't some poor misunderstood baby and he's genuinely evil (which also, wrong) but how can you ignore everything in his story that you confidently admit his anger isn't justified? Am I the one in the wrong here or is this just an absolutely awful take, how is a fucking murder victim not justified in his anger? You can hate jason and all the woobifying but he absolutely has the right to be angry and to be an asshole about it.

#“people would not consider him a hero because he kills”#I would and I would cheer him on #also the argument that he doesn't protect kids he tried to kill tim mia damian blah blah is so old #is it even canon anymore or do you just want to justify your hate for a character #because you can't outright say you hate them for some reason #like don't make shit up #jason todd #red hood

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someoneimsure · 2 years

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Can you imagine if Jason actually was in a book club during high school and met a person there who very much remembered him like super fondly? Like he comes back to life thinking no one remembers and then this friend from school randomly recognizes him on the street and greets him like an old friend and tells him exactly where they last met and the books they would talk about and says “Hey, I heard you were kidnapped and everyone thought you were dead. I’m glad you’re doing better” and during their small talk this person suddenly laughs and says “You haven’t changed a bit!” and now suddenly Jason is stalking this person for weeks trying to figure out how to salvage the only friendship he apparently ever had in his entire life and somehow completely forgot about.

#don't tell me he wasn't in high school because yes he was #he died at age 15 and was a studious kid and therefore he was a high school student #like why the fuck do people not think he was in a high school #ideas #my post #Jason Todd #Red hood #Jason Todd x OC #Jason Todd x Reader #people i give you permission to steal this idea for Jason and run with it #i want this shit to happen in canon omg #hell it could even be tim x jason #they're only two years apart and could have been in a book club in middle school together #Jason was robin since he was 12 #it works #jaytim #DC Prompt

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mortiferumsomnum · 2 years

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Danny Meets The Batfam

A continuation of this post where Clockwork is in love with Alfred <3

Edit: MASTERLIST

*******

Danny is 15 years old. He’s half-human, half-ghost, going through human puberty and ghost infantry at the same time. He’s also Clockwork’s emotionally adopted son, and the Ghost Zone’s beloved Ghost King.

But, with Clockwork flirting with Alfred, and Clockwork’s first meeting with the Wayne family being successful, it’s becoming very possible that he’s going to become the uncle of the famed Batkids and the stepbrother of THE Bruce Wayne AKA BATMAN HIMSELF. Clockwork DID make that suggestion out loud in retribution to his invisible moral support.

Motherfucker. Or, like, Butlerfucker.

But, you know: Experience, Adapt, and Repress the fuck out of it!

EAR for short.

Clockwork would disagree.

But fuck Clockwork. He disagrees with everything Danny does that might make everyone live in the wrong timeline.

Is it Danny’s fault that nature nurtures man? No. No, it isn’t!

Where was Danny going with this again?

Ah, right. Danny’s going to be an uncle now. And Bruce Wayne’s step brother. Well, emotional uncle and stepbrother.

No pressure....

Except, yeS PRESSURE.

His only experience in being a responsible figure is Dani, but Dani is so low maintenance, he doesn’t need to help her much except be her support. He’s not taking on responsibilities as Ghost King yet either because Clockwork managed to put together a council that would overlook the Ghost Zone while waiting for Danny to come of age.

Danny’s... he’s always been the baby, honestly. He’s been the baby brother. He’s been the baby in his group of friends (people would disagree, but this is what Danny feels. Sam and Tucker would have a friendship-divorce if he weren’t there. And who will Danny end up with if they have a friendship divorce?)

So, Danny goes to the number one person he knows would help him in being a responsible figure in his life: his sister, Jazz.

“Danny, you’re a kid. A 15 years old kid that’s living a normal life, at least from what they know,” she said, soothingly. They were both in her room, with Jazz painting his nails a pretty dark blue color, which would later be decorated with some really cool stars polish that Jazz found in the cosmetics store. “No one is going to expect you to be a responsible adult while you’re there to meet them.”

“I don’t think Clockwork told them my age,” he said. “And, even if Alfred met me, I bet he’s too in love to even think of telling them about me! I gotta prepare Jazz!”

Jazz moved on to the next hand. “Trust me, Danny,” she said, “if they’re the cool heroes they are, it really won’t matter if you can’t give them anything, or even have anything to impress them with. They’d just want you to be a kid. One they assume is living a normal life. Clockwork and Alfred are keeping quiet about the ghost thing, remember? So, they won’t even have the drama that comes with ghosts.”

Jazz was right.

And Danny sighs. “You’re right,” he said. “Maybe I’m just overthinking this.”

Jazz smiles. “It’s okay to think about this,” she said. “Clockwork has been very involved with your life, that you’re also becoming involved with his. He’s been the caring dad you’ve never had. Wanting to have a good impression on the family he’ll be committed to is normal.”

Once Jazz was finished with all his fingers, she went to shake the stars polish and open it.

Then, she went back to painting his nails.

“But if you really want to be on their good side, just be yourself, Danny,” she said. “Your naughty, space-loving self. Before you know it, you’ll all be getting along and dissing Clockwork like a good family together.”

Danny smiled. “Thanks Jazz,” he said.

Jazz kissed his cheek and hugged his head close to her chest. “No problem, Danny.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Danny painting Jazz’s nails in return.

*****

Currently, Danny was at Clockwork’s side, who was in his Horatio Clockwork form. He was holding a box of cake that he and Jazz picked together from the bakery - rectangular with a decoration of a clock with Alfred’s mustache in the middle.

He was nervous. But he was also excited. Jazz told him to be himself. So, himself he will be!

And so, they ring the doorbell at the gate.

There was a small beep after they rang. Then, some grunts and shouts were heard from the other side of the line.

“--Eat shit, Replacement---”

“--You imbeciles! Get off---”

“--Guys! Stop-- Oh, shit! Damian, NO!--”

“--Ugh! My inexistent spleen!--”

“--Hello, Bruce Wayne Speaking.”

Danny was smiling in amusement. He looked up to Clockwork, who also had an amused smile.

“Hello, Bruce,” greeted Clockwork.

“Hello, Cockwork,” Bruce said, with the most contemptuous tone Danny’s ever heard.

And... did he just call Clockwork ‘cockwork’?! HOLY SHIT. He loves his future emotional stepbrother already!

“Move aside, old man!” a voice that sounds like Jason said. “Hey, Horace! Lemme open the gate for you to get in!”

“Just don’t walk on the grass!” Tim’s voice said. “Alfred just watered them, and he’ll get pissed if someone walks on it!!”

That’s what they said, thought Danny. But both Danny and Clockwork knew the truth, there’s some serious security system at work targeted on the grass, and Bruce most likely doesn’t want to turn them off.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Clockwork, amusedly.

“We?” Dick’s voice asked.

But both knew that there are security cameras that the whole family could look from.

“Yes, ‘we’,” said Clockwork. “I brought Danny with me, today.”

By then, the gate opened... slowly... very slowly...

“GODDAMMIT, B! JUST OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!!” Jason screamed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bruce, coolly. “We’ve been having some problems with it these past few days. The technician we called has also been very busy. We didn’t want to make ourselves a priority when other people needs their services more.”

“Understandable,” said Clockwork, just as cool. “Alfred did say that his son had a big heart, which shows very much.”

Danny made a quiet snort.

“Danny and I have no problem waiting out here. Luckily, I advised Danny to bring an umbrella and to wear an extra jacket in case the famous Gotham weather decides to pour on us. Danny gets cold very easily, you see.”

The gate opened faster.

Danny gave Clockwork the stink-eye.

“FUCKING FINALLY!” Jason said. “Come on inside, Horace! Danny! Al’s just getting ready!!”

Without another word, both Clockwork and Danny entered the Wayne estate.

*****

The beauty of Wayne manor feels different when you’re walking on two feet and not flying in the air. It felt more haunting when you’re not the ghost haunting it.

Once Clockwork and he finished climbing the steps, the door opened, revealing the youngest of the Wayne brothers: Damian Wayne.

He scanned Clockwork up and down, before giving a nod towards Danny. “Good day,” he said, straightening his posture and folding his hands behind his back, like what Alfred would do, amusingly. “I am Damian Wayne. Welcome to the Wayne Manor, Daniel Fenton.”

He’s... he’s so cute trying to be all formal and polite like that. Danny wanted to hug this kid and show him all the goodness in the world. Maybe even let him meet Cujo.

For now, Danny needs to start light. So, he raises the cake box. “I brought cake,” he said. “My sister and I bought it. It’s vegetarian AND it’s strawberry flavored.”

The young Damian nodded his head again, as if in approval. “Thank you, Daniel,” he said, reaching out to take the box. “I’ll have Timothy bring this to the kitchen so it may be kept in the fridge.”

“Don’t decide things for me, brat!” someone, Tim, shouted from the back.

Danny smiled at Damian. “Thanks,” he said. “And call me Danny. Daniel is what rich, old people who wants to marry my mom call me.”

Damian raised a brow.

“Well, since I do not want to marry your mother, I suppose I shall call you Danny.”

“Oh my god, is THAT what it takes to have the Demon Brat to call you so casually?”

“Awwww, are you jealous, Tim-o-thy???”

“One day, Damian will be calling me Dick, and I will be the happiest man alive.”

“Tt,” snapped Damian, who was glaring behind him. “Imbeciles, the lot of them.”

Then, he turned back to them. “Well then, Danny,” and a glare to the person beside him, “Clockwork. Do come inside.”

The doors opened wider, and Danny had gotten a human-eyed view of the Wayne Entryway. Marbled floor waxed and polished beautifully, a staircase that leads to the upper floors of the manor, a bunch of unsuspecting chandeliers just waiting to be swung on... And then, there’s the family. Five brothers, a sister and a father scanning Clockwork up and down. The tallest of the brothers, Jason, had a genuinely wide grin, walking up to clockwork with open arms.

The rest of the brothers were weirded out by Jason’s behavior.

Danny knew it was because this is usually the eldest’s, Dick’s, behavior. But, he could see the sharp glint in the young man’s eyes. Although he seemed the most welcoming, he is also the most suspicious. Not only because of Clockworks’ “intentions” with their favorite butler, but because Jason could sense the Ectoplasm off of him.

He could most probably sense Danny as well.

Clockwork and Danny had talked about this once. It has something to do with the Lazarus Pits. But Clockwork cannot simply remove the Lazarus’ influence on the young man. Danny, however, had free reign. As long as Danny is not directly influenced by Clockwork in his choices, Danny could use his powers to remove the Pits’ influence little by little.

Danny snapped out of his thoughts the moment Jason hugged Clockwork, as if they were long time friends. His brothers were still weirded out behind him. Cassandra, the sister, looked like she wanted to roll her eyes.

“Alfie’s almost done getting ready,” said Jason, as he pulled away. “He’s just trying to pick which bowtie to wear.”

“I’m sure no matter which bowtie he chooses, he would still be the most beautiful,” said Clockwork, causing Danny to cringe. Because not only had he said something so corny, Clockwork’s face turned from smug to downright dopey and in love. It’s a weird look. Danny doesn’t want to see it again.

Jason, while Clockwork wasn’t looking, also grimaced. But when Clockwork put his attention back to him, his megawatt smile of innocence came back full force.

Danny saw that Bruce was going to say something, but then a cough was heard form the top of the stairs. There stood Alfred, all dolled up in a fine suit. The moment Alfred and Clockwork made eye-contact, both stared lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Perhaps, to these two old timers, time was moving slowly as Alfred descended upon the stairs. To Danny, he just saw two cute, old dudes about to hug. But instead of hugging, they decided to have a chaste little kiss on the lips, Clockwork adding another one on Alfred’s cheek, as they held hands and giggled like the lovebirds they are.

It’s super cute.

It’s also super gross.

No one wants to see their parental figures being all lovey-dovey.

Danny took a look at Bruce. He had his arms crossed and brows furrowed as he tried to glare Clockwork to death. Of course, that was impossible. And even if it were, Clockwork is already in the immortal afterlife.

Clockwork held an arm out. “Shall we?”

Alfred took his arm. “We shall.”

Danny furrowed his brows. “Wait, are you guys going on a date??” he asked. Because he thought that he was going to be with Clockwork WHILE he tried bonding with his... future emotional step-brother, nephews, and niece. Not... Not abandoned and left to fend for himself!

“Why, yes, Danny,” said Clockwork, looking very amusedly at him. “I told you I had reservations today. You’re the one who said that you wanted to tag along.”

Danny crossed his arms, mimicking Bruce who hasn’t moved a single inch. “I will make sure that we throw tomatoes at your face during your wedding.”

“Now, we don’t know if there’s going to be a wedding,” said Bruce.

Danny raised a brow towards Bruce. “There’s going to be a wedding.” Because there were too many invitation cards already made on Clockwork’s table, all decorated by Danny himself. If these two don’t get married, he will make sure that Clockwork will get papercuts from all the cards Danny had made. He worked hard on those damn cards, he’s not going to let it go to waste!

“But no worries, dear future emotional step-brother,” said Danny, smiling towards Bruce, “while these old timers are away, we shall make a detailed plan on how we’re going to make this cockwork suffer at the hands of his children and grandchildren.”

Bruce hummed in thought. Then, after a few second, he dropped his arms and nodded towards Danny. “I shall get the meeting room prepared then.”

Danny smirked. “Perfect.”

Bruce then turned to Clockwork with a glare. “He needs to be back by 11 pm.”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Master Bruce,” he said, stepping up to give Bruce a reassuring pat. And then a hug. “Do watch over the children while I’m gone.”

Bruce hugged Alfred back, and Danny swore he looked like he was going to cry. “Have fun Alfred,” he said, voice totally not wavering from how his chin was trembling. Danny took a peak at the other children, and they were all also in varying degrees of teary-eye. Wow. Clockwork is doomed if anything happens to Alfred. And Danny will be on the Batfamily’s side if that happens.

Sorry, Clockwork. But if it comes down to survival, siding with the Batfamily just seems like the obvious choice.

After Bruce, came the children. And after the children gave their warnings to Clockwork, and their farewells to Alfred, did Danny have all of their attention.

Danny smirked towards them. “So, where’s the meeting room?”

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