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phantom-0-writer · 1 month

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regular boy: daniel wayne

masterlist/link to ao3

summary:

“Reporting live from Gotham City!” The reporter spoke “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns between families under his care, where an estimated over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we are led to believe that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a month and a half of investigating, Nightwing reason to believe the Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate-” - Dick had learned that people never know a situation as well as they assume they did. Dick had always assumed that he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. The case file in front of him glared tauntingly. Danny Fenton; Birth Parents: Bruce Wayne (father) and Clarissa King (mother). Status: Alive

chapter 01: breaking news

tw/cw: mentions of infant death and fictional medical procedures

dick: 25 jason: 20 danny: 16 tim: 16 steph: 17 cass: 15 duke: 17 damian: 13

Danny sighed, stepping through the front door and into the empty living room not bothering to turn on the lights and tossed his hoodie onto a nearby sofa. Normally Jazz would have berated him for being messy, or maybe Mom would have nagged about Danny being older and needing to clean up after himself. But Jazz was off studying neurology at Harvard. And his parents had gotten an “an amazingly irrefutable offer, Danno” to work at Dalv Co. under their new ecto-technologies sector, that partnered closely with the GIW. So they were usually busy with that.

Not that Danny wasn’t glad to have time apart from his parents. After what Danny only referred to as The Chicago Incident, he could barely stand being in the same room with them. Danny kept quiet about what happened. He hadn't told anyone, not Sam or Tuck or Val or Wes and especially not Jazz. He couldn’t. He’d only managed to survive thanks to the timely aid of Fright Knight and Firebolt (a ghost friend he made when he was stuck in the Ghost Zone during the GIW’s six-month Martial Law lockdown- but that was a story for another time).

Leaving his shoes somewhere by the door, Danny made his way into the kitchen, perusing through the remnants of edible material. The equipment in the basement would have been collecting dust if Danny hadn’t taken his liberties with it. Apart from his newfound and unbounded freedom that he regarded with gratitude, Danny even began dabbling in cooking real people food. And it was definitely because he wanted to and not because he was sick of microwavable food, Jazz.

With Danny’s rendition of chicken alfredo ready, he ate in front of the TV. He flipped through a few channels before just landing back on the news. He half-listened to the anchor telling him about the incoming weather front before the screen abruptly changed, flashing a bright red Breaking News sign for a moment before panning over to a lady in front of what looked like a crime scene.

“I’m Jenifer Blair, reporting live from West Gotham City with Z News!” The reporter spoke urgently over the loud sounds of police and ambulance sirens in the background. “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, and lead researcher at West Gotham General Hospital, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns of families under his care. It is estimated that over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we have been told that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a reported month and a half of investigating, Nightwing had reason to suspect Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate where--”

The sudden sound of his phone ringing brought Danny back to his living room. “Hey, Tuck,” Danny answered, lowering the volume of the TV.

“Danny! Dude! Have you seen the news story of Batman and Nightwing’s recent bust?” Tucker asked, his voice radiating fanboy excitement.

“Wasn’t it mostly just Nightwing?” Danny raised an eyebrow at his friend, even though he couldn’t see it. “Batman showed up later.”

“Yeah, well, Batman and Nightwing-”

“Nightwing and Batman.”

“Okay, whatever- but isn’t this totally insane? It’s like Parent Trap- but illegal.”

“That’s not what happens in Parent Trap.” Danny pointed out for the sole purpose of being annoying.

“It’s the essence, Danny!” Tucker groaned. Danny could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone. “We’re still on for the new Doom game tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. The others come by yet?” Danny put his plate in the sink.

“I’m adding them to the call.”

On the third ring, “‘Sup Fenton ‘n Foley. Ready to get your nonexistent butts handed to you?” Val goaded, already hyped for their game.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I have a very nice butt. And Danny’s isn’t anything to scoff at either-” Tucker snapped only to be cut off by Danny.

“Okay! Thanks for the defense, Tuck.” Danny stepped in quickly before the conversation took a turn he did not want to witness.

---

Dick was alone in the BatCave, working out the final details of his case before sending it off to be released publicly. In all of Dick’s years as Robin to Nightwing, this case was easily one of the most disastrous to the general public. Given that it was his case, Dick wanted to make sure it went smoothly. Or as smoothly as telling a family their child isn’t biologically theirs can go.

Sorting through the files and pairing up the families with the correct child was relatively easy, thanks to the incredible details Dr. Kilye stored in his files. If the circumstances were different, Dick would have been amazed at how much data the doctor managed to keep collecting for 568 different subjects of his experiment. Silently praising himself for having already made his way through about half the files, Dick stretched his neck as he clicked the View Next button.

In his line of work, Dick had learned that people never know a person or situation as well as they thought they did. Dick had been confident he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. He knew better than to assume anything. The file that showed up next was chilling proof that he was wrong. For a Bat, the past never stayed in the past.

File Number: 6678

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Thomas Wayne Jr

Assigned Mother: Clarissa King (missing)

Assigned Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)

Biological Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive)

Biological Father: Jack Fenton (alive)

Medical Conditions:

Malformations of the heart and lungs

Unidentified chemicals present in blood test

Updates and Notes:

Deceased on 23 February 20XX (11 days old)

The memories he managed to keep buried for years seized Dick’s senses, and he was back in the hospital waiting room at age 9. None of the others had known about the time Bruce and Thalia had tried to work things out and had given having a family together a try. No LoA business. No Bat or JLA. Just regular(ish) people in a regular(ish) family.

It had gone well for the months before Talia had become pregnant. Even most of the pregnancy had gone smoothly. Dick got to be in an actual family again after the death of his parents. They had dinner together. Talked about their day. Watched movies together.

But then Talia had gotten sick, and the baby ended up coming out a little early. The doctors had told them it was normal and that the baby would probably still be healthy. So Alfred sat in the waiting room with a nervous Dick, excited to meet his first-ever little brother. He’d always wanted a little brother. Bruce came to the waiting room after making Dick and Alfred wait forever and told them they could come in now. Talia, under the alias Clarissa King, was asleep when they entered.

Bruce had told them the doctors had taken Thomas to get cleaned and do a few check-ups. Dick remembered the anxious but excited look on Bruce’s face as he kept glancing at the door, ready to pounce the second the doctor would come back with Dick’s new baby brother.

Except that never happened.

When the doctor came back into the room, he had a clipboard in his hand, not a baby. The Doctor told them to follow him, and they went inside a room with a bunch of machines in it, and in the middle of the room was Dick’s baby brother.

The baby was mostly bald, but he had little bits of black hair on his head, like Bruce and Talia. Dick wondered what color eyes the baby would have. Talia had green eyes, but Bruce and Dick had blue eyes. Alfred had said the baby needed a lot of rest and that’s why he was sleeping so much. Dick would be a good big brother and wait patiently until his baby brother woke up.

But the baby had to stay in the hospital for 10 whole days since Bruce had told Dick that his brother was really sick. Dick would check the nursery to make sure it was ready for his brother before Alfred would take him to the hospital to visit. Dick’s baby brother hadn’t been awake any of those days and Dick never got to find out what color his eyes were.

On the eleventh day, they didn’t go to visit. When Dick asked Alfred why, the butler had walked him to the patch of loose dirt in the backyard marked with a little piece of rock with his brother’s name on it.

Dick had seen that type of rock with his parent’s name on it before.

It meant that he was gone, and Dick would never get to see him again.

When Bruce had introduced Jason Todd and said he would stay with them in the manor, that was the first time Dick had truly ever been betrayed by Bruce.

Jason wasn’t his brother. Thomas was. But Thomas wasn’t here. Jason may get to say he was Bruce’s son too, but he didn’t get to know about Thomas.

Not letting his childhood tears deter him from his new goal, Dick quickly found the associated file. Dick’s heart pounded in his chest while his breath was still stuck somewhere in his throat,

File Number: 77563

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Daniel Fenton

Assigned Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive)

Assigned Father: Jack Fenton (alive)

Biological Mother: Clarissa King (missing)

Biological Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)

Medical Conditions:

Normal Birth

Age 12: Electrocuted

Hospitalized for 24 hours.

Developed Acute Bradycardia

No follow-up medical procedures

Updates and Notes:

Prefers “Danny”

Dick looked over the file again and again. His baby brother was alive. He had come back.

Should he tell Bruce? Obviously, that was a dumb question. How should he tell Bruce?

Well, Richard Grayson was nothing if not tactful. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, pulled up both files next to each other on the large screen of the Bat Computer, snapped a picture, and clicked send. Bruce was supposed to be having dinner with some important business people or whatnot, so Dick decided he should flee the scene before the Big Bad Bat found him, not wanting to know what his wrath would bestow on him. Heaven forbid, Bruce might even talk about emotions.

He closed all the files, stored them in a flash drive, and wiped them from the computer. After all, this was his case, and he’d be the one to see it through. Dick was right in front of the elevator when the doors opened to reveal Tim.

“You’re done?” Tim asked, raising a suspicious brow.

“I have a flight to catch.” Dick said, “I need to pack.”

“Is it for a case?” Tim asked, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Yeah. Be the bestest brother ever and cover for me?” Dick pleaded, flashing his signature smile.

“Why should I?” He huffed already a few feet away from where Dick stayed.

With a smirk, “‘Cause you don’t want Bruce to know what taking the Batmobile out for a ‘joyride’ was really for,” Dick said with a smirk.

Tim turned around, alarmed. “Fine, I’ll cover. But you better not tell.” Tim hissed at him.

“Scout’s Honor.” Dick winked before catching the elevator.

“You weren’t even a Scout.” He heard Tim complain before the doors fully shut.

Three hours later, Dick landed in Chicago, Illinois and hailed a cab to take him the rest of the 1-and-a-half-hour drive to Amity Park. Where Thomas Daniel Danny lived. Dick hadn’t exactly planned this whole excursion through, which wasn’t very trained-by-Batman of him. But Dick knew how to do things by the nose when he needed to.

He had used the time in the plane to finish the rest of the files, which he completed quickly with his ultimatum in mind. Dick purposely ignored every notification vibrating in his pocket knowing he would be facing the wrath of either Tim or Bruce.

But now he was sitting in a car for one-and-a-half hours with nothing to look out for except the darkness of the night and a relatively empty road. He opened his phone to 56 messages and missed calls. He scrolled through the groupchat, ignoring it when it was just talking about regular stuff. Next, he opened his messages from Tim.

Timbers: Dick.

Timbers: what did you do?????

Timbers: when you said cover I thought you meant for patrol or smt

Timbers: not whatever beef Bruce apparently has with you??

Timbers: I demand compensation!!!

Timbers: [1 video]

Dick opened the video Tim sent him. It was 90 seconds of security camera feed from right above the elevator. Bruce’s hair was disturbed from his usual well-done look he kept for business meetings and his tie was undone. He stormed towards the Bat Computer where Tim was doing whatever Tim does on the computer. Despite being dressed in business attire, Dick could practically see the flurrying of the Batman cape behind him as he walked. Bruce whipped the chair Tim sat on around to face him so fast that Tim nearly fell off.

‘Where’s Dick?’ The camera was a bit far but still picked up Bruce’s echoing voice. To Dick’s surprise, and seemingly Tim’s as well, Bruce didn’t seem mad. Disgruntled, alarmed, slipping from sanity? Yes. Genuinely angry? Not quite. It made Dick feel a little guilty. Only a little, though.

‘I dunno,’ Tim said, still reeling from the surprise attack.

Bruce pushed Tim’s chair away from the computer, scavenging through the files, no doubt looking for the files on Thomas and Danny. Unfortunately for Bruce, every single one of those files was secure in Dick’s jacket pocket. Bruce would come to realize that soon enough, as he took a shaky breath and stepped away from the screen.

The video ended.

That explained the 12 missed calls from Bruce. Dick debated calling him back. No doubt Bruce would ask for an explanation. An explanation he still has yet to come up with.

Deciding this was a problem for future Dick, present Dick decided he would let himself doze off for the rest of the cab ride to his destination.

#danny fenton #dpxdc #dpxdc fics #danny phantom #danny and dick #bruce wayne #dick grayson #richard grayson #nightwing #batpham #batfam #batman #danny and bruce #bruce and dick #bruce and talia

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halfagone · 4 months

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Y'all thought it was gonna be LL's Ascent, didn't you? Hehehehe~ Don't worry, that update will come in time, but for now- BEHOLD!

All good things come to those who wait.

#dpxdc #dpxdc fics #halfagone's fics #halfagone's bloodlines #alright i can pass out now #TAT

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nightshiftshenanigans · 3 months

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*Cracks knuckles*

Aight y’all, get ready cuz here’s a doozy!! Hope y’all enjoy!!!😃 My entry for the latest game of Who Wrote That in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games Discord server💕

#batpham #dpxdc #phandom #haunting heroes #dpxdc discord server #dpxdc fics #dcxdp #fic recs #swan dive #pit demon Danny #league of assassins #found family #this one is a lot TM so I hope y’all are ready!!! :D

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starry-bi-sky · 1 month

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show me how to lay my sword down long enough to let you through - clone^2 ch2

[My parents don’t get up until seven, and they’re in the lab by eight. They typically don’t leave the lab until after I get home.] Danny says as he leads Damian into the kitchen, the automated voice of the translator AI cutting through the air easily. Damian stuck close to his side, eyes narrow and a snooty look of disdain stamped on his face like a printing press while his eyes flit around the room.

The kid had woken up immediately upon Danny shuffling out from beneath his desk, and he had to scurry back to avoid being skewered by Damian’s katana. He bumped into his desk in the process, and the muffled thud it made against the wall had Danny praying that his parents wouldn’t wake up from the noise.

(“I should’ve confiscated that.” He muttered, gripping the table with white knuckles and mouth pursed into a thin line. The business end of Damian’s katana staring him in the nose.)

(He should’ve expected the baby assassin to sleep lighter than a feather. His mistake, of course. Damian realized quickly after where he was, thankfully, so Danny didn’t have to fight him off in his room. The noise and mess that would make would have surely woken up his parents, and he still hasn’t come up with an excuse as to why Damian was even there.)

So now with Damian awake, Danny decided to just go ahead and give him a quick tour of the house so that he knew where everything was. Fuuuck, it was only setting in now that he had to leave the kid home, alone, all day.

(Maybe things will be fine. Murphy screwed him over already with this, he has other people to torment, surely. Like the other heroes, for example.)

Wherever Damian’s ‘League of Assassins’ was situated, it was probably ten times nicer than Danny’s house. That is, if Danny’s assumption from the look on Damian’s face was correct.

Breathing out through his nose, Danny leads Damian over to the fridge, his fingers digging into the phone screen again. [I don’t have an excuse ready for why you’re here, so please don’t get seen by them. They spend all day in the lab so you should be able to roam the house freely.]

He feels like the butler from a period drama set telling the down-on-her-wealth noble lady the rules of the manor, while she was staying with a fabulously wealthy nobleman of higher standing. It felt ridiculous. But it was unfortunately necessary, he can’t imagine what kind of reaction his parents would have to Damian — and what kind of reaction Damian would have to his parents.

Damian scowls at him and says something in Arabic, spitting it out like acid while his arms cross over his chest grumpily. Danny stops and turns to him fully, raising a deadpan eyebrow. Damian repeats what he said, looking at Danny like he wants him to spontaneously burst into flames.

They stare at each other for thirty, uncomfortable seconds, with Danny keeping his deadpan steady, before finally he silently holds his phone out. Damian breaks their staring contest to look down, and his surly expression deepens.

Grumbling under his breath, Damian snags it out of his hand. Danny counts his fingers as he pulls his hand away.

(When he counts all five still there, he drops his arm back to his side.)

[I will stay hidden, for now.] Damian spits out, looking supremely disgruntled. It’s kind of endearing, but endearing the same way a tiger cub was. Cute, but undoubtedly dangerous. Rather than handing back his phone, Damian speaks into it again. [But figure out what to tell them. I am above hiding.]

“Planning on it.” Danny mutters, nodding sharply before taking back his phone and turning back to the fridge. Before he even takes the handle, Danny pushes his hair from his face and leans forward, pressing his ear to the door. The metal is cold on his cheek, but he barely pays it to mind.

Ecto-contaminated food didn’t have nearly enough of a signature to fully trigger his ghost sense, but it did make a strange, buzz-humming sound that felt more internal than external. Like the sensation that Danny himself was humming instead.

From his peripherals, Danny can see Damian staring at him with unconcealed bewilderment, his apparent surliness temporarily forgotten in favor of looking at Danny like he was an idiot. “Madha tafaeala?”

In lieu of answering, Danny just holds up a finger at Damian. Something the little dude really doesn’t appreciate, as he immediately scowls at Danny and makes that ‘myeh’-like expression that kids do when they’re trying to give someone they don’t like attitude without actually saying anything. The one that, as far as Danny is concerned, doesn’t have a real term for but everyone knows what it is anyway.

Either way, Damian makes a face at him that does, briefly, succeed in irritating Danny. He says nothing and cranes his ears instead, trying to catch if there’s any internal buzzing coming from inside the fridge. His hand drifts instinctively to the counter, where he and Jazz had moved the knife block for this exact reason.

…Will he have to hide this with Damian here? He hopes not, the last time the knife block got moved he forgot, and had to strangle a half-eaten chicken from the fridge after it came back with fowl vengeance.

When he doesn’t hear or feel anything out of the ordinary, he leans back and swings the door open with ease. Rows upon rows of liquid-jellied-solidified-whatever-it-was-feeling-at-the-time ectoplasm sat in glass canisters, tupperware, and bottles on the shelves. Glowing green in between the stuff that was actually food, and washing a buzz over Danny like someone just draped him in a weighted blanket.

(He should clarify. Ectoplasm does exhibit its own signature that’s too weak to signal his ghost sense, but that buzzing-humming feels more like the painless tingling of when part of his spine falls asleep. Except everywhere, and the feeling is heavier in his head. It’s oddly comforting. Nostalgic; like the smell after the snow’s freshly melted and the weather is warm. It is very much not like the ominous, buzzing-humming-intent of a partially reanimated chicken that’s regained some of its sentience and wanted revenge.)

Behind him, Damian makes some kind of squeaking sound. Or maybe it’s more like a yelp. Either way, it’s alarmed and loud enough that Danny turns around with half a jumping heart and a ‘shush’ on the tip of his tongue.

“Ladayk ma' lieazir!” Damian hisses, pointing behind Danny at the canisters behind him. Damian’s eyes narrow into slits, and he hunches up like a stray cat that’s been cornered. “Min 'ayn hasalt ealaa ma' lieazir?!”

Danny follows the point of his finger, and sees the ectoplasm canisters behind him. “The ectoplasm?” He asks aloud, looking back at Damian in bewilderment.

Apprehension tightens slowly in his chest. Damian used that word again — and Danny only catches it because it was what Damian had been calling him last night, in the warehouse. He thought it meant ‘stranger’ or something — but, he glances back at the ectoplasm in the fridge.

Was Damian calling him ectoplasm?

He knows what ectoplasm was?

What had been a steady tightening in his chest suddenly fastens like a noose. Danny reaches for one of the canisters just to make sure, and Damian watches him tersely as he curls a hand around one of the canisters and pulls it forward. He doesn’t take it off the shelf, but he does gesture slightly with it. “This?” He asks, “The ectoplasm. Is this what you’re talking about?” He knows he has a translator on his phone, but he doesn’t think he’ll need it for this.

He recalls the word Damian used, and frowns. “The- the lazeer? Laziere?” It’s an embarrassing attempt at trying to repeat it, but Damian understands what he’s saying anyways and nods sharply.

“Niema, ma' lieazir. Kif lidayk.”

Danny really doesn’t like that Damian knows what ectoplasm is, and he really doesn’t like the idea that his League of Assassins place knows about it too, and seemingly has access to the physical stuff. This feels too much like going swimming in the ocean and feeling something brush against his foot.

Now he really needs to make sure that Damian never makes it back to the League. The idea of a bunch of assassins finding out that his parents can make ectoplasmic weapons terrifies him, just a smidge. (Just what has he gotten himself into?)

Putting the canister down and pushing it away from the ledge, Danny reaches for the milk instead, his heart beating uncomfortably in his ears. A discomfited “Hn.” comes out under his breath as he plucks the jug off the shelf and shuts the door, it closes a little more forcibly than normal. Danny reaches for his phone.

The word ectoplasm doesn’t translate into Arabic, he checks before he says anything. Danny reaches over Damian to put the milk on the table as he types, still frowning uneasily. [It’s ghost stuff.] He says, and then says aloud: “Ectoplasm.”

“Ec-to-plasm.” Damian repeats curtly, lip curling. Danny nods curtly.

Rather than repeating himself, Danny types into his phone again. [You’re not allowed in the lab without me. Don’t touch the ghost stuff in the fridge, it’s dangerous.] He says, [I was listening to the fridge because the food likes to come alive and attack, if you need food from the fridge, grab a knife.] He’ll try and show Damian how to listen for reanimated food later, it’s a little harder without a ghost sense but the food moves, so he’ll show him how to listen for that.

Damian scoffs; “'Adhhab hayth 'urid 'ayuha almuhtal.” and reaches out to take the phone from his hand.

Rather than letting him, Danny pirouettes away, holding his phone over his head, “Nah-ah-ah.” He says, watching Damian’s face twist indignantly into anger. [We’ll talk more later, I want breakfast and you’re probably hungry.]

(Is he avoiding? Absolutely, he is. But it’s early, and Danny is much too tired to entertain the impending doom sinking into his chest like snow caving in a roof. He needs to do something about the information that a league of assassins has access to ectoplasm, but that something is… being put on the backburner for now.)

(Maybe he’s just catastrophizing — he’s gotten pretty good at that over the years. Maybe he’s putting too much weight on the idea; maybe he’s just sleep deprived. No, he’s definitely sleep deprived. Either way, he’s putting a pin in the murder group for now.)

Danny turns for the pantry, and takes about one step before he remembers the phone in his hand. Twisting around, he plops it onto the table for Damian, and then marches over to the pantry for the cereal.

The oven clock reads six-twenty-eight, and that doesn’t have Danny feeling all that great. He said earlier that his parents got up at seven, so they only have thirty-two minutes before then. Then another ten or so before his parents come down for breakfast. Mom takes the shower first, and dad comes downstairs to get started on breakfast. Sometimes it's cereal, but he likes making eggs if they haven’t been irradiated.

The pantry swings open and Danny pulls out a box of cereal, his brows furrowed in thought. Dad will want to talk to him if he sees him — so it’s for the best that Danny and Damian finish eating before dad makes it to the hallway. He turns and glances at the time again. Six-thirty. Thirty minutes. He puts the box onto the table and grabs their bowls and spoons.

There’s a look of apprehension on Damian’s face as he puts everything down, his fingers curled around Danny’s phone. His eyes flick up to Danny, and then he holds up his phone. [Is this what you eat?] He asks, before eyeing the table again.

Danny can’t stop the quiet snort that escapes him, his thoughts quieting for a moment as he slides into his chair, before reaching over and plucking the phone out of Damian’s hand. [Sorry bud, it’s all we’ve got time for before my parents get up.]

Damian makes a disgruntled face, and sits down.

(He idly makes a mental note to wrangle out of Damian later what kind of foods he likes. He’s not too bad at cooking. He’s better than Jazz, at least.)

—-----

They make it back up to Danny’s room by six-fifty-two, just as Danny hears his parents shuffling around in their room. They’re up a little earlier than normal. His mom’s limb, quieter footsteps already padding for the master bathroom. Danny is closing the door when he hears a familiar thud, and the low, sleepy groan of his dad sitting up and putting his feet on the ground.

Damian bounds away and is already situated on Danny’s bed when he turns around, fingers snatching his katana from beneath the pillows before he turns and sits stiffly with it in his lap.

It was a bit of a ridiculous sight: despite being awake for nearly an hour, Damian’s bed-head hadn’t changed a bit, with a tangled bunch of curls jutting out from one side of his head. Pair that with him still wearing Danny’s NASA tee (and being swamped in it), and the katana, and Danny was half tempted to snap a picture. Again, he was finding himself endeared.

He does end up sneaking that picture as he strides over to his closet to rummage for clothes.

[I’ll try and think of a way to get you home.] He lies as he shifts through the shirts on the hangers, typing with his thumb, and tilted halfway with his phone jutting out for Damian to hear. [But that’s gonna take a while, so we should get you some different clothes soon.] There was no way he was letting this kid wear the same thing every day, this might take weeks.

He yanks a yellow turtleneck that Tucker got him off the hanger and tosses it out onto the bed. It lands next to Damian with a quiet thump, and the kid shuffles away from it with a glare as if it's personally offended him. Danny stifles a smile and walks out, grabbing his hoodie-jacket from its spot on the door and tossing it onto the bed as well.

Damian grumbles something, then holds out his hand for the phone. Danny hands it to him as he passes by, going over to his desk to pick up his gloves and grappling hook, before turning to his bag.

[I am not worried about the time, Mother will come looking for me.] Damian tells him, sticking his nose up into the air and missing the cold seize of Danny’s heart and the tensing up of his shoulders. His mother. Who was probably also an assassin from the assassin club Damian was made from.

(A blood rush sends stars spinning around in the corners of Danny’s vision, and he pauses in order to stare blankly at the top of his half-opened backpack. He quickly blinks it away, and unzips his bag fully to shove his gear into one of the larger pockets.)

He hums low, turning to look at Damian with a fake smile plastered on his face. “That’s great, bud.”

(It should be a good thing, but he can’t quite shake the whole ‘assassins’ thing. Specifically… well, all of it. It’s all giving him a headache to sort through.)

Damian scoffs at him, [I cannot understand you.]

Danny snorts unwittingly, turning and shoving his gloves into an inside side pocket just as Damian throws his phone at him. He catches it before it can slam into the wall — or Danny’s head, and puts his grappling hook into his bag before typing into the translator. [I said that it’s good. I’m glad your mom is looking for you.]

That was another lie, and he felt bad that it had to be. Damian rolls his eyes at him, and Danny stuffs his phone into his back pocket and grabs his hook.

When his bag is accounted for, Danny finally focuses on getting dressed. He moves out to the bathroom to change, admittedly hot-footing it a bit so that Damian is alone for the least amount of time possible. He passes a sleep-mussed Jazz heading for the stairs, and she pauses to mess with his hair.

“Did you stay up all night again?” She mumbles, her fingers catch on a few tangles, but slide out at the end easily. “You don’t have bedhead.”

Danny pauses, half-distracted by the feeling of her hands in his hair and the urge to hurry through getting dressed. “Only a little.” He says, scurrying away and opening the door to the bathroom. “Was workin’ on a case.”

Jazz frowns at him, and he closes the door before she can say anything.

(He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth when he remembers that Damian will need other essentials than just clothes, and immediately starts compiling a mental list.)

He’s got half an arm through his jacket when he leaves the bathroom, his attention split between getting it on and typing into his phone. When he opens the door, there’s quiet, rapid footsteps shuffling before he sees Damian hopping back onto the bed, staring at him stonily and like a kid who was acting like he hadn’t been doing anything.

A smile tugs at the corner of Danny’s mouth, and he types into his phone to add something before hitting play on the translator. [I have to head out now, you can look around my room if you’d like. Don’t touch the brown files on my desk, I’ll be back after school ends. I should have a game plan by then. Don’t be seen by my parents.]

As it speaks, Danny strides over and grabs his backpack. Damian’s eyes follow him the whole time, and Danny slings his bag over his shoulders and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

Damian nods curtly at him, and before Danny leaves he reaches over and plucks a hairband off his dresser, pinching it between his teeth.

“Okay, I’m off.” He repeats, voice slightly muffled by the hairband as he starts pulling his hair up. There’s a huff from Damian and a knowingly annoyed look, and Danny’s smile grows a little out of amusement. He tugs the tie out from his mouth and twists it around his hair. “Be good, Damian.”

Green eyes narrow at him, and Danny hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him.

(He was a little — no, scratch that, a lot apprehensive about leaving Damian here alone for most of the day. He was worried about his parents, perhaps a little too much, and he was worried about Damian recognizing the ectoplasm in the fridge. He’s worried about the whole thing with these ‘League of Assassins’ people, and he’s worried about how he’s going to explain Damian’s presence to his parents. And he’s most especially worried about how on earth he was going to convince Damian to not return home.)

Instead of going for the stairs, Danny turns and hurries over to the end of the hallway where the ladder to the rooftop is. There’s a lot he needs to think about, too much for him to want to walk with Sam and Tucker.

The nice thing about people is that they don’t really ever look up.

—----------

Danny: hey i’ll meet you guys at school

Tucker: did something happen during patrol?

Danny: something like that

Danny: i’ll tell you in class

Sam: alright. Hop safe

[Danny liked Sam's message]

—-------------

(if continued)

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“Dude!”

“I know!”

Danny drops his head onto his desk with an unceremonious thump, groaning low with his nose smushed into the wood. Sam’s hands, buried in his hair and in the midst of messing with it, stills to let him. Some of the strands slip out of her fingers and pool around Danny’s face, causing a curtain. It tickles a little.

Maybe he should have just walked to school with them, telling them about Damian probably would’ve garnered less attention that way. He can feel the gazes of their classmates — or at least, the ones not slowly filtering into the room — turning onto them, and burning into his head.

But running over the rooftops, albeit only until the residential area ended, was sorely needed. It didn’t help clear all of his thoughts, or really much of any of them, but it’d chased away the worst of his anxieties about it. Like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a stuffy room.

(This has been, officially, the longest… five hours of his life. And he’s had many, many long five hours in the last two years.)

(Pariah Dark and his evil future self are tied for the record of being the longest twenty-four hours of his life. Finding out he was a clone doesn’t count — it was still ongoing, and distressingly permanent.)

Tucker makes a noise, and Danny turns his head just in time to see him drop into his desk beside him, lifting his hat to run his hand over his curls with a look of disbelief. He’s staring unseeingly over Danny’s head for a whole of two seconds before looking back down.

“So he just — what, popped out of the ground? Like a daisy?”

Sam continues with her ministrations, and her fingers brush against his neck as she straightens his hair down his back. It’s soothing, enough so that the sleep-soreness of his eyelids becomes a lot more evident to him.

“Hn. Something like that. If the ground was a once-in-a-lifetime portal and the daisy was a murderous six year old.” He mutters, blinking slowly to try and keep himself awake. Sam’s nails scratch behind his ears, gathering up his hair again to finger-comb out the tangles, and he sighs quietly in content.

He sees Tucker suppress a smile, and he can practically sense Sam doing the same thing. Danny stares, did his ears do the thing again—?

“You don’t think a ghost had something to do with it?” Sam asks him, her voice staying low as she tugged out the knots in his hair. “It’s really strange that…” She pauses. Danny can feel her lean against his chair, and he lifts his head slightly as Tucker leans in too. “..that Damian just appeared in front of you right after you got done with fighting a ghost.”

Hrm. She was right. It was weird. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He says quietly, “I was too busy trying to get him to stop attacking me.” And after that he was busy trying to get them both home in one piece, and then after that was the whole identity crisis—

And he’s gonna stop there before his tired mind latches onto that spiral again.

Sam and Tucker’s mouths press together worriedly, and Danny finds himself frowning too. “Maybe I can sneak into the Zone sometime this week and ask one of the Ancients.” Frostbite knew a lot about the Infinite Realms in general, but Pandora might know more about strange magic.

He could try Clockwork, but finding the clocktower always feels like a scavenger hunt, and getting straight answers out of the ghost is like trying to catch the wind in a bag. Danny normally wouldn’t mind, he kinda likes the challenge, but now is not a good time for that.

Either way, it was just another thing on his long list of things to do this week, on top of everything else he had to do since acquiring Damian. He could feel a stress headache coming in, and it was only — he takes a quick glance at the clock — eight-fourteen. Yeah, longest five hours of his life. And counting.

Hrrm. “I just can’t believe my luck.” He complains, of all people to clone, of all kids to end up being cloned. It had to be the one kid who, by technicality, was his biological son. That thought alone felt like a tsunami about to swallow him whole. It was confusing, and complicated.

It shouldn’t have to be.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t view Damian Wayne as his son. Not by a long shot. Damian Wayne was Bruce Wayne’s son. But just like how Ellie isn’t Danny, and Danny isn’t Bruce; Damian is not Damian Wayne. And Danny still doesn’t view him as a son, and obviously Damian doesn’t view him as a father. But it all feels like a strange gray area, like a merry-go-round that’s not turning off, and it wouldn’t have to be if his parents hadn’t been fucking careless with their DNA samples—

It’s been four months why does he still feel so raw—

Tucker snorts roughly, bringing Danny out from his head.

He breathes in deep, blinking quickly, as Tucker leans back into his chair. Sam starts sectioning off Danny’s hair. “Yeah, fair enough,” he says, “bad luck is my schtick though, Danny, so don’t go start encroaching on my brand.”

“Your brand?” Sam repeats, voice lilting upward. Danny can imagine she’s raising an eyebrow at him, and he snickers both at the thought and at Tucker.

Tucker’s eyes light up at the sound, and he grins like he’s won a prize. “Yeah, my brand! You know, Bad Luck Tuck?”

Danny snickers louder, adjusting to sit more comfortably. “I thought your brand was Too Fine Foley.”

“I can have more than one brand.”

Sam snickers this time, in the midst of braiding Danny’s hair. It feels fantastic, Danny hums lowly, sinking like putty into his desk. “I’m pretty sure that’s called a monopoly, Tuck.”

Danny laughs quietly, blinking lizard-like. “Tuck Driver.”

Sam barks out a harsh laugh, and it trails off into stifled chuckles as Tucker’s jaw drops. The wide grin on his face betrays any potential upset he might have though. “That’s the mania setting in.” He says, voice thick with laughter, “That’s the fucking sleep mania talking right now. Take a nap, dude, we’ll wake you up when class ends.”

Sleep sounds great actually, and he’s gonna do it soon anyways with Sam still doing his hair. But— “I’m not done talking about Damian.” He protests, but his eyes are closing on their own, as if all they needed to hear was him agreeing to sleep to do it.

Tucker waves his hand, “It’s not like we can’t talk about him later; nap first. Your eyebags can’t get any darker.” He assures, “Don’t worry, we’ll take notes for you.”

“Hnn… fine.” Danny says, and lets his eyes close. He’s out like a light in minutes.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #clone^2 #dpxdc fics #starrys fics #danny's 'hns' are my favorite thing ever i hope you guys know #the longer i look at this the pissier i get at the word count -- i think its too low -- so im going to post this now without looking #not much thoughts to put here bc all my rambling was left in the ao3 end notes

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infinitetrashbag · 1 month

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Help me find a fic plz

Okay I’m going insane. This is a batfamily fic and the premise is that the manor is too big for Alfred to take care of it all by himself. The reality is that he has ghosts from the history of the manor that help him take care of it but no one has noticed (including Alfred). But then someone comes to the manor that can see ghosts and everyone gets to learn about them and what their lives were like. I think this is a Danny Phantom cross over but it could be just DC because there are plenty of characters that would be able to see ghosts (duke and John Constantine for example)

I’m pretty sure I read it on ao3 but if I didn’t it was here on tumblr. Please help me find it if you can I’ve been thinking of it and searching for it for literal hours.

#fic finder #alfred pennyworth #batfam #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dpxdc fics

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tourettesdog · 1 year

Link

Chappy 2 uwu

#it's twice as long too #dpxdc #dpxdc fics #dpxdc fanfics #little baby man #little baby man danny #dead tired ship #dogfics

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numinous-scribe · 2 months

Note

Heya Scribe >:3

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

*cracks knuckles* Okay let's do this!

1. Somebody Make A Move

(Rated M, Complete, DpxDc)

This one was initially intended to be a one shot fill for whumptober, but then it kept developing plot and I had too much fun upping the tension which made the comfort in all that hurt that much more rewarding. (New readers be advised: Pay attention to the tags and prioritize your well being first if the story starts to overwhelm you at any point. This is rated Mature for a reason.)

2. Cause angels don't fly down here

(Rated T&Up, Complete, DpxDc/TT)

Another whumptober fill, but this one actually stayed a one shot lol. It was my first attempt at writing Starfire and it really enamored me with her character, and especially made me love all the potential of a friendship between her and Danny.

3. What the Desert Gives (What it Takes Away)

(Rated T&Up for now, Ongoing, DpxDc)

Affectionately dubbed the mummy au. I love this one because 1) the movies it's based on are fantastic and 2) I've been so stoked to figure out ways to adapt it to this crossover. The research I've done to use in the world building has been incredibly fulfilling and I've been having a lot of fun incorporating various bits of canon and headcanons to this au's lore.

4. Grave digger, grave digger; save me if you can

(Rated T&Up, Complete, DC)

This one's from my Bad Things Happen Bingo series and my first try at a Steph-centric fic. I saw the prompt "Buried Alive" and was instantly bombarded with the idea of Steph utilizing her knowledge of the movie "Kill Bill" to get herself out.

5. Kissing Constellations

(Rated T&Up, Complete, DpxDc)

It's Tim/Danny and pure, shameless fluff, what else can I say?

#scribe's work #ask game #dpxdc #dpxdc fics #dpxdc fanfic #fic recs

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faeriekit · 4 months

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"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

#I'm very pro Danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of Talons #people have definitely done it before but this scene came to me in a vision #a horrible caffeinated vision #could absolutely be an excuse for #talon!dick #talons #dp x dc #faer fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #talon!au #dcu crossover #death tw #well. the funeral industry anyway #medical tw #just in case #corpse tw #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#free to a good home

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ghostbsuter · 1 month

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He'd been flying above Metropolis.

Like a good ghost! Doing nothing but relax! Enjoying the weather, really.

It was so cool, Superman came up to him, they talked even! Superman was very, very, uncomfortable when Danny mentioned he was kinda dead.

It was really awesome.

Yeah, the keypoint being was.

Now? Now he is in Superman's arms, very much alive after being hit by a stray beam from Lex Luthors newest invention, quite literally hit from the sky when he didn't expect it and out of f reflex turned back human.

"I'm... alive?" He jokes weakly, smiling awkwardly at Superman's stare.

Danny considered this awkward.

Clark was processing the fact Lex Luthor somehow managed to bring back someone from death, his hands now full of said miracle and—

Shit, does the kid even have family left? What's he going to tell Lois!?

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #writing prompt #fic prompt #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #Superman is so flabbergasted #superman has no idea whats going on #superman is just tired man #danny has no idea whats going on #theyre both so shocked #superman is wondering if he just became a father #danny is figuring out how to get out of thia situation #clark: i know this is scary! but now you have a new chance at life! would you like to stay with me and my wife? :')#danny: fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

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finemeal · 3 months

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DP x DC Prompt #3

Danny was sent to the DC universe to save him from the GIW and the Fenton's by Clockwork

Doesn't know what to do here, but as an Experienced Vigilante:tm: he takes note of all the INexperienced vigilante's causing more danger than they realize.

Danny takes it upon himself to act as a low level villain so he can secretly train these vigilante's to be stronger. One day, a Bigger Villain decides to Fuck Around and Find Out.

All his "enemies" realize Danny could've folded them anytime he wanted when he effortlessly defeats the Big Bad.

#dc #dp #danny phantom #dpxdc #finemeal prompt #listen i'm gonna use this for a future dp x marvel fic #so i adapted it for dp x dc cuz i think this also fits #pop off monarchs should you choose to use this

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the-autistic-spider · 2 months

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dp x dc prompt

Danny was on a date with his boyfriend

they where visiting a space meusem

while they where at a space exhibit they asked why

"why do you love space so much?"

and Danny being an idiot said

"oh its technically a genetic need to see the stars but i do like them"

and naturally this made his boyfriend confused

"like superman and the sun?"

" i guess?"

and somehow a week later his boyfriend was sneaking him onto the watchtower to see the stars

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phantom-0-writer · 1 month

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what even is your life danny?

Danny had been shocked awake by Adam practically breaking down the door to Wes’s room as he barged in. “Wake up!” He yelled frantically.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked, sitting up at the thought of a ghost attack.

“Wha-” Wes asked, bleary-eyed from his side of the bed, drool still wet on his mouth. Adam in all his everlasting energy, practically pushed Wes off the bed, making room for himself.

“Y’know Nightwing’s recent case-” He started excitedly before turning around to face the two of them, his voice more serious, “You know about it, right?” Adam asked. When they both nodded- as if Tucker would have let them go this long not knowing about it- Adam continued in his original energy. “They finally released the names of all the kids that got switched.” Adam started in the same excitement someone would announce they won the lottery in a hallmark movie. “They made this mini-identity check thing, since, y’know it counts as personal medical history, and it legally can’t be free access to the public. It’s actually quite ingenious- yet simple.” Adam’s voice began trailing on the edge of mystification before snapping back to his original energy. “I thought we’d all give it a shot to see if any of us qualify!” He ended happily.

“Dude, how can you have so much energy so early in the morning,” Wes asked, bundling himself in his blanket, his voice heavy in a sleepy drawl even though he looked much more awake now.

“It’s 1:30. Regular people like me have been up for hours now,” Adam responded snottily, shoving a hand in his younger brother’s face. “Also Danny, your phone’s been going crazy all morning. You left it on the couch last night.” Adam said, handing the device to Danny.

“Who was it?” Wes asked, looking over at him.

“My parents,” Danny put the phone on speaker. Two rings echoed in the still anticipation of the room before the familiar voice of his mom came through the other end. “Hi, sweetie!” She said happily, “Did you just wake up?”

“Oh, uh Yeah. I did. I was-”

“We got a call this morning and you’d never believe who it was.” Mom started, her voice only marginally louder than the loud work of whatever she was doing. “The FBI! Can you believe it? They said you were one of the children involved with Dr. Kilye’s case-”

Danny looked up to share a look of shock with Adam and Wes, jaws loose, having pierced the puzzle together.

“-Apparently the child they swapped you with, mine and Jack’s biological child, had been born with an undiagnosable fatal condition, and hadn’t been able to make it. His name was… Philip. We were quite sad about the news.” The sound of the drill echoed through the room. “But apparently the agent- the FBI agent!- had already talked to your biological parents - you know Jack and I always wondered who it was you took after, and I thought it was my Great Aunt Sally, but Jack always said his late Uncle Bob. Oh right, what was I saying? Oh! Your parents- right! They seemed pretty eager to meet you. Or at least your father, I think -or was it your mother, I can’t remember. The other one went missing a while after you were born. I don’t remember all the details. I sent you the phone number they gave me, I figured you’d want to talk to her.” And before Danny could even get a word out she hung up.

There was a palpable silence, “I’ll make us some food,” Adam said, being the first to leave his spot.

Wes jumped up instantly at the declaration, “No!”

“How about I make us some food.” Danny offered, making his way to the kitchen.

“Yes, that is the better option.” Wes nodded sagely, plopping onto the barstool as Danny took inventory. Adam hauled himself onto the counter, letting his long legs dangle right above the floor as he watched Danny cook.

“You got your bio mom’s number, right? Are you gonna talk to her?” Adam asked his hyper attitude from the morning replaced with a still-eager yet more restrained and slightly somber one.

Danny let himself consider it before responding. “I don’t even know her name or anything though. What would I even say?”

“We could look it up on the thing Adam was tellin’ us about.” Wes offered. “I’ll grab my laptop.”

“Your call,” Adam added.

“Yeah… I think that’d be good.” Danny looked up from the food he was preparing, “Thanks, guys. I dunno how I would’ve taken this without you.” He smiled softly.

“You’re the one cooking for us, man. We should thank you.” Adam laughed. Plates wiped clean and in the sink, they all huddled around Wes’s laptop as Danny put his information to the FBI’s server.

“Dude,” Wes gasped reading the file, placing his hand on Danny’s shoulder as he leaned in closer from behind him.

“Your dad-” Adam spluttered, “Your dad is Bruce Wayne?” He practically yelled, turning to look at Danny for confirmation. As if he had any idea what was going on. “Bruce Wayne.” He said, again amazed.

“What even is your life Danny?”

“Did my mom just casually send me Bruce Wayne’s personal phone number?”

“Tucker’s so going to lose his mind.”

except from regular boy: daniel wayne (chap 6)

#dpxdc #danny fenton #danny and dick #batpham #regular boy: daniel wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #wes weston #adam weston #danny phantom #dpxdc fics

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