Au Where Jason Todd Is Sacrificed To The King Of The Infinite Realms And, Upon Realizing Danny Isnt Actually

Danny's Daycare Part 1

      [Master List]

  Danny liked to believe he was a good person, with a good heart, but even he knew he’d decided to do this more out of boredom than anything else. There were a lot of places and people he could help with his powers and wealth but there were only two reasons he’d agreed to help Lady Gotham. The first being; she’d asked. Who was he to turn down a city spirit who’d come to ask his help? What reason could he have for turning her down? Well, he was busy with his kingly duties, but that was exactly why he had to do it. He was bored.

            Having graduated with his bachelor’s in the previous semester and the realms being completely calm and peaceful for the first time in a few thousand years, he’d grown bored. He’d honestly been considering finally dealing with the GIW on a more official basis (though he wasn’t sure he would be able to without overturning the Anti-Ecto Acts) but had ruled it out. He’d banned ghosts from Amity Park years ago and had discovered the GIW wasn’t doing too well for itself anymore.

            So….

            He’d agreed.

            Of course Lady Gotham had been entirely ambiguous with her request and thus he’d decided to take certain liberties in the way he chose to help. If he was being honest he thought his ideas were much more helpful than what she may have been expecting. He’d hung up his metaphorical cape and retired Phantom shortly after high school. As king, he was still Phantom, but he didn’t plan on ever flying around as a vigilante again.

            He wouldn’t have agreed to help if it meant he’d have to pick up his old mantle again.

            Teen hero Phantom had died on a dissection table and there was no amount of Ectoplasm strong enough to bring him back.

            Only a bit of research told Danny all he needed to know about Gotham and how he could best help. The birds and bats had rogues covered, they didn’t need Phantom anyways. But the thing that led to so many people becoming goons? To dealing drugs? To taking up crime? That was something neither the birds nor the bats were handling.

            So using an infinitesimal amount of his disgustingly vast wealth, Danny bought a decent sized building in the middle of the Bowery, bought and apartment building nearby, and packed his things. Moving wasn’t difficult considering his handle on opening portals to the infinite realms and the fact that he was currently living in his keep.

            Jazz had been… confused. She thought he was throwing away his freedom, shunning her hopes that he’d go for his PhD, but after he’d explained what he was doing  she was more than happy to help in any way she could. After all, she was interning as a psychologist at Arkham Asylum while finishing her PhD at Gotham U. Anything that got her little brother to spend more time with her was a win in her books.

            Getting the building ready for Danny’s plan was the most time-consuming part, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He took all the necessary precautions, had the building inspected and fumigated, installed heating and air conditioning, replaced the worn-out plumbing, and had Tucker create the best security system known to man- or ghost. He did all the same in the apartment building he’d bought (he also lowered the rent a fair bit without telling any of the current tenants).

            Once the building wasn’t literally collapsing, he had the carpeted floors replaced (there was no saving the blood crusted carpets) with hard wood floors and colorful area rugs. At this point people had begun to notice all of the work going into the building, they didn’t ask questions though, that would be very Gothamite of them. Danny had spent every waking moment working on the building, hadn’t stepped outside more than a handful of times, and certainly hadn’t met any of the neighbors.

            That was kind of the opposite of his intentions.

            So he’d looked around for soup kitchens in the area, found one that served dinner at a time that fit in his schedule, and started volunteering. A few days after contacting them about volunteering he got a call that he was cleared to start whenever, and he agreed to come the next evening.

            He arrived a bit earlier than they’d suggested but the woman in charge didn’t seem to mind too much.

            “I’m Molly, you’re early.” A woman much taller than Danny with broad shoulders and biceps thicker than his head, crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “I assume you want to work?”

            He nodded, dumbstruck.

            “Good. This way.” He followed her without a second thought. He found himself in a large kitchen filled with the sounds of chatter, chopping, and music. A couple of the volunteers were singing to the music while cooking. It was overall, really pleasant. “You know how to chop vegetables?” Molly asked.

            He felt… condescended a bit but brushed it off. “Yeah I can chop.”

            “Good, Les! You’ve got a new chopping buddy. Lanky, take a break.” Molly shouted orders to the rest of the staff while Danny took over chopping from Lanky, apparently.

            A young woman -he assumed she was Les?- handed him the knife Lanky had been holding and pointed to a large sack of potatoes. “Chop all of those, then put them into the pot to your right.” She brushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ear and continued chopping carrots.

            The two chopped in relative silence, the sounds of the kitchen washing over them, until he finished the sack of potatoes he’d been working on. Danny was a lot slower than Les but she had more carrots than he had potatoes, so he finished first. “Done.”

            She looked up, finished what she was doing, and wiped her hands on her apron. “Good. Can you finish these carrots while I move the potatoes and see what else we need done?” He got to work on the carrots while Les ran around making sure everything was running smoothly. By the time she returned he had finished the carrots as well.

            “Good,” There was approval in her voice, and he fought off a blush. “Dinner is starting soon. We’ve plenty of people working on the food, you up for serving?” He nodded, wiping his hands on his own apron before following her away from the kitchen.

            “Wash up here.” She gestured to a sink beside the door leading to the eating area. While he washed his hands she explained what he’d be doing. “You’re just serving one dish, so it’s not complicated. One ladle-full per tray, no seconds, there won’t be leftovers as it is. Be kind and respectful, we have people if anybody gets rowdy so don’t try to be a hero.” It was a strange warning but… well, it was Gotham.

            He nodded obediently and followed her to the pot of stew that was already made which he’d be serving from tonight.

            “Service starts in ten minutes; we’ve already got quite a line. Someone will come to relieve you for a break in two hours. Dinner last four hours- I assume you’re here for the whole night?” He nodded again. “Good, you’ll get a twenty-minute break to eat and rest before going back to give someone else their break, understand?”

            It was a relatively easy job- though he tried not to think too deeply about some of the people he served. You can’t save everybody, Danny. Jazz’s voice echoed in his mind as he watched two young boys get food, refusing to make eye contact with any of the volunteers. The older boy muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ before dragging the younger boy away and finding a spot in the corner away from everybody else.

            He tried to put them out of his mind as he continued to serve the everybody else. He couldn’t. Danny found himself glancing towards the corner every few minutes to watch out for the boys, something about them reminded him of Jazz and himself- though he wasn’t sure why. Other than the overprotective older sibling thing, there wasn’t much to compare. Still, he felt a sort of… pull towards the boys.

            It wasn’t ectoplasmic, they just… clearly they needed help- two kids wouldn’t be in a soup kitchen if they didn’t but- You can’t save everybody, Danny. And you’ll kill yourself fully trying to. Jazz was right, like usual- of course he’d never tell her that but-

            “-nny? Hello?” Someone tapped his shoulder, his head whipped to the side, startling the newcomer. “Sorry man, just trying to send you on your break. You good?”

            Danny nodded, setting down the ladle and moving aside for the other man. He needed to clear his mind.

~~~

            He painted the walls. Pale colors that complimented the even more colorful posters he hung over top and went nicely with the rugs. He considered tuning it down a bit when it came to the furniture, but what was the point? Colors were fun- kids liked colors, right? So the plastic tables and chairs were yellow and red and green and blue and purple and any other color you could think of.

            And once the furniture was moved in he was able to buy toys. Toy boxes were filled with various brand new and colorful toys, shelves were packed with unread books in perfect condition, and crayon boxes with coloring books were laid neatly on each table. The cabinets were stocked with Sam-approved snacks, the first aid kit was over-stocked, and the closet was filled with a wide range of clothing for kids who might not have hats, gloves, coats, or anything else they might need. He'd buy more when he finally had kids to buy for.

            Lady Gotham hadn’t said a word about his plan, but she’d nodded resolutely, thanked him, and went on her way, and that was enough encouragement to continue.

            On one of the last days of constructions, Danny received a visitor.

            “So this is where you’ve been, eh babypop?”

            Looking up from the paperwork Danny had been poring over, he smirked. “I guess I missed living in a haunted town.”

            She rolled her eyes and sauntered closer. “So you’ve- what? Traded your throne for a plastic rainbow chair?”

            “I didn’t trade anything. Lady Gotham asked for help, and I had time. It’s not like I’ll be here forever. Just until Gotham is faring a bit better. Maybe I’ll find someone I trust to give this place to sometime down the line.”

            Ember leaned her hip against his desk and crossed her arms. “And you’re doing this alone?”

            He shrugged. “Jazz is in school and interning at Arkham, Sam’s in San Francisco with Val and Tucker, and who knows where Dani is.” He frowned at something on the paperwork before shrugging again and writing something down.

            “That wasn’t what I meant, kid.”

            “I’ve gotten really good at the whole duplication thing recently so, yeah, I was going to do this alone. Who else would help me? I mean, maybe I’ll hire some help down the line, but I’ve got to be established first.” Danny knew full well that his current plan would have him exhausting himself on a daily basis. Working long days, by himself, while duplicating himself enough to take care of an unknown number of kids would drain him.

            A hand grabbed his pen away before he could keep working on his paperwork and he looked up to try and snatch it back. Ember was leaning into his space, holding the pen away from him. “I was offering to help, Babypop. Actually, I’ve talked to a few people who are offering to help.”

            Frowning, Danny searched the desk for another pen. “You do realize this isn’t like the Infinite Realms, right? You can’t duel a kid, you can’t mind control children, you aren’t allowed to fuck shit up here.”

            “Wow, is that all you think I’m capable of?” The hurt in her voice was feigned but he wondered if there was a tiny bit of truth behind it.

            “That’s not what I meant, Ember. I- just- who wants to help?”

            She smirked.

            That was how Danny found himself surrounded by ghosts, going over rules and expectations if they wanted to help. Lunch Lady, Ember, Dora, and a few others he didn’t know as well, listened as he laid down the law. The safety of the kids came before all else. It came before their own safety, it came before Danny’s identity, it came before everything. If they were going to do this, they would be doing it the right way.

            “There is also the matter of the birds and the bats.” Danny sighed, leaning against his desk and facing his friends? Subjects? Fellow ghosts.

            Ember scoffed. “I don’t need that talk from you, babypop.”

            “No no- not the birds and the bees. The birds and the bats. Gotham vigilantes.” The ghosts nodded in understanding. “They are not to be messed with, understood? The Anti-Ecto Acts are still very much in play, and I cannot tell you what side the birds and bats will be on but presumably, the governments. Batman founded the Justice League so not only does he work for the government, but they failed Amity multiple times, I do not trust them.

            “First and foremost; Batman. He’s the leader of the birds and bats as far as I can tell. He’s been around for over twenty years, the world’s greatest detective, and keeps up with heroes like superman, avoid at all costs. His sidekick is Robin, a kid in green, red, and yellow, he has swords, and we all know that despite his age, he is probably pretty dangerous.”

            “Okay we get it; you beat all of us while you were a scrawny fourteen-year-old.” Ember scoffed.

            “Everyone else is listening quietly, Em.” He glared pointedly. “Anyway, next is Nightwing- he’s technically Bludhaven’s vigilante but he helps around Gotham on the regular. Wears black and blue, my understanding is he’s generally pretty friendly, but I don’t want to take any chances. Then there’s Red Robin, he’s said to be a tech genius and considering Tucker’s obsessed with him, I’d say that’s probably true. Despite that, he’s not chump, I’ve seen some videos, he can fight, and he fights dirty. He wears black and red.

            “Red Hood wears the bat emblem, but he works mostly on his own in Crime Alley. He wears a red helmet- I know, he should be wearing a hood, but whatever. Hood is the only one that I’ve heard a good deal about, I’ve heard whispers of him in the realms, spirits who are grateful to him for avenging them like to call him the avenger of the dead. I have a great deal of respect for him. That being said; Red Hood kills, he is the only vigilante in Gotham that carries guns- not dangerous to you, but still, avoid him at all costs.”

            “I don’t see the importance of such a warning, we cannot die.” Dora frowned.

            Danny nodded in agreement. “No, you’re right, you probably don’t need to be all that concerned. However, if they find out about us and what we are, there’s no telling if they’ll get their hands on ghost tech from my- from the Fentons.” Ember gave him a sympathetic look at his slip. “I don’t want them learning anything about us or the Realms for all of our safety.

            “Signal is the daytime hero, he wears bright yellow and my understanding is he’s also super friendly. I found a video of him teaching street kids how to do a backflip. I’ve also seen him punch goons into next week so again, dangerous. Spoiler wears purple, she’s a badass any way you look at it. She’s quippy, flippy, and intense. More intense though is black bat, who wears all black and doesn’t speak.” He took a deep breath and made sure he’d said everything already. “I think that’s everyone. Questions?”

~~~

            The daycare was almost entirely finished, Danny had been spending more time there than at his apartment, and he’d had Tucker craft fake identities for everybody who wanted to help out. With how stressful things had been Danny felt the need for an extra-large, extra caffeinated, heart attack inducing coffee. There was one coffee shop he loved in the Upper East Side that knew him well. He’d come by for a coffee every morning since moving to Gotham five weeks ago and the barista’s had quickly began recognizing the man who got a black coffee with seven shots of espresso and a disgusting amount of syrup. He imagined not many people got that kind of drink. (He hoped).

            Jesse smiled when Danny approached the counter and began typing his order from memory. “How’s the construction going, Danny?” They asked.

            Offering his own tired smile, Danny nodded. “Construction’s done, just finishing up some stuff on the inside and paperwork.”

            “That’s great!” Jesse accepted Danny’s card, swiping it through their register. “My uncle lives in the Bowery and he has a little girl. The daycare could really help a lot of people.” Their voice was warm and slightly sad at the same time. “I hope it works out.”

            Taking his card back and their words as a dismissal, Danny gave a nod and moved towards the hand-off plane to wait for his drink. He checked his phone; Jazz had been blowing it up with more ideas for his egregious wealth could benefit the people of Gotham. She’d mentioned a lot of ideas that were… well they weren’t bad per se, but Danny already had a lot on his plate with the Daycare opening in just under a week.

            He wrote each suggestion down in his notes app anyways. A lot of them were things Gotham already had; food banks, homeless shelters, etc. but some of them were more interesting. A mechanic who fixed up cars for free, a tutoring program for kids who weren’t in school but wanted to go back, classes on how to combat different kinds of gasses and poisons (specifically fear gas, Poison Ivy’s different toxins, and Joker Venom), first aid programs, and a whole lot more. Danny hoped to implement a lot of Jazz’s ideas at some point, but for now, he was just one guy.

            One guy who barely saved himself.

            Jesse handed Danny his drink and waved as they turned to help another customer. Moving towards the exit, Danny narrowly avoided crashing into a bigger man who clearly didn’t have special awareness but in turn crashed into a much smaller man.

            “Oh shit!” Danny’s drink spilled all along his front and onto his shoes and he cringed at the painful heat coming into contact with his sensitive scars. “I’m really sorry.” He sighed, looking over the other man to see he hadn’t actually spilled any of his drink on the other man. Thank Ancients.

            The other man, who was only slightly shorter than Danny, was pressing napkins into Danny’s shirt. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? That looked really hot.”

            Danny nodded, taking the napkins from the other man and wiping away what he could without rubbing his scars. “Yeah… it was. I’m just glad I didn’t spill it on you.” He froze. “I didn’t, right?”

            The other man shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks. Let me buy you another one- it was kind of my fault anyways.”

            “We both know I crashed into you.” Danny raised an eyebrow. He didn’t need anyone to buy his coffee, he was disgustingly wealthy, if anything, he should be buying the stranger his coffee as an apology for crashing into him.

            “Whatever, let me buy your coffee as an apology anyways.” Danny shrugged, following the man up to the counter. He was going to buy a replacement anyways; he might as well let this stranger buy it for him.

            Jesse raised an eyebrow at the duo. “Oh god. I was hoping you two would never meet.”

            Danny and the man looked at each other strangely before looking back at Jesse. “Why?” They asked in unison.

            “Two large hot coffees with seven shots of espresso and fifteen pumps of vanilla?” They raised their eyebrow, looking between the two men judgmentally.

            Danny turned to the stranger, who in turn did the same, both looked at each other before promptly bursting into laughter. “Oh my Ancients, you too, huh?” Danny pretended to wipe away a tear as the other man ran a hand through his hair.

            “A man of taste.”

            Jesse swiped the man’s card. “I’ll have them in a minute, Tim, Danny.” They nodded to each of the men dismissively and they took their cue.

            They took a seat near the hand-off plane and Danny realized he’d never introduced himself properly. “I’m Danny, sorry about almost dropping my coffee on your very expensive looking suit.”

            The man -Tim apparently- waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Tim, sorry about making you dump boiling hot coffee all over yourself.”

            “Better my t shirt and jeans than your Armani suit.”

            “I save the Armani for special occasions.” Tim smirked. “So what could you possibly be doing that requires a level of caffeine that could kill an elephant?”

            Danny rolled his eyes. “Jeez, you sound like my sister. I’ve spent the last five weeks renovating a place in the Bowery and turning it into a daycare. Only a few days before it opens, and I’ve already got a couple of kids signed up, so I imagine I’ll be drinking this every day for the rest of my life. How about yourself? You must have a crazy job to be drinking that much coffee.”

            Tim looked surprised briefly before masking it. “I’ve got some business meetings today I’ve been putting off for a while. I usually drink a few coffees a day to get through all the bullshit the board likes to pull.”

            “You must be pretty high up to be dealing with a board. I know how much those meetings suck. I usually just fake an emergency- of course they start to catch on when you do it every single time- but you know- I don’t really care.” He chuckled thinking about the last council meeting in the realms when Frighty’d almost had an aneurysm from Danny’s antics.

            Tim’s head tilted. “Where do you work?”

            He hadn’t anticipated this question which was stupid because he was the one who’d brought up dealing with his own board, Danny was saved by Jesse. “Tim!” They called from the bar. Two identical coffees sat on the hand-off plane and the men moved in unison.

            Drink in hand, Danny turned to Tim. “Well thanks for the coffee, Tim. I’ve gotta get back to the daycare but it was nice meeting you!” He smiled, offering a hand to shake.

            Tim took it, holding his own coffee in his other hand. “You too, Danny. I’ll see you around?”

            “Unfortunately!” Jesse called from behind the bar.

~~~

This is a fic on AO3 but thought I'd post the parts here separately for anyone who wanted to read them on Tumblr

AO3 Link

Original Prompt from @glow-in-the-dark-death

Next

DPxDC - Missing Persons

also on AO3

It started so quietly no one really noticed.

People were disappearing. A veteran from the mountains, a firefighter from the city, a surfer from the coast, and on and on. All gone without a trace. The local authorities investigated, of course, but they never found any leads. After some time, the people were simply written off as missing, and their communities moved on. They remained forgotten until the Justice League got involved. Their systems flagged the uptick in disappearances, and once a Bat took a look, they were immediately suspicious. It took another Bat before the link was finally found. And it took Red Hood disappearing to confirm it. The missing people all had previous close calls with death. And so the League followed protocol – they announced an investigation.

The disappearances stopped.

It was a relief at first. There were far too many people who fit the profile, and none of their analysis could discern a usable pattern from the previous disappearances. But as time stretched on, they got nervous. Surely whatever this was wouldn’t just stop once noticed? What was going to happen next, and when? Justice League Dark got involved. Only once John Constantine started poking around did they find a lead, and even then only thanks to dumb luck.

When Constantine was finally dragged to the town where one of the early disappearances occurred, he zeroed in on an old woman living in a care home. As it turned out, she was mildly magically sensitive. Apparently her grandmother was a witch or something of that sort. But crucially, she had suffered a nearly fatal heart attack almost a decade ago. And she was all too happy to talk about the ‘nice young man’ from her dream who offered to take her away.

She granted Constantine permission to dive into her memory to learn more. Whatever he learned did not make him happy. He said he’d be back after a quick trip to Hell and disappeared, much to Batman’s irritation. But true to his word, surprising some, he returned with slightly singed clothes and a book.

So here he was, chalking sigils onto the floor. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern watched him work in silence, likely trying to wrap their minds around the fact that there was a so-called Ghost King who they were about to request an audience with. Constantine finished up his work and stood at what they all assumed was the front of the circle he had just drawn.

“I do all the talking, yeah? These ones can be tricky.”

Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand, magic glowing at his palm. The circle responded in kind, pulsing white then fading into a harsh, vibrant green. A large black, green, and red elaborately-decorated sarcophagus rose inside the circle, appearing to phase straight through the floor.

“Dramatic fuckers, eh?” Constantine muttered.

A thick fog billowed out alongside it, quickly surging out past the boundary of the circle. It spread upward, threatening to fill the entire room. Constantine cursed to himself and waved an arm, clearing out the fog around them even as it thickened throughout the rest of the room, obscuring the view of the ceiling and walls save for the door directly behind them.

A deep voice echoed through the room with no discernible source. Everyone tensed.

“Who would dare wake the sleeping tyrant?”

A pair of bright green slits appeared from the depths of the fog and widened into eyes.

“Eugh, it’s you.”

The voice lost its echo. It sounded annoyed but entirely human and...young? That didn’t stop Constantine from clenching a hand into a fist, charging magic and preparing for an attack. The eyes moved closer, revealing a pale face and snow-white hair that floated in an unfelt breeze.

“Peace, Hellblazer.”

A lanky figure stepped forward onto the sarcophagus from where they were floating. They wore all black save for their white gloves, white boots, and previously visible head. With an audible thunk they plopped down on the foot of the sarcophagus, one leg bent upward to rest their chin on and wrap their arms around.

“I mean you no harm.”

There was a pause as the others waited to see how Constantine would respond.

“We met?”

“No, but I know of you. And I must admit, I’m disappointed to see you working with the likes of them.”

They gestured to the others in the room.

“Yeah, well,” Constantine relaxed his fist but lost none of his tension, “Don’t meet your heroes.”

The stranger scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just enjoy seeing demons annoyed.”

There was another tense pause as the stranger lazily looked over all those present. Constantine broke the silence again.

“Who might you be, then?”

The stranger slowly dragged their gaze away from Wonder Woman and back to the magician. After a pause they spoke.

“You may call me Ambassador.”

“Ambassador to ghosts?”

“If you’d like to think of it that way.”

Constantine straightened his posture.

“We would like to formally request an audience with His Majesty The King to discuss what we suspect is ghost activity in our world.”

The ambassador stared back in silence with squinted eyes before sighing and thumping their forehead to their knee.

“Where to even begin…” they whispered to themselves.

“Okay, let’s start with this.” They slapped the side of the sarcophagus and looked up. “What part of ‘sleeping tyrant’ wasn’t clear?”

“I was under the impression His Majesty was recently crowned and well-respected?”

The ambassador pinched the bridge of their nose and groaned.

“Ancients...”

They hopped to the ground without warning, causing everyone to flinch into defensive stances. If the ambassador noticed, they gave no indication.

“The king is a tyrant, he is trapped in forever sleep again, and I’d like to keep it that way this time.”

Constantine opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he got a chance.

“Speaking of which, how’d you even summon him?”

“Summon?” Constantine choked out, clearly surprised.

The ambassador walked toward Constantine, making everyone save for him slide backwards a step. They looked down at the chalk marks on the floor.

“Ancients, this is archaic. Where’d you find it?”

After a few seconds of silence, the ambassador looked up at Constantine.

“Well?”

“Ah...Merlin.”

The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s bloody true!”

The ambassador huffed out a laugh and walked back to lean against the sarcophagus and cross their arms.

“Can’t fault his demonology, but this circle is Bad. I suggest you lose it.”

Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time from an unfamiliar voice echoing through the room.

“Lord Phantom.”

Everyone flinched as a set of black armor coated in purple flames stepped into view from the fog.

“’Sup Frighty?”

“The dark one is marked.”

The ambassador flicked their eyes to Batman and stared for several tense seconds.

“So he is. Just like the other one, but actually concealed. Must be barely contaminated.”

The ambassador squinted and tilted their head.

“Sure enough. It’s weak, but there’s a family bond there.”

Batman clenched his fist.

“Where is Red Hood?”

The ambassador straightened their head, unflinching and unblinking.

“Safe. And being cared for.”

Before Batman could respond, yet another voice echoed from the fog.

“These are the ones?”

The ambassador turned their back to Batman and groaned.

“Is anyone not coming?”

A giant, four-armed, blue-skinned, armor-clad woman stepped out of the fog with two sets of crossed arms. She had the smallest smirk on her face.

“Apologies. I wished to see those who would obstruct our evacuation.”

Superman and Green Lantern perked up and shared a short look of confusion. The woman turned her head to Wonder Woman, her smirk replaced with a grimace.

“I am disappointed to see one of my kin among them.”

“I thought she might be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward.

“My Lady, I –”

“You were not asked to speak, Child.” The woman snapped.

Her voice shook the floor underneath them. Wonder Woman flinched and stared up at her with wide eyes. The heroes tensed for a fight. But to their shock, Wonder Woman slowly raised her arm to press a fist over her heart and bowed her head in deference.

“I will make my displeasure known,” the woman growled, voice still angry but no longer violently.

“Take Dora with you.”

“Do you think me unable to fend for myself, Little One?” Her mouth curved up into a fond smirk again.

“I know better than to doubt you,” they briefly smirked back, “but given my limited experience, I don’t hold them in high regard.”

After a pause they tacked on a “no offense”.

“None taken.”

The woman stepped backwards and faded into the fog. Superman took a step forward, eyeing the armor cautiously.

“Ambassador, my apologies for our unpleasant first meeting.”

He waited until the ambassador gave him a slight nod.

“May I inquire what your companion meant by ‘evacuation’?”

“Exactly what she said. Our kind are being hunted, and we are trying to save them.”

“In that case I must apologize again. We were not aware of this unfortunate situation. Had we been provided an explanation, we would –”

“Typical,” the ambassador scoffed, “your primary patron government is committing a genocide, and yet we’re at fault for not properly informing you.”

Superman was smart enough to bite back his standard “we’re independent” retort. Green Lantern stepped forward instead.

“If I may, Ambassador, my name is Hal Jordan. I am a member of the Green Lantern Corps. We are a wholly independent organization dedicated to peacekeeping across the galaxy.”

The ambassador looked him up and down slowly before turning their head away dismissively.

“I don’t talk to cops.”

The heroes were stunned to silence. The ambassador turned to the floating armor.

“Prepare the Keep. I’ll ward against this circle once the sarcophagus is back in its place.”

“My Lord.”

The armor bowed its head then faded into the fog. Batman stepped forward.

“We have no involvement in the violence against you or your kind.”

The ambassador turned to stare at Batman for several seconds, squinted eyes glowing brightly.

“You’re an excellent liar, Batman.” The fog crept forward and wrapped around their legs. “Unfortunately, I know you’re full of shit.”

“What points you to that conclusion?” Batman kept his voice neutral and steady.

The fog had risen to the ambassador’s chest. They scoffed.

“There are photos of you with Amanda Waller.”

Batman’s fist clenched harder.

The ambassador turned to look at Constantine as the fog enveloped them, leaving two glowing green spots.

“I suggest you not push this any further, Laughing Magician. There are some things in this universe that trump even your luck.”

The glowing green eyes closed, and the fog faded away, leaving an empty summoning circle and untouched room. After several seconds of silence, Wonder Woman finally raised her head and spoke.

“I must return to Themyscira, perhaps for some time. If that was who I believe it to be...something has gone very wrong.”

Superman glanced over the others, who were all still silently processing the encounter. He turned back to Wonder Woman to give her a nod, and she quickly walked out of the room.

Constantine reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He unscrewed the cap with a heavy sigh and downed whatever was left. He looked tired and annoyed, same as he always did. But Batman could tell he was shaken.

He looked away from Constantine and back to the empty circle again. There was a lot of concerning information to process, but one key thing did slip through. The knight had called the stranger ‘Phantom’. He had come across that name once before. One of three legible words on a burnt piece of paper in an abandoned and destroyed facility. A facility that stank of a classified government cover-up. A facility Waller had sworn up and down she knew nothing about. But he had a lead. The other two words. Amity Park. A small town that only existed if you looked at paper maps printed several years ago.

He had to act quickly.

The Proposal

This mini fic was inspired by the anon prompt to @faeriekit linked here and all the development that Faeriekit did for the idea. This fic is perilously regional. I half expect angry yelling from other areas of the Midwest.

Original post

Word count: 2718

Masterpost of my Archive Down Fics is here.

Jason came to with cream cheese stuck under his fingernails and in the creases of his fingers. He looked around the room wildly, trying to understand the situation he was in. The kitchen smelled fucking weird. He sniffed the air. Meat? Like, ham and also vinegar?

He washed his hands really well, grimacing at the greasy texture. Then he reconstructed what must have happened by the debris. This was not his first post-blackout rodeo, but usually he was reconstructing a literal crime scene.

There was an empty pickle jar on the countertop. There were packets of deli meat in the trash.

There was some kind of abomination on his nicest plate, which was obviously made of cream cheese wrapped around pickles, blanketed by the meat, and sliced thin like sushi rolls. It was lovingly protected by a perfect sheet of cling wrap.

“The fuck?” Jason said, a little scared and pissed off.

He paced the kitchen for a while and then went to pace on the balcony, because he needed a smoke to process this culinary abomination but something in his gut wailed at the tragedy of ruining it with cigarette smoke. Which was absurd, partly because the plate was in the refrigerator. He sensed in his bones that it needed to cool until the cream cheese was as hard as it would get, so that he could safely transport it. Transport it fucking where? Was this an assassination attempt against Batman? That sappy motherfucker was probably the only man in the world who would choke that down to make Jason happy.

He had a long drag on his cigarette and tried to ignore the way his fingers shook.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing his free hand shut and opening it. Maybe stimming would prompt his brain to go brr and explain this. “Did I have a stroke? Maybe I was possessed?”

It was hard to tell. He ground out his cigarette and tossed the butt in the tray before venturing back inside. He was calm. He was more centered. He flicked on the kitchen fan to clear out the pickle stink and then he went and put on his coat and grabbed the plate.

Why was he doing that?

The compulsion led him three blocks before he realized where he was going.

Not far away from the safehouse he was in, some college freshman had wasted the Joker when the clown tried to drag him into a van. He had called the police, crying the whole time in shock about being a murderer.

Jason had not been on the scene. He had only heard through comms. He had been out of town when the Joker got out. He had been rushing back on his bike, heart pounding and sick with nerves at the thought of his family out there without him.

And then the fucker had failed to secure the first victim for whatever sick play he’d had in mind, and the poor out of town kid who had apparently never heard of the Joker was breathing a sigh of relief that ‘oh, this wasn’t like, a birthday clown? Whew, that’s alright then,’ previous guilt over ending a life all gone.

Jason liked that. It was hugely undignified that the Joker had been got by someone who didn’t even know who he was. If he’d known, it would have killed his ego. As it was, Jason had laughed himself nearly sick before barricading himself inside to read the file Timmers put together on Danny Fenton.

Well. If his gut said that he should deliver this horrific dish to Fenton as thanks for the murder, well…

Jason grimaced. He just wouldn’t be seen doing it. If Fenton thought it was an assassination attempt and called the cops, Jason would never fess up.

He broke into Fenton’s apartment, very glad that the guy was in class at the moment. He mourned the loss of his plate but honestly, this was the least destructive black out he’d had, so it was whatever. He put the pickle rolls in the fridge, looked around, and then left. He was done. He’d thanked Fenton, or whatever (maybe he’d attacked him, honestly, Jason didn’t know how he would react to finding that trash in his fridge.)

It could end now.

The next morning, Jason scrubbed away a yawn and realized that he had just scraped a mess of chopped snickers bars into a bowl that already had clouds of something white and -

He took out a piece and bit into it to confirm that it was perfectly cubed green apple.

“I am possessed,” Jason said in horror, looking around the counter to see what the Pit Madness had cooked up this time. Why did the fucking Lazarus Pit know these recipes?

The white shit was a mix of cool whip and vanilla pudding, apparently. There was an untouched bottle of caramel sauce waiting innocently.

“...Does that go in?” Jason wondered, vaguely horrified.

Well, maybe an evil witch was doing this to him. Bottoms up. He poured caramel in until it felt right, guided by what had to be someone else’s goddamn ancestors, and then mixed it all up with a spoon.

This looked a lot better than the last thing. Jason scraped it into a bowl and then stole a spoonful of it to try.

“Holy shit. It’s like eating a caramel apple,” he said, muffled around the food. He swallowed and genuinely considered taking more.

Nope! His gut said nope. This was another offering for–

“Hold up, offering?” Jason put it in the fridge, clingwrap on top, and let his mind be blown. He put his face in his hands and just reeled. He was making offerings for this motherfucker now. He opened his phone, intending to search the things he’d been blackout making and froze.

His lock screen was Danny Fenton’s police intake photo, looking pretty relaxed after he'd been told the booking was a formality.

“I don’t remember doing that!” Jason frantically changed it back to his old lock screen, a grimy alleyway with a hilariously shaped filth puddle and one of his favorite rats.

He snuck this dessert thing into Fenton’s fridge, collected his clean plate with some relief, and left. He didn't know if Fenton had eaten that shit or if he'd thrown it away, but at least he'd washed the plate.

“That was the last time,” Jason told himself, pacing around his room. He wasn’t– that was two days in a row now that he had a normal day, went out on patrol, went to bed, and woke up in his kitchen. It wasn’t going to happen again.

He chainsmoked all day to such a degree that Stephanie Brown saw him, whined “Dude,” in disbelief, and jumped off a building while holding her nose to get away from him. It was a fair reaction. He had a shower before patrol so that no one could make a connection between Jason, stinkiest man in Gotham today, and the Red Hood, a guy who owned a shower.

Patrol went fine. He caught himself veering past Fenton’s shitty apartment building twice but no one was nearby enough to call him out for it.

He went to bed and got a jumpscare because at some point of his most recent fugue state he'd gone out and bought a bunch of wedding magazines and made them into a nest. He made a roar of frustration and pushed them off the bed with only a twinge of interest in what that swan centerpiece was made of.

Jason went the fuck to sleep, determined to walk this off.

He woke up the next morning in his kitchen. “Cream cheese, again,” Jason complained. He gave the bowl he was mixing a furious stir and then shoved it in the fridge.

Cream cheese, chopped meat, and chopped green onion. He searched the internet to identify the fucker. This was a cheeseball.

…He frowned, thinking of the fugly mess in the bowl.

It was the larval form of a cheeseball, he amended.

Why did he know this shitty recipe.

Stomach tight with dread, he looked up the other things. Day one was a pickle roll. Day two was snickers salad.

These were all real Midwestern potluck dishes. He hadn't made them up. Why did the pit know these recipes?

The Snickers salad offended him as a concept and he bitterly regretted finding it delicious.

“Salad,” Jason repeated in aggrieved disbelief. It was good but it was no goddamn salad. “I could just make him a real salad. Will this end if I bring Fenton good food?”

It wasn't the worst idea. He put a pin in it.

Grimly, as if he was going off to war, Jason researched how to shape the ball. If he was doing this, which apparently he was for no goddamn reason, he was going to do it to perfection. When he was done he wrapped it up tight, got an assortment of crackers, and left it at Danny Fenton’s apartment with a sort of tired resignation that this might as well be happening.

This time was different. This time, Fenton was home.

Jason barely avoided being seen by rushing out the window over the sink and hiding from the immediate line of sight. He was, however, close enough to hear–

“Holy shit, is that a cheeseball? Who loves me?” and then some truly ghastly, wet crunching as Fenton tore through the crackers and cheeseball like a wild beast. It felt like being in a horror film. Jason very badly wanted to leave. Jason very badly wanted to crawl back inside and present himself for a scrap of Fenton’s approval.

What the fuck? What the fuck!

He fled. And this time, he decided to take action. He was going get out of this sick mind trap and-

“Nothing wrong with you, it's not a curse,” Zatanna said, bored about it. “Whatever is going on is safe, sane, consensual, and none of my business.” She portalled away before Jason could argue that it did not feel sane. He was having an entirely new category of mental breakdown and when one of the Bats found out about it, he was going to be a case study.

Fine. He gritted his jaw. New plan. Maybe he could beat the curse by showing it up.

He called out of crime for the day and ignored the confused commentary in the background of his phone call– can he do that? Of course he can, he’s the friggin’ boss– and spent it furiously researching. He needed a crowning achievement. He needed to find out what was sacred in this culinary tradition, master it, and then tell the compulsion to suck on bricks.

Casserole. The answer was a casserole.

Jason scrolled through dozens of recipes, scowling fiercely. That was no good. That offended his senses. He just knew that would be bland. He-

“Do I want to make that?” Jason asked aloud, puzzled by his fixation on the old-fashioned goulash casserole recipe. Worcestershire sauce– he didn’t have that in this safe house for sure. Beef, pasta, tomatoes… yeah, okay. This was the one. For no fucking reason at all, this was the one.

He went out shopping like he usually went on life-or-death missions, full of grim purpose.

He got back and assembled his ingredients. It was not exactly a challenge to follow the recipe. Jason turned off the stove top and froze in place. “I don’t have an ancestral pan,” he said, horrified. Holy fuck. How could he dare to give it in a regular baking pan- he had to get one. Where the fuck does one acquire an ancestral casserole pan on short notice?

Panicked, he called the Manor, hands shaking as he packed the whole thing up and stuffed it in the fridge to keep it food safe until he could bake it.

Bruce answered, sounding a little choked up. “Hello, Jason, so glad-”

He hung up. He texted Tim. “I need you to steal something for me from the Manor.”

“You’re allowed in, you gigantic freak,” Tim wrote back.

Jason did some meditative breathing and resorted to outright pleading immediately. “What do you want? I will give you whatever you want. I just need an ancestral casserole pan.”

“I am NOT stealing from Alfred’s kitchen,” Tim wrote back. Which was fair. “Drake ancestral pan alright?”

Jason thought about it. It was still a family pan, sorta. By the transitive property, and that was a perfectly good property. He sent back a thumbs up, his GPS pin, and the word “Hurry.”

A while later, Tim dropped off a glass dish, loudly said “I don’t wanna know,” and slammed Jason’s door shut.

Fine. He was already moving his stuff from the now-cold frying pan into the casserole dish. It went into the oven from there. Jason spent the bake time trying to think of new coping mechanisms, because apparently smoking wasn’t up to this level of mental fuckery.

He waited out the bake time. He let it cool enough to be safe to travel with but hot enough to deliver warm. Jason grappled to Danny Fenton's apartment for the fourth time in four days, let himself in, and nearly jumped out of his boots when he realized that Fenton was in the kitchen watching him.

“Hey,” Fenton said. He was sitting on his counter in his pajamas, eating ice cream out of the bucket with a spoon. He was certifiable. Jason wanted to cross the room and kiss whatever Fenton would let him. Hands, face, feet, whatever.

Wow, weird.

“...Hey,” Jason said, way too late.

Fenton crunched down on his ice cream. “...That a casserole?” He said.

Jason nodded wordlessly, feeling very grateful that he had his hood on. He put the casserole down on the counter. He took a step backwards to flee.

Fenton pointed at Jason with the spoon, wholly unintimidated by the heavily armed man who'd broken into his house. “This is a proposal.”

Oh. Oh, motherfucking shitsocks. Jason felt weak through the knees. It was. Why was- why was he proposing??

Fenton took in his shock with a detached air. “Huh,” he said, like he'd learned something from this. “Um, it's nice of you and all. Have you been like, fixated on me for a while or- ohhh. I avenged you, didn't I?” He dropped the spoon in his ice cream carton and slapped both his palms down on the countertop. “He killed you? That sucks, man,” Fenton empathized. “I get it. I think if someone smashed the portal with a hammer I'd be down on one knee.”

Jason's brain was simply not running any program any longer. He gaped. He wasn't coherent enough to ask why Danny knew he'd been murdered by the Joker, but he had his shit together well enough to be fixated on the point.

“Um, it's not usually me being chased,” Fenton said. He made a face. “I… huh, I think I'm flattered.” He very obviously gave Jason a once-over. “I suppose this is your way of showing that you're a provider.” He heaved himself off the counter and went to investigate the casserole, sniffing and lifting the lid. “Oh, fuuuuuuck,” Danny groaned. He sniffed appreciatively. “Good demonstration of your husband material, t-b-h.”

Jason resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground.

“That's the good stuff.” Fenton closed it back up, but not before giving his ice cream spoon a considering look.

Oh, yuck. This guy was so grungly. Jason needed him badly. He shuddered.

Fenton looked at him.

Jason looked back.

“Do you wanna try moving in and see how we get on?” Fenton offered. “Take it slow, no wedding just yet.”

“Absolutely.” Jason full-body twitched with just how eager he was. “How do you feel about swans?”

“Neutral,” Danny said, after a brief moment of consideration. “I like stars, though.”

Okay, so that would be their wedding theme.

Jason only realized he'd said that aloud when Fenton's eyebrows shot up. Mortified and really wondering what was wrong with him, Jason offered a weak smile.

Fenton made a considering noise. He crossed his arms. He looked Jason up and down. “...Can you grill?” He asked. “Like, beer chicken?”

So the Ghost Zone counts as its own domain right? Then I propose foreign exchange student Danny Fenton.

He's very quiet and very smart but more importantly, he's pretty dodgy about his country or origin. He's never given a straight answer about where he comes from. Only saying things like "oh we're big on combat sports" or "technically we're a monarchy but there hasn't been a king since the last one was locked away for being a tyrant". It's to the point where students have made a running bet to see who can figure out Danny's country of origin first. And Tim plans to win that bet.

time is a construct and i don’t believe in what I can’t see

The Summoner

So! Danny is not the Ghost King.

But he still has a good relationship with a LOT of Powerful and not-so-powerful Ghosts in the Zone. So much so that they have given him their Summoning Circle's with a blanket permission to Summon them any time. Not like they have much else going on...

This all leads to a hilarious situation where Danny can't use his Powers for whatever reason and is forced to Summon his friends for help. In front of a group of Heroes.

He has to explain everything to them, but accidentally convinces them that he has Summoning Magic and the Ghosts are all on his Contract. He also mentions Saving people from Ghosts and the JLA realize that he is a child Hero.

They ask him if he wants to join Young Justice, and Danny hesitantly agrees.

Now Danny is on Young Justice and the entire team thinks that he is a Hero with Ghost Summoning Magic.

And his name isn't Daniel "Commit to the Bit" Fenton for no reason.

Every couple years or so, the Bats are required to take a group photo to update the JL website (idk why, they are required to take a vigilante group picture), and Jason consistently refuses to show up. So this year, Tim just draws the lines of the Red Hood helmet on a bright red balloon and then floats it between him and Nightwing. They absolutely refuse to acknowledge that it isn't Jason. They put it up on a billboard instead.

Jason finds out about it when he drives back into Gotham and the highway going into the city has a 'Keeping Gotham Safe' billboard and it's a picture of the Bats looking extremely serious with the Red Hood Balloon floating behind them.