I’ve Hinted At It In Other Posts I’ve Made, But The Idea That Danny Is Just A Little To Non-human

Another DPxDC drabble, this time Sam going to Bruce Wayne for help

Who knows, maybe I'll add this to the dead on main fic I'm working on. We'll see. Anyway, more under the cut.

The air was cold and clammy, laden with heavy gray clouds and drizzling sheets of rain when Sam Manson stepped out onto the driveway. The rain pattered a steady rhythm on her black umbrella and she folded her long batwing sleeve over her arm to shut the car door behind her. The sleek black airport taxi idled quietly behind her as she turned to take in the familiar mansion looming before her.

The wrought iron gate arcing above her head was slick with rain, but a singular call button and speaker sat sheltered out of the rain. Sam approached and reached to press the button with a single black-tipped finger. The speaker hummed to life a moment later.

“Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking. How may I help you?” The voice was smooth and poshly British, and Sam took a breath of the cool October air.

“Samantha Manson to see Bruce Wayne,” she murmured into the cold metal. It felt wrong to speak at any higher of a level.

There was a moment’s pause and Sam smoothed her hand over the black lace of her dress. She could do this.

“Were we expecting you this evening, Ms. Manson?” The voice replied after a moment.

Sam pursed her lips together and raised her chin. She put on her best impression of her mother. “No, you were not. However, I believe this to be a matter urgent enough to warrant such a visit.”

“I see,” Pennyworth said. And then, “Why don’t you come in out of the rain? I will contact Master Bruce once you’re safely indoors.”

Sam let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Please, call me Alfred.”

Then the speaker clicked off and Sam took a step back so the gates could slowly swing open on their motorized hinges. She waved off her driver and watched them reverse down the long driveway, then turned back to the building that loomed above her. She took a breath.

She could do this.

⋆₊✧₊⋆

The foyer of Wayne Manor looked much the same as Sam remembered from the few galas she’d attended within its walls – vaulted ceilings, sweeping staircases, and two wings diverging off to the left and right. To Sam’s knowledge, neither she nor any of the other gala guests had ever ventured beyond the ground floor before. She wondered if that would change tonight.

Alfred Pennyworth took her umbrella at the door and she made sure to lightly wipe her boots on the mat inside the door. She felt the inherent urge to remove them before stepping further into the house, but none of the Waynes seemed to be from a similar culture, so she dismissed the feeling.

Alfred showed Sam the way to the drawing room to the right and gestured at one of the many cushy couches. “Have a seat if you wish, Ms. Manson,” he said politely. “Master Bruce is finishing up a call in his study and will be out to greet you shortly. In the meantime, may I offer you some tea?”

Sam took a seat and nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “Earl Grey if you have it, please.” Alfred nodded and stepped through a side door that Sam hadn’t even noticed. And then she was alone.

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands tightly together. She was here now, and there was no going back. If she intended to go through with her plan, she couldn’t back down now. The entire endeavor was a long shot, but it was the only option she had left.

The only option Danny had left.

Alfred returned after a few minutes with a tray laden with fine china and two steaming cups of tea. There were also tea sandwiches and scones, and Sam took one comprised of cucumber and cream cheese along with her tea. She thanked the butler again, and he backed out of the room with a bow. She almost felt like she was back in Japan.

A clock on the far side of the room ticked away the time. One minute, then two, then three. After seven movements of the minute hand, footsteps sounded from the foyer. Sam placed her teacup down and folded her hands once again in her lap as Bruce Wayne approached.

“Samantha,” he said warmly as he swept into the room. He was dressed in a crisp navy suit with the top few buttons undone. His shoes were a clean but well worn pair of loafers. “Or Sam, rather. Is that right?” Sam nodded. Mr. Wayne crossed to and settled into a chair opposite Sam, seizing the second cup of tea from the tray on the low table between them. He grinned at her over the lip of it. “To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s not often that people make the journey to Gotham, and certainly not all by their lonesome.”

Sam gave the man a small smile. She wanted to slap the joviality off his face.

“I’m afraid I’m here for business,” she said instead. “Not pleasure.”

Mr. Wayne’s eyebrows raised and he set his teacup down.

“Is that so?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat and regarded her with keen eyes, sweeping them clinically over her person before returning his gaze to her face. “What business do you wish to discuss, then? I don’t recall having any dealings with your parents in recent memory.”

“That’s correct,” Sam said as evenly as she could. She got the distinct impression Mr. Wayne was humoring her. She squared her shoulders. “I should clarify that I’m not here on my parents’ behalf. I’m here for my own interests.” He raised his eyebrows higher. “Or, I should say, the interests of the world.”

There was a pause. Wayne sat up a little straighter.

“The interests of… the world?” He repeated.

Sam nodded. “It is my understanding that you are one of the main financial backers for the Justice League. Is that correct, Mr. Wayne?”

“It is,” Mr. Wayne confirmed, eyebrows drawing together.

“And the Batman?” Sam pushed.

“Well…” Wayne laughed slightly at that and waved a vague hand in the air. “If he were to exist, then sure. But he’s scarcely more than a ghost.”

“He was on national television with Wonder Woman last week, sir,” Sam deadpanned.

Mr. Wayne chuckled and spread his hands like what can you do? Sam did not return his smile. She was quickly becoming sick of seeing his stupidly bright teeth and she hadn’t been in his presence for 10 minutes. She ground her teeth.

When Sam didn’t respond, Mr. Wayne dropped his hands and studied her face. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and met Sam’s gaze seriously.

“What’s this about then, Sam?” He asked. Sam tried not to prickle too obviously at the use of her name. “What business on behalf of the world have you traveled all this way to present to me?”

Sam took a slow breath through her nose. She unclasped her hands, blood rushing back into them at the release of pressure. She’d brought the folder, but the idea of actually handing it over had her stomach clenching. Amity Park and its inhabitants were her best kept secret, the one she and her friends didn’t dare to speak of outside of its borders. And more than that…

“Have you ever heard of the Ghost Investigation Ward, Mr. Wayne?”

The words just sort of fell out of her mouth, but it worked well enough as a start. It was clearly not what Wayne had expected her to say, at least. The man across from her blinked a few times before his face settled into a confused frown.

“I can’t say that I have. And, please, call me Bruce.” Sam nodded once. She’d expected that Bruce wouldn’t know of the GIW, of course, had even hoped so. But it still stung to be reminded how alone she and her friends had been in dealing with this for all these years.

Sam took a steeling breath. She could do this.

Sam reached into the depths of her sleeve and withdrew the folder. She set it carefully on the table between the two of them, to the right of the tea tray. Bruce tracked the motion before returning his quizzical gaze to her. Sam’s heart rabbitted in her chest, but she forced herself into calm. She breathed in and out once, then spoke.

“This file contains all of the information I have on an agency funded solely by the US government that has been carrying out unlawful experimentation on nonhuman entities for nearly half a decade.”

Silence. Wayne stared. Sam pushed on.

“Their work is in direct contradiction with the Meta Protection Acts, yet they have full authorization from and the full support of the federal government. They–”

“That is quite the accusation,” Bruce interrupted with a frown. Sam couldn’t help the glare she shot his way.

“It’s not an accusation,” she said forcefully. Perhaps a bit too forcefully, because Wayne leaned back slightly in his chair. She took a long breath and searched for that internal place of calm. This was for Danny. She didn’t have the freedom or luxury of letting her emotions control her right now.

She tried again.

“It’s not an accusation, Bruce,” she repeated more calmly. “It’s the truth. This file,” she tapped the closed brown cover and Mr. Wayne’s eyes followed the movement, “should have everything required to substantiate my claims and more. It contains copies of the contracts signed between the ward and the Homeland Security, as well as receipts for funds provided by the government in order to create their so-called ‘experimental facilities.’”

She couldn’t help the way her lips curled into a sneer as she spoke, but Wayne wasn’t looking at her. His eyes had locked onto the Homeland Security crest stamped across the file in front of him. Good.

“The file also contains records of the ward’s stated goals, recent movements, and the results of all of their experiments, up until about a month and a half ago. Once reviewed, I’m sure you’ll find that everything about this agency, from its methods to the very purpose of its creation, is at odds with everything the Justice League stands for.”

And you, I hope, she added silently. Please don’t stand for it, either.

Wayne was flitting between looking at the file and Sam, questions swimming in his eyes. Before he could interrupt again, Sam flipped open the folder to its first page. Bruce sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the file and leaned forward to inspect it. 

Sam watched his eyes rove over the photos Tucker had managed to pull from the GIW’s database before they’d moved it offline: the torn and broken bodies of countless ghosts, the remains of beings that had been ripped apart for no reason beyond human hate and curiosity. Wayne’s eyes were wide as he took it all in, and his skin had paled to an ashy grey. Good.

“This is the business I traveled all this way to discuss with you,” Sam told him grimly. His eyes flicked to hers momentarily before they were drawn inexorably back to the carnage laid out before him. He pulled the file closer, mouth pressed into a thin line. “This is why I ventured to Gotham all by my lonesome and showed up on your step with no warning. These are the interests of the world I come to represent.”

Sam let him take in the horror before him, to soak in the ghastly knowledge that Sam had been living with for over a year now, for a long minute. When he took a breath and began to pull back, she snapped the folder closed and returned it to her sleeve. Bruce looked up when she did so, and she could’ve laughed at the look on his face if the situation weren’t what it was. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Sam,” Bruce said gravely, sinking back into his chair with a shake of his head. “This is–” he started, but Sam held her hand up. She wasn’t finished yet.

Bruce complied, leaning back in his chair and covering his mouth with a hand. Sam folded hers back into her lap.

“I am under no illusions that you extended me the favor of this unplanned meeting for any reason other than my family’s name,” Sam told him. Bruce didn’t even try to object. “So I am going to ask that you keep your opinion of me and my name in mind when I ask you for this next favor.”

Sam met his gaze, willing him to understand how much she needed this. How much Danny needed this. This was their last resort.

After a long, tense moment, Wayne nodded. “I’ll listen,” he said softly. “Whatever you need, I’ll hear you out.”

Sam’s throat tightened at the words, and she nodded stiffly. She was almost done. She could get through this.

“If you mean that,” she started, but her voice broke. She swallowed it away. “If you mean that, then what I need from you, Mr. Wayne, is a meeting with the Batman.”

The silence after the words left her mouth felt suffocating. Bruce just looked at her. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she held his gaze defiantly, chin raised. She wouldn’t let him say no. He couldn’t say no.

“The Batman?” Wayne asked after a moment. She nodded again, through the lump in her throat. Bruce frowned, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Then, “Why the Batman?”

Sam blinked. “Sorry?” She asked.

“Well, why not any of the other members of the Justice League? Surely this is something that could be investigated by any one of them.”

“I…” Sam didn’t have a response prepared for that. She squeezed her hands together. “I guess… he’s the one I trust the most to get justice.”

Wayne nodded slowly, considering her through calm eyes. “Is that what you want?” He asked. “Justice?”

Sam hesitated. There were a lot of things she wanted. Justice was one. Revenge, another. Danny to be safe more than anything, really.

But when she thought of herself, of Tucker and the people of Amity Park, of the ghosts who had simply left the Zone at the wrong time…

“Yes,” Sam whispered. Her throat burned. “I want justice.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, to hope for. There were so many ridiculous things she hoped for these days.

“I want to see the GIW demolished,” she continued despite herself. She clasped her hands hard, feeling the muscles shift and the bones grind. A tear threatened to slip down her cheek. “I want to see the agents pay for what they’ve d-done. I want to look every single o-one of them in the fa-face and know that they understand what they’ve d-done. The lives they’ve ruined.”

A sob bubbled up and Sam tried to push it away but it was no use. Now that she’d started, there was no stopping it, no stemming the waves of emotion.

“I want them to understand it and to be f-forced to live with it,” she said through gritted teeth. Tears slipped freely down her cheeks. “I want what they did to destr- destroy them like it’s destroyed u-us. And I want- I want anyone, anyone at all, to acknowledge that they- they left us there! They- they left us there! In that fucking town to rot! To deal with it by ourselves and we can’t- I can’t- I can’t-” Sam covered her mouth with one half numb hand, but the sobbed words came anyway. “I can’t save him!”

Just saying the words out loud had Sam doubling over on the couch, sobs wracking through her body. It felt so good to finally say it, to finally admit it to herself, that she couldn’t reel herself in.

“Oh god,” she cried into her knees. “I can’t- can’t- I couldn’t save him! He’s- and I can’t do anything!” She pressed her skull into the bone of her knees, panting into her skirt as sobs wracked uncontrollably through her body.

A weight dipped onto the couch beside her, and suddenly Sam was tilting over slightly into a strong, warm body. Mr. Wayne didn’t say anything as he held her. He didn’t offer the empty assurances she had come to expect from adults, didn’t try to convince her it was okay, or that she didn’t need to be so upset. He just pulled Sam gently onto his lap and let her cry and cry and cry.

Sam didn’t know how long she laid there, hiccupping and sniffling into Mr. Wayne’s cotton suit. It was just until the burning, aching guilt began to abate, and she was finally able to quell the tears.

Once she’d stopped crying, the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Mr. Wayne’s arm was a reassuring weight across her shoulder and back. Sam listened to the clock tick away across the room and tried to breathe in time with the second hand. Seven seconds in, eleven seconds out – just like Jazz had taught them.

Tears returned to her eyes at the memory, but she just let them fall where they may. She didn’t have enough energy to do much else.

“Why don’t you stay the night in one of our guest rooms, Sam,” Mr. Wayne suggested quietly. He rubbed a gentle hand up and down her arm. “Most of my children are away from home at the moment, so you’ll have the floor to yourself. It’ll just be my youngest, Damian, on the floor below you. Alfred can make it up for you now, if you’d like?”

Sam sniffed and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her face felt tight and dry despite the waterworks, and she resisted the urge to wipe at it. She relished the idea of being able to wash away her ruined makeup and sleep the day off in a real bed, rather than at the hotel as she’d planned.

“Yes,” she agreed quietly. “That sounds very nice, thank you.” She saw Mr. Wayne smile at her from the corner of her eye before he stood and called for Alfred. The two of them had a quiet conversation that she ignored in favor of gathering herself further, and then the butler vanished once again. Sam looked up at Bruce.

“You… You believe me, right?” She asked tentatively. She felt childish saying it, but she had to know this hadn’t been a waste. She had to know there was still hope. “You’ll think about what I said?”

Bruce Wayne gave her a soft smile, much realer than the ones she’d received when she’d first arrived. He returned to his spot on the couch and took her hand, looking her in the eye.

“If there is any truth to what you’ve told me,” he started and Sam couldn’t help the face she made. “Of which I have no doubt,” Bruce added quickly, with another slightly ironic smile. Then his face grew more serious, and he gently squeezed her hand between both of his. “Then I will do everything in my power to see the GIW stopped and shut down, permanently. You will get your justice, Sam. I guarantee it.”

And, just for that moment, Sam actually believed him.

Bart Allen, after getting semi-lost in a place a clockmangod called the Infinite Realms, has just been hired to be a thief. Then he was tossed back to his own world.

But looking at what, or rather, who, he is supposed to steal, he's wondering if the job description was inadequate. This is clearly a rescue.

The other teen is trapped in a metal cage, with a muzzle around his face and shackles on his arms and legs.

There were a bunch of dudes in white suits Bart'd had to knock out to get here, and maybe he should have been harsher with them?

First things first, though, he has to get this other guy far, far away from here.

Always excited to see you post!

If it’s not too much trouble, could we have more Dad!Tim or Tim raised by Danny?

Love your blog!

oh tysm anon!! here u go <3

It starts weird.

Which, considering Danny’s life, tracks.

He doesn’t plan on adopting a traumatized billionaire’s emotionally neglected child detective. But Tim shows up one day—scraped up, exhausted, eyes like dead stars—and Danny just. Offers him soup.

That’s all.

Not a rescue. Not a battle. Just soup, and a blanket that smells like ghost dog fur, and a “you okay?” asked without expectation.

And Tim, for whatever reason, stays.

It’s not immediate. Danny doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first. Tim starts coming by after patrol, sometimes with bruises, sometimes with files. Sometimes just to sit on the couch and watch garbage TV while Danny does dishes.

Danny, for his part, starts setting out extra food. Starts asking if Tim’s eaten. Starts dragging him to bed when he falls asleep face-first into schematics.

And one day, Tim brings his laundry over. Danny blinks. Tim blinks. They never talk about it again.

There’s a moment.

It’s small.

They’re in the kitchen. It’s 2AM and raining. Danny’s slicing fruit for no reason and Tim’s doing… something with string and duct tape. He’s muttering, hair sticking up in all directions, wearing one of Danny’s hoodies like it belongs to him.

And he says, absently, "Thanks, Dad."

Silence.

Tim freezes. Danny blinks. They both look at each other like they’ve been caught doing something illegal.

Danny says, “...You’re welcome.”

And that’s it.

No one dies. The world doesn’t end. Tim just blushes, mumbles something about the blueprints, and goes back to work.

After that, it’s different.

Danny picks up on it first. The way Tim gravitates toward him in crowded rooms. The way he asks for advice, then pretends he didn’t. The way he lets Danny fuss at him about food and sleep and schedules, even when he’s grumpy about it.

The way Tim lights up when Danny praises him. Like he’s still that little kid who wanted to make someone proud and stopped expecting it a long time ago.

What Danny finds most intriguing, is noticing how Tim starts becoming one of those quiet, velcro kids.

He doesn’t cling. He hovers. Moves around Danny like a satellite—close, watchful, drawn in by gravity. Always sitting just a little too near on the couch. Always finding a way to lean against him when tired. Always relaxing when Danny’s hand ruffles his hair without asking.

Danny catches himself more than once with a Tim-shaped barnacle attached to his side, both of them pretending it’s completely normal.

And honestly? Danny doesn’t mind.

Tim's always been a little starved. But now he has someone to curl into when the nightmares come. Now he has a home, not just a place he sleeps in between battles.

Bruce notices it too.

He notices when Tim stops calling the manor “home.” When he starts redirecting all his mail to Danny’s apartment. When someone asks who Tim’s guardian is, and he doesn’t hesitate before saying, “Oh—Danny.”

Not Bruce. Never Bruce. Not anymore. Tim doesn’t even seem angry about it. He just… moved on. Bruce tries to pretend it doesn’t sting.

Danny doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He’s not Bruce. He’s not a Wayne.

He’s not rich or trained or qualified. But he sees Tim, really sees him, and maybe that’s enough.

Maybe Tim didn’t need another mentor or mission.

Maybe he just needed someone to say: "You don’t have to earn love. You already have it." And mean it.

Danny does. Every day. Even when Tim forgets. Especially when he forgets.

Because the thing is—Danny remembers.

He remembers the first time Tim let himself laugh, unguarded and loud. He remembers the night Tim fell asleep mid-sentence, curled into the corner of the couch with popcorn in his hair. He remembers every subtle shift, every quiet moment of trust.

And he knows—deep down—Tim might never say it again. But he doesn’t have to. Danny already is. Dad, that is. And he's not going anywhere.

DpxDc #12

Danny pushed the cigarette between his lips, taking a long draw out of it.

What time was it? Four… five in the morning?

He exhaled, watching the smoke fill the air, relaxing with the smell of tobacco.

Everything was tinted in a blueish light, and with the sun coming out in an hour or so, he pulled his hood a little bit tighter.

The entrance of the abandoned church was the to-go meeting spot since he decided to become an informant, deciding that selling info was more profitable than a normal retail job.

Sure, he got paid on commission, but he didn’t need identification, an address, or a bank account.

He tried not to sell to criminals if he could, but sometimes it happened that the info he got wasn’t necessary to the bats, so…

He heard someone approaching, so he took a last draw from his cigarette and pressed it against the wall to put it off.

The familiar figure approached, and Danny smiled.

“Hood”

The man nodded, as they greeted each other.

“Hi Phantom, sorry for being late. Listen, I need some stuff and it’s kind of time-sensitive”

“Oh, shit man, sound serious”

“Yeah, don't tell me... I don’t know how you do it, but I heard that you know stuff about spirits and shit?”

Oh, fuck.

Danny has been in Gotham for the most part of two years, liking how there was enough ectoplasm in the air to keep him going, but not many ghosts around to annoy him every day.

If this was a ghost matter, and it was enough to worry the Red Hood, then peace was about to be broken.

“I know some stuff, what about it?”

“You do? Any chance you heard about the Infinite Realms?”

Dany shifted a bit, feeling the sudden weight of the invisible crown above his head.

“Sounds dangerous, doesn’t it? Why do you want to know about it?”

“A portal opened around here in Gotham and a fucking monster dragged my brother inside. If you know something, you have to help me. I’ll pay you”

Danny stayed silent for a bit.

On one side, he hated going in there. Too many memories, too many enemies…

But on the other side, a human was taken, and, well, at least he was going to get paid.

He inhaled deeply, taking out another cigarette.

“Sure”

What Happened to GIW Site-13

So! One day, in the middle of a random field in Illinois, there is a Spacial Anomaly that is picked up by the Watchtower's Sensors.

They send a team to investigate, and find a strange facility having suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The Terrain around the Facility seems displaced, like it was dragged along by whatever dropped the Facility there, but the Flora around the Facility matched its surroundings so it couldn't have come from too far away? Where did it come from?

The Justice League doesn't pay too much mind to it at first, busy dealing with their usual mess of problems to do more than contact the local government and send a few Heroes to help with the investigation. It didn't seem to be an active threat at the moment, so sending a few superpowered Heroes are a precaution was seen as a good enough response for the time.

When the first Expedition Team went missing, they took a bigger interest.

They made contact with the Agency that was leading the investigation, a smaller agency known as the GIW that was focused on studying Supernatural Anomalies. They usually wouldn't have been the first choice, given their niche focus, but this was a special circumstance.

The Facility that had been discovered both markings stating that it was "GIW Research Site 13", however the Records they had stated that this Facility was never actually built. There were Plans to build it, but the Agency was hit with Budget Cuts after they failed to provide adequate evidence of the Supernatural, and it was scrapped. They had no explanation for how a Facility that never existed suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

They decided to send in another Team as Investigation and Rescue, this time equipped with the latest technology they GIW had developed called "Ecto-Tech", as well as a Magic User from Justice League Dark for insurance. They managed to maintain Video Contact with the Team thanks to the Ecto-Tech Cameras they had, and what they saw did not sit right with any of them.

The entire Facility was built like a Prison.

Prison Cells, or to be more accurate, Cages, lined the Walls of the section they had entered. Evidence of previous inhabitants Littered the Cells, scratches on the metal and green glowing blood staining the floors were just some of the things they found in those Cages. One of the Technicians on the Team identified the Cages as having been built with Ecto-Tech, despite the fact that the Ecto-Tech they had spent years developing was nowhere near as advanced as this.

As they continued they found Walls covered in more Glowing Green Blood, spelling out haunting messages. "They never wanted to Investigate", "Guys In White", and the most common "What F̷E̴N̸T̴O̸N̷ happened to Site 13"

Delving deeper into the Facility, they eventually found a working Computer Terminal and downloaded as much information as they could, sending it back up to the surface wirelessly, before turning around to begin searching for the other Expedition Team. But when they tried to follow they path back to their starting location, they found that it had changed. The Hallways they had just passed were missing, there were new branches in the path that never existed, and their equipment suddenly told them that they halls they were standing in didn't exist according to the Blueprints they had.

The Camera's didn't last long after that, and the last images sent through the feed were of a glowing green figure slowly approaching the Team from down a dark hallway. It seemed to be dripping with blood. Non-Green Blood.

Of course some of the League wanted to immediately rush in to save them, but it would be too dangerous without knowing more about the situation. They looked at the files they had received from the Team before they disappeared.

From there, they formed a timeline of events.

It seemed that the Facility came from an Alternate History, or another Dimension, similar to their own but with a few changes.

By all accounts it seemed like the timeline of its Original Dimension followed their very closely, until one day in the 80's when the first major discrepancy appeared. On Febuary 12th, 1989 that Universes version of the GIW reported "A True Emergence of multiple Ectoplasmic Entities reported in Amity Park, Illinois, 2:31 PM".

Apparently in that universe, the GIW had been successful in locating evidence of the Supernatural. It seemed like this event allowed them to avoid the budget cuts they had experienced in their own Universe, which was the first major change from their own Timeline. Without the Budget Cut, the GIW managed to build their Facility near where they first spotted the Entity, and from there the timeline continued to diverge.

In that same small town, multiple more sightings of Ectoplasmic Entities were reported, all witnessed to be attacking the civilian population using their abilities. It was also reported that a single Ectoplasmic Entity, thereafter known as "Designation Phantom", was defending the civilain population for unknown reasons.

Eventually the source of these Sightings was tracked down to a pair of Scientists living in Amity Park, who were decades ahead in terms of the study of Ectoplasm and Ecto-Tech, who had managed to open a Portal into another Dimension they called the "Ghost Zone". The GIW Approached them for their research, and eventually hired them on as Scientists. Their names were Dr's Jack and Madeline Fenton.

A quick investigation revealed that Jack Fenton and Maddie Walker did exist in their universe, but Jack Fenton went into Mechanical Engineering while Maddie Walker went into Theoritical Physics. They had never met in the current universe.

According to the Doctors, Ectoplasmic Entities lack the ability to have Sentience, and held a malicious rage to all living beings. They stated that "Ghosts" were simply imprinted memories on Ectoplasm that acted as if it was a thinking entity, and that "Ghosts" should be eradicated at all costs.

Unfortunately, the GIW believed them to be Geniuses ahead of their time and accepted every word that came out of their mouths as absolute fact. Any researchers that protested their claims were quickly fired as to not upset their new Golden geese, and the GIW began to follow their new Mission of eradicating all "Ghosts".

From there was a series of files detailing multiple raids into the Ghost Zone, the capture and detainment of hundreds of Ghosts and "Ecto-Infected Humans", and the gruesomely detailed Experimentation logs of the Dr's Fenton as they studied their Captured specimens.

Many of the people being debriefed later on had to leave the room when they got to that point.

It seemed like the Dr's Fenton were the most proud of the Noteworthy Specimens they had managed to capture and dissect, those which evidence showed were much older and more powerful than the typical ghosts rhey captured. These were collectively designated as the "Ancients" by the Logs.

A Yeti-Entity with Ice Powers. A Shadow-Like Humanoid with Phobokinesis. A Female Humanoid with Draconification abilities. A Four Armed Female Humanoid with Extreme Strength. A Strange Entity with Chronokineses.

But what they were most proud of was one of the first Ghosts ever reported. Designation Phantom.

They particular File was completely corrupted beyond saving, but from the notes surrounding it, it had been a very exciting time for the Doctors.

But now, better informed on the situation and what they may encounter, the Justice League decided on a new plan of action. They still didn't know how the Facility had been ripped out of its Original Universe and into theirs, but for now their objective was simply a rescue mission for both expedition teams while Justice League Dark worked with the GIW on countermeasure for Ghosts. From the Files their Universes GIW had on Ghosts, they were certainly still dangerous, and allowing them to escape the facility would be a problem. So they needed containment measures.

The Justice League prepared for their Rescue Operation, unknowing of the eyes watching their every move.

He had dragged that accursed Facility into this world in an attempt to get help, and now all he could hope for was that this version of the Justice League would act better than their own. And if they didn't, he could always try a different universe.

All would be as it should be. Eventually.

Red Knight - Prologue

DP x DC | Dead on Main

Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?

Read on AO3 | Next >

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“Why are you following me?” Jason pressed his arm against the stranger’s throat, pinning him to the alley wall.

Under the sodium glow of the streetlight Jason got his first good look at the guy. Tall, dark hair, maybe his age or a little younger. Not the type he typically saw in the Narrows- he lacked that certain air of despair. The stranger had been following Jason since he’d left his safe house. Maybe the guy thought Jason would be an easy mugging target. Wasn’t he in for a surprise.

The stranger lifted his face and smiled. His blue eyes glowed with a green ethereal light. “How long have you been dead?”

He said it with the casual nonchalance of talking about the weather. Jason tensed, pressing harder on his arm. How the hell did this guy know?

The guy didn’t flinch. He didn’t seem bothered at all. That could only mean one thing.

Jason steadied his breath. “Metas aren’t welcome in Gotham.”

“I’m not a meta. And neither are you. But that doesn’t mean we’re totally human either.”

The stranger tilted his chin up, his smile broadened. Behind his lips he revealed a pair of fangs glinting, taunting.

From nowhere Memories of the pit stirred under Jason’s heart— rage and pain and fear. His pulse raced faster. His arm pressed harder.

As if responding to the pressure the guy’s face softened. “Oh. It’s worse than I thought.” He sounded genuinely concerned. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Shut up!” Somehow the pity stung worse than the taunts.

Jason pulled his fist back to punch the look off the guy’s face, but he didn’t get the chance to. The guy went translucent. He moved through Jason’s arm like a ghost but then suddenly his hands were solid against his chest, pushing with surprising force, sending him stumbling backward to the slimy concrete.

He fell prone and then the stranger was on top of him. Adrenaline flashed through him- too late. His breath clogged in his throat as cold clutch of power hit him. The strangers face twisted in concentration as he put a hand to and then through Jason’s chest.

The fury of the pit raged and roared, nearly as loud as it had when Jason had taken those first screaming breaths back alive. Jason fought, punching and clawing but the guy held form, unshakable. His ears rang and pain sang through his whole body and it felt like he was turning inside out and then—

Quiet.

Quiet, empty relief.

He breathed out. A cool weight sat heavy under his heart where previously there had been a nest of scorpions.

Jason’s mouth fell open. The guy pulled his hand back with a sigh and stood up.

“That should help I think.”

Jason looked down at his chest- unscathed. A thousand questions scrolled through his head. The one that made it out of his lips: “What the fuck?”

The guy shrugged as he stepped back. “Gotta look out for you. You’re one of mine.”

One of mine. Those words sent a shiver through Jason. This guy was obviously a dangerous meta. Jason had been embarrassingly helpless to stop him doing whatever it was he just did. Time for some answers.

Jason rolled up to a fighting crouch and pulled a handgun from his belt. He leveled its comforting weight at the not-meta meta. “I don’t belong to anybody.”

The stranger’s smile came back, and so did his fangs. Jason bit his tongue.

The guy pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and scrawled for a moment, completely nonplussed by the gun pointed at him. “Call me if it gets bad again?”

Jason didn’t move. He gripped the gun tighter. “Who are you?”

Still that smile. “I’m Danny.”

And then he vanished. Not a Batman fade-into-the-shadows type of vanish. One second he was there and the next- nothing but air. The paper he’d written on fluttered down to the ground in the place where he’d stood.

Jason lowered the gun. He got up to walk away, ready to chalk up the whole experience to some meta bullshit he didn’t want to think about again.

But a new weight sat heavy in his chest. The quiet lingered in his head. Whatever that guy did, it made him feel more calm, more in control of himself than he had in a long time. Halfway through that thought the wind picked up and threatened to blow the paper away. Jason’s stomach dropped as he scrambled to catch it. He closed his fist around it just as it reached the street.

He uncrumpled it between his fingers. A phone number, nothing else. On the other side— a receipt for bat burger. What the fuck.

Next >

Do you think Clark Kent's first few major articles were about the continued presence of lead pipes in parts of Metropolis' water system

Imagine for whatever reason Danny gets turned into a cat (black with white boots and white with black boots when changing to ghost form, I imagine him as a fluffy long hair cat) and he’s in Gotham just running around and doing whatever. Only he’s not alone, no no, Cujo is here with him.

So imagine cat Danny, walking through an alley, followed by little Cujo happily wagging his tail. Just this black cat that looks high maintenance and a glowing green puppy following it.

They look like they have places to be, important places.

Random idea Sorta Maybe Blind

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

Untill now

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

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

Oh

What the fuck!?!?

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

Oh ancients his eyes

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

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

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

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

Danny is the owner of a quaint little book shop. It's mainly a front to collect as many ancient texts as he can but he still keeps all of the latest books in stock. He absolutely loves it when one boy in particular stops by almost every week. He gets very perplexed, then worried when the boy stops coming by.