anotheronleft

[anotheronleft]

if you have ocs it is so so so important that you have Barbie Time™ (drawing them over and over wearing all sorts of different outfits)

[anotheronleft]

if you have ocs it is so so so important that you have Barbie Time™ (drawing them over and over wearing all sorts of different outfits)

[anotheronleft]

Anatomy practice with Grundy and some Phantom design doodles

[anotheronleft]

DC + DP

Danny Fenton died at fourteen. He came back. He didn’t die right. He became a hero. He became a hero because he loved amity park. Not the people. But Amity was his home.

Till it wasn’t. He was a monster to the people. Evil, ghost scum, disgusting. He hated it. Amity wasn’t safe for him. It wasn’t a home. Amity park was a graveyard. A place of everything he’d lost, perhaps it was time to move on.

So with tear stained cheeks he left. He left his humanity behind. He lived in the realms. He thrived. He learned. But he still haunted the place that could have been his home.

Danny Phantom was still hated, his name still spat on. But so was Danny Fenton. That hurt. It hurt to have his parents talk about him like a stranger. Like he was some cautionary tale.

They said the ghosts had gotten him. Had dragged him of, had killed him. They said it was his fault for not being careful. Yes he always believed the ghosts weren’t evil. Look what became of him.

Danny had loved them for years. Loved them when they shot at him. Loved them when they talked of ripping him appart. He was a ghost. They hated ghosts! Besides they didn’t know he was Phantom.

but now? Now He hated them. He’d bee. Their son. He’d been their child. “Danny Fenton, his curiosity his undoing.” That’s what they put in his gravestone.

not beloved son. Not kind friend. No, they put “his curiosity his undoing.” That hurt. But the words didn’t matter.

No it was the fact that when he’d first gotten a gravestone, come to watch the fake corpse be lowered into earth he’d expected them to be there. They weren’t. They were back in their lab. Like always.

Except it wasn’t a track meet. It wasn’t a soccer game. Or a parent teacher meeting. It was his burial. And they’d missed it, to chase ghosts.

He ignored that. Perhaps they’d forgetting. They forgot a lot of things. They remember eventually. They’d come by. Right? Surely they’d come by, if just to leave a flower. Just one? Surely.

So he waited.

And waited.

And they didn’t come.

So he moved on. He built a life outside of them. A life with him and Dani and Jazz. He ruled the realms, learnt from clockwork. He grew up.

Years passed, he learned how the realms worked. How the people were, he learned. The full extent of his powers. Back in Amity Park Daniel Fenton became a memory. Back in Amity Park Phantom’s name was still cursed.

until someone remembered him. Clark Kent had made a roadtrip of visiting his parents. They ended up stopping in Amity.

He heard about Phantom. Heard how they cursed him. He asked about it. They told him about a monster. An evil no good beast.

He didn’t believe them. Phantom sounded like a hero. A hero still learning. He also sounded like a child. So he asked around some more. He met Tucker Foley, visiting his parents for thanksgiving.

He told a diffrent story. He told about a hero. A young hero. He told him how he’d save people, how he’d get hurt. He talked about him with a reverence.

Clark asked what happened. Because heroes don’t just disappear. They don’t just abandon places. Especially not after fighting so hard. Tucker didn’t know what to say. So he lied.

He told him that everyone thinks he left for no reason. But my guess is he left because of Danny’s death. He talked about how Danny didn’t think they were evil. He talked about how the two made the same puns. How they looked the same.

He told him his guess was they knew each other In life. That they were related. He told him Phantom was always the same age. They could have been twins, he said with a laugh.

Clark leaves, he has thanks giving at his parents. And he studies. He learns. He sees the CPS reports. He reached out to Jazz, she tells them her parents were unstable, tell him their parents were unstable. She cuts of the call after saying “they got him killed at 14.”

Clark notices. Fourteen wasn’t when Danny died. He died at sixteen. Phantom is their sibiling. The eldest child, the one who died however many years ago. But Jazz remembered him.

They had moved to Amity Park when Jazz was seven. Phantom must have died. That’s why they moved. It had to have been. And phantom watched them, staying behind to protect his siblings. Protect them from his parents. Then things had gone wrong. He’d become a hero, and they called him a villain. When Jazz moved out he showed up less. When Danny died he vanished.

Clark feels lost. He wished it hadn’t ended that way for Phantom.

So he writes. He writes about a hero. He writes about Danny too. He writes. And Danny watches. Danny finds the newspaper on his grave. Left by Sam and Tucker. He smiles.

The flowers pile up on his grave.

One

Two

Three

Danny cries. He moved on long ago. But it’s nice to be mourned. Even if it’s by people who never knew him.

-

Bye :)

[anotheronleft]

Danny was asked where his in memorium is, after saving another civilian on a JL mision.

Danny in all his glory just "hu?"

"You know, so i can put a thank you for saving me ofrend"

"Oh.. i i dont have one- not even in my secret identidy i had a grave... but thank you so much for thinking of that" the sinsere and melancholical smile that the ghost hero give to the civilian was so full of emotion that even the people acros the screen could feel it.

Not knowing that he was recorded, Phantom guve a false saluted and continued with his work.

The video soon become viral, and with that, little by little a lot of in memoriums and shirenes started poping up all around the globe.

[anotheronleft]

my OCs are sooo cool you guys don't know what you're missing. if you could see the show i'm watching in my head rn you'd go so crazy i'm telling u

[anotheronleft]

Jazz x Jason idea

Jazz and her siblings open a coffee shop, Graveyard Shift, and slowly start drawing more and more people with their amazing coffee and service.

Especially after Jazz borderline chews out the Joker for his attention seeking, booted out by Dan and Danny, and finally Dani made a piping hot coffee and poured on Joker's pants

Please and thx!

Jason tensed. He darted to the side, eying all of the escape routes before he carefully reached for his gun. The barista, the tall and gorgeous woman that had been just about to take his order, stared calmly as the Joker cut in line and leered at her over the counter.

“Sir, you’re cutting in line,” she said.

The Joker laughed loudly. “You’re cute. I’ll let it slide for now, but I want… a special order. I choose you to make it. And you better comply, or I’ll call your manager!”

At the last part, he laughed again.

The barista’s expression was blank and even a little annoyed.

Jason pulled his gun out of his hidden holster and her eyes darted to him before she looked back to the Joker. “Sir, I will not take your order. You’re cutting in line. Please get to the back of the line and I will take your order when I get to you.”

The Joker frowned before he smirked. “Don’t you know who I am, missy? I’m the Joker! The Joker doesn’t wait! Get your manager, or I’ll get angry!”

The barista stared at him before she rolled her eyes and then said, “What would you like to order, sir?”

Everyone stared at her for her audacity, even Jason. He hated the Joker, but he wasn’t a civilian and he had a gun. This barista was just randomly provoking the Joker? Everyone but her seemed to be horrified.

However, the people behind the counter working with her didn’t look shocked or scared either. They just stopped their work and stared at the Joker with disgust and a lack of fear that was almost stupid.

The Joker sneered. “Surprise me. And if it isn’t satisfying…. Then I’ll kill everyone in this room.”

The audience gasped and some customers stood up in a panic. Jason took the safety of his gun off, eyebrows dipping. It was horn fortunate and unfortunate that the beautiful barista held all of the Joker’s attention.

The barista tilted her head and then said, “Dani, surprise drink, please.”

“Coming right up,” a short girl from the side said. She held a white coffee mug in one hand and eyed the Joker with an indecipherable look.

The barista smiled. “Joker, may I ask you a question?” Without even waiting for an answer, she said, “Does it make you feel better about your sad, pathetic life when you harass and threaten other people because nothing about you is lovable or endearing? Even to yourself?”

Everyone’s jaws dropped. Even Jason froze in place, flabbergasted and horrifyingly impressed.

The Joker reared up furiously, but without warning, the girl with the coffee mug threw it at his face, splashing hot coffee all over the Joker’s face.

The barista then waved the other two workers over. The other two baristas, two young men around Tim and Dick’s age, unceremoniously jumped over the counter and then started pummeling the ever loving crap out of the Joker.

Screams started from the clown and everyone watched in fascination as the Joker was completely and utterly outmatched. People began sitting back down and drinking their drinks, watching the show with delight, some even clapping enthusiastically.

The barista manning the cashier hummed. “Have a good day!” She said pleasantly with a wide smile on her face.

She looked exactly like an Angel ready to drag Jason down to hell.

Jason shuffled towards the cashier again. She perked up when she saw him and her smile blossomed on her face like a blooming rose.

“Oh! Ready to order?”

“Yes,” Jason said, having to blink away the hearts in his eyes as he stared at her. “Can I order your number?”

[anotheronleft]

[anotheronleft]

[anotheronleft]

when your human gets home from work (via)

[anotheronleft]

Stargazing with the boys

[anotheronleft]

Guys I need some help. I have the beginning of an idea but no idea where to go from it.

I read somewhere about how Danny bought all of Constantine contracts because of all the fighting and paperwork he had to do over it. But what if Constantine's punishment came from Clockwork instead of Danny? The punishment?

John Constantine is now the legal adult of Danny "I'm already half dead so why not" Phantom. Who does whatever he wants cause literally why not?

(Please add onto this I desperately want to see where this will go)

[anotheronleft]

life is so unfair what do you mean I can’t just draw my faves nakey anytime I want

[anotheronleft]

Down Bad in Distress - Part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

The many—MANY—instances of Bruce's bodyguard being terrifyingly brutal for him and his family and how that turns Bruce on.

Bruce isn't stupid. He knows Danny knows. It’s obvious—damn obvious—considering the way Danny just knows. There was that one time, the alley, Bruce barely holding himself together after 50-something hours with no sleep. He could barely stand, muscles sore and head swimming. And then, like some kind of twisted serendipity, Danny shows up.

Takes one look at the mess Bruce is in—Batman—and doesn’t hesitate. Not even a breath. Just pure, unfiltered instinct.

Danny moves like a blur, swift and terrifyingly efficient. A punch to the throat here, a knee to the gut there. A quick, brutal twist of a wrist. The next thing Bruce knows, the guys who dared lay hands on him are unconscious, twitching, moaning on the ground.

God, Bruce is so turned on.

Danny doesn’t even break a sweat.

"Bruce," Danny hums, voice steady despite the adrenaline. It’s a casual thing now—calling him by name, no more “sir” or formalities. It’s just Bruce.

Then, like it’s nothing, Danny looks at him with that grin—sharp, dangerous. “Ah, Batman,” he corrects with a wink, scooping Bruce up like he’s weightless.

Bruce can’t stop himself from groaning as Danny effortlessly pulls him into his arms. “I should get you a mask,” Bruce rasps, more out of breath than he should be. “Makes you less... noticeable...”

Danny just chuckles, the sound low and throaty, almost predatory. “I wouldn’t worry about that for now,” he whispers, brushing his thumb across Bruce’s cheek—the cowl was a bit damaged then— gentle for a moment before his eyes harden. He turns to the Batmobile, his gaze narrowing as he finds it.

Bruce doesn’t remember much of the ride after that. Just that Danny shut the door, locked it from the inside with an ease that makes Bruce’s head spin. Then, Danny was gone—just for a couple minutes.

And in that short span of time, Danny makes sure every bastard who dared lay a hand on Bruce pays.

Bruce tries not to think about what that means. But the sound… the crash of broken bones, the sickening snap of necks twisting the wrong way, the gurgling sounds of blood, the wet, gut-wrenching thud of bodies hitting concrete—

Danny’s movements are terrifying. Almost animalistic. Every strike, every slam of a fist into someone’s jaw, every bone-crushing hold, speaks of an intense, controlled fury. Danny is a blur of muscle and violence, one second here, the next there, and then there’s another man crumpling to the ground in a heap of broken limbs.

None of the blood on him is Danny’s.

Bruce should be terrified. He should be scared, heart racing with the realisation that this man—this force of nature—has just torn through half a dozen people who hurt him. Hurt his boss.

But instead, Bruce just feels fascinated. Mesmerized.

And when Danny finally returns, grinning with blood splattered across his face like some deranged warrior, his eyes are wild—alive in a way Bruce can’t explain. He slips into the driver’s seat, that same grin still there, as if nothing had happened at all.

And Bruce? He’s too exhausted to care. His body aches, but there’s a strange comfort in knowing Danny’s got this, got him. That no one can get to him.

Danny's here. Danny's always here. And Bruce can rest. He can finally—finally—breathe.

Another time Danny made it painfully obvious that he knew about their vigilantism—and didn’t give a single damn—was with Tim. Tim, who’d gone off on a mission for Young Justice, thinking he could handle it alone.

Only, it didn’t go well. Not well at all.

Tim ended up cornered, a stab wound slashing through his side, blood pouring out fast, dark, and sticky. He could feel it, the sharp sting, the coldness creeping in as his vision blurred. He was surrounded, and the world seemed to close in.

Until it didn’t.

Until something shifted. A glimmer of blue, a flash of eyes that—holy hell, they looked like Jason’s. But no, this wasn’t Jason. Not by a long shot.

Tim’s breath catches as he watches Danny step into the scene.

And then—shit.

Shit.

Tim can’t look away as Danny rips through his attackers like they’re nothing. A fluid, terrifying motion as he dissects each man with brutal precision, a graceful violence that makes the blood freeze in Tim’s veins. The way Danny moves—it’s like he knows exactly where to strike. One punch to the ribs and a sickening crack. Another knee, this time to a face, and the crunch of bone sounds like it could split the air. The men go down, every one of them, but not dead. No. Danny doesn't kill them.

Danny makes sure they’re never the same.

Tim swallows hard, fighting the tremble in his limbs. This—this isn’t just violence. This is... art.

Danny doesn’t leave any of them in one piece. They’re crippled. Broken. Their bodies are alive, but their spirits—those are shattered, scattered across the ground like so many forgotten things. It’s agonizing to think about, the kind of agony that Tim can feel deep in his bones.

And that’s what makes Danny so fucking terrifying. Because he doesn't leave bodies behind—he leaves wreckage.

"Hey, little red," Danny hums, a voice that cuts through Tim’s foggy mind. The next thing Tim knows, he’s being lifted, cradled with a tenderness that shouldn’t exist in a situation like this. Tim winces at the wound, trying to hide it, trying to do something—anything—but he’s too slow. Too weak.

Danny sees it instantly, those eyes of his—green and blue—zeroing in on the bleeding wound like a hawk.

Tim’s breath catches, but he doesn’t fight. He can’t. Not when Danny is already lifting him up, his hands gentle, soft in a way that feels so wrong against the violence.

And then—everything shifts.

In one second, they’re in the middle of nowhere. The next, reality seems to tear apart. Like it’s nothing to Danny, like he’s just walking through a door no one else can see. Tim watches in awe—horrified awe—as the fabric of the world bends around Danny, as he steps into that tear and pulls Tim through with him.

Tim can’t breathe. Can’t think. This isn’t possible.

Danny isn’t human. The family has known that for a while now.

But right now? All Tim can do is bask in the warmth Danny gives, listening to the soft hum of his voice, the way he whispers words Tim can’t even hear as they step further into the rift. The world warps with every movement Danny makes, every step a new layer of reality bending under his feet. And Tim? He’s safe. Safe in Danny’s arms. Safe in the strange, dangerous embrace of a man who would tear apart the world just to keep what is his from harm.

And for a moment, Tim can’t find it in him to care about anything else.

Jason’s been saved by Danny a couple of times now—he’s basically Jason’s emergency contact at this point. But it’s not just about the saves. Hell, it’s not even always about the blood and the violence (okay, mostly it is). It’s the fact that Danny won’t hesitate to fuck someone up—no hesitation, no second thoughts—just because they laid a hand on him.

Jason’s seen what Danny can do with his bare hands, and that’s impressive. Fucking terrifying, even. But there’s something else, something better, when Danny takes Jason’s guns and uses them. Every time Danny picks one up, it’s like the gun becomes an extension of him—like it was him. Jason’s watched him shoot with the precision of a trained gunslinger, every shot landing exactly where it needs to. It’s flawless. It’s beautiful.

And every time, Jason can’t help but feel this sick kind of gratitude.

His aim? On fucking point. And Danny—Danny’s so damn sure of himself, so sure that the bullet will hit its target, that Jason can’t look away. Can’t stop being in awe of him.

“Kid, you good?” Danny’s always smiling when he turns back to Jason, handing him the gun after the fight. That smile—there’s something about it that Jason just... wants to hang onto. He almost doesn’t want to take it back.

But he does. Because Danny always says the same thing.

“Take it back, kid. I ain’t using it anywhere without you. I know to not use guns around your dad.”

And fuck, that makes Jason flinch.

Danny. Danny.

For all the violence in the world, Danny’s the one who always holds back around Bruce. He’ll go feral, he’ll tear through anyone who dares hurt Jason—but never, never around Bruce Wayne. There’s no gun, no weapon anywhere near Bruce when Danny’s around. Even when it’s needed. Even when it’s called for. Danny won’t break that rule. He just won’t.

Jason once saw someone give Danny a gun during an attack at a Wayne gala. What did Danny do? He didn’t even think about it—just aimed it right at Two-Face’s head and then fucking beat the shit out of Dent with a fucking chair. Like it was nothing.

“Hey, kid? You know I ain’t as human as most should be, right?” Danny’s voice pulls Jason out of his thoughts, like he’s trying to make sure Jason’s still listening.

Understatement of the fucking century.

“Yeah?” Jason mutters, glancing over and blinking when he sees not the usual sharp blue eyes but glowing green.

“Wanna know why?”

Jason pauses, the weight of Danny’s words hitting him. He nods.

Danny ruffles his hair, that fangy grin still stretched across his face.

“I died at fourteen and came back different.”

And Jason? He freezes. His heart drops, confusion slamming into him like a fucking truck.

What the fuck?

Danny Fenton, what the fuck?!

Dick Grayson is instantly reminded of Clark the first time he meets Danny. All smiles, sunshine, and that whole "I’m here to save the day!" vibe. But then Dick hears about all the crazy shit Danny’s done for his family, and—okay, maybe this guy isn’t just sunshine and rainbows after all. He can tear into people with detached precision if they touch Bruce. He tracks down Tim like a bloodhound, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake just to make sure Tim doesn’t get into trouble. And, hell, he looks at all the carnage around Jason and just dives right in, getting himself bloody for the guy like it's nothing.

Yeah, Dick wasn’t entirely sure about Danny at first. Too sunny, too good-natured, too... weirdly capable, you know? But then, one day, he gets the chance to sit down with the man during an outing—on a beach, of all places. Danny’s on duty, of course, but he’s hanging back under the shade of an umbrella like he’s chill about it. Not that anyone in the family needs to be guarded at the moment, but Danny’s still there, staying alert like a hawk.

And it’s… well, it’s amazing. And a little unnerving how dedicated he is. He just sticks around, no complaints, never asking for a break. Like, this is his life now—keeping them all safe, no matter what.

“You should go on vacation sometime,” Dick suggests, sidling up to where Danny’s lounging. He’s trying to be casual about it, but honestly, the guy works too much.

Danny raises a brow, his grin widening. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Boy Wonder?” he laughs, tilting his head like it’s some kind of joke.

Dick feels personally offended by that. “Ugh! How dare you think I’d get rid of our amazing bodyguard! What would we do if Damian can’t reach a kitten in a tree? Call Superman?” Dick presses a hand to his chest, dramatically swooning like Danny’s just committed a capital offense.

Danny’s grinning back, but he sighs. “You could. But honestly, I’d appreciate the vacation. It’s just… I can’t get a good night’s sleep if I leave any of you alone. It keeps me awake. Thinking about you people.”

Wow. Just… fuck, Dick has never heard someone say that about their family. Heroes and vigilantes, they’re supposed to be competent, right? It’s expected. But Danny? He looks at all that competence and still chooses to protect them anyway. He doesn't need to, but he does. What a fucking gem.

“Not that I don’t want to go home! My sister and kids keep nagging me about it, actually,” Danny adds with a huff, fond and amused.

Dick freezes.

“You have kids?”

Danny blinks, clearly confused. “Yeah? I have two. A son and a daughter… Erm… My son, Dante, is around Jason or Cass's age. And my baby girl—Janelle—is… a little older than Damian, I think.”

Dick blinks.

“Wait, you’re a father?!”

Masterpost

[anotheronleft]

Down Bad in Distress

Bruce Wayne is kidnapped... A lot. And it's always so weird that only Batman is allowed to save him. That this dumb, charming, but kidnap-able Billionaire doesn't have a bodyguard.

Now, Bruce can simply go "Oh, we've got Batman. No need to worry for that!" But people are fussy nowadays. He underestimates just bow much Gotham loves their disaster of a prince with a golden heart. Even his company employees are begging him to hire a bodyguard. (This is from the many files being sent to his office, obvious recommendations on competent bodyguards)

Cut to the new bodyguard for hire—who was recommended by Alfred of all people (something about him being the disciple of a good old friend of his). The man was large. Fucking huge. Taller than Jason, if one would like to admit (Jason is his 6'4" baby and this fucking fridge if a man looked 6'6").

But he was all soft and warm. Like a golden retriever the size of a bear.

Anyways, Danny was a rather kind man. When he wasn't following Bruce around and playing bodyguard, he was indulging the kids. Entertaining them with the most obscure things and stories from his childhood. Better yet, Danny would be the kids' bodyguard rather than Bruce's whenever they went out.

It was a miracle when they realized that Damian wasn't reacting badly to the man. Very strange since Damian would think it'd be shameful for someone to protect him during the day. But then again, Bruce once saw Danny effortlessly pick up Damian so his son could coax a cat out of a tree. That was most likely the kicker.

Anyways, Danny looked and felt soft.

It wasn't easy for him to settle into the man's ever present presence, but it's been almost four months since Danny's been hired and Bruce doesn't even flinch when the man brightly greets him from the bottom of the stairs.

"Good morning, mr. Wayne!" Danny would say, all teeth and bright eyes in his suit.

"Bruce," he'd correct immediately.

And then Danny would pause, laugh, and— "Good morning, Bruce."

Then his kids would follow and Danny would affectionately greet them all, ask where they plan to go and if they needed Danny to follow.

His bodyguard was like sunshine and warmth incarnate.

But if course, Danny was a bodyguard.

There were instances where Bruce would have to take a second to remind himself that this man that would look down at socialites like he's ready to crush their hands is the same one who once gave him puppy-dog eyes to back up Damian when his son asked to keep the kittens.

That the same man who grabbed someone by the scruff of their collar like they were weightless was the same one who talked about poetry and literature with Jason.

That the man who once hauled Bruce off the ground and walked right out the gala when the smoke alarms blared is the same one who would gently coax Tim off the coach and into a proper bed.

But right now, that's not his concern. No. Bruce is more concerned about the fact that he's gotten kidnapped again.

Everyone was most likely alerted. They were. He could hear Red Robin, Blackbat and Spoiler talking over the comms, checking in on Red Hood and Robin in case things went off.

"B, don't move. These guys are more prepared than the usual ones." Tim's voice filters into the comms, evidently annoyed. "I've got Oracle checking if there are any bombs in the place."

Bruce stayed silent, watching the masked men and women walk around, guns in hand and crates surrounding them. He had been knocked out during a party. The last thing he saw was Danny's eyes—god, it frightened him a bit. How those pretty blues suddenly turned green like Jason's.

Then he was here. Most likely with a concussion.

"B?"

"I'm okay... Be careful..." He murmurs under his breath, hearing his children sigh in relief.

"Good. We've got Red Ho—What the fuck is that?" Barbara immediately cut herself off, her voice strained and pitched with surprise.

"Oracle?"

"Spoiler—Do you have a view on that?" Oracle frantically asked. "Shit—the cameras just went down. Guys?"

"is that—" Stephanie chokes out, "Is that Danny?"

Bruce froze. Danny?

Jason always knew that Danny was kinda off. The first time he met the man, it wasn't his size that Jason immediately noticed. It was how his eyes flashed green when they met his. At first, he felt threatened, ready to attack whatever the fuck thought it was a good idea to infiltrate his family.

But then... Then Danny smiled at him. Offered his hand with a kind greeting. Jason took that hand and... And felt calm. Like the buzz in his head melted away, like the Lazarus was cleansed.

And Danny most likely knew. Because the man was smiling in satisfaction, like he was pleased that Jason suddenly didn't feel starved and angry and hurt.

"I don't know what happened to you kid, but whatever the hell did, it wasn't good for you. Hopefully you'll get better now." Danny whispered softly and then withdrew his hand, tucking it behind his back.

Jason doesn't know what the fuck Danny was but the man was worth keeping around.

Admittedly, he turned to Danny a lot nowadays. Jason can't call Bruce all the time. No. His relationship with Bruce still isn't good enough to warrant Jason to call him constantly.

But Danny? Again, Jason doesn't know what the hell this guy is but whenever Jason was in trouble, he dialed Danny's phone immediately. And he came... Every, single, fucking time. No questions asked, just pick Jason up and patch him up like nothing.

Danny was a good guy. Like sunshine, like golden retrievers. All teeth with some fangs.

And that same guy just snapped a man's neck with his bare hands.

"Hood... Are you seeing this?" Robin asked beside him, equally stunned as they watched their usually kind and sweet bodyguard effortlessly tear through the group of men with his bare hands. There was already blood around. Everywhere, maybe. Some already on Danny.

"He's on a fucking warpath." Jason murmurs. Every bit of admiration he had for Danny just multiplied by a thousand when he watched him grab a gun right out of a guy's hand and slam it into their head. Fucking amazing.

If Bruce doesn't square up and ask this guy on a date, Jason would have to start planning to parent trap them.

Fucking shit, he needed this guy as a dad.

The doors don’t just open—they explode off their hinges, a violent crack echoing through the warehouse. Guns swing up, barrels glinting under harsh light, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the figure in the doorway.

Bruce’s pulse slams against his ribs.

And then Danny walks in, dragging a half-conscious man by the leg, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake. He doesn’t even look winded.

Blood stains his usually pristine uniform—smeared across his face, streaked over the white of his shirt, soaking into his knuckles. His tie is gone. His collar is open, a few buttons undone, exposing a sliver of skin beneath the mess. There’s blood on his face, drying in streaks, and his knuckles—his knuckles are raw, dripping, alive. He looks… disheveled. Lethal. Gorgeous.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! THAT'S DANNY!" Spoiler screeched, "HE'S BODYING THOSE FUCKERS! RED! RED, ARE YOU FUCKING SEEING THIS?!"

"SOMEONE RECORD THIS! SHIT! SOMEONE RECORD THIS!" Red Robin replied, equally loud and frantic as if trying desperately to find the old camera he used to stalk Bruce many years ago.

He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t hesitate.

Danny launches the man he was dragging, sending him crashing into the nearest gunman with a sickening thud. Before anyone can react, he moves—crossing the room in impossibly fluid strides, twisting a wrist until a gun clatters to the floor, elbowing another man so hard in the ribs that something audibly cracks. A shot goes off, a wild, panicked attempt—Danny doesn’t even flinch. He snatches the arm holding the gun and bends it the wrong way. The scream is immediate.

Bruce’s breath catches.

Another man rushes Danny with a knife—big mistake. Danny catches his wrist mid-swing, wrenches it to the side with bone-snapping efficiency, then drives the same blade into another attacker’s thigh. The man howls, but Danny is already moving, slamming someone’s face into the nearest table hard enough to leave a smear of red on the wood.

They never stood a chance.

Two minutes. Two damn minutes, and the entire room is a battlefield of unconscious, broken bodies.

And Bruce cannot focus.

Bruce barely registers Jason swearing at him through the comms, telling him to get it together. He can’t.

And then Danny turns to him.

His face is splattered with blood, his chest rising and falling steadily as he steps forward. His hands, bruised and raw, reach out, and Bruce swallows hard.

Danny kneels, gaze flicking to Bruce’s bound wrists, and his touch—gentle, so gentle—works at the ropes with precise care. The knots had been tight, biting into his skin enough to bruise, to draw blood. Danny’s jaw clenches at the sight.

Bruce should say something. Should thank him. Should not be thinking about how unfairly attractive he looks like this—wild, wrecked, utterly devoted.

But he can’t help it.

He’s so gone.

"Mr. Wayne."

On instruct, Bruce corrects him. "Bruce."

And Danny pauses.

The chaos settles—not in the room, where bodies lay crumpled, groaning, and barely conscious—but in him. Just for a second. Just long enough for Bruce to see it.

Blue flickers into green. A warning. A promise.

Bruce doesn’t look away. Can’t. Even as Danny tilts his head, something unhinged curling at the edges of his smile. His chest rises and falls, slow, deliberate, the blood on his face catching the dim light. His knuckles, split and raw, flex at his sides before he exhales a laugh—low, sharp, guttural.

Almost a growl.

And Bruce—God help him—feels something thrill in his spine.

Then Danny takes his wrists. Carefully. Reverently. Those same hands that had snapped bones and silenced screams mere moments ago now hold Bruce’s bruised, bloodied skin like it’s something precious.

Then—cold.

Not warm. Not comforting. Cold lips, pressing soft against each wound, his touch featherlight against the raw skin. Bruce shudders.

Danny pulls back just enough for Bruce to see his lips—stained red with his blood. And he grins, sharp fangs more prominent than ever, his eyes molten with something Bruce can’t name.

"Bruce…"

Danny says it like a prayer. Like a promise. Like a goddamn claim.

Exasperated. Excited. Fond. And something else entirely.

"Try not to get kidnapped again, Bruce… Or I might just end up blowing up Gotham to get you back.

Bruce’s breath stutters.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Bruce is so utterly gone.

(Someone laughs in the background, shadows curling at their feet. Lady Gotham is pleased.)

Part 2 | Masterpost

[anotheronleft]

Danny didn't think that falling through a natural portal would result in him stumbling upon a cult. Or that said cult currently was busy with "punishing" a small five year old child.

Really there was only one thing he could do and accidental kidnapping usually happened to him as the kidnapee not the kidnapper.

Well, there was a first time for everything. Taking the small child with him into the infinite realms may have been a panic reaction, and he may have accidentally summoned Frostbite to check over the boy.

Thankfully the kid, Damian he said his name was, was liminal and fine with healing in Danny's castle before Danny would bring him to his father. According to Damian his father didn't like the cult ("It's the league of assasins... not a cult.")

To be honest he was very much out of depth and so very confused when he had to find his way to the crime ridden city of Gotham and then somehow get the attention of the bat vigilante. Batman was tall and very much as scary as a ghost.

Damian looked out from under King Phantom's cloak of stars and galaxies and took in the person who was said to be his father.

"You are shorter than I thought..."

"Hn." Damian turned to look up at the being that had helped him heal and taken care of him for the last two months.

"I have decided. King Phantom shall be my father from now on!" Damian proceeded to hide back behind the being and into the spacious cloak.

"Uhm... I don't think that's how that works bud." King Phantom said, he was interrupted by laughter. Glancing past the being Damian saw Batman and Robin, as well as Nightwing, the last two were laughing while Batman looked slumped.

"I have decided King Phantom is my father, so he is!"

"This is gold!" Nightwing was now struggling to stand up straight.

"I... uh... I'm not sure what to do in this situation?" King Phantom said, Damian leaned forward a bit to glare at him.

"Take me back to your castle father!" Nightwing seemed to struggle with breathing, he was now wheezing.

Danny would like to say for the record that he wasn't prepared for these things! Somehow that strange situation ended with him in the batmobile on the way to the batcave so that Damian would hopefully want to stay with his actual father.

[anotheronleft]

Danny didn't think that falling through a natural portal would result in him stumbling upon a cult. Or that said cult currently was busy with "punishing" a small five year old child.

Really there was only one thing he could do and accidental kidnapping usually happened to him as the kidnapee not the kidnapper.

Well, there was a first time for everything. Taking the small child with him into the infinite realms may have been a panic reaction, and he may have accidentally summoned Frostbite to check over the boy.

Thankfully the kid, Damian he said his name was, was liminal and fine with healing in Danny's castle before Danny would bring him to his father. According to Damian his father didn't like the cult ("It's the league of assasins... not a cult.")

To be honest he was very much out of depth and so very confused when he had to find his way to the crime ridden city of Gotham and then somehow get the attention of the bat vigilante. Batman was tall and very much as scary as a ghost.

Damian looked out from under King Phantom's cloak of stars and galaxies and took in the person who was said to be his father.

"You are shorter than I thought..."

"Hn." Damian turned to look up at the being that had helped him heal and taken care of him for the last two months.

"I have decided. King Phantom shall be my father from now on!" Damian proceeded to hide back behind the being and into the spacious cloak.

"Uhm... I don't think that's how that works bud." King Phantom said, he was interrupted by laughter. Glancing past the being Damian saw Batman and Robin, as well as Nightwing, the last two were laughing while Batman looked slumped.

"I have decided King Phantom is my father, so he is!"

"This is gold!" Nightwing was now struggling to stand up straight.

"I... uh... I'm not sure what to do in this situation?" King Phantom said, Damian leaned forward a bit to glare at him.

"Take me back to your castle father!" Nightwing seemed to struggle with breathing, he was now wheezing.

Danny would like to say for the record that he wasn't prepared for these things! Somehow that strange situation ended with him in the batmobile on the way to the batcave so that Damian would hopefully want to stay with his actual father.