If Any Of Us Entered A Fae Deal, All It Would Take Is Posting It On Tumblr To Get A Pile Of Assorted

Damian was having a very, very bad patrol. A group of cultists had ambushed himself and Nightwing, and kidnapped them both for a ritual. From what Damian had gleaned, it was a summoning ritual for an entity of ice and snow to bring an eternal winter to the unworthy. Or so they said. And also required a blood sacrifice. Which Damian was.

Damian barely registered Nightwing's shouting from the corner where he had been tied up. They had taken him too so the other Bats had less of a lead. This was highly unfortunate, given that the leader was seemingly nearing the end of the ritual, knife hovering over Damian's chest.

Was this how his brother felt? Before he was killed? Not the same, his brother couldn't have known what was happening. But this dread, this anticipation. Was this what his brother had felt? Before he was stabbed through the chest and discarded into a pool of green?

How ironic that Damian was going to be stabbed through the chest. But there would be no pool of green, only red. At least this time his Father would have a body to bury.

The chanting rose along with the knife. Nightwing screamed. Damian kept his eyes open. He would see his demise. He would not look away.

The knife came down and Damian's vision was consumed by black. There was a choked breath and Damian could no longer hear Nightwing.

Dying hurt less that he thought it would. Then the black in his vision shifted. It was... a person. The black-clad back of a person, sitting up and forcing the cultist to stumble back. Had one of his family arrived in time, only to sacrifice themselves for him?

No, none of his family had pure, glowing white hair. Had the ritual been successful? But the sacrifice had not been completed. The person grabbed the knife and pulled it out of their torso.

There was no spurt of blood as there should have been. Instead, the knife gleamed with dripping bright green. The same toxic green as Lazarus water. The being discarded the knife on the ground, ignoring the cultists and their frantic murmuring and Nightwing's renewed shouting.

They turned around and Damian couldn't breath. He had seen pictures of his father when he was younger in the manner. He had seen what his father looked like at Damian's age, as a teenager, and as an adult. This being, with their Lazarus blood and Lazarus green eyes and his father's teenage face smiled at Damian.

"Hi little brother," They said. "Couldn’t let you get sacrificed, now could I? That's my job, y'know,"

(Danny had gone to Clockwork for answers. Danny had gotten answers. Danny had not been happy with those answers. Clockwork had told him that his little brother was about to be ritualistcally sacrificed, and would Danny like to do something about that? Danny very much would. And Danny did. Time to say hello to his alternate dimension extended family.)

DC x DP: The Real Blood Son

It's a year after Damian came to live with them that he decides it is an excellent time to bombard Bruce with his news.

"I had a blood brother." He says to Tim after the other commented how important blood meant to Bruce-ie, not enough to make him get rid of his other sons. "He was the first from the artificial womb mother made with Father's DNA; however, he was disposed of once his heart condition became known. I highly doubt you will last even twice as long Drake-"

"What"

Bruce didn't know that he could make his voice that cold. That dead. What in the world does he mean disposed.

Damian goes still. The kind of still where he isn't sure if he just earned a punishment and is trying not to react to the fear. "My elder brother. Did mother not inform you?"

"Damian," Bruce struggles to level his tone at Dick's hard stare. "She hadn't even informed me of you. Please, can you explain more about your brother."

The youngest nods. "He had no name, but he was my biological brother. He was forced to grow to age of three before they realized he was defective. Grandfather had him sacrificed to the pit."

Jason growls "what do you mean?"

Damian looks confused- as confused as he can with his league training kicking in. "The Lazarus pit is made from the bodies of young virgins. No older then ten. They are sacrificed in exchange for the Infinite Realms' power to sink into the water. The children are not aware of what is happening to them until the very end. They do not suffer."

Bruce feels sick.

They talk a bit more, on how certain followers throughout history were more then happy to offer the great Ra's their own children to renew the pit. How Damain had watched three children when he was seven be sacrifice- it happened every five years- and how the children were given the best week of their lives.

They purposely given the most joy they could feel before the blades to make the Pit as pure as possible. He talked a lot about watching the youngest- five years- be laughing and splashing in the Lazarus water before his mother cut him down, his screams drowning in the green liquid.

"They say the Pit absorbs the last emotion of the sacrifice. Grandfather hopes the children realize the importance and honor they have to be ended for a glorious cause, but occasionally a few are disloyal. When Todd had taken a dip, the previous Renew, had a brilliant girl who figured out what was happening and attempted to escape. She failed, of course, and her arm was amputated in a mission, but she died angry. That's why Todd had such strong madness compared to-!"

"SHUT UP!" Jason roars suddenly, eyes glowing green, and for a brief moment, Bruce swears he hears an undertone of a young girl in his scream "SHUT UP! YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING! YOUR OWN BROTHER IS IN THERE"

Damain scowls "it's a honor. My brother's body was defective. But he at least had aidded in a glorious ritual."

Bruce can't help it; he leans over the BatCave Railing and hurls his dinner. Damian finally realizes that something is wrong.

They host a funeral for his three-year-old son, who died without a name, and place his gravestone next to his parents. They explain to Damian why the Renewal ritual is horrific but Bruce feels it take years before his son can see that.

Jason, went out into Crime Alley to let off some steam and had been going on a rampage against the underbelly of Gotham. He can't find it I'm himself to stop him.

Bruce asks Constantine to come over and do a small ritual, to hopefully unbound his child and let his son soul move on. Constantine warns that with the kid's name it may not work and that they could only free souls they share blood to but the English man tries anyway.

They send his son their prayers, and hopes. And they try to put him to rest.

Across the Infinite Releams to three dimensions to the right of the Wayne's soul resting ritual, The Fenton's adoptived son, Danny Fenton jolts in his English Class.

The strange stabbing scar above his heart- which is why he never takes off his shirt- burns then cools as if someone had tried to place the temperature-changing ointment. He rubs his best, confused.

What was that?

He'll have to check with FrostBite. Maybe his heart condition is acting up again. It happens every five years even though no doctors his parents have taken him to could figure out what it was.

Until Frostbite. The yeti claimed it had something to do with dark arts, but he's unsure what type.

Frostbite is still doing more testing.

"I wish you had lived, brother. I wish I knew you name"

The wind whispers, and Danny feels a flash of deep longing and grief before it's gone. Yeah, he needs to talk to Frostbite.

Jason is kind of in shock. The kid makes puns and nerdy little references and seems to take joy in being Robin. Is this the ghostly personification of his childhood dreams and innocence?

Tim was four days into a sleep deficit so he felt that to say that this predicament was his fault was a bit of a reach.

For it to be his fault he would have had to cognizant of the last 16 hours.

All he wanted to do was take a power nap in the nearest closest durring the Waynetech gala but nooo Bruce had to be taken hostage by the Joker.

So he did what he thought would work best and shoved uncle Clark into the nearest emergency bat storage and told him to suit up.

Maybe he looked a bit more confused than normal but they didn’t need a reporter they needed Batman!

That being said wasn’t uncle Clark supposed to be off-world?

Oh no.

———————

Jack honestly had no clue what was happening for the last six months so when he was told to be Batman he merely just shrugged as the frankly exhausted teen left him to his own.

With his son turning out to be part ghost to the government hunting down his said son and having to move shop halfway across the continent.

This might as well happen.

Grinning like a kid on Christmas, Jack plopped on the finishing touch.

“Oh Danno is not going to believe this!”

Raising a cloaked arm with a flourish Jack struck a pose.

“Alrighty Jack enough messing around! Time to save the party, Fenton style!

Shifting his feet, Jack took a deep breath before smoothing his face the best he could. After all, couldn’t have a smiling Batman! Before walking out the room and taking running leap through the wall to the streets of Gotham before grappling to the nearest building.

Billy is thinking about damage control. Billy is panicking. Billy has several gods screaming frantically inside his head about all the different things he should do. This leads to... not exactly ideal solutions?

Cause one moment Billy's in a meeting room, the next he's bolting through the Watchtower, snagging the containment device and throwing himself through a sudden and convenient portal that opens up next to him.

Well... Billy hopes this isn't going to turn out TOO bad. When he looks up to see several dozen gods and frantic Ancients, Billy has doubts about this turning out anywhere near good.

Shit.

DPxDC Prompt

If you asked anyone who knew of the Infinite Realms, they would tell you "Any trouble caused by a Realms being is solved by a Realms being, if you interfere with the Realms balance you better be prepared for every God, Old and New to turn on you" Unfortunately for the Justice League, they didn't ask anyone who knew about the Realms when the United States government came to them about a rogue spirit that has been causing destruction across the mid western states. With the anti-ghost tech given to them by the government and the Fenton's, they took down the threat promptly, containing the spirit within a device they now keep on the Watchtower. (due to not trusting the government with it) It wasn't long after that the more super powered heroes started noticing their powers weakening. Superman could no longer feel the sun as strongly, Wonder Women could feel her godly power distancing itself from her, the Flash was slowing down. They couldn't figure out what was causing it, but the longer it went on they began to notice a change in those without powers as well. Batman didn't blend into the shadows as seamlessly anymore, Arrow's aim wasn't as accurate. They had taken the Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms hostage and in doing so have fallen out of the Gods favors. The longer they keep the Prince captive, the more the weakness and back luck becomes dangerous for them. The Gods have never been very patient

Oh, oh, what it another reason he doesn't express anger as the Captain is because he knows what it's like to be afraid of an adult. He's been the victim of angry adults more than once. And he NEVER wants to be that person.

He never wants anyone to be afraid of him like he was afraid of his uncle/foster parents/police/people who've had to much to drink/etcetera.

He volunteers as Captain Marvel, and one of those places is a soup kitchen. Everytime he hands someone afraid some food with a smile, and gets them to smile back, he's on top of the world. That's what being a hero is to him.

He refuses to ruin that with an ill-timed scowl.

Billy Batson Headcanon.

Billy doesn't express any form of anger in the Captain form. He's scared to. He's scared that he could hurt someone, kill someone, if he isn't careful.

The Justice League see him as a Superman type– Always happy with never ending optimism. Billy is optimistic, yes, but not in the way that he presents to the Justice League. The Captain is 'everything is okay, and everything will keep being okay', whereas Billy is 'everything is f^cked, but we can fix it if we try'.

The Justice League only see flashes of it. A glare when Batman announces spending thousands, if not millions, on improvements for the Watchtower, looks of envy when everyone talks about food and clothes. They think it's because he lives in the Rock of Eternity, and can't have these things.

They don't realise the reason until they finally meet Billy, and realise that he's a literal homeless child.

i finished your Danny Phantom + Batfam fic the other night and lemme please tell you how well you wrote it!!! PLUS its that final push for me to watch Danny Phantom finally (after all these years too) so thank you for that :D

I'm glad you enjoyed it, thanks for telling me!

Damian: He is highly intelligent and with time his knife skills can improve.

Jason: You already have Batcow, leave Duck Hood alone. He's MY animal sidekick.

Quacked up

Danny never thought that Desiree was serious on her threats, or at least the threats that had to do with "turning him into a duck and abandoning him in another dimension."

But it seems that even ghost genies had their limits, because the third time he "ruined her plans," she made good on her threat. Danny wasn't worried about Amity, Team Phantom could take care of that just fine.

He was more concerned about his webbed feet and duckbill. Plus the fact that he showed up in the middle of a warehouse occupied by mobsters, although the supposed mobsters were more involved in trying to catch him (were his ears wrong or had he heard an "aww"?) than killing him. One of them even named him "Duck Hood."

Jason didn't know how to feel watching all his employees chase a duck. It was a weird duck, with glowing green eyes (was it possible for a duck to dive into the pits??), and he was sure he saw it float by at some point, but at least his "lair" was a little more lively.

He wondered if he should give it to Damian or keep it.

I forgot thought people mainly go to parties to talk. Every time, I think it'll be different. I can dance to music, people watch, but no. Societal convention traps me.

Ah, time for my most least favourite thing: a party. Don't you love standing in a crowd and yet feeling entirely isolated? Stay tuned for more incurable introvert and socially anxious thoughts.

Jason had no clue where he was going, much less why it felt... familiar.

He didn't know why this pit green hellscape didn't drive him up the wall. He didn't know why it felt like coming back to Gotham all over again (except with less murderous intention, but that was besides the point). Or why he was able to understand whatever physics this land abided by.

He automatically knew how to use the grapple gun in a place where gravity seemed optional. He veered around some places for no reason, but in his chest it felt like he knew there was danger there.

He bypassed door after door with Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin trailing behind him, never seeing another soul (hah, pun. Why was that a pun?). And then swung up in a long arc that felt more like flying than anything (why did he know what it felt like to fly?) and landed on a scrubby piece of land no different than any of the others he's seen before. But this one was... different.

He heard his family land behind him (he had landed soundlessly) and face the same door he was looking at. Brown, worn wood carved in simple are nouveau patterns, with knicks and scratches that Jason felt like he could name the cause of everyone.

"It... looks like a manor door," Nightwing said behind Jason, and that was the kicker wasn't it? A manor door, floating half a foot off the ground above purple grass in a Lazarus green wasteland for no discernable reason, and... Jason had led them there. A pulling in his chest that said he knew the way (the Pit was quiet, for the first time in... ever).

"No shit, Wing," Jason snarked, because none of the girls were here to do it. They were having a girls night out on town, painting each other's nail, nailing thugs in the face, and doing makeup with the Sirens. They weren't getting cursed by a witch and dealing with this bullshit. They weren't standing in front of a door that led to who knows where (it felt like home) and seriously pondering whether or not to open it (he wanted to).

"Check for traps on the door. We don't know where we are or why we're here," Batman rumbled from behind Jason.

"Already fucking knew that, old man. And the place isn't trapped," Jason replied.

"Tt, and how do you know that, Hood?" The demon brat tutted.

"I just do," Jason opened the door, and stepped through into...

"Huh," the replacement mumbled from behind him, "It's the kitchen,"

"Thank you, captain obvious," Jason snorted and stride further into the manor kitchen. And then stopped.

"It looks different," Nightwing added on, popping up beside Jason.

"This is... the kitchen from years ago," Batman said, approaching an appliance on the wall, "We replaced this salamander not long after..." Batman looked at Jason, and something cold ran down Jason's back.

"After I died," Jason finished. The kitchen was silent.

"Uh, there's another door over here," Red Robin offered. Jason, very much done with the conversation, but somehow still not reaching murderous rage levels, turned and marched over to the door. And stopped again.

Dick made a choking noise from behind Jason. "That's your room,"

And it was. A notch near the bottom hinge from a minor Batarang incident. A discolouration on the door knob from when Jason forgot to decontaminate after a fight and started oxidizing the door knob. And, most damningly, a little handwritten sign proclaiming it 'Jay's Room', slightly knocked ascue like the occupant had brushed past it and decided they'd fix it when they came back. (He didn't come back.)

Jason should be unnerved. Freaked out, turning right around and marching out, saying fuck this noise. But he didn't. He didn't feel scared, or weirded out. He wished he felt those things. Felt more than the increasing chill up his spine, felt more than content (and safe?).

"Well, that's freaky, but is it just me or is it getting cold in here?" Dick asked. Jason straightened up as his breath appeared in front of his face. It wasn't just a chill up his spine, he thought as he whirled around, hand on a gun, searching for the threat.

"Who DARES trespass upon this lair?" A staticky, snarling voice echoed from directly behind Jason. Robin made a choked noise, staring behind Jason. He turned around. Spiraling black shadows, interspersed with sparkles like stars or powdered glass that would kill you if inhaled. Lazarus pit green pools staring right at him, piercing through him.

Once again, he should feel freaked out. Once again, he should be noping out of there, pulling his gun, backing away, doing something. Besides just standing there. And crossing his arms, and raising an eyebrow that couldn't be seen as he replied on pure instinct, "I'll trespass wherever I want,"

Silence. He stared at the eldritch whatever, and the thing stared back. The white stopped swriling, the black stopped shifting like smoke. "Bluejay?" A quiet, almost young voice asked him. His mouth moved without permission.

"Yo,"

"Jay!" The shadowy blob consolidated into a teenager, floating above the ground and looking at him with pure delight.

"I feel like I know you," Jason said, more to himself than the teenager in what looked like a fucking hazmat suit.

"You do. Aww, look at you, you got so big! You disappeared, like, half a year ago," The kid floated closer to him, and the Bats behind him made discontented noises, but Jason didn't move. He felt... safe. He knew this kid with floating white hair and a sharp toothed smile. He... knew him like he knew his way to the door, like he knew the manor kitchen, and the door to his room.

"Can't say I remember that,"

"Yeah, you might not. Coming back to life sucks,"

"You can say that again,"

"I'm happy to see you again Jay. Even if time here is whacked up, and you're old now,"

"Am not!" Jason paused for a moment. Took in the feelings of safety, comfort, and the way the Pit was so, so quiet. "And it's good to see you too,"

Here's a dcxdp prompt and some bones! The Batfam somehow gets transported to the GZ and Jason starts feeling a pulling sensation telling him to go a certain way. They go and find a door eerily similar to me of the mansions door. When they open it they are shocked to seek what looks like the mansions library kitchen and Jason old room except more spooky. They have found his old lair from when he was dead.

!!!!! holy shit this is so good

Dick Grayson was very familiar with the homeless population, in both of his uniforms. Gotham wasn't a nice place, and neither was Bludhaven, so he was a lot less surprised than he should've been to find a teenager bleeding in an alley.

Cold blue eyes locked onto his, a noise like a rumbling growl emanated from the teenager. Dick held up his hands, "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'll just stay right here," A beat of silence while the kid narrowed his eyes, gauging how me he wanted to trust a stranger. He shifted backwards, but made no other move. Dick relaxed back onto his heels, dropping his grocery bag in a slow, deliberate movement. "That's a lot of blood you got there,"

"Wow, Sherlock, you've done it again," The kid grumbled, once again meeting his eyes as he pressed down on top of his hoodie, blood seeping past the pressure he put on it.

Dick grinned reassuringly. "Why thank you Watson. I've got some bandages and pain killers. Just bought 'em, you can check the seal,"

"Can't pay," Mystery Potentional Bruce Adoptee muttered, before hissing as a further tide of blood seeped past his hand.

"Not gonna make you pay, kid. I should really be taking you to a hospital right now," The baring of slightly sharp teeth told Dick all he needed to know about the kid's opinion on such a thing, "But I can tell you'd bite me first. My place isn't that far, and I'm pretty good at stitches,"

"Why?" The kid asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion once more. His movement's were more sluggish, and Dick tried not to show the anxiety that inspired.

"Why my place or why stitches? Well, to answer both, I've got a bunch of little brothers. I love them more than life itself, but the amount of trouble they get into? Tim skated headfirst into a wall, three stitches. Jason dropped half a bookcase on his head when trying to grab Jane Austen off the top shelf. And Damian's a bit too trusting with animals, he gets a rabies shot as often as his pets," Dick teased with a grin, slowly moving closer as he talked. The kid let him.

"Only little brothers?" He asked, flinching slightly as Dick came into contact with him before deliberately angling himself towards Dick.

"No, my little sister Cass just knows better than to get into trouble. Sole holder of the brain cell,"

The kid snorted, before grunting in pain as Dick helped lever him up, looping the arm not holding in his blood around his shoulder. "'M Danny,"

"Dick," he replied as he quickly reached down to scoop up his back of first aid kit restockments.

"Rude,"

"No, that's my name,"

"I'm very sorry,"

Duck barked a laugh as he started helping the kid hobble back towards his apartment. "Aren't we all?"

Prompt fill from the Discord server. This one is courtesy of @tourettesdog

Prompt where Danny keeps showing up like a stray cat at various hero's houses. He just comes and goes and they never know when he'll show up next. He's just this like pseudo-adopted child who will come over for dinner, crash on the couch, and he's gone by morning. No amount of research will tell them who he is past the limited information he's given them

The various heroes are unaware that his stray cat range wanders so far until someone mentions him at a JL meeting and all hell breaks loose.

There's eventually an intervention

Stray Cat Danny

Clark had just got home when he noticed the heartbeat on the fire escape two floors above him. As far as he knew, that apartment was empty, so it couldn't be the residents going out for a smoke. It was weird, very strange, and not his business.

He tried to leave it alone, but the heartbeat stayed on the fire escape for a few hours. Every now and again Clark would hear whoever it was shift, but other than that they stayed quiet. Again, weird, but not his business.

Until it started to snow right when Clark was about to start dinner.

He was just going to make sure whoever it was had somewhere warm to stay. Maybe direct them to a shelter. Clark opened the window and looked up, there was a dark bundle, worryingly still, on the fire escape.

"Excuse me?" Clark called. The bundle shifted but whoever it is didn't respond. Clark grumbled and made his way up to them, squatting down a few feet away.

"Are you alright?"

The bundle shifted, revealing one blue eye and a tuft of back hair.

"''m fine" a young male voice answered. The blue eye closed.

"You know it's going to snow tonight. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in a shelter than on a fire escape."

"They're full." The boy answered. "All both of them."

Only two shelters for all of Metropolis? That can't be right. Clark looked up to the sky, the snow was starting to come down and he could swear it had gotten colder since he'd been out here. He couldn't leave the kid out here to freeze.

"How about you stay the night at my place? My couch is pretty comfortable, and I'm making beef stew for dinner, Ma's recipe." He let a bit of his Kansas accent show through. Hoping the country accent would put the boy more at ease. He was watching him now with both eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Did your Ma ever teach you about stranger danger?" The kid asked.

"Not exactly. She taught me to help people out if they need it. Did your Ma teach you stranger danger?"

"No," the boy said, "my mom taught me to put a full-grown man on the ground if I needed to."

That surprised Clark into laughing. "Well, you won't need to with me. What do you say you come inside?"

The boy watched him for another second before shivering violently and glaring at the sky.

"Yeah, alright. Just one night."

"I'm Clark, by the way," Clark said as he closed the window behind the kid.

"Danny." The kid said. He was rooted to the spot just a few steps into the apartment, eyes scanning the room.

"It's nice to meet you, Danny." Clark held out his hand to shake, but Danny didn't take it. After an awkward second Clark cleared his throat. "Uh. The stew is going to be a little while. You're welcome to the laundry and shower if you need it." Danny was pretty clean, but there was visible dirt on his face and clothes. "I might have some clothes my nephew forgot that you're welcome to." Dick was bigger than Danny for sure, but he was closer to Danny's size than Clark was.

Danny gave him a long look, before shrugging off his backpack. "Sure. Might as well."

Clark left to go get the clothes while Danny loaded some of his clothes and blankets in the washer. Once he presented the tee shirt and sweatpants Danny disappeared into the bathroom. When he reappeared he was scrubbed clean, his cheeks rosy either from the hot water or scrubbing.

Danny was even smaller than Clark was expecting. He was downright scrawny. Dick's shirt hung off Danny's shoulders, and Clark could clearly see his collarbones. This kid was not getting nearly enough to eat. Well, he was going to tonight if Clark had anything to say about it.

"The stew should be ready in about half an hour. Feel free to make yourself at home." Clark said. He expected Danny to sit on the couch and watch TV, but instead, Danny found his home office. it wasn't more than a desk with his work laptop on it and some of Clark's better pieces and awards framed and tacked to the wall above it.

"You're Clark Kent, the reporter?" Danny asked, eyes switching between the wall and Clark.

"That's me," Clark said. "You know my work?"

"I read your piece on metahuman and alien rights last year. It was good."

"Thanks. I really liked working on that piece."

"Did you always want to be a writer?"

"uh. No. When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut." Clark said, stirring the stew. Danny snorted. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Danny said, taking a seat at the little kitchen table. "I wanted to be an astronaut, too."

"Yeah? You still could." Clark said.

"Nah. It's hard to be an astronaut without a high school diploma. What made you change to writing?"

"I went through a few different career paths before I landed on journalism."

"Do you like it?"

"I do. I like uncovering the truths people try to hide." Clark said. "You'd make a decent journalist, I'd think. Half of it is just asking the right questions."

Clark served up the stew into two bowls and brought them over to the table with some rolls and butter. "I don't have much in the way of drinks, is water okay?"

"Water would be great, thanks."

They ate in relative silence, Danny was too focused on his food to ask more questions. After they ate Danny nodded off on the couch almost as soon as he sat down. Clark couldn't bring himself to wake him up, so he just covered him with a blanket from the linen closet and headed to his own room.

Maybe in the morning he could make Danny pancakes or waffles and get him some new gloves and a jacket. The question was what to do after that? He didn't want to drop Danny off at a shelter, and taking him to the police would only destroy whatever trust he had gained with the boy. At the same time, he only had a one-bedroom apartment. He couldn't keep Danny here. Clark sighed. He'd have to talk to Danny in the morning and see what he wanted to do.

When Clark woke up he was greeted by the silence of the apartment and it took him a few minutes to figure out why that was wrong. There should be another heartbeat. Fearing the worst, Clark rushed into the living room to find it empty.

The blanket and clothes Danny had used had been neatly folded and placed on the back of the couch, along with a handwritten thank you note.

How did Danny leave without him hearing? Moreover, how'd he leave with the doors and windows still locked?

If feel like this has the implication that under control, Danny is able to shake it for short periods of time. Just enough to help. But the rest of the time? Very much mind controlled.

When Nightwing was just breaking off on his own, one of the first cases he managed by himself was that of a circus come to blüdhaven to steal valuables off the wealthy residents. Dick eventually realized the connection, and with the strained and sporadic help of a cheerful white haired performer, manages to realize their ringmaster Freakshow was controlling them with a crystal ball staff. He breaks it to set them free and arrests Freakshow for possession of stolen goods and that seems like the end of it.

That is, until years later when he's working with the Justice League and they seize a truck full of those self-same crystal balls.

With a national uptick in seemingly impossible crimes, Dick has to somehow get back in contact with the Mysterious white haired boy from Circus Gothica and ask for his help to stop who's responsible for mass producing these orbs and freeing the secretive species of people they seem to control.