I Love How This Implies That The Wayne Family Decided To Hire Mainly/exclusively Male Caregivers For

I think anyone that studies medicine with Damian would lowkey hate his ass.

Not in a mean way, but in a petty why-aren't-you-struggling-like-me type of way. I mean, thanks to Robin and the league Damian is light years ahead of everyone on terms of experience and it would show.

Half the class is puking their guts out the first time they see a patient with an open fracture. Damian has been there, done that, seen that and worse. He's eating m&m's in the back.

They're all practicing making sutures until late. Damian is like "No, I don't need to join you. I could suture with my eyes closed" and then when someone is like "prove it, rich-boy" that mf actually blindfolds his eyes and sutures perfectly using four different techniques.

He also passes everything with flying colors! Because of course, the guy can't just be rich, good looking and famous, he has to be smart too.

And it just gets worse when he starts his actual residency.

Nothing shakes him! Thirty hour shifts? He doesn't even yawn. Extreme stress during a surgery gone awry? Damian is the one telling the other members of the surgical team to stay calm. Violent patient? They don't even get to call security, Damian has the guy pinned already.

And it would be easier to not get jealous of him if he somehow was a souless blood sucking asshole. But Damian is a good person, awkward and standoffish but always willing to help. He's there for whatever people need. He aids nurses, listens to patients, conforts victims. He sits with people for the bad news and when someone dies he gets this sad faraway look that shows he cares.

And it's just so unfair.

I'm so glad I live in a world where there's Archive of Our Own

Danny: Wow, when Jazz told me she knew a guy that could tutor me in English, she didn't mention you be so buff.

Jason: Is that a problem?

Danny flustered: No no no! I guess I was expecting someone as scrawny as me. I've never been good at working out.

Jason: Hmm, well, if you want, I can also help you work out. I'm at the gym before I come to our tutoring sessions anyway.

Danny faintly: Okay.

Jason: Great. I go to the campus gym so we can meet there. Anyway, Jazz said you needed help with Shakespearian chapters?

Danny even more faint: Shakespeare....uses English I don't understand.

Jason moving closer: I'm sorry I didn't catch that.

Danny whispering: Help me, I'm too gay.

Jason: What?

Danny panicked: I said help me I'm too slay!

Jason: Ugh, I guess your outfit is nice, but what's that got to do with Shakespeare?

Jazz spying from a near by table: This idiot is blowing it.

Dick from another nearby table also spying: I know the feeling. I set Jay up for the perfect opportunity to charm his crush, and he's focusing on Shakespeare!

Danny being able to feel auras was not something he had consciously noticed at first, and with time he had gotten more used to it. To feel out what emotion felt how, what it actually meant for who.

Not everybody was angry when they were hungry, emotions are difficult to understand. He was glad he had Jazz, and later on J'onn to help him understand.

So he used his "extra" sense for good, to make the life of his friends in the JL just a bit better, easier. That was also how this tradtiton had first been established, Danny wanted to learn how his friends felt. He wanted to understand his friends and how their emotions were shown in their auras.

Movie Night.

Or well, Movie Meet-Up. Night and day were a bit confusing in space.

It started with a talk with J'onn, about favorites, and how overwhelming the martians first movie in a cinema was with all the emotions from so many different people in such a capacity.

It ended with Phantom inviting the JL to a movie meet up, the first of many. He wanted to start with something easy, positive but also a bit funny maybe. So he landed on Lilo and Stitch, the added bonus of aliens being in the movie was his personal highlight!

Over time it escalated, more movies, some complex, most rather picked to give a break from some disaster or another.

Before he really realised it he had gotten such a good grasp on his friends aura that he had started to give comfort with barely a thought. Someone was stressed? Have a hug, something warm maybe? Do you need to get out some energy because the meeting was boring and could have been an e-mail?

Danny really loved his friends, but most of all he loved J'onn. Talking about emotions and how they were shown in auras had evolved into talking about anything and everything.

So when it was time again for the next Movie Meet-Up he sat next to J'onn, his popcorn ready and excited to see what movie they were going to watch. This time it was J'onn's pick. And Danny really didn't want to see another Grey Ghost episode - No Batman, a series is not the same as a movie!

@egyptianghosts

Emotional Auras-DCxDP prompt

Everyone has an aura. It's not really visible but you can feel it. Danny feels it a lot. It makes sense though. Ghosts are made out of it and it is a primary form of communication for them.

But humans also have it. Obviously, because it stays with them into their ghost forms.

Since joining the league Phantom has naturally integrated into the team. He seemed to know exactly what to say and do.

Sometimes Batman will be studying intel reports and Phantom will appear and just lean on his shoulder. After a few minutes you can notice how Batman's shoulders relax and he unclenches his hard.

Other times a meeting will be taking place and right before an argument breaks out Phantom cuts the tension with a pie he just made. Suddenly everyone remembers that it's past lunch.

Sometimes Phantom will whisper into Superman's ear to remember to call his mother or check in on Kon.

Other times he'll complain about needing to stretch his legs(err tail?) and challenge Flash to a race.

Diana and Black Canary often get a sympathetic ear during certain times of the month. Everyone kind of believes that Phantom likes them best because he will fulfill any request from them. He brings them fancy treats and lots of water and is glued to their sides.

Phantom is particularly attached to J'onn. And it's mutual. Phantom did tell him about the after life and the fate of his people. The martians had a particular affinity for the realms. So much so that they have an entire sector in the realms just so they can continue their unlikely. Its not uncommon that the sudden death of a planet creates a sort of imprint in the realms as the collective consciousness of so many unwilling souls at once enter. J'onn's people just didn't want to surrender death.

Apparently the news of such a thing created such a powerful emotion that Phantom a connection was created between them. The telepathic bond gave J'onn a new perspective on everything as he read Phantom's mind. He also saw and felt what he did. And after that everything made sense.

It was an odd pairing for the rest of the league as J'onn treated Phantom like his own child. Some even theorized that Phantom was part Martian. It would explain the greenish skin.

J'onn often called Phantom the leagues stabilizer. He kept everyone in check at the Watchtower.

Things have never been more peaceful.

I will read the same trope 20x and more again and again and again, bc I like the trope. I don’t care if it’s been done a 100 times before, it’s still fun to read.

ok, because i just saw a terrible take, i feel compelled to say that there is no "fic market" to "oversaturate" in fandom. good gravy.

It kept being stuck in my head how Mia just smiled knowingly at her Oppa, and I could only picture Anya (Spy x Family) and her "diplomatic" smile, so here is some rushed fanart~

God they’re so cute 🥰

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.

Ghost of a Chance

Gotham was not a city known for its kindness. Rain slicked the alleyways like a second skin, and shadows crept where sunlight dared not linger. Alfred Pennyworth had seen a great many things in this city. Muggers, monsters, and masked madmen were just part of the nightly routine. What he hadn't expected, however, was to be saved by a ghost.

Or something very much like one.

It was supposed to be a quick errand—a quiet evening walk to clear his head. But halfway down Burnside, three desperate men with more bravado than brains cornered him. Alfred had been ready to disarm the first and disable the second, but he never got the chance. A blur of white and black swooped in, accompanied by the distant, bone-deep hum of unnatural power. The muggers were down in seconds—one frozen to the wall, another knocked out cold, and the third suspended midair by a glowing hand that flickered green.

The boy was there and gone just as fast. Alfred barely had time to register the tattered hoodie, the hollow cheeks, the white hair and green eyes that didn’t seem quite human.

"Wait—!" Alfred had called, but the boy was already gone, melting into the shadows like smoke.

The encounter would’ve ended there—just another strange chapter in Gotham’s nightbook—if it hadn’t kept happening.

Twice more, the mysterious young man appeared. Once to stop a purse snatcher near the theater. Another time to drag a lost child out of a crumbling building during a fire. Always fast, always silent. Always gone before Alfred could properly speak to him.

And always too thin.

It was the kind of thin that spoke of long nights without food. Hollow cheeks, knobby elbows, a belt cinched too tight around jeans that barely stayed up. It reminded Alfred of the early days—of Dick, of Jason, of Tim, of Damian. Of boys who had learned to survive instead of live.

Alfred Pennyworth had a rule: no one went hungry on his watch.

And so began his campaign.

At first, it was subtle. A wrapped sandwich left behind after one of the ghost-boy’s heroic appearances. A thermos of hot tea left conveniently near a rooftop perch. A backpack, clean and durable, filled with protein bars and fresh socks. Most of it vanished, though Alfred never saw it happen.

Then came the note, scrawled in messy, tired handwriting:

“Thanks. You didn’t have to. I’m not sticking around though. It’s safer for you if I don’t.”

The next day, Alfred left a response tucked in the same spot:

“You are not a danger, young man. I’ve seen far worse, and fed far worse. If you insist on continuing your streak of rooftop chivalry, I insist you do so on a full stomach.”

He added a slice of quiche. It was gone by morning.

Bruce raised an eyebrow the first time he caught Alfred baking two loaves of banana bread instead of one. Tim said nothing when the supply order mysteriously included a half dozen extra protein shakes and thermal gloves in medium size. Damian made a snide comment—something about stray ghosts haunting the pantry—but Alfred didn’t dignify it with a reply.

Then came the night it changed.

A patrol gone wrong. Batman caught in a collapsing parking garage. The comms went dead. Nightwing was too far. Red Hood was tracking Penguin. The only one nearby—untraceable, unregistered, and undeniably powerful—was the boy Alfred had been feeding for weeks.

He left the beacon on the rooftop.

“Help him. Please. –A.P.”

Within minutes, Bruce stumbled through the Batcave entrance, soot-smudged and breathing, but alive. Behind him, almost hidden in the shadows, was the boy. White hair. Green eyes. Shivering slightly, but still on his feet.

“I didn’t do it for favors,” the boy said. His voice was hoarse, too young for his haunted face. “I just... couldn’t let him die.”

“I know,” Alfred said gently. “Which is precisely why the offer of dinner still stands.”

“…I shouldn’t.” But his eyes drifted toward the warm lights of the manor beyond the cave, toward the smell of fresh bread and something sweet baking in the oven.

“No one escapes me forever, dear boy,” Alfred said with a small smile. “Not even slippery ghosts.”

The boy stared at him for a long moment. Then finally, like a candle burning out, he sagged.

“…Okay. Just for tonight.”

“Of course,” Alfred said, already turning toward the kitchen. “We’ll start with soup.”

Behind him, the boy whispered a name like an afterthought—like something long buried finally being said aloud.

“Danny. My name’s Danny.”

“Well then, Master Danny,” Alfred said, with the same fondness he reserved for all his wayward sons, “welcome home.”

DPxDC Old Friends

Dick rings the doorbell.

Tim has no idea why they are here. The house his brother is trying to invite himself in looks nice, almost eerily so: walls painted in warm beige, windows so clean they sparkle, a perfectly manicured lawn, and flower beds and bushes without a single bad leaf, neatly cut and shaped to the point where they look like a Pinterest picture. The whole place looks like a photoshopped flyer of American Dream.

Which is exactly why it sets Tim on edge. No one can live their life so perfect.

Maybe it's just his broken arm and concussed head speaking, though. The throbbing pain tends to make him grouchy and distrustful.

Another minute passes in silence.

Dick raises his hand once more, but, just as he is about to press the doorbell again, the door opens. A tall, thin redhead girl with bright freckles sprinkled over her cheeks peeks out, a nice, if slightly awkward smile on her face. Only, as soon as she sees Dick, the smile drops like it was never there, and the girl starts closing the door back, evidently intent on slamming it in their faces.

Dick hastily puts his foot in, preventing it from closing.

"Hey, Jasmine, really sorry to bother-"

"Go to fucking hell," the redhead spits out, looking like she is two seconds away from violence. Tim must say, that reaction actually makes him feel a bit better about the whole situation. Turns out, not everything is picture perfect here, what a relief.

"Who's there?" Comes a voice from somewhere inside the house. Male, from the sound of it, so, maybe a husband?

"No one!" Jasmine yells back, an annoyed hint to her tone.

"Jasmine, please," Dick pleads, not taking his eyes off the girl.

"'No one' like you need the gun, or 'no one' like you need the thermos?" A different, younger voice asks, followed by a loud snort and a bark of a dog.

"My brother is hurt," Dick adds, like it's his last resort of an argument, and Tim huffs, barely holding himself back from elbowing the man in his side. And who's fault is that?..

Yet, that makes the redhead pause. She purses her lips, briefly looks at Tim and the way he's cradling his arm. Then, she sighs, long and exasperated, and lets go of the door, allowing it to open all the way.

"'No one' like I need the medkit," she finally answers to whoever is inside the house, and steps to the side, gesturing for both Dick and Tim to come in. "Comicon alert, everyone, plant your feet on the floor!"

Henchmen for Hire

AKA "Danny is employed as one of the Rogue's henchmen and he's doing so well at being discrete, none of the Bats even know he's committing crime! (They absolutely know.)" prompt idea!!

Y'know what would make this funnier?? Is if Selina Kyle, Catwoman and hoarder of strays, immediately Work Mom'd this kid.

Imagine Danny gets dumped into Gotham by himself. Except there's, like, no ectoplasm - not nearly enough to sustain his Ghost. So, his Ghost form slowly peters out and he's left penniless and powerless on the streets of Gotham. Obviously, the next step would be to find money. But how?? He can't go invisible, intangible, or Full Ghost to help him out here. And there aren't a lot of stand-up places that hire kids younger than 13, so ultimately he's forced to apply for henchmen positions. He doesn't actually find Catwoman's ad. No, she hears through the grapevine that this actual child is applying to be a drug runner for the Penguin or - oh, shit, the Joker??

Absolutely not. Selina is no saint, but she's not going to let another kid be beaten to death by the Joker. Maybe she talks to Harley and finds out where the kid's going, or maybe she just puts in an ad and hires him on the spot. To be honest, she doesn't really expect to particularly like the kid - she'll have him pick up her coffee or something, pay him at the end of the day (standard henchmen pay periods since it's likely they won't live through the end of the week), and clear her conscience.

Except Danny is a little shit.

Danny, for his part, doesn't necessarily want to be a henchman but he figured it'd be more than getting some lady's coffee, right? He imagined an evil man twirling his extra long mustache and smoking a cigar, or mobsters hunched over a gambling table grunting about... playing cards or something, he doesn't know. Instead Danny's told to pick up Catwoman's dry-cleaning. It's almost an insult when he knows she's planning a heist that includes stealing several very expensive items from a museum during an evening showing. Without him, her only henchman!! (So what if he snooped in her office? It's not like it's ghost-proof; she should've expected Bad Behavior from the Very Bad Criminal in her house.)

Selina finds out very quickly that Danny is akin to a rambunctious kitten chewing through her phone charger cable and clawing at her favorite muslin blanket (the one Bruce gifted her from one of their dates). And she's so exasperated that she agrees he can be involved. But only as a distraction and he's told that he needs to scram once the police come because she's not bailing him out of juvie if he gets caught. (She wouldn't, but she could make Bruce do it. Her lover would take one look at Danny's watery doe eyes and cave like he's already experiencing Empty Nest Syndrome.)

So, Catwoman and her littlest henchman plan to rob the Gotham Museum. She buys him a cat-themed facemask (in case things get sticky and he needs a quick anonymous getaway) like ones from Party City, it has little ears poking out from the top and it's adorable. And then it's go time.

Danny's role is to distract the crowd by pretending to be a lost kid and distract Batman if he shows up. Selina will take care of the rest - disarming the alarms, timing the museum workers' shifts, bribing the West Entry security guard, frame-freezing the surveillance cameras, smuggling in the forgery and smuggling out the original, and - well. It'll be nice not to deal with the Big Bat if he shows up, but Selina is used to doing this on her own.

She should've expected that Danny doesn't do what's expected.

Because Danny does his part as the crying, screaming child whose mother is lost amongst the chaos once the museum's power shuts off. He distracts the guards easily. Selina hides away the art, replaces the forgery on the wall, and goes to find her little stray. And Danny is clinging hysterically to The Batman, refusing to be pried off by security guards and museum workers. He's straight up sobbing. Talking about how he loves Batman and Robin, his family is dead, he wants to be Robin, did you know you should be able to see Ursa Major from Gotham but you can't because of the smog, do you think Poison Ivy can just make a lot of trees to unpolluted the air, Nightwing is his favorite superhero, do you think he'll sign an autograph-.

It's astounding how fast that kid can speak while also smearing green snot onto Batman's cape. Danny proves himself to be even more unexpected when he goes off-script, eyeing her and screaming, "Mom!" And Batman's eyes catch hers. Shit. How can she explain a tiny child calling her mother in front of her lover? That'll be an awkward conversation.

Catwoman doesn't take Danny to outings after that. Instead, she has Harley and Ivy take turns "babysitting" (i.e., using Danny as Batfam distractions) while she's at work, kind of like having the fun aunts take you shopping. Danny can do whatever he wants!! With the exception that he needs to be wearing his cat-mask at all times, to properly conceal his identity (neither woman knows he'd already thrown himself at Batman without his mask).

So, while Ivy is destroying a toxic power plant, Danny is stealing Nightwing's escrima sticks, clinging to him, "accidentally" tripping him, doing the Koala-leg thing. He goes all out when Nightwing actually does trip on him - he shrieks that he broke his arm, which forces the vigilante to pay attention to him. Sobs, clings harder, and endures the trip to the hospital on the back of Nightwing's motorcycle with a shit-eating grin.

Harley is beating the hell out of some of Joker's gang. Red Robin is doing surveillance and coordinating with GCPD so they can get the whole circus to Arkham. Except Danny is calling out where Red Robin is hiding with the glittery pink microphone that Harley bought him (originally to sing Doja Cat and Chappell Roan in her car). Joker gang's priority will always be the Batfam because of Joker's obsession with Batman and Danny uses the distraction so Harley can get a couple good swings of her bat in. He cackles maniacally when he hears a muffled, "C'mon, kid!!" from Red Robin.

And the Batkids are just like, Jesus, this kid is literally a nightmare. But they can't do anything! Are they going do arrest a kid? No. Are they going to arrest Batman's lover? No! So, they're stuck dealing with this.... absolute gremlin of a child!!

Danny, of course, is very pleased. The Bats have no idea who he is because of his little cat-mask, he's getting paid literally several grand per week, and Selina - who he's been living with ever since she realized he was homeless - even got him goldfish!

(Bruce is in his office, eyes crinkling in that iconic Dad-Smile, scrolling through candid photos Selina snuck of Danny's chocolate-smeared face while the kid was passed out on her couch. There's a fake ID under the name of Danny Fenton and several pages of foraged school records in a pile on his desk. Bruce eyes his desk drawer where several emergency adoption papers are tucked away.)