Ok But Just Imagine When Jon Reaches And Sees Damian On The Roof (howd He Get His Phone-?) And Just Screeches.

Ok but just imagine when jon reaches and sees Damian on the roof (howd he get his phone-?) and just screeches. Internally. Like, full mind stop, execution error 404 and restart with machiney-noises. And Damian's just not having it.

"Are you going to help me or not?!"

Damian is just liminal enough (also possibly a growing halfa), that sometimes he has...quirks.

The most annoying one by far is when he gets stuck speaking a language no one knows (ghost speak) for hours on end.

Minor annoyances are glowing eyes (he just avoids people until it calms down), objects falling through his hands (he just uses his reflexes to make it look like he was doing a trick), and randomly gaining the ability to see the souls of the dead (thankfully it's obvious what they are, and they're useful witnesses).

He thinks he's just a meta coming into his power, and keeps forgetting to ask Duke for advise. (He's got better things to do, cases to solve, sparring to go to-)

Well, he thought that was it.

Then he went into his full halfa form after an...incident.

This whole thing is why Jon receives a call at three in the morning demanding instructions on how flying works.

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

what if he was an eeping eeper. what about that.

Ah, yes... Finally

Now I shall lay claim to my enemies lives for thee hath given me the means to give what has been long coming for them...

*unsheathes sword granted to me*

Reblog to give your followers each their own sword.

what if we took the kid from this post …

AND GAVE HIM THE BACKGROUND/PERSONALITY OF THIS POST

AND MAYBE WE CALL HIM GREG OR SOMETHING.

Bruce: *Posts a super low-quality image to the family group chat*

Dick: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents

Jason: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you

Barbara: Actually I did the math, Dick would have $225, not $0.15.

Steph: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :)

Dick: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please

Steph: Sorry I only have a dollar

Dick: :(

Barbara: correction, Dick would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent

Steph: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice

Damian: You can buy anything you want with $22,500

Jason: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice

Dick: Apply juice to what

Steph: Directly to the forehead

Tim: Great chat everyone