Literally Whipped This Up In Like 10 Minutes, So It's Terrible. Anyway;

god i love golden age clark so much. just this insane cryptid running around alternately terrifying and beating the shit out of objectively awful people. war profiteers. wifebeaters. corrupt politicians and greedy businessmen who exploit their workers. i can't emphasize enough that he barges in with NO preamble and just starts throwing people around. at one point he grabs a weapons manufacturer and straight up jumps off a building with him just to scare the guy into giving up the name of his employer. This is before they decided he could fly. batman WISHES he was this hardcore. i need him back so bad

# Dcu x Dp 193

Batman and Robin had broken into Vlad Masters Hotel because they found something that was extremely similar to Lazarus water as Damian looks around he ends up in the bed room where he finds a crib that has a sleeping baby in it underneath the crib he finds injections filled with Lazarus water and comes to the conclusion that he is experimenting on this baby. Damian decides that he needs to take her when he leave.

After creating Dani Vlads decided not to age her up and raise her himself. Vlad is using ecto injection keep her stable until he find a permanent solution.

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

PRIMARY GOAL IN LIFE (UNRELATED TO STORY): Opening a café! He loves food puns so he would make a café for the sole fact that he could make a bunch of food-related puns.

Florence.... MY SHAYLAAA ILY SO MUCH....

Guys, I'm re-reading the outline for one of my books (my favourite book, that I've been writing for YEARS), and this is so funny to me.

'She smiles a strained smile, and goes to bed. The next morning she makes a plan where she decides to pretend to have a Talent, in plants. This is not a good plan.'

I LOVE IT, I LOVE MY PAST SELF

💀💀💀

Commissions closed for the time being!

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I’m up to anything and everything—DM me if you’re not sure.

Feral McGee™

It starts with the Joker. 

His goons picked up Tim Drake. Not specifically because it was Tim Drake, he just so happened to be in the Joker’s neighborhood, and we'll, he can't pass up that opportunity now can he? 

Except Tim Drake is watching, along with the rest of Gotham, at the Batcomputer. He’s nursing a broken foot and has been put on monitor duty until he's cleared for field work again. 

The guy looks enough like him, though. Black hair, blue eyes, and bags under his eyes for days. He's also got the same lean sort of build like he does. 

It happens like this. 

The Joker is doing his monologue thing where he explains whatever twisted game he's come up with this time. He takes up the majority of the screen, so nobody can see Not-Tim behind him, not until the big reveal. Then he covers the screen again, getting up close and personal, before stepping back. In those quick few seconds, Not-Tim is no longer sitting there tied to the chair. 

Someone off camera lets the Joker know, and he whirls around, confused as the rest of Gotham. 

And then Not-Tim comes in with the steel chair. 

Or, well, a crowbar, but the reference holds up. 

He takes out one of Joker’s knees before punching him in the face. The Joker drops like a bag of stones, out cold. 

Then he looks towards the camera. 

“Hey there. I'm not really sure where I am, but also if he was after Tim Drake, he got the wrong guy. I'm not him, I'm just some dude. Anyway, I'll just-yep-” he carefully steps over the unconscious Joker, gives the camera a little wave, and then leaves. 

Batman and Nightwing enter shortly after, with the Joker and his goons out cold and tied up. The knots were complicated enough where, in the end, the police resorted to cutting the ties off of them so they could be properly cuffed and taken to Arkham. 

“A constrictor knot,” Batman tells Nightwing as they watch the villain be taken away. “Often used by sailors to temporarily tie things together to keep something in a bag, or to hold something to glue it back together.”

“Huh,” Nightwing says, scratching the back of his head. “Go figure.”

—

The next time it happens, it’s the Riddler. 

He’s laughing, giving his riddles to the Bats and recording himself to all of Gotham while his victim, one of the Wayne brats, hangs over a vat of something. From a distance, he looks like Tim Drake, or maybe a lankier Dick Grayson. And he’s not the only victim, they’re all scattered across the city, but he thought an important figure such as a Wayne should be under the Riddler’s direct supervision while he enacts his schemes. 

While the Riddler cackles and plots and waves his cane around, in the background all of Gotham can see the figure escape. Several Gothamites recognize him as the kid from before, who clocked the Joker. They all watch with bated breath as he sort of wiggles his way out of the ropes holding him up. Once he’s free, he climbs the rope and gets himself down safely. 

Gotham holds their breath as the kid casually walks up to the Riddler, who’s mid-rant. He politely taps him on the shoulder, and as the Riddler is turning around, the kid clocks him just as brutally as he had the Joker. He’s down with one punch. 

They think he’s going to say another sort of awkward goodbye, but instead he pats the Riddler down until he finds a piece of paper tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“Right,” the kid says, looking at the list. There’s a lot more static overlay now, and several wonder if it’s damage to the cameras. “Uh, the Clocktower, the Docks, and-” he squints at the page for a moment-”Mama Nacaroni’s? What the fuck is that? Anyway, uh. See you later, I guess. Oh! And we’re at the Gotham Arena. Have fun with him, I guess.”

The kid tosses the paper off to the side before the camera cuts to black. 

Just like last time, everyone is out cold and tied up. The Riddler himself is sporting a pretty bad shiner, but well deserved nonetheless. 

“Stop it,” Red Hood tells him. Batman just looks at him, and though Hood can’t see the top half of his face, he can tell that his eyebrow is raised. “You know exactly what I mean, B. Put the adoption papers away.”

“Hn.”

—

After that, it sorta becomes a game. The rogues of Gotham are no longer after a Wayne, or after anybody who holds any kind of social status like usual. They’re all going after this one kid, all determined to be the one to hold him. And each one is televised. 

Mr. Freeze freezes him in a block of ice, but due to the cameras glitching out, nobody can really see how he got free. They do, however, see the kid suplex Mr. Freeze. It should seem impossible, given his lanky figure, but he evidently has more muscle than he’s originally let on. 

Two-Face gets a hold of him, using chains and some power-dampening cuffs just on the off-chance that he’s a meta. They all watch as the kid leans down, pulls a bobby pin out of his hair, and picks the locks on his cuffs. One punch, and Two-Face is down. 

Gothamites are going wild for the kid. They’ve dubbed him Feral McGee™ (an online poll, of course), because every time he goes in for the punch he gets this feral look in his eyes. Also, just the fact that he casually goes up to these rogues and takes them out with all the casualness of doing something incredibly mundane? Incredible. The Gothamites are eating it up. However, despite the video evidence, nobody has been able to properly identify the kid. They know he has black hair and bright eyes, but any time he gets near a camera, it’s like there’s this weird, sort of warped quality the camera takes on. It doesn’t usually calm down until the fight is done-as one sided as they usually are-before he awkwardly skedaddles away.  

He gets kidnapped by the Penguin, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy (though that was more just a friendly chat than anything), Mad Hatter, and the Riddler again. 

And then the Joker escapes. 

It’s no surprise as to who he’s going to go after. 

Due to one too many careless goons, they manage to find their way to the Joker’s hideout pretty quickly. This time, it’s all Bats on deck, and they all hide away in the rafters as Feral McGee™ is hung over a vat of acid. His whole body is tied up, hardly a single inch of exposed skin to be seen except for the neck up. 

They watch the goons, they watch the Joker, and they watch Feral McGee™. 

The Joker is monologuing, practically begging the bats to come find him before the timer runs out. When it does, the kid gets dumped into the vat of acid. 

Despite these stakes, the kid seems to be only mildly annoyed. 

“Fuck this, I have homework I still need to finish,” they hear him say. 

They all watch, amazed and confused, as the kid starts gnawing through the ropes. Human teeth shouldn’t be able to do that so easily, but one bit after the other, and soon enough the kid’s got himself freed enough to just climb up the rest of the rope. When he’s at the top of the crane holding him up, Batman lets down a rope and pulls the kid up and out of danger. 

“Oh, cool, you’re all here,” the kid says casually, as if meeting the entire Bat Clan is just a normal Tuesday. And then he pulls out a notepad and pen and hands it to Red Hood. 

“Can I get an autograph? You’re dope as fuck, dude.”

Red Hood has to look away and hide his face in his arms for a few moments to not give away their location with his laughter before signing. And then, one by one, the others do as well. They pass along the kid’s notebook with shit-eating grins and barely contained snickers despite the fact that the Joker is still right below them. Even Batman signs it, after his children don’t stop hounding him about it. 

In their distraction, they didn’t see the kid sneak away. He’s far away from them now, nearly right over the Joker. Danny waits, though, until the Joker has turned around as the timer almost runs out. They watch as he snickers at Joker’s flabbergasted look. The Joker comically looks back and forth and under objects the kid obviously isn’t under. However, before he can do or say anything else, the kid drops from the rafters and right on top of the Joker. He crumples to the ground, unconscious. The kid, however, just brushes the dust off of himself. Despite the fall he took, there isn’t a scratch on him. 

When the bats join him, they give his notepad back to him, barely able to contain their laughter at the absurdity of it all. The kid, too, joins in the camaraderie, laughing and joking along with them as Batman secures the Joker. 

“Okay, okay, but I gotta ask, dude,” Red Hood says at one point, looking at the kid. “How do you keep getting kidnapped?”

The kid just shrugs. “I get distracted easily. And I’m sleep deprived, so you know. Social awareness is kind of at an all time low right now.”

“Why are you sleep deprived?” Nightwing asks, barely hidden concern in his voice. 

 “Finals are kinda kicking my ass right now. Especially this dumb English homework I have. You guys wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, lucky for you,” Red Hood says, wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders as he walks them out of the warehouse, “I happen to know a lot about English. So, it is Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

As they walk off, Batman calmly watches, though the rest of the bats can see his jaw twitching. Nightwing comes up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If you don’t adopt him, I will.”

“Hn.”

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

My Recommended Fic List

So, I got this ask awhile ago, and since I have been re-reading a bunch of my old favorite fics as a way to cheer up after work I figured why not. This list will be long... and varied but mostly its older fics cuz idk there my favs. Now lets go:

Fashion Upgrade - By @soap-lady : Straight up one of my favorite fics ever, its fun, its creative, it never fails to make me laugh when I need something warm and wholesome after a bad day. Also go check out the rest of her stuff there's so much good okay like shes just a writing queen. Shes on AO3 I don't want to spoil you on her other stuff just GO experience it for yourself.

Ode To Decoy pt 1 / 2 / 3 - By @a-marlene-s : Ive always liked this short sweet little fic about Lila getting caught. Its Lila + class salt though so avoid if that's not your flavor.

EVERYTHING - By @unmaskedagain : They have salt, they have sugar, they have funny, they have crossovers. Like honestly they are a just a great writer with so much variety so go check out the masterlist I linked and I guarantee there will be something there you like.

@ravennm84 Is a writer on the saltier side but they have a wonderful selection of weird wacky tales from the salty but oh so well written Damning Evidence that sees Lila get caught in the best way to the 3 part Horror inspired Serafina other great fics from them include Marinettes Family Court Circus pt 1 / 2 and Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches / Be Kind to Servers honestly its worth giving there blog a look.

@mochinek0 Is another writer with several beloved fics. They write a lot of Maribat and we love them for it. Ones to check out would be Blind Date / Bruce vs Gabriel just go check out there tag list of daminette for more.

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette - By @lady-literature : This is a wonderful idea and a wonderful little fic and I just... I just like it okay. Sadly I haven't read a lot of there other stuff... But I might after finishing this list considering how much I enjoy this one.

@nobodyfamousposts I love a LOT of there fics. They are one of the best when it comes to striking that sweet spot of calling out the show for some of its garbage while not getting so salty that you cant have fun lighthearted goodness. I have been looking for a masterlist of there work but cant find one so just go stalk there tags. I do recommend there Chloe's Lament Series 1 / 2 exploring how certain 'wishes' would backfire. Guardian Assistant Kevin is also a good one Miracle Queen Aftermath pt 1 / 2 / The 8 parter Burn the Witch series / The Wisdom Teeth Reveal / Kagami Vs The Wall of Faces / Resigning With Grace & Spite / I tried to give a lot of links cuz they have a lot of stuff

Kill Them With Kindness - By @luki-fanfic : Well written, good salt without going overboard. Just good vibes. I havent stalked there other stuff but if its anything like this fic its probably excellent quality.

Stephen Vladislav pt 1 / 2 - By @stormiclown : Adrien centered salt on the idea of finally giving Adrien his own proper rival. I like the idea of Adrien having a rival because its usually Marinette and this was just the right length to get those creative ideas flowing. Also just well written what more can you ask for.

Power Trip - By @storygirl000 : This was the first fic that made me go... Wait would it be more fun if Lila was actually competent? And that set me on the path to writing my own fics where Lila is more villainous and more capable. Its short, well written. Good.

Your Wish is My Command - By DemiGoddess28 on AO3 : A great 11 chapter fic looking into Lila's life if she were to win and get a miraculous wish. Its got sugary goodness for our protagonists and the class and salt for our dearest friend Lila.

LadyBugOut AU - By Miraculous-Content on AO3 : A 50 chapter fic made up of snippets and ideas. I found it really inspiring in many ways. I also love how it redeems Marinettes classmates showing how and why they were tricked but holding them accountable anyway its just... Good.

Juleka vs The Forces of the Universe - By goldenlaurelleaves on AO3 : For those of us not yet ready to accept the death of luka/mari we have this wonderful fic showing Juleka being the biggest wingman as she helps these idiots find there way together.

ChaoticNeutral on AO3 has there own Chloe's Lament fic as well as a Gabriel's Lament fic for people who need sweet salty of those two characters.

BroadwayCutie16 was Inspired by the person above and DemiGoddesses your wish is my command fic to write Lila's Lament fic going over Lilas failed wish. Honestly I always love these fics because there just so interesting and the way wishes can be taken and twisted is always a fascinating idea to me.

#WayneAngel - By Tired-Writing-Teach on AO3 : For us Maribat lovers. Its fun and lighthearted with some good gags and some light fluff.

Damian in Paris - By Lilliesandliveries on AO3 : A sweet Maribat series showing what would happen if Damian ran away from home and found himself in Paris and getting therapy.

How a Demon Commissions an Angel - By AlixAnonymous : Damian blackmails Marinette into letting him be her client so he can get his bros the best gifts, they end up becoming penpal buddies.

Mythomania - By LadyEnna_50 on AO3 : Proof that I dont hate Adrien or Mari/Adrien. In this fic Adrien's spine gets titanium plating and he sees just how bad Lila is hurting Marinette and does something about it.

The Contingency - By AbyssalGuardian on AO3 : SALT. Also Tim/Mari but even still I love the way this was written, the style, and some of the ideas just ugh love it. Its not for those who dont like salt so just avoid at your own discretion. Its about a chaotic Marinette done with her life running away to Gotham where she meets her true black cat, and gets her life back on track.

The String That Binds Us - By FaithAndATypeWriter on AO3 : Okay so is there any Mari/Bat fan who hasnt already heard of this one? Who cares its good, its cute, I love it. May the author be blessed with snacks.

The Great IKEA Game - By @batsandbugs : Okay again... I think every Mari/Bat fan has probably heard of this one already because its just that good and that popular. But who cares I am recommending it anyway. Don't read if your allergic to fun I guess.

If this list still doesn't somehow have enough salt for you then try @goggles-mcgee fics here is a link to there Masterlist. They are in a way a professional at salt and angst and they make you want to adopt Marinette and pop her in a blanket fort.

Honestly I could keep going but this list already feels so long for other great recs though I can link you to @jayphoenic who has some great Daminette Fic Recs and some Lila Salt Fic Recs!

Feel free to reblog this and add some links to stuff you would think I or others might like! Also lets just acknowledge how many talented authors the community has like wow.

ON FICTIONAL ESSAYS, AND WORLDBUILDING

I love writing. That is a truth; one that I will hold onto for probably my whole life.

I really do love writing, especially for my baby. It is a behemoth of a book that I’d started when I was 11, and continued adding onto it until I started actually writing it when I was 17. I have too many ideas—too many headcannons, too many bits of lore that I want to incorporate into my story.

Again, I think I need to reiterate—I really do love writing. That doesn’t mean I don’t get tired of it. I will go weeks, sometimes even months where I don’t want to even touch it. Where the thought of writing and seeing that cursor just … blink makes me shudder.

But just because I don’t want to write the story doesn’t mean I don’t want to continue with my lore.

Here is another thing about me: I love history. It was my favourite subject at school. I got an A* in it. I love how history is rich, how it’s a long, long story that is still continuing. I love thinking about how people felt. How a decision made hundreds of years ago (if not thousands!) impacts us today.

I also, secretly (guiltily) love essays. Oh, sure I complained about it with my friends whenever it got assigned. But doing the research, finding the right words to articulate your thoughts, being able to read back on your writing—sometimes even just formatting an essay—I really did love it.

And that brings us to the topic I wanted to start today.

Fictional essay writing.

When I can’t stand the thought of writing the actual story, I open a blank document and start writing an essay as though I’m a character in my book needing to write a history assignment. I add actual quotes (albeit fictional), use actual dates, even reference as though I’m the character.

It can be therapeutic sometimes. There’s no pressure to move the plot forward, no anxiety over pacing or character arcs. It’s world-building, but in a reflective way. A way that forces me to know the world I’ve created as deeply as the characters do. It makes me question my decisions, makes me stopper up plot holes.

Sometimes reading back my work—it reads as though a seasoned academic had written it. But they hadn’t—I wrote it. I wrote that battle, that political treaty, that royal lineage. It makes me strangely proud of myself; as though I’ve actually done the work to research and trawl through endless websites until I’ve snagged on one that actually fits my essay. As though I’ve spent hours agonising over it, and sending draft after draft to a professor.

It makes the world feel alive, like it’s breathing outside of the story I’m struggling to write.

And it’s funny, because half the time those essays never make it into the book. They’re tucked away in a folder no one but me will ever read. But I know they’re there. I can always re-read them when I feel the need to; when I’ve forgotten a simple fact, or a food or a certain dialect.

It really is very useful—and it helps that I love it.