"If I Have To, I'll Become A Monster For Them!" But, Like, Not Really.

The lord of death isn’t confused, they’re CONCERNED!!!

Their whole business is killing people, it’s their creative outlet! Sure they have fun with it, but then they hear about people imploding in a tiny submarine by the titanic. All their best lil’guys are down in the deep!

The fuck you mean humans do stupid shit and can’t take care of their waste? What’s that gotta do with- ITS AFFECTING THE LIL’GUYS?! It’s getting into the water supply, don’t they need that to like… Oh, I don’t know, SURVIVE?! I’m supposed to kill you, not you killing yourselves?!

I need to speak to an expert on this.

So he kidnaps the princess who delegates public sanitation. Womp womp, they could’ve killed her and left the people to suffer but, not their little guys!!!

—

The princess in question is downright gobbsmacked. She may have blue screened while she was out to get her morning coffee when she realized she was having a pretty in-depth discussion about waste effect on the environment and populations with THE LORD OF DEATH in a skull hoodie and sweatpants.

Honestly, they pulled off the look and kinda look cut-

FOCUS

The person figure was so passionate about their rant that she hardly noticed reality shifted around them and they were at Lord Death’s base. But damn did they make a good cup of coffee and the brewer wasn’t bad to look at themself.

Oh god, she’s falling for their public enemy who wants to learn more ways to save the environment and promote clean spaces.

They could’ve killed her but they’re being just as passionate about sanitation as she is. God, don’t let her wake up from this dream.

“So let me get this straight. We’re here to rescue a princess.”

“That’s right.”

“At the request of a princess.”

“Right again.”

“And you, who will be leading the expedition, are also a princess.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“How big is your royal family, again?“

“We don’t have one.”

“But–“

“We overthrew our monarchy centuries ago, but we kept most of the titles around. The rank of ‘princess’ is held by the directors in charge of various civil service branches.“

“Huh. And the princess we’re rescuing today is in charge of…?”

“Public sanitation.”

“The Lord of Death’s Dominion kidnapped your public sanitation director?”

“We think he’s a little confused.”

I really do let my brain run free whenever I'm typing here. Feels right.

DP X Marvel #14

It all started with a ghost. A very loud, very neon, very annoying ghost that thought it was a great idea to haunt Stark Tower. Danny Fenton—part-time student, full-time accidental hero, and perpetually exhausted teen—was just trying to track the damn thing through the Manhattan skyline when his portal malfunctioned (again), exploded in his face (again), and slingshotted him across the sky, straight through a window that turned out to be reinforced vibranium glass.

It should’ve stopped him. It didn’t.

Cue the alarms. Cue the dozens of defense drones locking onto his energy signature. Cue a 19-year-old Danny dangling upside down in the penthouse, surrounded by billion-dollar murder bots, trying to explain to a very confused AI that he was not, in fact, an alien invader.

But before FRIDAY could blast him into oblivion, a small voice piped up from behind a couch. “Are you a fairy?”

Danny blinked. Dangling upside down. Singed suit. Ectoplasm dripping from his hair. “Uh. Sure.”

The voice belonged to a tiny, curly-haired gremlin wearing a tutu, light-up sneakers, and what looked like Tony Stark’s old Iron Man helmet—three sizes too big and twice as chaotic. This was Morgan Stark. Age: five. Chaos level: eldritch god. She approached him like a cat approaches a new toy: equal parts curiosity and threat assessment.

“Can you do sparkles?” she asked.

Danny shot a tiny beam of ecto-energy at the ceiling light, which exploded into fireworks.

Morgan gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A FAIRY.”

And that was how Danny Fenton became Morgan Stark’s official babysitter.

It wasn’t like he volunteered. Or got paid. Or even agreed. Tony Stark had been out of the country—something about a diplomatic mess in Wakanda and a golf game with T’Challa. Pepper had begged Steve Rogers to watch Morgan, but Steve’s idea of babysitting was forcing a child to recite the Constitution. So Pepper, desperate and very, very sleep-deprived, walked into her penthouse to find a teenage boy hovering in midair while her daughter screamed “FAIRY GODBRO” at him and decided, “Yeah. Sure. This’ll do.”

“Can you keep her alive?” Pepper asked, not even blinking at the glowing green eyes.

Danny shrugged. “Uh. I guess?”

“You get dental.”

Danny had no idea what that meant but was too scared to argue.

By Day Three, he was in hell. Not the Ghost Zone. Not some apocalyptic alternate timeline. Actual hell. Or what felt like it. Morgan had no concept of mortality. She once duct-taped kitchen knives to her arms and yelled “I’M WOLVERINE NOW.” Another time, she tried to feed their Roomba peanut butter and sobbed when it wouldn’t eat.

Danny tried to keep up. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was also being hunted by an interdimensional ghost warlord named Balthazar the Undying who decided Stark Tower was a great place to stage his declaration of conquest. So in between coloring pages and singing “Let It Go” for the 57th time (because Morgan said if he didn’t, she’d tell everyone he “pees ectoplasm”), Danny was banishing ancient horrors to the Shadow Realm.

“Why does the air taste like sadness?” Morgan asked one morning, sipping chocolate milk while a spectral hand clawed its way out of the floor behind her.

Danny shot it with a laser without looking. “That’s just the trauma, kid.”

She nodded like that made sense.

By Day Five, things got weirder.

Bruce Banner came over to “assess the babysitter.” What he found was a 19-year-old ghost hybrid making chicken nuggets with one hand while performing an exorcism on a sentient blender with the other. Bruce blinked. “You’re multitasking.”

Danny, dead-eyed and covered in slime: “You’re not my real dad.”

Bruce left after Morgan bit him.

Then Peter Parker dropped by. He took one look at Danny—haggard, twitching, wearing a tiara—and whispered, “Oh my god, he is a hot mess.”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, using his foot to hold down a haunted Roomba. “Help me tie up the possessed dolls.”

Peter did not help. He just filmed everything for TikTok. The video went viral under the title “Me when I leave a random ghost fairy babysitter with Tony Stark’s child and come back to find him summoning the underworld during snack time.”

Nick Fury saw the video and sent a S.W.O.R.D. strike team to investigate.

Morgan beat them with a plastic lightsaber.

On Day Seven, Danny woke up to find Morgan riding a flying toaster around the living room like it was a dragon.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?”

“I summoned it,” she said proudly.

“HOW.”

“I made a deal with your ghost friends.”

Danny’s left eye twitched so hard he saw the Ghost Zone.

Pepper walked in on him mid-breakdown. “You’ve been great with her,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We haven’t seen her this happy since… well, ever.”

Danny, clinging to the ceiling like a feral raccoon, wheezed, “I think she opened a portal to the Necroplane. There’s a demon named Craig living in the fridge.”

Pepper patted his arm. “All babysitters say that.”

Craig opened the fridge and waved. “Sup.”

By Week Two, Danny had stopped pretending to be normal. He phased through walls, levitated toys, vaporized anything that smelled like danger, and occasionally screamed “I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS” into the void.

Tony finally came home. He blinked at the scene: Danny napping upside down like a bat while Morgan built a nuclear reactor out of old toaster parts and a Roomba named Kevin.

“Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “My fairy godbrother. He banished an evil frog ghost and helped me build an orbital laser.”

Tony stared. “Huh. Alright.”

And just like that, Danny Fenton became part of the Avengers.

He didn’t sign anything. He didn’t train. He didn’t even get a uniform. But every time something exploded or a portal opened or some ancient deity said “BEHOLD MY TRUE FORM,” Danny just floated into the air, cracked his back like an old man, and said, “Not in front of the child, you drama bitch.”

Morgan, from her juice box throne: “YEET HIM INTO THE VOID, DANNY.”

And he did.

It only got worse when the other Avengers got involved.

Natasha tried to teach Morgan how to do spy stuff. Morgan used the techniques to sneak into Tony’s wine cellar and replace the labels with glitter glue and threats.

Thor visited once. Morgan asked if she could ride his hammer. He said no. She cried. The hammer floated toward her on its own. Danny had to wrestle it away.

Clint brought over a bow and arrow set. Morgan hit Peter in the ass with a suction cup dart. Danny laughed so hard he choked on ectoplasm.

Wanda stared at Danny for a full ten minutes before whispering, “You’re not from this plane.”

Danny, deadpan: “Neither is your eyeliner.”

They became friends.

One night, Danny woke up to find Morgan drawing summoning circles on the walls in glitter glue.

“Whatcha doing, champ?”

“Trying to summon a unicorn for Auntie Yelena.”

Danny blinked. “Go back to bed.”

She glared. “You don’t support women in STEM.”

By Month One, SHIELD had officially labeled Danny as a “Class 7 Unexplainable Being with Babysitting Potential.” He had a badge. He had clearance. He had no idea what was happening anymore.

All he knew was that if Morgan Stark said “Danny, I wanna adopt a ghost puppy,” then by God, he was going to march into the Ghost Zone and wrestle a spectral hellhound into a leash.

And he did.

Its name is Toast.

Danny Fenton—ghost boy, half-dead teenager, babysitter of the year—accidentally became the most powerful figure in the universe. Not because of his powers. Not because of his knowledge. Not even because of his tragic backstory.

But because Morgan Stark liked him. And if you hurt Morgan Stark, you would be introduced to Craig, the fridge demon, and Kevin, the haunted Roomba, and Toast, the ghost puppy, and then, finally, the very angry, very tired, very over-it Danny Phantom who could—and would—yeet you into another dimension for interrupting nap time.

The Avengers knew better than to interfere.

Even Thanos came back to life once, took one look at Danny and Morgan, and said, “No thanks.”

He snapped himself back out of existence.

Danny didn’t even flinch.

Morgan dabbed.

And somewhere, in the vast multiverse of chaos and consequence, Tony Stark looked at his daughter, his haunted apartment, his glowing ghost babysitter eating fruit snacks while levitating a possessed microwave, and muttered to himself—

“Yeah. That tracks.”

Bats don't know what to do as The Mockingbird and Time Mock them

That Edward Nygma wasn't a real person in the database or that the riddler actually got won one battle over Batman. Batman had tried to snoop through the apartment, but there was mostly always a person there alongside children.

Then there was a trigger of other rogues break out when there actually nobody in the apartment.

Not mentioning the real person behind riddler

Eddie Mockingbird Walker was born out of a 6 year affair between Edwin Walker, strict borderline insane Prisoner Warden, and beautiful red haired Judy Mockingbird, a former cleaning lady who was fired by the wife of Walker after finding out the affair.

Three years later, Judy Mockingbird was later a victim of a break-in and homicide, the only witness being a 3 year old traumatized Eddie hiding in a toy chest doodle with hand drawn puzzle murals, unfortunately that case was later put in the cold case files with not enough suspects.

Eddie was thrown through the wringer of several orphanages for 4 years, only to be refound by his grandmother Grethen Mockingbird, a former retired pianist who was unable to play anymore due a severe case of tendonitis.

A bright Prodigy to music and puzzles boxes made by his grandmother, a rare talent in school to the point the music teacher begged his grandmother Grethen to signed him in a tournament which later led to Eddie into the spotlight with the youngest pianist to make he audience weep with joy that catapult him all the way through several tournaments, winning each one, talkshows, interviews from age 9 to 22 year old.

He was known as Rose Thief of Hearts in the music community, the next living Beethoven they cried out, especially on how many ladies and guys fallen for his sweet, obvious charms and bright red hair that flow down his waist.

Becoming best friends with his half-sister, Madeline Walker, that he rarely met.

Tragedy struck when on The Chopin Competition, Gretchen Mockingbird died from cardiac arrest in the middle of her grandson's performance.

Eddie disappeared, being dragged off by Edwin Walker during the private funeral, which led many people to the theory of the whereabouts of the music Prodigy.

Then, the rest of the data file went missing until a year ago when Eddie Mockingbird appeared once more during a shocking news of adopting his niece and nephews who will stay anonymous after explaining a rather shocking tale with enough explanation on why he was away from media was extremely popular in the music culture.

Batman could only stare at the photo capture by Red Robin on the Batcomputer, tired bag eyed soft smiling Eddie Mockingbird at family diner. His black hair and eyebrow were gone, revealing a natural red hair that had grown down to his neck, wearing casual clothes with his niece, Jasmine Fenton, a teenage red-haired girl speaking with a soft look

A large massive man, named Jack Fenton that looks too alike to Bruce clumsily and failing feeding a little 2 year old baby girl in a toddler chocolates banana fudge ice cream with green bitd, while trying to stopping her twin brother flinging soft sweet peas at a giggling 5 year old toddler trying to air bite the peas.

A disgusted looking young entrepreneur who discoverered a much better energy source for phones that went world-wide, Tucker Foley, who was gagging at a Sam Manson, had a beyond burger and a salad, her middle finger pointing at him saying something to him.

Batman couldn't get near someone like him, or get a hint of his music albums that were also sold out even from 10 year ago to now with new albums that not even Jim Gordon would help him that Riddler is the famous pianist that he had a collection of his music, and he wouldn't let him 'borrow' them.

Jason had just started dating Jasmine, but he wouldn't tell them about what the riddler's plans were to the point of disconnecting and disabling all the trackers on his phones, even the backup ones with Cass and Babs!

He tried booking for Mockingbird concerts only to find out they were all booked to 20XX for the past 6 months after The Chopin Competition, not even attempting bribes, would shorten a 15 mile long waiting list.

This was driving Bruce a little mad as if time itself was mocking him!!

Part 3 here <-

Danny's rogues have been spreading a little misinformation.

In their defense, it was really funny.

They've been spreading the word via Ouija boards, seances, and any other attempt to speak with the dead that Phantom is the High King of Ghosts.

Except that position doesn't really exist.

Sure, they called Pariah Dark the King of Ghosts, but that was at his own request.

The Infinite Realms are vast, with many different cultures and lands, and there are a lot of Kings. It's not a special title, honestly, it's just the title used to delegate who, in a culture, has to put up with talking to the Observants.

So they decided to get the little shit back for stopping them from playing in the Living world. They're just tryna have fun!

And destroy stuff.

But destroying stuff is fun!

As is telling a shit ton of flesh puppet idiots that Phantom, that scrawny kid, is the "High King" of the Realms.

This resulted in him constantly getting summoned to cult summonings, running him ragged and giving them, his rogues, more time to play.

But uh.

Ember is starting to think they may have fucked up.

Because babypop just broke down into a sobbing, heaving panic attack at the sight of her.

She manages to get out of him that he hasn't slept in three days.

And like.

He's half living?

He's supposed to sleep more than that?

Yeah they fucked up.

Ugh.

She's gonna have to go talk to them, isn't she?

So that's how a meeting between Justice League and Justice League Dark gets interrupted by the ghost of a rock star, with a living teenager having one of the worst panic attacks any of them have seen in awhile cradled in her arms, asking Justice League Dark to invent an amulet that prevents Summonings.

A DC X DP IDEA #41

Say Uncle.

Imagine dis…

I don’t have much to say about this one just the fact that when you are buying alcohol to celebrate New Year just make sure not to drink it all at once despite the holidays…

Ah, the hangover: nature's way of reminding you that your liver is not, in fact, a miracle worker, and your brain did not sign up for the tequila marathon.

And no, this prompt is not about just that. I want to get this idea off my list before I completely forget about it.

…

The night when both Martha and Thomas Wayne met their demise Alfred already swore himself to protect the two young masters that were left behind. Bruce at the young age of eight witnessed his parent's murder and death, just because the boy insisted on watching the latest film with only the three of them young master Daniel’s insistence. Daniel, who was only 5 years old caught a nasty cold and was prompted to stay inside the manor to get better. Young master Daniel insisted on the three of them enjoying the film instead of staying at home just reminding them to bring him souvenirs to not be completely left out.

Tasked with raising two young boys both boys felt sadness and guilt for each of their own despite not having to feel guilty about it. Young master Bruce for insisting to go at the theaters and young master Daniel for insisting on a souvenir.

The media with all of its cameras stared down at the Wayne name and manor as it was the tragedy of the century as the Waynes are not only the wealthiest of the socialites but also one of the founders of Gotham City. All metaphorical eyes went to Master Bruce, why only him you ask? It is all because young master Daniel had not been introduced to the public eye as it had been some sort of tradition to the Wayne’s to teach their children at the age of 7 to have them enjoy privacy and have the children at a certain age to understand the dangers of media.

With young master Daniel still technically hidden Alfred made the hard decision to further hide the young master through the system. Both boys of course protested through tears and shouts from both boys. Of course, Alfred tried to explain to the boys for their protection and Alfred assured the boys that he would use his connections to watch over Daniel.

…

Fast forward and the two brothers despite having a secure line of communication simply strayed apart. Maybe it’s because of the distance or maybe it’s because of talking to each other less when both entered their teens, but I say because of secrets…

With Bruce, he had traveled the world training to become somebody, somebody who can prevent tragedies like his can ever happening again. To protect and make a difference to the place that took his parents away. He kept silent about Danny, his training, and his turning into a crime-fighting vigilante. He wanted Danny to stay safe the last family he had, to stay in the life he had built, from what Danny had told him from the rare chances that they both got the time to chat. Bruce kept on thinking to himself that it was safer for Danny. The lack of knowledge of both the public about his bio brother and Danny’s knowledge about his nightlife made Bruce’s nightly chant to himself justified.

…

Danny scanned the manor, it had been a while since he adjusted the cuff of his fitted suit. He hadn't been here in years, and Bruce hadn't gotten in touch with him outside of Alfred's regular chats and the rare times the brothers even called the other.

As far as the world was concerned, Bruce was "dead." The family he hardly knew was shocked to learn that Danny was named guardian of the remaining Waynes in his will. This prompted Alfred to explain who the supposed relative of theirs and began tidying the manor as if the queen herself was going for a visit.

The moment Danny entered the manor both Dick and Jason had their eyes on him. As the two who had been with Bruce the longest apart from Alfred, they should have already heard something about the man from Bruce, even a slip of the tongue but nothing, so they have every right to be wary of their supposed uncle who has actual biological connection to Bruce.

Their apprehension was only increased by Danny's striking similarity to Bruce. He had the same sharp blue eyes, but his expression was gentler, and the same sharp jawline, but it was tempered with fatigue rather than unwavering resolve.

Danny made significant adjustments during his brief time as their new guardian. Without Damian ever hanging onto Dick like some sort of life Line, Dick has now the time to properly sort out his feelings and mourn for Bruce. Jason despite the bad blood between father and son is also seeking professional help as per Danny’s wishes to sort out his thoughts and with Danny slowly filtering out his ecto to a much healthier one. Tim finally had a sigh of relief when he saw their supposed uncle handle the board like an iron fort. He had managed those elites as if Danny had the experience dealing with old men that thought to be the center of the universe. Finally, Damian, who at first struggles with the supposed usurper to his supposed birthright begins therapy that focuses on undoing the works of a cult, as per the suggestion of the usurper’s foster sister.

Slowly but surely they finally had a sigh of relief to the civilian side of their lives, as Danny kept the Wayne co flourishing and the nosy journalist away from them especially Damian since he is the only biological son of Bruce Wayne despite adopting Dick, Jason, and Tim first.

 On the other hand, their vigilante life is full of tension, as Tim supposedly found evidence of Bruce being alive. Dick and Jason kept pushing on to Tim that he is full of grief to accept Bruce’s death and brush his claims. Of course, Tim tried to find more definite evidence but was later banned from the Batcomputer for his mental health.

…

It all came to a head when a sleep-deprived Tim stumbled into the dining area for breakfast with the rest wearing his robin suit and sweatpants and a haphazardly worn domino mask on his face. As Danny is about to ask Tim about his sleep, Tim not recognizing who he is talking to begins a floodgate of information.  The partial evidence, Gotham’s criminal activities, the number of vigilantes needed to wear the cowl to ensure no one could suspect that something happened to Batman and so much more.

By the time Tim ended his rant he saw a pale-faced Dick looking at him with pure disbelief, Jason and Damian looking at him with murder in their eyes, and finally, Alfred holding a tray of freshly squeezed orange juice so tightly that it began to shake.

Tim is now dreading whatever expression the person is in front of him. Tim now slowly looked at Danny’s… Contemplative face?

All of them are now holding onto their breaths looking at Danny waiting but for what?

Danny blinked, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he muttered something under his breath, too low to catch. Then, slowly, he raised his hand and tore open the air, as if cutting something in midair.

A green rift shimmered, pulsing with an eerie light reminiscent of the Lazarus Pits, though a bit brightener. Before anyone could react, Danny reached into the rift with the ease of someone retrieving a misplaced item and yanking a battered figure through.

Bruce Wayne, still wearing his Batman suit, though, stumbled into the hallway, his cowl pushed back to reveal a rare expression of wide-eyed shock.

The rift closed as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving only each of them with their respective jaws dropped and wide open.

Danny looked at Bruce as if scanning any injuries and let out a deep sigh of relief.

And uttered a single sentence that seemed to come from Danny’s inner mind.

I can't believe you turned into a furry fruit loop.

Immediately turned around and left the still-shocked family with their minds still rebooting at what had just happened. Bruce, for his part, could only stare after him, his mind racing to catch up.

…

Danny on the other hand is mildly a bit stressed, don’t get him wrong. Having Dan, Ellie, and Klarion as his kids is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to him, he just wished that the kids the rare chance they have their truce would send their home straight down the deepest rings of hell. As much as he had a clear reason to fight off some demons after so much adventure in terms of retrieving their house it got so old that it became a hassle.

 Let's also talk about how chatty Mom and Dad have been ever since his older brother Bruce became a crime-fighting furry, and when he started adopting kids as if they were Pokemon. Bruce doesn’t have to catch them all, and stop encouraging him, Danny wailed to his ghostly biological parents. As much he adored his nieces and nephews, he densest need to know from his ghostly parents how many flips Dick did with one hand or how many books Jason added to the library or how many albums of pictures Tim had, or even how adorable Damian is.

So imagine his surprise that in the middle of him sorting out paperwork, he is now an official guardian to his nephews since Bruce had “died”.

At first, he was hesitant on top of his children, for, he has an entire realm to sort out. Add to the fact that he didn’t feel Bruce’s spirit enter his domain. Bruce’s kind of lifestyle along with his nieces and nephews already guaranteed them a spot in the realms.

So when Tim exploded out of sleep or just needed someone to vent it made him send out a silent question to Clockwork. There he was, his dumb older brother, falling through each timeline, he simply grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled him back to the present.

As Danny left the manor, he silently wept for the added paperwork that he expected to be added as well as damage control to whatever chaos his children got themselves into.

….

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

you know what's funny? all the Justice Leage|DC x Danny Phantom crossover fics, that start with or otherwise include the premise of the Justice League (often led by Justice League Dark, and John Constantine in particular) summoning the new Ghost King to ascertain his threat status.

like. there's something very human about that. believing that, because you have named yourselves the defenders of your world, that you have any authority to demand answers of interdimensional royalty -- of anyone, really. the Green Lanterns, sure, they're quite literally a universal force and are such recognized. but only thru the lands that agree to that or are included in a sector that is under any Lantern Corps jurisdiction.

the Infinite Realms are under no one's jurisdiction but their own, so the thought of the justice league demanding answers from them is akin to a random child coming up to you in the airport and demanding you give them something. like, I'll entertain this conversation cause you're adorable but also, you have no power here, child. where is your adult?

and, from what I've seen, no one can get Constantine to do what he doesn't want or need to do. not even Batman, who is just a man.

so he'd love to be holed up in the House of Mysteries, leaving the capes to mess around and find out. but then that would make it his responsibility, so he's there to oversee the summoning and step in if neeeded, but personally has no desire to add another curse to his coat.

anywho, I'm just imagining the Justice League summoning Ghost King Danny and demanding answers and, like any teenager who knows he'll have no repercussions for doing so, he tells them to fuck off (imagine, if you will, the same joy you feel when your parents say that you're allowed to go against the rules in school because the rules are arbitrary and self-serving at best and harmful at worst, and you won't get in trouble for it even if you get detention/suspended at school)

and they're all aghast cause, what? who do you think you're talking to? and Danny's all, no, who do you think you're talking to? I am the King of the Infinite Realms, Protector of Amity Park, Keeper of the Stars, *insert all his other random titles a la Thor and Loki stalling*, and you do not make demands of me, mortal. then he just dips, cause really? a tiny lil containment circle? ha!

2nd Attempt at Danny Phantom and I am very happy with this one. I'm in DCxDP hell

This is just another shitpost, a copy and paste from what I spammed my friend at like 5pm- ish Jason or Red-Hood who's known for having 'information from the dead/graves' but his boyfriend is Danny 'phantom' Fenton and will just yap to his boyfriend over ghost gossip and not even realize that he's sharing new/unheard of information to Jason over crimes and other things happening around Gotham or in crime alley

People gossip but the dead talk, and Danny is all too happy to have someone to listen to all the ghost drama with him that the man will yap to Jason for hours. (Jason has timed it before, it got to hour 5 before he called it a day)

No one can figure out how why or when Jason started becoming two or three steps ahead of every villain/gang/goon/whatever, calling 'anonymous' tips into the batfam/police/whoever tf, days or even weeks before anything happened.

Jason who somehow ends up scaring the shit out of the bad guys because they 'changed their plans three times already to lose Red-hood' but yet, somehow, he's waiting for them by the time they arrive to where ever they were meeting up to do their illegal business with a coffee in hand and the police already called and arriving in 5 minutes.

There are two types of writers:

1. 'It's fiction, it doesn't need to make sense!'

2. 'I didn't account for the rotation of the planet and how that affects the constalations while my characters stargazed at different times of year, I have failed as a writer, and this entire thing is trash'