I always wonder how my father can just binge watch bad action movies endlessly. They are just series of unrelated events happening one after the other in some half-baked semblance of a plot that heavily rely on steriotipes, that trivialize women's suffering and boil it down to unfunny jokes, that are entirely predictable and clearly made with the only intent of getting the highest amount of interest for the least amount of effort!
And then I write "Villainess" on the Webtoon search bar
I always wonder how my father can just binge watch bad action movies endlessly. They are just series of unrelated events happening one after the other in some half-baked semblance of a plot that heavily rely on steriotipes, that trivialize women's suffering and boil it down to unfunny jokes, that are entirely predictable and clearly made with the only intent of getting the highest amount of interest for the least amount of effort!
And then I write "Villainess" on the Webtoon search bar
Corpse AU + demon twins AU — danny realizes he can use his corpse to hopefully throw the league off his tail permanently
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
“Wait,” Danny said randomly, causing Sam and Tucker to pause their digging and look over at him.
He licked his lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “This… this could be an opportunity.”
“Nope, we are not trying cannibalism, man. I may love meat, but I’m drawing the line at eating your body,” Tucker commented, trying to make a joke to lighten the reality of what they were doing.
Danny shook his head. “No. No, um.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve… I’ve never told you the full truth about my childhood.”
“What does being adopted have to do with burying your corpse?” Sam asked, brow furrowed.
“Was your original family in a gang!?” Tucker blurted out. Sam whacked him, while Danny let out a slightly panicked laugh.
“Actually, you’re not too far off. It wasn’t a gang, though, it was a cult. Grandfather was the leader, in fact.”
Sam and Tucker reacted in almost perfect unison. “What the hell.”/“What the fuck.”
“Yeah.” Danny swallowed. “And this,” he gestured at the trash bag they’d shoved his corpse into, “Could be the perfect way to guarantee they stop looking for me.”
“Is that really something you still need to worry about? It’s been years.”
“I don’t know. Grandfather—Ra’s—never did like loose ends. And they definitely have more than enough resources to keep trying.”
They all stood in silence for a moment, deep in thought. Sam was the first to break the silence.
“Okay, but, how would we even do that? We obviously don’t want Amity to find out about this—and I doubt you’d want those guys poking around here anyway. But none of us can drive, and I really doubt we can just mail a corpse somewhere.”
There is a terrible, gleeful part of me that wants to see Danny's head wind up in Gotham. Because that new Red Hood guy did something with heads, right? He seems to have League of Assassin connections; he can pass on the information that the stolen spare heir is definitively dead.
----
Later, the Red Hood is taking very deliberately measured breaths as he examines the contents of a modified cooler-turned-freezer.
There is a child's head inside, frozen solid.
A child.
A child's...
It had come with a message. LoA coded. Hood focuses on that, has to concentrate to unclench his fingers one by one from the missive. A short report from a team's name Hood doesn't recognize; the discovery of a movement to use the Stolen Demon Son as a central figure on a coup. The elimination of the threat to Ra's. The proof.
The head.
The child's head.
The too-familiar child's head.
Red Hood wants to track down and kill everyone involved in this shit show. Immediately.
so, here it is! an addition (that got way out of hand and is a lot longer than i thought it would be)! i hope you enjoy!
🦇👻🦇
Bruce is at the computer when Jason finally roars into the cave, which is great, because he’s going to fucking kill him.
As much as it hurts to admit—and it fucking burns—Jason knows that Bruce hadn’t learnt his lesson, not when he died, burning and alone in that godforsaken warehouse. After all, he went and recruited another Robin for his holy fucking war, hadn’t he? Unfortunately, Jason was stupid enough to believe that they’d made progress. That, after his explosive return, Bruce had realised he needed to be more careful when it came to his child soldiers.
Well, you know what they say: fool me once, Jason’s blown to smithereens. Fool me twice, and another Robin is gone.
Damian’s gone.
Damian’s gone and Jason’s going to fucking kill the monster responsible for it once and for all.
He stumbles off his bike, letting it crash to the floor, blinding hot rage coursing through his system and making his limbs quake. A pressure builds behind his eyes, throbbing in time with his heart. The whoosh of blood in his ears drowns out every other noise.
The cooler is heavy.
Jason tries hard not to think about what’s inside, but as it swings forward with each step, the… the head lolls around. He wishes he’d packed it better. Put some padding down, wrapped it in a blanket or something, anything to stop it moving in there, but the thought of Damian suffocating inside that box, with cladding invading his mouth, he can’t—
When he closes his eyes, he sees black. The complete, total darkness of death. His breath hitches and he chokes on terror, on memories, on the lingering taste of formaldehyde on his tongue and dirt in his mouth.
He opens his eyes and sees Batman.
He blinks them closed again and sees frosted lips, tinged blue and parted with their last breath. Eyelashes wet and glistening, joined together by spiderwebs of snowflakes. Damian’s thick, dark hair now brittle and coated in white.
He opens his eyes and sees Bruce.
Damian deserves more than this. More than a cooler. More than that failure as a father.
Jason’s gloves bite into the handle, creaking as he tightens his grip, already itching for the comforting weight of his guns, but he won’t—can’t—take his hands away from the box.
Bruce is at the computer, Tim to the far left, corkboard dripping with red string. Stephanie is at his side, half-way through tacking something up when he enters. Jason has no idea where the others are. That’s fine. It’ll be easier this way.
“Oh, shit,” Tim whispers when he looks up and sees the warpath that Jason’s waging.
“Jason?” Stephanie pulls down her mask and drops the thread. It pools on the floor like blood.
It takes longer for the old man to react, but he’s up and out of his seat before Jason can get to him. Facing him with that infuriating crease to his brow that says he doesn’t understand what’s going on but he has no doubt that you’re in the wrong for it, the sanctimonious, hypocritical prick.
Jason… shit. Jason takes a deep breath. He does what he can to relax his muscles, the tenseness in his arms screaming bloodlust and violence.
He was—he was going to throw the cooler at him.
He was going to throw the cooler at Bruce, but… but he can’t do that.
Damian doesn’t deserve that.
With careful movements, slow and steady even as he trembles, he places the cooler on the floor between them and opens the lid.
Jason’s no stranger to decapitations. He’s hacked off many heads—more than Bruce will ever know—shoved them into duffle bags, burnt them, left them rotting on the floor, whatever. He doesn’t care. He’s done it all before. He’s seen it all before.
He keeps his eyes closed.
“Look,” he says, when he finally has some control. His voice is dark, a low growl in the dim light of the cave. “Look at what you’ve done.”
Nobody moves.
Nobody moves and Jason wants to fucking scream.
“This is your fault, Bruce! Look at what you’ve done!”
Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Bruce moves towards the cooler, flicking furtive eyes towards him with each step. Stupid! Jason wants to scoff, but he can’t breathe enough to make a sound. Does he think he’ll shoot him? Before he can even see what his actions have cost them?
Finally, he kneels down in front of the cooler, and with one long, last look at Jason, he peers into the makeshift coffin.
Jason’s not sure what he expects to happen.
He wants to kill him—he deserves to die—but… But he wants him to suffer first. As, no doubt, Damian did.
As Jason did.
Bruce has never been one to show emotion. Jason watches his face carefully, even as the edges of his vision fizz and blur together. His fingers twitch, itching to punch, beat him bloody in the hopes of evoking an actual response. Make him scream when he won’t do it himself.
A slight downturn of his mouth is the only sign of his displeasure and Jason thinks that’s all he’s going to get, that’s all they’re worth to him, when he reaches delicately into the ice box and turns the head over.
The sound he makes…
It’s quiet. Not the tortured screaming that Jason hopes, but a halting, scuppering breath inwards, small and weak and catching. And then he moans, low and deep, and his whole body deflates with it.
Jason’s killed people before. He’s been around death. Seen them struggle, watched as they gurgled and choked on their own blood, and breathed their last.
Watching Bruce now, it’s like he’s already dealt the fatal blow.
The gun—gun? When had he pulled out his gun?—in Jason’s hand trembles.
“This is your fault,” he repeats, quieter now, but his words echo through the cave regardless, whispering accusations back to them.
At the sound of his voice, Bruce places Damian’s head back in the box with reverence, and visibly pulls himself together. He squeezes his eyes closed and holds a hand over his mouth, before sucking in a deep, shuddering breath. He doesn’t stand.
“Damian…” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s screamed his grief from the rooftops. But he hasn’t. This is Bruce, after all, he’s barely said a word. Suddenly, the gun in Jason’s hand seems a lot steadier.
Another deep breath and his shoulders stop quaking. One more and he looks up to meet Jason’s eyes.
“Jason…” he says, in that infuriatingly calm and patronising voice, “This isn’t Damian.”
Now, he stands up. Now, he takes a step away from the box and now, Jason’s heart screams at him to shoot, just fucking shoot him, but he can’t, not until he gets something, some sort of reaction, some sort of indication that they actually matter!
“What the hell are you talking about, it’s—”
“He’s right, Jason,” says Tim, coming up from behind him with his hands splayed outwards as if he’s trying to calm a wild animal. The way Jason sees red right now, he may as well be. “It’s not Damian. Damian and Dick just came back from patrol. They’re in the showers.”
“Stay out of this! You—”
Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches a flash of purple as Stephanie races towards the changing rooms.
“He’ll be here soon. Just put the gun down.”
“Oh, fuck off, Bruce! You can’t sweep this under the rug, you can’t bury it. This is your fault! You—”
“What is going on here?”
Jason's neck nearly snaps with the speed his head turns to see Damian—alive, whole, unharmed save for a brace around his wrist—striding into the cave proper, hair still damp from his post-patrol shower. Dick trots behind him, his face creased in concern.
“Your head in a box,” Stephanie answers, her grin straining against the tension. No one laughs.
“What are you talking about, Brown?”
Jason hadn’t ever thought that he’d be relieved to hear Damian’s grating arrogance before, but the warm rush he feels at his voice nearly knocks him over. He studies him, hardly daring to breathe as they close the gap, and he looks… he looks fine. The same as normal. Right? It’s really him?
“Jason?” Dick asks, shirtless with a towel hanging loosely from his neck. “What’s happening?”
The gun dips as they get closer—it’s him, it has to be him—but he won’t let it fall. He won’t put it down. Not yet.
Damian spares him a wary glance as they finally come close to the cooler, but whatever threat Damian thinks he poses loses out to his curiosity. He stands directly in front of Bruce—directly in front of Jason’s target—and leans down to study the… the head.
At the movement, Jason blinks and sucks in a breath as if he’s been doused with cold water. The gun shakes as he pulls back his hand, flicking the safety on with another, quick breath that wobbles only slightly as he blows it out in a long, controlled stream.
As soon as the gun is lowered, Bruce sucks in a quiet breath and both Tim’s and Dick’s shoulders dip in relief. It almost makes him want to pull it back up again, but Damian leans into the cooler and he has to know, he has to see what they’ll do.
Dick begins to lean over Damian’s shoulder, lightly pushing Bruce back so he can get a good look at what’s causing all the fuss.
Really, he’s not sure what he expects Damian to do, but… all he does is tense, as unnaturally still as the head itself, barely breathing as he drinks the sight in.
Dick does the opposite.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” he shouts, jerking back and almost stumbling over Bruce, who grips both his biceps to steady him. Jason's chest doesn’t ache at the easy contact that Dick shrugs away from. It doesn’t.
“God! Fuck…” he moans, smothering the sounds in his towel that he holds over his face, his shoulders heaving as he sucks in air through the material. There it is. That’s the reaction that Jason would have expected from a father.
It’s not surprising. He’s heard that they’ve a complicated relationship, that Dick stepped up when Bruce couldn’t. Here's the proof of it.
“Damian?” Dick asks, head turning towards him even as he presses the towel into his eyes.
Damian just clicks his tongue in his patented expression of aggravation, but his words are empty, hollow. Like he’s playacting at being himself.
“I’m here, Grayson. I have been with you the whole night. It is not me. Obviously.”
“Right, right…” Dick takes a fortifying breath, and then another, until he’s finally gotten himself composed. Eventually, he drags the towel over his head and scrapes his hair with it, still breathing deep. “You’ve been with me the whole night. It’s not you. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Damian agrees, vacantly, kneeling down in front of the cooler. “It is not me.”
It’s not him.
Jason’s struggling to breathe through it, even as the rest of them calm down and start strategising. They all turn towards each other, forming a semi-circle with him on the other side. He could join in. This could be his case, too. It deserves to be, he was the one that found it, after all.
If only he could breathe.
“God, I feel sick… Clone?”
“The most likely theory. It should narrow the culprits down. Cadmus?”
“Why do it in the first place? What does it mean? Why Damian?”
“We need to survey the scene, run a DNA analysis, there might be something there…”
Their voices wash over him until they're nothing but a droning hum. The sound grates against the pounding in his head and he has to lift his palm up towards his face until he loses himself in the spirals and whorls. He concentrates on breathing. In and out.
It's not Damian.
It's not Damian.
It’s not Damian, but it is a kid. A child. A frozen head in a shitty Walmart ice cooler.
The scorching rage shivers and grows as he breathes in deep, settling into his lungs like a forest fire. No matter what, he's finding whoever did this and he's putting a bullet in their head.
He drops his hand and his eyes find focus on Damian, still peering into the darkness of that box, unnoticed by everyone else. Both of his hands are now inside, hovering just above the head.
A morbid curiosity pulls him closer. Should he say something? He's not convinced he can say anything right now, not without his voice shaking or his tongue stuttering.
Damian's hands are trembling.
It's odd.
The kid is so desensitised to all of this that Jason—hell, they’re all guilty of it—forgets that he's just that. A kid.
A kid looking at his own decapitated head.
Jason needs to say something.
But before he can find the words, Damian sucks in a deep breath and finally reaches down to touch it. His fingers barely grace either side of the temples, like pond skaters dancing on the water's surface. His thumbs are directly above the eyes and as Jason watches, he presses down to prise up the eyelids.
They don't give.
Skin sticks to frozen skin, the eyelids pull taut, and they never part.
Jason can't look at Damian's face.
The only sign of his struggling is a wet exhale, a short, sharp, bubbling breath of frustration.
No one else has noticed and Jason's not sure how much of a blessing that is.
Softly, ever so softly, Damian changes tact and rubs his thumb along the lashes. It takes a few, long seconds, but finally, the ice begins to melt and Jason suppresses a shudder as he watches the head cry.
The anticipation has him inching closer, wondering what all this is in aid of, but Damian's resolve fails him. His breathing is heavier now and Jason swears he sees him blink away his own tears, a gruesome mirror of the head beneath him.
His heart twists and, still, no one else has noticed.
Damian whispers something, eyes fluttering closed, and if Jason didn’t know any better, he’d say the kid was praying.
Finally, when Damian opens his eyes he pushes the eyelids up and for a brief, horrifying second, Damian is caught like a deer in the headlights. Milky blue eyes stare back at him, pupils blown wide in death.
What’s he thinking? His body is tense, muscles screaming in stillness. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.
Perhaps this wasn’t a message for Red Hood—or the League of Assassins, or even Batman—perhaps this was a message for Damian.
But what’s it trying to say?
Whatever it is, Jason’s sure Damian understands. He drops the eyelids with a wheezing exhale, a rattle that squeezes at Jason’s heart, and he jerks back from the box.
Like father, like son; Damian stands, sucks in a quick breath, wipes his nose and cheeks, and visibly buries whatever he’s feeling deep down inside himself just in time for everyone else to notice the strange behaviour.
“Is everything alright, Damian?” Bruce asks, belatedly playing father. “Do you know something about this?”
There it is. Jason can’t help but scoff at how quickly concern loses to the case.
“Leave him, Bruce. It can’t be easy seeing something like that,” Dickhead says, moving towards Damian with hands outstretched. Jason has no doubt it’s meant to be comforting, but since when has the demon brat ever needed that? Like Jason said, he’s not exactly normal.
“Don’t touch me!” Damian hisses, batting the hand away. “I am fine. I know nothing about it. Now, it is a school night, and I am going to bed.”
It might have worked—the prickly demeanour no different to how he normally handles Dick’s overbearing affection—had Jason not just witnessed his own little investigation. He’s not fine. He knows something about it. Jason’s not entirely sure he’s going to bed.
Obviously, no one else buys this, either. They might all be emotionally stunted, but they’re still detectives. Bruce moves to say something, but Dick throws him a warning glance, and, miraculously, Bruce listens.
“Go to sleep, Damian,” Dick says instead, and Bruce still isn’t saying anything. “We’ll be here if you need anything.”
Without another word, Damian leaves and unfortunately, that’s when the attention turns back to Jason.
“How are you doing, Little Wing?” Dick asks in that syrupy-sweet sympathetic voice Jason hates.
Instead of dignifying it with a response, Jason just glares at him, anger still simmering under his skin and curdling his blood.
“Right,” Dick says, looking to the world as if he wants to say something else, and Jason really fucking hopes he doesn’t just about as much as he silently dares him to. A fight would do him some good, let him work through the adrenaline, the buzzing energy still twitching in his muscles.
“Right,” Dick repeats, obviously recognising the danger. Only a small part of Jason is disappointed. Instead, he turns back to Tim, Bruce, and Stephanie to talk points of investigation.
The note sits heavy in Jason’s breast pocket.
He doesn’t give it to them.
“I need a drink,” he says in lieu of goodbye, and promptly turns on his heel to follow Damian into the elevator and out of the cave. He doesn’t stop when he hears them calling. Who gives a fuck? The gun is still on the table, still pointing towards Bruce, waiting for when he gets back. Surely, that should be enough.
He won’t give the note to them, there’s someone that’s far more deserving of it. Someone that knows something, no matter how much he makes out that he doesn't.
Everytime he closes his eyes, he still sees that face. So like Damian, and yet… blue eyes. Yes, eyes can change back to their baby blues just after death—hell, as established, Jason’s seen enough of them to know that—but the way he reacted… It was like he’d seen a ghost.
Jason’s heard of what Damian’s done, what he’s been through. Fighting Heretic—the clone that his own mother had sent to kill him—can’t have been easy, but…
It’s not a clone.
From Damian’s reaction alone, Jason knows it’s not a clone.
There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The stolen demon child. Jason had assumed it was blaming Bruce for Damian’s rejection of the League, but what if it was something different? What if there was another child stolen?
What if…?
No. No, there’s no point in conjecture. This isn’t an avenue he can walk down, not without speaking to Damian first.
But Damian’s not in his room. Nor in the library, nor his art studio, nor the common area, nor the kitchen, nor the conservatory, nor the barn, nor… Jason’s really needing that drink now. If not to quench the thirst, then to stoke the flames that have dwindled in this stupid game of Hide and Seek.
It’s as he’s turning back to the manor that he finally spots him. It’s dark, murky, but false dawn is colouring the sky and Jason can pick out a small silhouette on the roof, stooped behind the balustrades.
Truly his father’s son, Jason thinks with a grimace. Brooding on rooftops. (He tries very hard not to think about his favourite gargoyle in downtown Gotham, where he hid whenever he was pissed at the old man. Where he still goes now, even.)
Damian doesn’t look at him when he finally makes it up there. Just rubs at his eyes briskly, with a harsh sniff that does nothing to hide his tears. He’s staring up at the sky.
Jason doesn’t know what to say. To his surprise, Damian breaks the silence anyway.
“There are never any stars in Gotham.”
His voice is rough, watery and thick. In the dim light, Jason watches as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Pollution,” Jason grunts back, not really sure where to go from here. “Besides… you’re a bit late for them now. It’s almost morning.”
“Yes,” Damian agrees easily, too easily, his voice cracking. “I am too late.”
Ah, shit. He’s not equipped to deal with this, not at all. Perhaps he should go and get Dick.
Instead, Jason takes a steadying breath and settles himself on the slanting tiles of the roof, letting his head fall back so he can watch the sky.
After a long second, Damian joins him.
“You wanna tell me about him?”
“Who?”
“You know who. I saw you looking at him.”
“It is most likely a clone, as Richard suggests. I know nothing else of it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And what do you know of it? Hm? Why was he given to you, of all people?”
Briefly, Damian sits up, hands curling into fists, but the fire fizzles out as quickly as it came, and Damian slumps down deeper on the roof.
Jason doesn’t dignify it with an answer—especially as he doesn’t actually have one—knowing that Damian will tell him in his own time. So he just keeps looking up, shifting to get somewhat more comfortable. The cold tiles bite into his back and tiredness settles into his bones. It’s been a long night and adrenaline can only carry him so far. In the distance, Damian’s rooster crows in the morning and Jason vaguely recalls Dick’s complaints about how it’s always too early for dawn.
Eventually, Damian answers him in a halting, broken voice.
“His name was Daniel. The Left Hand of the Demon, with me as the Right.”
Jason’s breath catches in his throat and his fingers itch for the gun sitting far below him, fury surging through his veins at another brother lost even before they could know him.
“He was my twin, my brother, my heart.” The words start flowing from him quickly now, like a dam bursting at the seams, helpless against the torrent of water. “He lived for me just as I lived for him.”
They’re facing west, looking out over the grounds. Jason can’t make out Damian’s face.
A blessing in disguise.
“We used to steal maamoul cookies whenever we could. Danny would take the ones stuffed with dates and I the ones with pistachios. Danny hates pistachios. He says they taste like grass, I…” Damian trails off, his hands twisting at his black sleep shirt.
When he begins again, his voice is flat, clipped, as unfeeling as a blade.
“One night, Mother came into my room, took me to the jet, and told me that I would never see him again. Danny had been captured by a rebel group of League soldiers who planned to overthrow Grandfather and use him to legitimise their claim to power. I was to live with Father while the matter was resolved.
“That was four years ago.”
Jason wasn’t around for Damian’s introduction—or the four years that followed, for that matter—but he’s heard stories. Yes, there’s Heretic, of course, but… even before that, Damian’s never been what one could call ‘well-adjusted’. None of them are, but they don’t exactly have the excuse of growing up in a murderous cult of assassins like he does. Even if growing up in Gotham is basically the same thing.
It makes a sad sort of sense, now.
Thrust into this godforsaken family while worrying for his brother.
Jason thinks about Dick’s cloying sympathy, his crowding presence, his overbearing nature. It suffocates Jason now, he can’t imagine what it must have felt like to Damian then.
Jason thinks about Tim, about that awful nickname, Replacement, and he wonders if Damian ever thought the same.
“I asked about him, again, when I last saw Mother. She told me that the rebellion was finally quashed, that the position of Demon Head was and always will be Grandfather’s, and that… that Danny was to be presumed dead.”
“Presumed?” Jason prompts, when the silence drags on too long.
“They found no traces of him at their base of operations. Mother believes he must have fought, or attempted to escape, and was… disposed of for his efforts.”
“And you?” asks Jason, before his brain can catch up to his mouth. “What do you believe?”
Clouds shift lazily above them, the moon pale blue against the hazy colour of the sky as the sun truly begins to rise behind them. A star—venus, really, Jason supposes, first to come and last to go—becomes briefly visible before a waft of cloud covers it again. He hopes Damian saw it.
“I always thought that I would feel it. That I would know, somehow.” Damian keeps his eyes glued to the sky. “But I did not.”
Does anyone, really?
“What matters…” Jason coughs, the words sticking in his throat even as he fights for something worth saying. “I guess what matters is that you know now. You can remember him. Grieve him. Keep him with you, shit, I don’t know, anything.”
He sits up and rests his arms on his knees, curling into himself. He scratches at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck just to give his hands something to do. Isn’t it kind of funny? He’s never had to deal with a dead brother before. Or, not before tonight, at least, and he doesn’t think Damian would like to take a leaf out of his book and point a weapon at Bruce right now.
“This has to be better than not knowing, right?” Jason continues, with a hunched shrug of his shoulders.
“No,” Damian spits, the vehemence in that one word pushing Jason back in shock. “No, it is not. I preferred to live with the hope that I would see my brother again. I want—”
He cuts himself off with a choking sob, his voice breaking. Jason can fill in the blanks.
For the first time, Jason looks at Damian and sees a child. 14. He’s 14 and he just wants to see his brother again.
Not a fucking head in a box.
What’s he meant to do? How is he in this situation? Why the hell did he think he should be the one to follow the kid?
“You… must have loved him a lot.”
Damian is quiet for a long moment, so long that Jason begins to think how much of a stupid thing it was to say. Of course he loved him a lot. He was his brother in a home more dangerous than most. Even Jason knows how much easier it is to weather the storm with the love of a brother to rely on.
“I don’t like pistachios.”
It’s whispered so softly that Jason’s not sure whether he’s meant to have heard it or not, but it breaks his heart just the same. Unbidden, the image of two children dressed all in League black comes to him, stifling their giggles as they swipe cookies from the kitchens and dance around patrols. A younger Damian with puppy fat still in his cheeks gravely accepting his share of pistachio-stuffed maamouls while another, slightly different version of Damian savours his favourite date-stuffed ones.
Jason wonders how long he’s kept it a secret. Is it freeing now that it’s out?
Or is it just another lie that he has to live with? A regret that no boy his age should have to bear.
They stay like that until dawn finally digs its fingernails in and begins to claw its way across the sky in earnest. Birds start to sing in the trees and even from up here, they can hear Batcow start to call for her breakfast.
It’s when Jason starts to feel himself nodding off that he thinks they should probably come down. He wonders if anyone’s found Damian missing yet.
“Come on, kid,” he says with a stretch and a sigh, “we best get going. Don’t want Alfred to have to trudge all the way up here just to get you down for breakfast.”
“Yes…” replies Damian, voice as soft as the morning light, but he only moves to rub at his eyes. “I was too late to see the stars.”
“There’s always tonight,” Jason says, rolling his shoulders out, stiff from the cold. “If you… If you want, I can take you out of Gotham. Find a field or something, away from the pollution and the city lights. See what we can see.”
It feels awkward coming out of his mouth, clunky in a way that kindness should never be. It’s been too long since he’s practised at being a brother. Perhaps he should start again.
Damian shifts his head, green eyes dark and heavy with an emotion Jason doesn’t want to name. It roots Jason to the spot and he can’t look away.
“Danny wanted to go out that night. Sit on the tallest roof of the compound and stargaze.” He turns his head back to the sky, even though any chance of seeing a star has long since vanished. Jason sucks in a breath. “I had been punished for some mistake I made in the training hall earlier. He begged me to go, but my hands hurt and… and I did not want to be punished again. He went without me and they took him and it was my fault because I was a coward. If I had—if—”
He cuts himself off and jerks his head to the side so Jason can’t see his tears. The muscles in his jaw knot and clench, and Jason watches as his chest rises and falls as he controls his breathing.
Shit. Now what?
“Here,” Jason says, shoving his hand into his breast pocket and pulling out the note before his brain can catch up with him. “This came with the… package. Show Bruce, don’t, whatever, but it might help find the bastards. I hope it does, anyway.”
Damian is up and at him with frightening speed, snatching the note with barely shaking hands. He holds it up to his nose and Jason watches his eyes flick back and forth as devours what’s written there.
It’s not much, the note. There’s no comfort in it and Damian’s shoulders slump ever so slightly as he gets to the end.
“Why did you not give this to Father?” he asks finally.
“Fuck him,” Jason says simply, with another shrug of his shoulders.
There’s silence as Damian rereads the note, his brow furrowing in concentration as he no doubt commits the whole thing to memory.
Eventually, Jason turns to leave. He’s got his own shit to get back to. His bed, for one thing, even if he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get any proper sleep.
“Thank you,” Damian says softly, stopping him dead in his tracks.
Jason turns slightly, and doesn’t say ‘you’re welcome’, or ‘no problem’, or any other meaningless platitude. Instead, he sighs, and jerks his head back towards the hatch.
“Don’t keep Alfred waiting. Get some breakfast or he’ll worry.”
He stays there just long enough for Damian to nod and then he makes his way back down to the cave, bone-weary exhaustion pulling at his limbs.
Surprisingly, there’s no one about when he gets down there—even the cooler has been moved, thank God—and he snags his gun off the table, heaves his bike from the ground, and leaves the whole thing behind him.
🦇👻🦇
Thankfully, Jason does manage to get some sleep, even if he’s not sure he feels any better by the end of it. He wakes up with a pounding headache that’s made worse by the blaring car horns and rush of traffic outside his window, not to mention the incessant banging on his apartment door.
Jason stumbles his way to the sink, filling up a glass of water and downing it as quickly as he can to cleanse his mouth from the thick, sticky saliva of sleep. The next glass he fills up—because fuck whoever’s on the other side of that door—he uses to gulp down two ibuprofen. No doubt he’s gonna need it today.
When his brain can’t take it any longer, he grabs the gun off the small kitchen table and pads silently over to the door, peering through the peephole.
“Oh, for—” he cuts himself off with a sigh, throwing the gun to the sofa and pinching the bridge of his nose for a long second as he wonders what the hell he’s done to deserve this. Finally, he reaches for the deadbolt.
The door crashes open as soon as Jason turns the handle and he just barely manages to jump out of the way before his headache can get ten times worse.
“He’s alive,” Damian says, not quite shouting, but definitely not quietly enough to be considerate to Jason’s health, as he storms into the apartment. He’s dressed in a loose, all black outfit, not unlike a LoA uniform, rather than his Robin suit. There’s a sword at his side and Jason’s starting to get a bad feeling about all of this. “It’s not him, I know it.”
“Hello, Jason, I’m sorry I woke you up, Jason, how are you doing?” Jason mutters under his breath as he closes the door behind him and moves back to grab his glass of water. “I was doing a lot better before you showed up, I’ll tell you that.”
“Listen to me, you oaf! He’s alive. Danny’s alive.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling Bruce this?”
“I am telling you.”
“Fuck,” Jason sighs eloquently, and downs the rest of his water, already wishing it was something stronger. Last night was hard. He can’t handle the kid going through some sort of extended breakdown, too. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“Of course not, why would they?”
“Well, I’d have hoped you’d have told them,” he says, pushing himself off the counter to lumber into his bedroom so he can fish for his phone. It’s tangled in the sheets, clunking to the floor when he shakes them out.
“What are you doing?” Damian asks, suspicion heavy in his voice.
“Calling Alfred to come—hey!”
Before he can even finish bringing up his (admittedly small) contacts list, Damian lunges towards him and succeeds in knocking the phone out of his hand. He’s only just woken up, okay? He’s still fuzzy.
“Listen to me! Daniel is alive, and I have proof.”
Again, Damian turns those big, green eyes on him and though his face stays cemented in his signature scowl, Jason can read the sadness—and the blinding hope—as clear as day.
“Why me?” he asks, in a desperate attempt to make Damian see how poor his choice is. “Why not Bruce—or Dick, or—hell, even Tim.”
Damian scoffs at Tim’s name and Jason can’t help but roll his eyes at the beef they have going on. Perhaps they have more in common than he thought. He takes in a sharp breath, no doubt to complain about Drake, but stops himself, his shoulders deflating. He sits on the bed next to Jason and it creaks with the extra weight. It’s an old mattress and one that Jason desperately needs to get replaced.
“They don’t know.”
And he can’t tell them.
Jason caught him in a moment of weakness, and now it’s his problem to deal with.
Still, he thinks, at least this will probably lead him to the monsters that beheaded a kid and Jason will actually get to shoot someone responsible. Silver linings and all that.
He sighs and runs a hand over his face, smoothing away the last vestiges of sleep and mourning the loss of the rest of the night.
“Fine. Fine, show me your proof.”
Eagerly, Damian pulls out the note that was left with the cooler and Jason can’t help the exasperated sigh that slips from him. He’s seen it, he would have noticed if there was something amiss, surely.
“First of all,” Damian begins, “I have never heard of this recon unit. The designation isn’t even formatted properly, not by the standards the League operates on now.”
Which, yeah, okay, Jason had already picked up on that. It’s not a team name he recognises either, but… there’s more weight to it now, coming from Damian.
“Secondly, the code. It has the same problem as the designation, it is no longer in use.” His eyes flicker up to Jason’s and they blaze with determination. “The codes, as you are aware, change frequently. The last time this one was used was four years ago, just before Danny was captured.”
Marginally better. That feeling of wrongness slithers in his gut.
“Okay, so—”
“Thirdly,” Damian steamrolls over him, “Father’s DNA analysis of the head is inconclusive.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means that it’s not Danny!”
Jason takes a sharp breath in, ready to refute Damian, but, again, Damian carries on regardless.
“It is not definitively his head. Father can get no workable DNA from the sample, do you understand how difficult that is? The head has been frozen! Every inch of it should be viable, and yet… Any sample Father takes degrades before a profile can be made. Both Father and Richard believe it to be a clone, possibly in the early stages of creation and therefore unstable. Obviously, they have ruled out the League as the culprit, as their cloning technology is unparalleled and already attuned to me.”
“And what do you think?” Jason asks, tiredness creeping up on him again. The ceiling fan doggedly rotates above them and Jason wishes it would try just a little harder to circulate the air in here. What he wouldn’t give for a breeze. Something to wake him up.
“It is a clone, but of Danny, not me. The others have not noticed the differences yet—or if they have, they believe them to be errors in the cloning process—but it is definitely Danny.”
Now, he turns to fully look Jason in the eye, obviously coming to the head of his argument.
“An unstable clone of Danny, beheaded, and sent to you because of your League connections to ensure that they hear of his death, despite the fact that the rebellion has been dealt with for over two years now and Danny has already been presumed dead.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Damian says, speaking slowly as if he were talking to a toddler, “that whoever sent this to you has out of date information. Information that is out of date by four years. That someone wants to make it seem like Danny is dead. Who has been out of the League for four years and would benefit the most from that?”
“Shit… Danny.”
“Precisely. Danny. He is alive and he wants the League of Assassins to think that he is not.”
Or, Jason thinks but absolutely doesn’t have the balls to say, he knows that Red Hood works more with the Bats than the League now and he wants Damian to believe he is dead.
Either way… there’s something not right about it. It all seems so obvious now, everything so glaringly wrong that Jason wonders how he didn’t see it before. He heaves a sigh and drops his head into his hands.
“Well?” Damian asks, barely concealed excitement in his voice.
“It… Well, it fits. But—”
“But? Todd, there is no ‘but’! You said it yourself, it fits! This is the correct conclusion, I am sure of it. Now,” Damian says, straightening his spine and twisting on the bed to more directly face Jason. “Will you help me find him?”
“Kid—”
“Please. Todd, please. I… I cannot do it alone, and I have to—I have to find him.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt, kiddo.”
“I am not a kid. He is alive, Jason.” Damian says, the pure conviction in his voice twisting at Jason’s heart, even if the use of his first name freaks him out, just a little bit. It’s weird seeing the kid like that. “And Danny would never hurt me.”
Jeez… He can’t help but think that he’s setting Damian up for something far worse down the road. But he’d be damned if he can say no to him. He hopes he’s right, for his sake.
“Alright,” Jason says, unable to keep the smile from his face when Damian lights up at his acceptance. For better or worse, this is happening. “Alright. I’ll do it. We’ll find him. We’ll find Danny.”
Danny had learned not to question why Clockwork sends him on random missions. He came out of dire situations where the random missions Clockwork sent him on proved to be actually useful. Even the rewards Clockwork gives Danny will help him down the timeline.
Danny's current reward for doing a good job with his Ghost King related missions? Bonding with Alien Royalty!
He is sent to a planet in his dimension named Tamaran, where he will be staying with the Royal Family for a while, Clockwork even told Danny that he when he returns, it will be as if no time has passed.
Danny spends time with the Princesses and Prince of Tamaran, Komand'r, Koriand'r, and little Ryand'r, the Crown of Flames is a Multiversal Translator, so there's no need for lip contact. All three of them bond in their own ways, Danny and Komand'r are always getting into play fights to see who is stronger. Danny and Koriand'r do general sibling things, and Danny entertains little Ryand'r with his powers. Danny had become a sibling to the three Tamaranean Royal Siblings when his stay with them was halfway through. Danny can even stomach the food of Tamaran (the reanimated foods he eats have given him a stomach of steel).
The Gordanian's attack Tamaran a few weeks after Danny left Tamaran for his own time, not that he knew that he was in the past.
Not too long after Danny returns from his stay on Tamaran is when a bad reveal happens.
Danny is injured and on the run from the GIW, having escaped his captors when a group of some sort raided the facility. He can't go back. His parents gave him to the GIW, and he doesn't want to drag Jazz, Sam, and Tucker into his problems and ruin their chances of a better future.
Danny doesn't know that he's going to run into Koriand'r again, albeit an older Koriand'r, as the Outlaws had raided the GIW facility on request from the Justice League.
Danny was in pain. Well, he's been in pain for the past few weeks, but he finally managed to get out.
Someone had raided the facility, and he'd taken his chance and run. The dripping ectoplasm might be a problem, but he needs to find some place to hide. He can deal with that later.
Danny flew up to the top of the tallest tree he could find. He could still see the building in the distance, black smoke rising from it. But Danny couldn't go any farther, his vision swam and black spots danced in his vision.
Danny sat on a branch and held tight to the tree. Taking off his scrubs he pressed them to the leaking wound on his chest, ignoring the other dripping injuries.
He had to find a way to replenish his ectoplasm, to heal enough that he can transform back. If he transforms now, he'd never survive the wounds.
"A star is a giant sphere of extremely hot, luminous gas, mostly hydrogen and helium, held together by gravity..." Danny started. If he engages in his obsession enough than he'd be able to heal enough to transform or go somewhere safe. Not home, home isn't safe anymore.
Danny closed his eyes and leaned against the tree.
"The first stage, stars form through the gravitational collapse of giant clouds of dust and gas called Nebulae, which are composed of several different materials and elements,"
Danny's tired...
"Protostars are next in the life cycle..."
He wants to go to sleep so bad.
He wants comfort.
"DANNY!"
Tired eyes pulled open. That sounded like...
"Kori?"
"DANNY!" she yelled, and suddenly she was in front of him.
"Kori," he whispered, leaning into her. She was older than when he'd last seen her, but it was her. She was here.
"Danny friend you must stay awake," she urged, reaching out and carefully holding onto him.
She can't be here, they'll think she's a ghost and they'll take her away and-
"You can't- you can't be here... the're gonn' hurt you-" he had to warn her, he can't let her get hurt too.
"It is alright Danny. My friends are taking care of them. They will not hurt you again." She wad completely confident and sure of herself, how could Danny doubt her?
"Kori," he whispered as the world tilted and went dark.
I think my biggest piece of evidence to “afab trans women are doing it for weird reasons” is that I know a handful of cis men who have tried messing around with their gender and gone back and forth and ultimately decided to stay men. They do not call themselves trans men. They’re just guys who are more confident in their presentation.
I think it’s really telling that this happens to trans women way more than it happens to trans men (if it happens at all which I have not seen.)
So, the AFAB trans woman thing is largely, but not necessarily a terf thing and generally rooted in transmisogyny no matter how you slice it. Going to break this down thoroughly and with no ill intent but the weird reasons absolutely do hurt us.
Basically someone identifying as an AFAB trans woman is definitionally cis (for nuance see #3), because they are identifying with their agab. Them taking on this label serves a few purposes, none of them good, going to go over the two examples of AFAB trans women I've actually encountered, and one hypothetical I see people talk about but never actually encountered online or irl:
Polluting the discourse and resources. There was an AITA about this that was rather infamous. Basically the AFAB trans woman was entering trans women only spaces and giving advice on HRT despite never having actually been on feminizing HRT herself. Presenting herself as a fellow transfem and obfuscating her agab in order to gain clout within the in group and not thinking about the ramifications of giving medical advice without life experience to vulnerable people. The reaction to the person writing in talking about how she warned people in the group this person had no experience with transfem HRT, both from the AFAB transfem and the tme tumblr community at large, was that she was "outing" her by doing this and being a bigot for trying to protect her sisters from bad medical outcomes.
The TERF AFAB trans woman thing is largely a rhetorical move about deligitimizing trans identities. The hypothetical trans masc equivalent (which I've not heard of happening mind you) would be a cis gay dude saying he's an amab transmasc and as a transmasc he understands the need to exclude afab transnascs from sacred and safe amab-only spaces. I hope providing an inverted example helps illustrate how ludicrous that is. It's one of many rhetorical tools of transmisogyny designed to leverage a trans identity to exclude trans women from women's spaces.
Now, best case scenario, your "not hurting anyone" this is an AFAB person who for any number of reasons feels like cis woman doesn't quite fit their identity. Often this person is described someone who due to experimenting with HRT or being intersex had "male" features like increased body hair or deeper voice. Now, if you think it's not hurting anyone for someone to think "I'm kinda like if a woman had a man's body" or "my identity is girl who feels like a boy" or "I was a boy for awhile before going back to being a girl" and go with trans woman I suggest rethinking that. There are any number of labels and identities to choose from, demigirl, queer, genderqueer, non-binary woman, genderfluid, etc, that actually describe these kinds of conceptions of gender. In choosing trans woman to describe this they are, intentionally or not, implicitly or not, defining trans women by our "maleness" and claiming the identity because of that. They are functionally Taking the negative stereotypes associated with trans women as men in dresses and claiming it as their identities. It's difficult to think of a hypothetical tme example for this one as it's very deeply tied to transmisogyny, but relating with the negative stereotypes about a group you do not belong to then claiming membership in that group because of them is absolutely harmful behavior. Trans womanhood is just as much about experience and the way society treats us on both an interpersonal and systemic level as it is about gender identity. Idk, best I got is picture a cishet man identifying as bisexual despite only liking women because he likes doing drugs and partying and hookups. Inserting himself into conversations about bisexuality at a local queer group saying shit like "hey any girls looking for a third?" This man is a swinger and maybe even polyamorous, and both of those things are ok and dare I say valid, but he is not a bisexual.
Now picture any of these AFAB trans women writing articles or academic papers or essays or making YouTube videos or podcasts about their experiences as a trans woman, because they do. They'll say shit like the root of all hatred to trans women is the hatred of men. That trans women are a mystical third gender that is like if a woman was not a woman. That there is no such thing as amab intersex trans women and you're being intersexist if you don't claim AFAB trans women. TME folks, be they cis allies, other queer people, etc, read these and incorporate them into their understanding of what a trans woman is. Reinforcing all these transmisogynistic stereotypes from the mouth of a "trans woman". Newly out trans women read these and take the bad and unfounded advice in them, or decide they can't be trans women at all because they don't align with the experiences of these people.
Someone's weird reasons for choosing a personal identity incongruous with the definition of the identity they choose is harmless only if you don't think about how they interact with and relate to other members of their community. Shit like this is part of transmisogyny just marginalizes actual trans women within our own communities.
2.2. Conservative logic that openly "takes advantage" of "all identities are valid" rhetoric where they say "well if you can "identity" however you want the I can identify as any ridiculous thing and you have to respect it". It's the exact logic behind the "attack helicopter" joke. It's treating the concept of trans women as a frivolous identity that's merely being respected. It's saying we are "transwomen" as opposed to women who are trans.
i'm certainly not the first person to say this, but i want to emphasize one of the biggest problems with people who were assigned female at birth (perisex or intersex) calling themselves trans women:
it is contradictory to the most widely accepted definitions of transgender ("one who does not identify with the gender they were coercively assigned at birth") and trans woman ("a woman who was coercively assigned male at birth"), and therefore makes it difficult, sometimes even impossible, for trans women to communicate with each other about our shared experiences and construct transfeminist theory.
here's an analogy that i think is a lot more fitting to this, and a lot more revealing of how it's a problem:
imagine if perisex trans people started calling ourselves intersex, because the effects of our transition caused our bodies to fall outside of the (socially constructed and enforced) sexual dyad, or because trans people are sometimes subject to misdirected intersexism?
that would be clearly (and correctly) recognized as appropriation of an identifier coined by and for an oppressed group in order to form community and discuss their shared experiences.
[Image Text: “#also in this conversation tme ppl always completely ignore tma intersex voices. like as [if] they don’t exist #while tme ppl who aren’t even intersex use it as a rhetorical tool to be transmisogynistic (and implicitly intersexist too!!) /End Image Text]
This is a wheel with 250 fandoms, people, topics, specific words, etc. Spin it once.
Whatever you landed on has completely disappeared from Tumblr. Any posts including or referencing it have vanished, and none will ever be made again. No one else notices its absence, and no one else will ever ask about it.
I was just thinking about Dannys hatred for Christmas and how funny / odd itd be if Amity's citizens start noticing how snappy and overly emotional and aggressive Danny gets in December and start to collectively think it's because he died in December and is still having a hard time processing it.
*If the theory that "ghosts exhibit powers based on how they died." Is popular in amity. Then Dannys Ice powers may also Aid the rumor that He died during the winter.
* Danny's hazmat suit could be mistaken for a ski suit.
I mean....
It would be a more logical leap for what he's wearing than a hazmat suit.
I feel like most people wouldn't even know what a hazmat suit looks like anyway.
* most people headcannon that Amity Park is in Illinois.
That state has like 5 ski resorts
I bet you Casper High even has a ski/ snowboarding team.
-----
I'm just saying I could completely see people running with the idea 😅💖
Maybe people also start to theorize that the reason why Phantom is always so quick to intervene and finish the fight to save the civilians is that the avalanche rescue never made it in time.
There is a thing called 15 golden minutes, where the buried person can still be saved, so maybe someone out of curiosity tries to time Phantom's fights and they are all less than a quarter of hour...
Do they know about the Christmas truce? Because if they didn’t I could see some thinking that the ghosts leave phantom and amity alone because it’s when he died. Like the ghosts don’t mess with him at that time and they already think that is when he died so it has to be connected in their minds. Also I wonder if they use his appearance in this theory. He died in snow and now he has SNOW white hair. And his eyes are bright green and glow so that he’d be easier to spot in snow? Sorry that it’s rushed.
Black suit with bright green signal-esque highlights... first thought I had with regard to the color scale and his color scheme was something along the lines of "a path that was marked safe and green turned out to be really really not while he was on it (and it buried him in his suit)"
If he's assumed to've been an out-of-town tourist/visitor, it would also explain why they can't find a local grave or obituary. Because he was in the area for vacation when he died, and the evidence, paper-trail, etc, is mostly in the area where his family actually lives.
What if one of the ski resorts is owned by Vlad? Then, if anyone 'casually' mentions the names of the resorts (maybe they want to try and organize some kind of retrieval mission? So the boy can finally rest in peace) he's neutral about all but one. ...the one owned by vlad. For him its bc its owned by vlad. For everyone else? They think thats where he died
I'm on a Danny is Dick's child kick rn so I'm making more.
But lets add in some Ghost King Danny!, Dad to a deaged Ellie and Dan! And toddler Mar'i Grayson.
Danny was conceived during Dick's amnesia year when he was Ric and the woman couldn't find him to tell him (or maybe the Owls caught wind of the pregnancy and took her) and he ended up somehow (hmmm maybe a meddling time keeper?) with the Fentons.
Danny grows as a Fenton, he knows he was adopted btw, then becomes Phantom, protects Amity, becomes the Ghost King and things seem to be going okay between Amity Parkers and the Infinite Realms since they took care of the GIW problem, AND has been a good doting teen dad to his deaged 'cousins/clones' turned kids.
Danny was going to go pick his kids up from daycare one day when CHAOS happens. Just as he wrangles Ellie onto his shoulders, cause she wants to be tall today, and about to take Dan's hand cause he's and I quote "A big boy and not a baby like Ellie, Dad!" he suddenly feels the tug of his family being in danger.
Thing is, its a blood related danger. Meaning someone blood related to him was in grave danger, and by the emotions he can feel, its someone young, way younger than him.
Problem.
The only people Danny knows with his blood in their veins and are young enough for the feeling are with him.
So who?
But due to Danny being a protector spirit AND knowing the feeling is from someone as young as his own kids, Danny decides to use his Ghost King Powers to summon said person from the danger to him.
Danny opens his free arms out just as a tiny toddler with black hair like his own but with bright green eyes, even the sclera were green, in a ruined party dress drops from the sky from the summoning circle that had opened above him.
Danny stares at the terrified child, whose hands are tied by rope and was crying, and takes notes of certain traits she had that he saw every time in the mirror or on his own kids, same eye shape and cheekbones. He can tell his ghost core has claimed her as family but not as his kid though.
No the connection that formed was almost like his connection with Jazz but a bit stronger.
This kid, was his sister. His blood related one.
-Meanwhile-
Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, and his family were freaking the fuck out.
Dick was already panicked when his daughter Mar'i had gotten kidnapped just a few hours ago by the Joker.
Now he was feeling pure dread when his daughter, who was about to be killed, was suddenly pulled into a strange glowing circle at the last minute and disappeared into thin air.
It's the first thing Danny knows about her. Before he realizes her hair is black like his or that her eyes are green or just barely older than Ellie, he knows that the girl falling through the portal he made is not a ghost.
But she's certainly not completely human, either.
Teary green eyes look up at him, confused and afraid, and he finally sees the ropes around her wrists and ankles. He kneels down in the parking lot, letting Ellie slide off his shoulders as he sets the girl down, leaving his hands free to begin working on the ropes.
"Hi, sweetie," he starts, keeping his eyes on the girls crying face. Her eyes are fully green, behind her tears, sclera and all, just a shade or two too yellow to be ectoplasm. Besides that, she really could have been an older Ellie.
"My name's Danny. I'm not going to hurt you," he said, glancing down at the ropes. They were tight, far tighter than necessary to have restrained a little girl. "Do you mind telling me your name?"
"Mar'i," she was struggling to speak through her sobs, her breathing ragged and short and Danny was sure she wasn't supposed to be breathing so fast.
"Alright, Mar'i. Can you take a breath for me?" The girl let out a short but purposeful gasp as Danny finally got a good handle on the knots. "That's good. Can you do another? Dan, Ellie, can you help her?"
The three children all breathed together, Dan doing his best to keep a steady pace and Dani offering Mar'i words of comfort. Danny, meanwhile, focused on figuring out why his core reacted the way it did.
It wasn't uncommon for him to feel the familiar tug of a family member, especially if they were in danger. What was uncommon, however, was to feel that bond with a child he'd never met. To complicate things, it felt different to his other familial relationships. Tighter, somehow.
As he moved on to the ropes around Mar'i's ankles, careful to warn her that he was going to move her to his knee before starting, he tried to examine the bond closer.
It was certainly familial, that much was certain. It just felt... To the left of the type of familial bond he was used to. Additionally, it wasn't a parent-child bond, like he had with Ellie and Dan. It was closest to a sibling bond, like he had with Jazz, though again it was slightly off.
A tug at his sleeve broke his train of thought and he looked down to see Dan.
"She's calmed down, Dad."
"Thanks, buddy." He turned to Mar'i, still sitting on his knee in the parking lot, rubbing at her wrists. They were a raw, angry shade of red from the ropes, and one wrist had a black and blue bracelet with a little bat pendant.
"Mar'i, do you think you can tell me what happened?" She sniffled and nodded, looking at the asphalt.
"I was at my party and th-the Joker showed up." Joker? It wasn't a name Danny recognized, but he'd follow up later. "H-he took me somewhere with a lot of green stuff and he tied me up above it and he... He said that-"
It didn't take a genius to see that she was about to devolve back into tears, and Danny kicked himself. Whatever had happened was still fresh in her head, still terrifying. He didn't need to know what happened, that wasn't what mattered most.
What mattered was getting his sister this girl home.
"It's alright, you don't have to tell me. Do you know your parent's phone number?" She shook her head.
"Alright... Do you know their names?" This time he got a nod. "Can you tell me?"
"M-my daddy's name is Richard, and my mommy's name is Kori."
"Do you know your last name?"
"Grayson."
"Mar'i Grayson," he said, trying the name out. His core hummed, the way it has when he'd first called himself a Fenton, the first time he'd been surrounded by family.
"That's a very pretty name. Like I said earlier, I'm Danny, and these two are my... Well, kids is the best term, I guess. But this is Ellie, and this is Dan." The two waved from there they stood next to him.
The ropes fell off the girl's ankles, revealing them to be just as raw as her wrists. He wasn't about to let her walk with injuries like that.
And it was probably best he didn't take her anywhere near the Fenton household right now. Mom and Dad were home, and they might overwhelm her. Plus, the security system had been pretty consistently targeting him recently.
"Mar'i, can I take you to a friend's house? I need to find your parents, and I won't be able to without their help. Plus, they have some stuff you help your wrists and ankles feel better."
Mar'i thought about it, really and truly. She put her finger to her chin and everything, getting the cutest little frown. Finally she looked at him and nodded. He stood, hoisting her into his arms.
"Dan, Dani, can I trust you to be good walking next to me? Our friend shouldn't be walking, and I need to call Mama and Papa."
"I can, Dad! I don't know if Dan could, though."
"Shut up, Ellie! You're the one always getting lost!"
"Kids," he said a little firmer. "Can I trust you?" The two looked at each other, sighed, and nodded. "Thank you. Hold hands and stay close."
The walk to Sam's wasn't long, but he supposed after an eventful day anyone would pass out at the first opportunity. That's how he arrived, Mar'i sleeping on his shoulder while the other two ran to hug Tuck's legs as he opened the door.
"Papa! Dad caught a girl out of a portal!" Dan said as Danny walked in after them.
"Not just any girl, she's our auntie!"
Dammit, Ellie.
~~~
"So you're saying you felt like your family was in danger, opened a portal to them, and this kid just fell out?" Sam said from the opposite couch. She'd brought back Nasty Burger for the kids, with chicken nuggets for the sleeping one. Dan and Ellie we're currently in the kitchen, eating their burgers and fries quietly so they could get their toys.
"Yep, that's basically what I just said."
"Yu no wh ths mns, rit?" Tucker said through his burger. Sam just raised a brow at him, and he was quick to swallow and repeat himself. "You know what this means, right?"
"Uh... No?"
"It means, you have another family!" Tucker said. "Your bio mom got to a better place and decided to have kids!"
"There's no way. She didn't want kids at all, not just because things weren't the best. From what she said, she was terrified the whole time."
"Hey, people change. Maybe she changed her mind. You should call her and ask if there's any more. I'd love to have more siblings-in-law," Sam chimed in before taking a bite of her veggie burger.
"I'm pretty sure she didn't. And hang on, what's this about about 'in-laws'? We aren't even out of high school, and you're already gonna wife me up?"
"First chance I get," Tucker said with the cheesiest smile, leaning forward on one hand and wiggling his eyebrows like it would somehow make what he said any less corny. Danny leaned across the table as carefully as he could while still holding Mar'i and shoved his boyfriend's face.
"As if. If anyone's going to wife anybody else up, it's Sam."
"You're darn right I will."
There was a grumble from Danny's shoulder, and he looked down to see Mar'i rubbing her eyes and looking around dazedly.
"Where...?"
"Hey, Mar'i," he said, turning her so she could see the rest of the room, and the two other teens in front of her. "We're at my friend's house. This is Sam, and that's Tucker."
"Hi, sweetheart," Sam said, putting her burger down while Tucker froze mid-bite and waved. "I hear you've had a bit of a long day. Am I alright to take you upstairs, or would you rather I bring the first aid kit down here?"
Again, the girl thought long and hard about going with Sam. Whoever the Grayson's were, Danny had to give them props for drilling "stranger danger" into their daughter's head.
"Okay, Miss Sam."
"Oh, please, just call me Sam," she said, scooping the girl up and heading towards the stairs.
"Y'know," Tucker said around his burger, "She's right. You should reach out to your bio mom, see if she's missing a kid."
"Like I said, I don't think it's her. First off, I haven't heard from her since she put me in the system even after she said she'd keep in contact. Second, the name's don't match. Mar'i said her mom's name was Kori."
"So, maybe it's your bio dad's side. You didn't know him anyway, he might have got his life together and stopped being a deadbeat. You did say you needed help finder her parents, plural, so I'd assume he's in the picture.
"Besides, you know it has to be family or Dani wouldn't feel the same way. You know she doesn't think of your parents as grandparents, so the only reason she'd feel the same family pull you did-"
"Was if we're actually related," Danny finished with a huff. "I'd really rather not think about that at this very moment. But you're right. Speaking of... Ellie, can you come here for a minute?"
Ellie raced in, a ketchup covered fry still in her hand.
"Yes, Dad?"
"This is very important, okay? I know Mar'i is your aunt, but she doesn't know that. She doesn't know any of us, so you can't call her your aunt, alright?"
"But she is my aunt."
"I know, but she's had a really long day and I don't think she knows she's your aunt. So for now, don't call her your auntie like you would for Jazz, alright?"
"Hmmm. Okay. Should I tell Dan too?"
"I already heard!" he yelled from the kitchen.
"Don't yell inside!" Ellie shouted as she ran back to the kitchen and her after school snack.
"Those two are going to be the death of us," Danny breathed out, Tucker giving a hum of agreement from behind the last bite of his burger.
~~~
Mar'i was down with Sam a couple minutes later, floating down the stairs and chattering with Sam about what her party has been like. The girl had bandages around her wrists and ankles, clearly tied on with far more care than the ropes had been. She flew over to Danny once she saw him, finishing up his own burger and fries.
"Mister Danny! Mi- Sam told me you're half Tamaranian too!"
"I, uh, what?"
"Tamaranian, like my mommy! She has green eyes like me, and really pink hair, and she shoots green light out of her hands! It's all like 'woosh!' and 'kapow!'"
Tamaranian... That sounded familiar somehow. Another item to look up.
"That's wonderful, but Danny here isn't actually half Tamaranian."
"Wait, she's a halfa too?!" Dan said, flying through a wall and into the living room.
"A what?" Mar'i said, glancing up at Dan as if she saw flying, intangible people every day
"A half ghost," Ellie said, popping up through the floor. "Also, Papa, Dan and I were quiet while we ate. Can we have our toys now?"
"I'm not half ghost. I'm half Tamaranian," Mar'i said.
"What's a Tamarian?" Dan asked, floating down to be eye level with the other girl.
"It's Tamaranian, and we're aliens!" Mar'i said, floating a little higher. "It's not as cool as being half ghost, though."
"Are you kidding?!" Ellie said, floating all the way through the floor and getting right in Mar'i's face. "Being half an alien sounds way cooler! We have to keep the fact that we're ghosts secret." Ellie froze and looked at Danny.
"Oops."
"It's okay, I'm good at keeping secrets! I won't tell anybody about you being ghosts, promise."
Danny just sighed and stood from the couch. Mar'i floated up with him, watching him curiously.
"Alright, calm down. Mar'i, there's some chicken nuggets in the kitchen for you. I'll show you the way." Mar'i floated next to him, his own kids trailing behind her.
"Say, Mar'i, where are you from? It might be easier to find your parents if we know where you live."
"Oh, we live in Bludhaven, but Daddy goes to Gotham a lot for his work." Danny nodded opening the Nasty Burger bag on the kitchen counter and pulling out the chicken nuggets and three kid's meal toys.
"What?! How come she gets her toy before she's finished?" Dan said. If his lower half hadn't been a shadowy tail, Danny was certain the six year old would have stomped his little foot.
"Because she's our guest. Now, once she's done, you all can play down here or in the basement. Remember, what's the first rule?"
"No ectoblasts in the house," Ellie and Dan intoned together, rolling their eyes in sync. Sometimes, it was a little too obvious that they were clones.
"Good. I trust you can teach Mar'i the rest while Mama, Papa and I look for her parents?" The two nodded, and Danny smiled before walking back to the next room.
Tuck was already looking at a possible list of people on his computer, a program running next to the window full of names.
"Her dad's a cop," Sam said without ceremony, scanning over the list of names. "Unfortunately, there's quite a few with that last name in the States, and Richard isn't an uncommon name. It's going to take a while."
"Try results in Bludhaven," Danny said, plopping down on Tucker's other side. "Or Gotham. She said she lives in Bludhaven but her dad works in Gotham, I think."
Tucker shrugged and added another couple lines to the program. The list repopulated with only ten Richard Grayson's and one Richard Grayson-Wayne.
"Well, that makes this a lot easier," Tucker said. "Now to check the police website and start calling."
Tucker pulled up three different websites, each for a different precinct in Bludhaven or Gotham. Slipping through their security was easy, and before they knew it, ten different faces stared back, each with a full name and contact information attached.
The eleventh couldn't be called different.
The trio stared in silence, staring at a picture of a person who could have been Danny, if he was a few years older. Too much matched for it to be a coincidence, especially with the way his core thrummed the way it did around Danny's dad.
"I think," Sam said, as slowly as she could, "that we should call him, first."
~~~
Dick was panicking. Not even panicking for a Bat, just full on panicking. His daughter had been seconds away from death, and then some portal had opened underneath her and sent her off to God knew where.
Normally that would be fine. She had a tracking bracelet, he should have been able to find her anywhere in the world. But it had shorted out the second she went through that portal.
She could have been anywhere in the world, hurt or scared or dying, and he had no idea.
It was driving him insane.
He was in the Batcave, everyone bustling around him while he sat still. He didn't want to be sitting still. But Alfred had made him sit down. The old butler was sitting next to him, holding his hand to keep him grounded.
There was a hot meal in his lap that he hadn't touched. He couldn't even think of eating right now. Oracle mentioned that Kori was on her way there, but it was all background noise.
His daughter was missing, and he couldn't do anything.
Kori arrived a few minutes ago later, demanding answers. Bruce gave them quickly and concisely, and Dick absentmindedly recognized the subtle difference in his voice. He was speaking to her like she was a distraught civilian, not a League member in her own right.
Alfred took the food from him as Kori approached. Dick didn't move. He couldn't. Not when he looked in her eyes and saw Mar'i's, wide and full of tears as she fell.
"We'll find her," was all he remembered Kori saying. It was all he could make out as he finally broke down, holding her close and letting his tears fall. He felt hers on his own shoulder, absently. It made it all the worse.
~~~
Two agonizing hours went by. Everyone was in the Cave by then, even Jason, all searching for any sign of his daughter. Camera feeds, reports of a young girl with completely green eyes, new hostage demands, anything.
Dick's phone rang, echoing through the Cave. He was quick to snatch it, praying it was an update on Mar'i. He didn't even check the number before answering it.
"Hello?"
"Am I speaking with Richard Grayson-Wayne?" That was a strange way to open up a phone call, he thought.
"Please, call me Dick." The response was automatic, barely thought out. It earned a snort on the other end of the line.
"Okay," whoever was on the other line said, still laughing a little as Dick changed to speakerphone.
"We have your daughter." His blood ran cold. Possibly the four worst words he could have heard. What did they want with her? Were they going to hurt her? Had they done so already?
"Ancients, Tucker!" A girls voice shouted in the background of the call. "That is not how you- You know what? No. Gimme the phone, you suck at this."
There was a shuffling sound and a new voice came on the line.
"Mr. Grayson-Wayne?"
"I swear to God, if you lay a finger on my daughter I will hunt you down and make you regret ever being born." He hadn't meant to slip into his Intimidating Vigilante voice. He supposed it got the point across better though.
"... You know what, I'm not equipped to deal with this either. Danny!"
A muffled "What?" followed by a suspicious crashing sound came through the speaker. He hardly noticed as Tim led him to Bruce, who hooked his phone into the Batcomputer. He was too busy seeing red.
These assholes having an argument over who was going to talk to him had his daughter. Kori placed a hand on his shoulder, but he could feel the way it was tensed, like she was putting effort into holding back her strength.
Finally the argument ended and a third voice, less sure than the two previous, came through the speakers.
"Um... Hi?"
"Where is my daughter?" Dick growled out. It didn't matter what they said. The Batcomputer was already tracing the call. They could say whatever they wanted, in a few seconds he'd know exactly where his daughter's kidnappers were.
"Oh, she's in Amity Park, Illinois." The computer finished tracing the call, a little red dot popping up in Illinois reading Amity Park.
"We're at my girlfriend's house with- Ellie, don't bite your- Dan! You either!- with my other kids." Other kids? How many has they kidnapped?
"What do you want?"
"To... To let you know your kid's alright? You know what, hang on. Dan, can you go get Mar'i?"
A shout of "Ri-ri!" echoed through the Cave. The voice that called it couldn't have come from someone older than his daughter.
"Hey, I've got your dad on the phone. I think he'd appreciate getting to talk to you." There was another shuffle as the phone was handed off, and then a familiar young voice came though the speakers.
"Daddy? Are you there?"
"Mar'i!" He and Kori shouted at the same time.
"Mar'i, are you alright? Are you hurt? They did not hurt you, did they? I swear, if they did, I will-"
"Oh, hi Mommy! I'm okay. Mr. Danny and his kids are really nice. His friend Sam gave me some stuff for my rope burns and she said I could fly around if I wanted to!"
His relief was tempered with worry. Sure, maybe they were just a random group who'd managed to find his daughter and kept her safe. Or maybe they were trafficking and keeping an eye out for metahumans.
"Mr. Danny's kids can fly to, but it's a secret why, kind of like Daddy's!"
"You're not supposed to talk about that, remember?" he said as gently as he could. Sure, she was smart enough to not go spilling about his identity and double life, but if she let it slip he was Nightwing then everyone in the Cave right then was at risk, not to mention his civilian friends and coworkers.
"Don't worry, I didn't tell them. Oh, Mr. Danny wants the phone back. Bye, Mommy, bye Daddy. I'll see you soon!" And with the the phone shuffled into someone else's hands.
"Sorry to cut the conversation short, but we need to work out the logistics of getting her back home," Danny said.
"I think that's appropriate."
"Great. Um, none of us are going to be able to drive her anywhere. I mean, we could probably take a bus with her, but only so far. I'm not about to let m- a child ride around in a cross country public transport system."
"Work schedules? I see, those can be very difficult to work around. If it would be easier, I can come and get her. She gets her flight from my side, I can be in this Amity Park in a few hours," Kori said.
"Actually, it's school schedules I'm worried sbout. Anyway, that's fine, but... Ancients I can't believe I'm doing this." Danny took a breath on the other end of the line.
"I really need to talk to your... Wait, Tuck, did we check if they were married or just partners?"
"Kori's my wife. Is there an issue with that?" He ground out.
"No, it's just... I need to talk to you, Dick Grayson-Wayne, specifically." That was never a good sign.
"Why?"
"It's kind of hard to explain over the phone. I just really need to speak with you when you come get her-"
"Wait, Aunty Ri-ri's leaving already? But she just got here! She hasn't even gotten to meet Aunty Jazz yet!"
"Aunty?" Several voices chorused.
"Dan! I told you not to say anything!"
"Actually, you told Ellie not to say anything." Dick could hear the stern look over the phone. "Okay. I'm sorry."
There was a long suffering sigh on the other side of the line. The same kind Bruce made when one of the Birds was being difficult. The same one he made when he knew he couldn't let Mar'i have him wrapped around her finger.
"Why don't you go show Mar'i the basement?" A few small cheers came through the speakers, followed by the whooshing sound of someone flying past the phone.
"Like, I said, it's hard to explain over the phone. But I think we really need to talk."
@bluerosefox you have twisted my arm by giving me motivation to follow through on some ideas. Hope you enjoy this part
The logistics talk had to wait. Danny got a call from his parents, and it seemed to panic him because he immediately handed the phone back to the first person who'd had it. Dick thought his name was Tucker, is the second voice was to be believed.
"Sorry about that," the young voice said into the phone. "It's better for Danny to answer that, the last thing we want is for the Fenton's to not be able to get a hold of him and end up creating another world ending- I mean, they'll, uh, break down Sam's door! Yeah, because they're looking for him. Because he wasn't home at a normal time."
Well, if the others were as terrible liars as Tucker was, then there wouldn't be much of a problem figuring out who these people were. Not that there was going to be much of one anyway, considering how bored Tim looked typing away on his laptop.
"Sure. I get it. Overbearing parents can be a nightmare," Dick responded, ignoring the small look B sent his way. "I take it he still lives at home?"
"I mean, I guess we all do? We don't really have much of another choice."
"Danny mentioned school schedules. Are you all students?" Kori asked. Her grip on his shoulder had relaxed significantly since hearing their daughter's voice, and it showed in her speech too.
"Well, yeah."
"I see. What college do you go to?"
"College? I mean, I really want to get into MIT, but I'd settle for-" Tucker let out a pained huff on the other end, like someone had just hit him. There was a furious whisper session, possibly muffed behind a hand, before Tucker came back on the line.
"So, uh, Mar'i said you were a cop?"
Dick had the advantage of being a Bat almost his whole life, or he would have missed how the whole family perked up at the mention of wanting to go to college. Paired with the young voices and living at home, these kids couldn't have been out of high school yet.
"Yeah, a detective. But you managed to get a hold of my personal phone number less than three hours after my daughter went missing, so I assume you know at least that much."
"Oh, uh, well I- we! We have a, um... a really good... social media stalking method!" Dick heard Steph and Tim stifle laughs. He thought he heard a "Seriously, Tuck?" come through the line, too.
"I was better at deception by the time I was six," Damian whispered with a scowl that mirrored Bruce's. He'd bet money that the scowl was mostly genetic. It was kind of cute, how the two looked so much alike.
Aunty Ri-ri. Why had that kid, Dan, said that? There was no way Mar'i had any relation to him, and he'd be willing to bet that she definitely looked different enough that mistaking her as a relative wouldn't be an option.
There was your amnesia year, he thinks, and it twists his stomach into knots. Who knows what happened? Certainly not you.
"Perhaps we could begin to discuss how we could pick our daughter up? It sounds as though my husband needs to speak to your friend. When is a good time to meet?" Kori spoke up.
"Well, that's sort of... we'd have to do some coordinating with a few people. You know, because of club meetings and stuff! Danny's really involved in local clubs."
There was more scuffling over the phone, and Time tapped Dick's shoulder as the group waited for the two teens on the other side to stop fighting.
"The call's coming from the house of the Manson family. New socialites, so they don't have a lot of connections yet. They definitely try, though. They have a child, one Samantha Manson. I'm working on finding her connection to Danny and Tucker."
Dick nodded, turning back toward the phone as the female voice from earlier, Sam, began speaking.
"Danny's going to need too do the talking about logistics. He'd have to get away from his parents and clubs, but it might help when he gets back if he knows when some good times to meet you and your husband are."
"Of course. Richard, when do you think you can get time off so we can get Mar'i?"
"I can cover his patrol for a night if it runs long," Jason volunteered, and Dick really hoped that wouldn't be necessary. Jason pretending to be him would no doubt be the best time for his younger brother to set up some pranks that he'd rather avoid right after getting his daughter.
"No," B shut down. "Nightwing can ask one of the Titans to cover for him. If they all turn him down then you'll cover for him."
"I can call the captain. I might be able to get tomorrow off, but the day after's more likely. How long do you think the conversation's going to take? It'll be easier to set up a time if I know how long to expect to be gone."
"I can't give you a good estimate. But I would plan for a minimum of two hours."
"Alright. I'll ask the chief as soon as this call is done."
"Sounds good. The sooner we can get her home the better."
"You said it," Danny said. His voice was distant, and tired. "They still on the phone?"
"Yep," Sam said. There was a whooshing sound, and then a thunk. Sam had tossed Danny the phone, as evidenced by his now much clearer voice.
"Sorry about that. My parents wanted me to stop by for dinner with the frui- my godfather. They can be hard to get off my back about stuff to do with him. Anyway, we were about to discuss picking up Mar'i?"
Dick, Kori, and Danny ironed out details as best they could, agreeing to call each other in an hour with answers about getting out of their responsibilities elsewhere. Danny had sounded caught off guard when Dick brought up getting out of clubs, just solidifying that Tucker was lying on the spot.
Once he ended the call and texted his captain to ask for the following day off to get Mar'i he finally took in his family again. Bruce was busy supervising Damian digging through school files to look up Samantha Manson, but Tim was staring at his laptop in shock. As if that wasn't bad enough, Jason was standing behind Tim, also staring in shock.
"What? What did you find? Is she in danger?"
"No," Tim said. "But... Well, I think I know why Danny wanted to talk to you."
"Why?"
"You're going to wanna see for yourself, Dickwing," Jason said, plucking the laptop off Tim's lap, much to his displeasure, and handing it to Dick.
Tim had successfully found Samantha Manson's social media accounts, as well as those of the two people on the phone. Tucker Foley and Daniel Fenton were the two most tagged people in Manson's posts, and featured in several photos.
Quick scans showed that the three appeared to be romantically involved, having been close friends since early middle school. In the past several years there were few photos of Danny, and photos with him in them often had him blurred, even if the rest of the image was clear.
Thankfully, Tim already had a picture of the boy from what must have been their freshman year pulled up. The three were posed in front of Casper high, which must be their high school. Tucker, to the far left, was smiling wide, an arm wrapped around Samantha, who stood in the middle. She would have looked bored, save for the small smile on her face and the way her arms wrapped around Tucker and Danny's shoulders.
And Danny...
Dick understood why Tim and Jason were so shocked. He doubted anything could have prepared him to seeing his own face staring back at him through the screen.
He heard Kori gasp as she looked over his shoulder, and it was everything he could do to not drop the computer. Danny Fenton had his dark hair, his eyes, his cheeks, and the start of his build. At least, he had in early high school.
"That was the most recent clear photo I've managed to find of him," Time said. "I tried using the image sharpening software, but it never turned out anything recognizable."
"Bruce..."
His father was behind him in a moment. He could feel the man's hesitation as he saw the photo, before he took the laptop and set it down.
"I... I have..."
"We don't know for certain," he said, turning Dick so they were facing one another. "We need to get more information. DNA, school records, birth certificates. But, if it turns out he is, how do you want to handle it?"
How did he want to handle it? He might have a son that he'd never gotten to even meet. That he was planning to go meet in the next few days. He had no idea how he wanted to handle it.
"We should finish deciding how we will be getting Mar'i home first," Kori said, slipping her hand into his own and giving it a squeeze.
"Yeah. The kid, Dan... He called Mar'i Aunty, and Danny didn't correct him. Which means they either strongly suspect a relation, or they know for certain. If I had to guess, that's why they want to talk.
"Don't think that just because Fenton may have some kind of blood relation to you that he can be brought into the fold immediately, Richard," Damian said. "I am more than capable of besting him should he try to take the mantle of Robin."
"I'm not going to tell him, Dami," he reassured his youngest brother. "Besides, I doubt he'd want to get wrapped up with our nightlife. He's clearly got his own normal life, I don't want to take that away from him."
~~~
Danny was going to kill Tucker. Since when had Danny ever been in any clubs? Now he'd have to come up with clubs to talk about if his maybe bio-dad asked about them. Sure, it'd be a little difficult since both of his partners were as liminal as Jazz, if not more by now, but he'd find a way.
After he contacted the Observants and made sure his usual band of rogues and friends left him alone for a week. Just in case his maybe dad (he had to come up with a better title) couldn't make it tomorrow or the day after.
Ancients, this was going to be such a hassle.
He'd probably meet outside of city limits anyway, just for an extra layer of security. If any ghosts decided to attack against his orders while his... while Dick was here, he wanted him as far away from the fight as possible. No point endangering him and Mar'i any more than necessary. Plus, they weren't Amity natives, ghosts wouldn't probably freak him and Mar'i out, not to mention Dick's wife.
Who was, apparently, an alien.
He hadn't thought about that really until just now. He could already feel the questions starting to bubble up, but he pushed the curiosity down. Schedule a week of with the Observants first, meet Dick second, ask the cool alien lady every question in the universe third.
"I'm going to go talk to the Council," Danny said, tossing the phone back to Tuck. "Am I okay to leave the kids here for a while?"
"Of course. You know they listen to us more than you anyway," Sam said, walking over to give him a quick goodbye hug.
"Yeah, and I'm eternally jealous. But at least they listen to someone," he said, walking over and kissing Tucker bye before walking into the kitchen and opening a portal to the Infinite Realms.
Every time he did that, he found himself grateful that Wulf had taught him how to get back and forth without the Fenton Portal. He'd destroyed midway through his sophomore year, and they'd been trying to rebuild it ever since.
He shuddered as he thought about it, shifting into his ghost form and feeling gravity revoke its hold on him before slipping through the portal. They'd called him earlier to ask if he'd seen where they left the blueprints they'd made from memory.
He did remember, he wasn't as stupid as his report card made him look. Which was why he wasn't stupid enough not to burn the blueprints when he'd found them.
~~~
He only barely got back in time to call Dick back. He hadn't gotten a week off, like he'd hoped. But they agreed to at least restrict access to the living world for a couple days. Not ideal, but at least it was better than nothing.
"How'd it go?" Tucker asked from the kitchen. He was setting out three plates of tacos for the kids, his own and Sam's sitting near the stove.
"Not ideal. But I got the eyeballs to at least lower the chances of any attacks for a few days, so at least it's not a sharp stick in the eye."
"Ouch, only reduced? Did you bring up her being... you know," his boyfriend said, stepping over to give him a hug. Danny felt like he could melt into his arms. It was unfair how good Tuck's hugs were when he was stressed.
"Yeah. That was why they decided to restrict everything. I probably should have talked to Clockwork first, gotten some advice, but you know how time works with him. I might've come back yesterday or two weeks from now."
"I hear ya. Come on, there's time for you to enjoy a taco before we call your maybe-bio-dad back. Sam's getting the kids together, so they'll be distracted during the call."
"Thanks, Tuck. You two are the best."
"Of course we are. Now, food. You know Sam won't let you get away with not taking care of yourself."
The taco was great, and Danny had vacuumed up half of it by the time the kids flew downstairs, chattering away between the three of them as they came to the kitchen table. Dan and Ellie were in their ghost forms as they sat, and Danny had to remind them that ghost powers weren't allowed at the table to get them to return to their human forms.
The dinner was uneventful, thankfully. Dan and Ellie had been busy showing Mar'i around the house, eventually turning it into a game of hide and seek tag. Ellie had gotten into a small fight with Dan when he'd used invisibility to cheat, but nothing to large thankfully. Mar'i, thankfully, seemed to be settling in well, and the other two weren't calling her Aunty, so small mercies.
"Alright. I'm gonna go call Ri-ri's dad back. Dan, Ellie, once dinner's done get ready for bed. See if you can find anything that would fit Mar'i to sleep in."
Danny stepped into the backyard, going ghost just long enough to fly up to the roof before changing back and dialing Dick's number.
"Hello, Dick Grayson-Wayne speaking. How may I help you?"
"Hey, it's Danny."
"Oh! Hi, Danny. Um... I guess the first thing to ask is if you managed to get out of your clubs?"
"Mostly, yeah. I might get called away last minute, but hopefully that won't be happening. School's a little harder."
"Yeah, I get that. I managed to get the next two days off, so Kori and i can be there by tomorrow. I assume after school works better for you?"
"Please. Mr. Lancer's going to have my head if I miss another class this week." Shulker had decided to attack right in the middle of English. It had been halfway across the city, though, so Danny'd had to make an hour long bathroom trip. lancer had been... less than impressed with him.
"You're missing class?" Shit.
"It's not important. I just... um... We should meet outside the city!" Danny prayed Dick would just drop the skipping school angle.
"... I was going to suggest the same thing. I'd rather not risk running into paparazzi. We've managed to keep them away from Mar'i so far, and I'd like to continue that if at all possible." Thank the Ancients.
"Yeah, totally. I get that. Is your wife coming with?"
"Yes. I figured she can take Mar'i and then we can talk like you wanted to." Danny sat, leaning against one of the chimney's on the house and looking up. It was a clear night, and even if the sun hadn't set all the way yet he could see the stars.
"That sounds good. There's a small mom and pop shop right outside the city. It's got indoor and outdoor seating, whichever you prefer. I know I'd rather keep the conversation private, for both our sakes, so if we could sit there there's fewer people that would be appreciated."
"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. Before you go, though, could I talk to Mar'i?"
"Yeah. It might take a minute to get down- to get the kids downstairs. They tend to be a bit hard to wrangle, especially when they have a friend over. I'll put you on hold."
Danny didn't wait for a response before hitting the hold button, going ghost to float to the ground before becoming human again. He strode inside, taking a deep breath before shouting for Mar'i, only to be met with three small voices, plus Sam's, yelling at him for yelling inside.
Shortly after, a stampede of two sets of feet came barreling down the stairs towards him. Mar'i was still flying, but Danny could tell that the bandages under her robot pajamas were fresh. hopefully, she would be able to walk with only minimal discomfort tomorrow.
"Woah, woah!" he said, holding the phone up. he felt the haptics that told him he'd hit a button on accident, he just had to hope that it wasn't the button to hang up.
"Dan, Ellie, it's bedtime for you two. Did you remember to brush your teeth?"
"Yes, Daddy," Ellie said, "but we wanna say hi to Au- to Ri-ri's mommy and daddy too!"
"How did you know that's- doesn't matter. It's bedtime."
"Aw, pleeeaaaassse, Daddy?" Dan said, teaming up with Ellie to give him puppy eyes.
"No. You heard your dad, it's bedtime."
"But Mama," Ellie whined, only to be met with Sam's hard stare.
"Bedtime. Mar'i Will be going to bed after she getes to talk with her parents, and I'll send Papa and Daddy up with her to tuck you in. Now, move your butts upstairs."
Dan and Ellie sulked their way upstairs, followed by Sam. She'd be back down in a few minutes after reading the four and six year olds a story and tucking them in. Which meant Mar'i would have some privacy to talk with her parents.
"Here you go Ri-ri," he said, double checking that he hadn't accidentally hung up. He hadn't, but Dick was very definitely not on hold like Danny remembered. Well, it wasn't like they'd said anything about ghosts, so it was fine.
"Stay in the living room, and then bring the phone back to me when you're done. I'm going to be in the kitchen." Mar'i was quick to snatch the phone from his hand, flying over to sit on the couch.
"Hi daddy!" he heard her say as he stepped into the kitchen to make another taco. Say what you would about Tuck, he could make a mean taco, even if they were vegetarian for Sam.
He intentionally tuned out Mar'i's voice. She, like Dan and Ellie, didn't have the best grip on volume control, especially on the phone. The conversation had nothing to do with him, so he instead busied himself looking up what he remembered from early.
Tamaranian was fairly easy, since Ri-ri had already mentioned they were a kind of alien. He found a few things about their home planet of Tamaran, power sets, and the like. Nothing struck him as too alarming or dangerous.
Which left the Joker. A quick search brought up two dozen articles, all from news sites located in Gotham. From what he could gather, the guy was a grade A wackjob. He'd killed dozens, caused significant damage to the city he lived in. He seemed to enjoy playing with lives like some kind of game.
The only reason he hadn't done more damage and hurt more people was because of someone called Batman, apparently a vigilante local to the city. Some research into him showed that he'd started as a solo hero, but had built a team that people called "The Birds" over the years. He also was apparently a part of a group called the Justice League.
He was about to do some digging into them when Mar'i ran in with the phone.
"Here you go, Mr. Danny! I'm going to go to bed now. See you tomorrow!"
"Night, Mar'i," he called after the girl rushing upstairs. he brought the phone back to his ear.
"So, I guess We'll talk tomorrow?"
"You're in high school, right?"
"Um... yeah?" Dick was quiet for a minute, enough that Danny wondered if he'd hung up.
"Ri-ri was telling me about your kids. I take it they're Miss Manson's?"
"W-what?!" he sputtered. "What makes you think that?"
"I'm a detective, Danny," Dick said. it sounded a lot like Jazz when she was explaining why it was important for him to get enough sleep. "It wasn't hard to find out that you two and Mr. Foley are involved together."
"Well, yeah, but we're not- they aren't- look, it's a long story that involves a fruitloop who was obsessed with me being his son, and I'd rather not try and explain over the phone."
"Right. Sorry, just... Sorry. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Talk to you then. Night."
"Night, Danny."
Danny hung up, staring down at the phone. He'd have to see if Sam or Tucker could pick up the kids tomorrow. Oh god, how was he going to take care of Mar'i tomorrow? Well, the daycare attendant had said a while ago that she'd owe Phantom a favor for saving the daycare. Maybe he could show up early as Phantom and ask that she take care of an extra kid?
He groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. The phone smacked uncomfortably against his forehead, but he paid it no mind. He already agreed to help his parents look for those blueprints, which meant he was going to have to spend the night at home, which meant he wasn't going to sleep, which meant-
He shook himself out of his spiral. One step at a time, that's what Jazz always said. One step. Right now, the next step was to tuck in his kids and kid sister.
Danny reincarnates as Tim's twin. The only problem is that his ghost powers act up in the womb from either the gross ecto in Gotham or an artifact that Janet handled while pregnant. Because of this only Tim is 'born', the Drake's either assume one was miscarried or never knew they were twins.
Tim meanwhile grows up with a brother his parents ignore more than him. It takes Danny an embarrassingly long time to realize what's going on and fix it but by then the twins are around 4 so can't really explain to the rest of Gotham.
When they become Robin, either Nightwing and Batman are almost convinced he's like Harvey with how many times they've found him talking and discussing plans with himself. Or with how bad their collective mental health was at that time think they're going crazy.
Only Alfred knows what's going on because he's Alfred.
Tim Drake is a strange child. Ever since he was little, he would point to empty air and interact with it as if someone was standing there and responding.
At first, his parents thought it was cute that he had an imaginary friend, and Mrs. Drake even shed a few tears when Tim proclaimed that it was the brother he had at birth. The second son of the Drakes had been growing healthy in her stomach until the very end of the first trimester when he simply vanished.
Not died, not stop growing- vanished as if he was never there.
The doctors and the Drakes had no idea what happened. Test after tests were done, but in the end, they could only conclude that the second baby was gone. It was theorized that Tim may have devoured his brother in the womb, though there had been no symptoms that Janet suffered from.
When Tim was born, Janet had nearly died with a false labor that happened only ten minutes after giving birth. The nurses and doctors had been panicking because they could not understand where the contractions originated. False labor was contractions during pregnancy, not after labor, so there was nothing the body could confuse for the urge to push.
They ruled it as a freak false labor since the only other match was Janet entering second labor. Still, as much as the nurses and doctors were ready for a monochorionic monoamniotic twin, nothing came out. Eventually, Janet passed out, and her body finally finished doing whatever it was doing.
It was no surprise that this experience ended up giving Janet postpartum depression. She tried to connect to Tim, but something in her just never clicked, and Jack was beside himself, trying to care for his child while his wife drifted further and further away.
A therapist suggested Janet return to work, which seemed to do wonders for her. She took part in multiple digs and went on many trips, but eventually, Jack felt like she was never home. Worried his wife wouldn't return to him, Jack jumped on a plane while leaving Tim in the capable hands of the housekeeper.
He said it would be a short trip just to get Janet to come back and get treatment.
Jack ended up helping at the dig site, extending his stay to his once again bright and loving wife. Seeing her back to her usual self led to him booking them another trip.
Then another, and another, and antoher. Before long, the Drakes rarely spent time in Gotham, and Tim grew bigger in their absence. Janet loved Tim, but seeing him only brought back guilt that she could not love him like other mothers could so quickly. She was so excited for their baby and had loved him with her whole heart while he was inside of her, but now, seeing those big blue eyes blink up at her, all Janet wanted to do was run.
She drowned in guilt, and sometimes, it felt that she was only breathing because Jack was there for her. He dragged her back to the surface only long enough to take a breath and be dragged under again.
She missed his first steps, his first words, and his first laugh. That's why hearing him call out to Danny was so jarring. She had stopped outside his room, carrying gifts in the form of toys, hoping they would make up for the fact that she had only seen him a handful of times for a solid year.
He was playing with blogs, babbling to "Danny." She had picked out the name of her other son when she found out she was having twins. The only person Tim could have heard that name from was the housekeeper.
Janet fired her after wiping her tears. She would hire a replacement that wouldn't mock her two-year-old son. She let Tim keep his imaginary friend, figuring he would outgrow it.
Tim didn't.
Over the years, Tim became increasingly convinced Danny was with him. He even started turning in classwork under the name Danny, and when a teacher would call him, he would respond with "I don't know. Tim is better at this than me."
Sometimes, when he acted out, Tim would be the one responsible. Tim was the one who got bored quickly in class, needed to be challenged more, and preferred to follow whatever hair-brain idea he had. Photography, skateboarding, and actual crime shows were what made Tim happy.
Then, he became Danny when he showed effort in school but struggled to keep his solid, slightly above-average results. This side of her son preferred astronomy and baking and seemed confused by their wealth. Almost as if he was new money instead of the old wealth the Drakes had. Janet also heard that Danny seemed to stick his nose in whenever a bully targeted a classmate, confronting them with a bravo she could not associate with Tim.
Tim was more like her. They dealt with their opponents through clever planning instead of confirmation, which Jack preferred. He talked to himself a lot, too. The Drakes weren't even in Gotham, but their family's whispers echoed through the gala halls anyway. As young Tim walked by, there were rumors and speculations.
The elites would gossip as Tim continued arguing that the decor was worth the money and that they couldn't steal it, no matter how much food it could buy people in their charities.
He whispers, yelling at the air as Janet watches from across the hall, her stomach turning with love and repulse.
Years after his birth, she could not bring herself to stand before him for too long. Jack followed because he worried she do something to herself if he didn't.
She could not deny it now that Tim was nine. Janet realized, after a while of reading reports involving her son, that he likely suffered from a split personality disorder. Seeing it in person was entirely different.
They'll likely have to have him instituted, and the thought almost has her throwing up. She wonders if she would have caught on faster had she been a better mother and been around.
She steels herself, crossing the room to speak to her son. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Jack has noticed and quickly tries to make an excuse to stop her. Fortunately, depending on who you asked, the men looking for an investor don't let their husbands go that easily, so she is clear.
"No, I won't ask him for an autograph!" Tim hisses, looking at the wall to his right as if someone were leaning against it with him. Janet's resolves wabble a little at Tim's pout. There is a short pause before Tim goes red. "I can't do that! Mr.Wayne is really protective of Richard."
Dread pools into her stomach as Tim's features shift, and a grin with a mad twist settles on his lips. "I already have all the pictures I want about him. My favorite is the one I took last night."
This can't wait. Janet loves her son; she does not care what anyone says that she doesn't, but she can't allow him to harm others. Stalking will eventually lead to harm; she knows it. Those are the early signs.
She opens her mouth, only for Tim to turn to her with a coldness she hadn't noticed he always regarded her with.
She had never seen joy on his face, so she had never had a chance to compare how he looked at her and Jack to how he looked at others. How he looked at Danny.
Janet feels everything in her freeze, and a tremble grows in her arms and hands. Trying to hide it, she drowns the glass of wine in her hand in one gulp but instantly regrets it.
The world become slightly hazy that alcoholic cause, and maybe it's been a long time since she last drank. She could have sworn she was seeing double for a moment, and an exact copy of her child was leaning on the wall behind Tim.
But that wouldn't make sense. Tim's eyes weren't green.
"Son." Jack's warm presence is behind her, placing a comforting hand on her back, and she can't bring herself to speak as her husband commands. He likely feels her trembles. "It's time to leave."
The second image of Tim flickers out of sight, and Janet walks out of the Wayne Gala, wondering if her son inherited his madness from her. Neither adult notices the soft thump of the backseat, nor do they pay much attention to Tim carefully buckling the air or how the blanket he keeps back there spreads itself across Tim's lap.
Janet falls into old habits, and instead of being up to what she realized that night, she convinces Jack to go to Guatemala. They are gone first thing the following day.
Tim watches them leave from the top of the grand stairway, his eyes glowing green in heavy judgment and ice that Janet would have felt in the coldest winter. Jack is chatting nonsense to fill the silence and keep Janet grounded, but when she peeks over her shoulder to the Manor, she spots Tim in the window of his room, watching them leave with a frown.
His green eyes are gone, and she feels a chill race down her spine. There is no way he could have run up the stairs, gone down four different hallways, and gotten to the window before they could get to the waiting car.
"Goodbye, Tim. Keep the house safe!" Jack says as he opens the car door for Janet, but he's talking in the doorway. Because that's where the grand stairway is. She hears her son respond but can't tell what he is saying.
She can only gaze upwards to where Tim waves at her while clutching the curtain. His mouth doesn't move. He isn't the one speaking to Jack.
Janet sits in the leather of the car, Jack beside her, holding her hand tenderly, and she rethinks about having Tim instituted. She should hire an exorcist instead.
When they get back, of course. The car pulls away from the driveway, and Janet does her best not to look back even as the door slams shut, as if the sound was meant to tell her never to return. She closes her eyes, holds her breath, and only lets it go when they are far away from Drake Manor and her son.
Tim: I've come to you in a time of great need. I need Dick and Bruce to get off my back.
Danny: I see and what's it worth to you?
Tim: A date.
Danny: Deal! Show them this movie. Got it from a neighboring universe.
Tim: What's it about?
Danny: A little girl who has a chronic illness and is slowly dying while her neglectful parents abandon her to be raised by her older brother who is bearly older than her. He hates and resents her but she never hates him because she relies on him to survive and feels like that's love enough. She is treated like a burden by her parentified brother who takes care of her until she dies in her sleep after telling him that she will always love him. It's the perfect movie to fill your family with guilt and I use it on Jazz all the time. It will make you want to curl up into a ball and cry though.
-okay okay I learned my lesson. No more making up media for posts. (I will probably forget and do it again)
-Next movie night-
Movie:What are you sorry for this time, Melody? Being born? Being sick all the damn time? Existing? It's not like you had a choice in any of it. No one wanted you around to begin with.
Damian:*biting the inside of his cheek* who let Drake pick the movie?
Movie:If you're dying, Melody, just do everyone a favor and hurry it up. Don't drag this out any longer. No one wants to watch you waste away in that bed. I'll get your fucking medicine. But this is the last goddamn time I'm saving your miserable ass, understand?
Bruce: *looking at the ceiling so he doesn't tear up of course* He can't mean that.
Movie:I love you. I know you hate me. I know you'd be happy if I was gone. But you're all I have in this world so I can't help but love you. You're my only family. If you weren't here I'd be dead.
Dick: *Has been crying the entire movie* noooo....please. She loves so much and he just-ghuaaa *sniff*
Movie:I'm not your family, Melody. I'm just the poor sap who got stuck with the job of keeping you alive. Don't mistake my grudging obligation for love.
Jason:*understands this too well and it hurts so much* fuck, I hate this so much.
Movie:I had gotten it from the medical school, I told her that I needed the heart monitor for research. That was a damn lie. I didn't know why I had done it, only that I couldn't bear the thought of her dying alone, unnoticed, unremembered. Or maybe I just wanted to know the moment when she finally dies and the exact moment I'd be free. That's so fucked up. I'm actually waiting for my sister to die...for my sake!
Cassandra: *walkes out of the room after feeling an emotion*
Movie:Last time we went to the hospital the doctor told me it wasn't long before her heart gave out. Even if an eligible donor could be found we wouldn't be able to afford the surgery. It would take a miracle for her to survive. Let's face it...there aren't enough miracles to go around... I'm just a kid! Why is it my job to do all this! I don't want to watch her die! I don't want this damn responsibility!
Barbara: *bearly holding it together and has been silently tearing up*
Movie:Goodbye, Melody. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry I couldn't be the brother you deserved. I'm sorry I hated you for so long. Maybe in the next life, Melody, we can be a real family. But for now, it's time for you to let go and be free of all this pain.
Stephanie: *sobbing* Duke, why aren't you crying?
Duke:*absolutely destroyed and going to breakdown later* I cry on the inside.
-Later-
Tim:*eyes red from crying* I think tye movie had the opposite effect. They aren't mad anymore but now they won't leave me or the rest of the family alone. Even Damian is being nicer.
Danny: Sooo...is the date still on the table?
(Ha, you thought I'd stop making stuff up?! Jokes on you!)
The family is going to ask where he got that movie. Especially when they can't find a copy anywhere. And when Tim tells them it came from his new boyfriend, they're going to question why that's a movie he'd give to someone he's dating.
"I asked for a sad movie." Tim rushes to excuse. He doesn't want them thinking bad about his new boyfriend, so he was fine with taking the fall
"It's actually how we started dating. I knew he loved indie bands, games, and movies. I had told him that their was no way to fully get immersed in an indie movie, cause of the low quality. He bet me he could find one that would make me cry. I told him that if he won, he'd take me on a date. And if I won, I'd take him on a date. Super cheesey, I know. But it worked. I did find out that he makes indie movies and his friends make games and music."
"Did... he make that one?" Jason hesitantly asked. "Cause you could have fooled me if you said it was a professional movie."
"He wrote the outline for the story and half of the script. Said it was based on something that happened in his own life. It's really good isn't it?"
And happily walks away. He got to brag about his new boyfriend, and bag about him. Even if he'd have to go tell Danny the cover story. He'd probably get to listen to more Dumpty Humpty with Danny.
Meanwhile, the family now has a bad impression, thinking Danny's a shit brother who profited off his sister's death. Or, was a friend of the brother and did nothing to help.
Until Damian sees Danny the first time.
Tim had brought the other young man the the manor to watch movies in the theater room, and had left to go to the bathroom. Danny was sat on one of the seats on the very edge of the row. There was a folded walker next to him. Despite how warm the manor was kept, the young man hadn't taken off his oversized Red Robin sweater.
As Damian got closer, he realized that Danny was wearing a cloth medical mask in dark blue with stars on it. He had a disposable eye patch in blue. There was also a single, navy blue, compression glove on his left hand.
When Danny saw him approaching, he perked up.
"Hi! You must be one of Tim's brothers. Damian, right?" His one visible eye upturned with the raise of his cheek, so he must be smiling.
He looked so friendly. Bubbly even.
"Yes, I am. I just wanted to check if my brother's partner was... good." Damian internally cringed at how flatly he ended the sentence.
Danny nodded sagely in understanding.
"Ah. You have to make sure I'm not mean or too weird. Hopefully, I'll pass the test on the first one. But I doubt I'll pass the second." Danny chuckled. "It's nice to see he has such a loving family."
"May I ask why you are wearing an eye patch and mask?"
"Oh, I have some scars I know look scary."
"I highly doubt Timothy would care about how your scars look. And no one in this family will look at you in a cruel way for having scars."
"Yeah, I know Tim doesn't care. But I don't like people looking at me with pity."
"That is... fair. However, if you feel that someone is looking at you with pity, just tell them. Most everyone will stop doing so or leave."
"Eh, it's your house. I don't want to make anyone leave."
"I assure you, the manor is large enough to do so. If you are to be my brother's partner, we will all have to get used to you. It would not do for you to feel uncomfortable for something you can not change."
"Ha, how sweet. But I doubt Tim will want to stay with me when I'm pretty boring. So there's no need to get used to me."
"I have found that the only way Tim will stop caring about a person he has chosen to pursue, whether as a friend, family member, or partner, is if he's dead. He is still kind towards all his ex's. If you are correct, and he does break up with you, you will still be welcomed at the manor as long as you are friends. It is in my best interest to get used to your presence."
"Wow, you sure know how to debate. You should join a team and keep practicing that skill. Alright, I'll take them off if Tim thinks it's okay."
"If I think what is okay?" The other young man asked as he entered the room.
"If you think me showing Damian my scars is okay."
"Unfortunately, the kid has seen way worse. He won't care. He's more interested in them now, because you're hiding them. Soon as you show them, he'll lose interest."
"Timothy." Damian tried to growl.
~
Long story short, Damian tells the rest of the family that Danny was, most likely, Melody.
Neglectful parents, an older sibling that was forced to take care of them, and severe disabilities that make it hard to be on his own. Danny had even said how he had once wanted to be an astronaut, but that he has a heart condition that prevents him from doing so.
Which leads to one family movie night that they invited Danny to. Him and Tim are cuddling until they fall asleep halfway through the movies being watched. (I'm going to put that it was probably a movie marathon of Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter.) Cassandra notices Danny's not breathing and rushes across the room to check Danny's pulse.
She stands straight up and leaves the room when she can't find one.
Bruce had rushed after her when she had checked on Danny, so he took over gently pulling the cold body away, and tried to find a pulse himself.
Nothing.
Bruce tells Dick to call an ambulance. He knows chest compressions would do nothing in this case. Jason hands him a blanket to put over Danny's body, then goes to burrito Tim and move him from the room. Duke sits next to Bruce, staring at the covered body in confusion. Stephanie goes to comfort Cass, and to flee the scene to cry. Damian hugs his dog to disassociation from the situation.
"Uh? Bruce? I really think you should do chest compressions."
"It's too late Duke. It's been too long and he's too cold."
"No, Bruce, he's still glowing. He always has a glow around him and it hasn't changed in the slightest. Hell, maybe just turn him on his side and thump his back. You know, like a drowning victim? Maybe he just needs someone to force his lungs to work? I don't know. But he's still there. We have to try."
Bruce looks at him, unsure. But he turns Danny on his side and and thumps his back. Hard.
Danny definitely likes the movie because it echoes the feelings he has for Dani and Jazz's feelings towards him. Watching a sibling die, neglectful parents, bearing the responsibility of raising someone as a child yourself. Also when he watches it with Jazz she gets clingy and holds Danny the whole time.
Jazz would tell the Waynes she made the film based on the struggles they went through. If anyone even suggested she was like the brother in the movie she'd throw a fit. The brother was a representation of repressed emotions and resentment.
Yes, Danny is Melody but so is Dani. They tell them that their youngest sister died of a medical condition she was born with.
Jazz and Danny are incredibly loving but also have a deep sadness and loss.
I can imagine Danny being openly talking and loving about Jazz, and how much she means to him.
And the batfam (minus Tim, because he has more details) just moving that bad impression onto her instead. Since how dare she, when Danny is so sweet to her despite what he showed she did in the movie.
Because apparently, for a family of detectives, they're really bad at metaphors, themes and media analysis. And took the film too literally.
"Joy is an act of resistance" is becoming a comparable phrase to "I'm keeping you in my prayers." It's a nice sentiment and it FEELS better than saying nothing but it doesn't actually require you to do anything so it's not especially helpful on its own. When I was a kid my mom was hospitalized for several months and our family got a lot of prayers but we definitely remembered the folks who backed up those prayers with a casserole. Make sure you back it up with a casserole in 2025.
Wander into a fairy circle, just a circle of mushrooms, come back different from that. Wonder what happened there? Got mushrooms in the brain didn't they?
Wander into the woods, eat strange food drink strange water, see a strange world, keep going back to the woods for more and why has this happened, what enslaved them? Brain fungus isn't it?
nothing is more frustrating than when I’m leading a serious discussion about the importance of learning how to properly research folklore & cultural stories from reliable sources and someone pipes in like “why does it matter if it’s all made up anyway?”
yeah dude vampires are made up and the whole “vampires couldn’t see their reflections in antique mirrors because of the silver backing” is made up so you can combine those however you want for fun.
but you can’t say “the Victorians believed vampires couldn’t see themselves in mirrors because of the silver backing, which is why Dracula has no reflection,”
because the author of Dracula was a real man who never said that and the Victorians were real people of a real era and you can’t just make up things about real people because it’s important historically for us to understand what people believed about the world and why.
Making up facts about vampires is folklore & literature. Claiming random people in the past believed that, with no evidence, is just lying.
“What if eye of newt is code for mustard seed and witches used strange ingredient names to conceal their spells’ true, more mundane contents?”
Fun, modern take on witches in classic literature.
“In the 16th century, eye of newt was code for mustard seed, and witches used it to disguise their spells. Shakespeare knew this code and used it in Macbeth.”
If you have come across this book on your own, you may be doubtful of its validity. Perhaps you still feel doubt even if this was given to you by the one I entrusted it to. It’s okay, I understand your doubts. I feel them myself as I am writing to you. … Through these tales I hope you, perhaps a descendant of one of my friends or maybe a future incarnation of myself, can find a connection to the past to help push you forward in your future.
-Avatar Yangchen, Sands of Time
Avatar Yangchen and her memoirs in Sands of Time are the cornerstone of Zuko’s journey in Learning to Fly. I was so fortune to commission @6y9brows ! She captured Zuko connecting to Yangchen and her friends through her writings so perfectly. I’m still speechless <3
If you’re interested in exploring Zuko’s journey (pretending to be a scholar) before Aang emerges from the ice, Avatar Yangchen, or some extended ATLA-verse worldbuilding, give Learning to Fly a read from the beginning ~!
[ID: A digital illustration of Avatar Yangchen, four original characters as her Team Avatar, and a young, banished Zuko. Yangchen is the focal point of the piece in the center. She is seated with her legs crossed in a lotus pose. Her airbending tattoo and necklace are glowing blue. She is looking down in a peaceful expression as she bends air. Below her is a young Zuko looking down into a book with an awed expression. Pages are flying out of the book and up into Yangchen’s airbending. Above and behind Yangchen are Siniq, a Water Tribe warrior, and Huizhong, a Ba Sing Se noble and earthbender. Siniq is wielding a spear. She is staring ahead intently, and the fur of her parka’s hood covers the lower half of her face. Huizhong is crouched in an earthbending form, one arm raised over her hand and the other extended down in front of her. She is focused on her bending. Stylized rocks extend outward, following the movement of her pose. Above and behind them are Tarkik, a Water Tribe waterbender and Siniq’s twin, and Akari, a Fire Nation princess and firebender. Tarkik is bending stylized water that swirls around Siniq and up around him in a wide spiral. His expression is a wide smile that crinkles his eyes. Akari is bending stylized fire that follows the movement of her pose. She is looking at her flames with a smile. /end ID]
Republicans deliberately use coded language to trick people to vote for them and radicalize their group. Many don't even realize they're radicalized or what they're saying is even racist. This is why they think the Left is "over reacting" because the either know they're using coded language and don't care, or they don't know anything at all.
DCxDP AU with the typical cultists summon the ghost king stuff, except the spell is supposed to trap him in a mortal body till he agrees to do the cult's bidding.
Danny is obviously not going to just do what they say, he will find his own way out of this body he is trapped in, thank you very much.
After escaping he is found by the police and identified as Tim Drake, which okay didn't expect the human sacrifice to be a famous guy, but whatever. All he has to do is pretend to be Tim for a few days while he figures out how to break the spell. Easy, Bruce Wayne is famously stupid right?
Of course the bat family had been listening in to the cult's summoning the whole time from a communicator Tim activated right before he was captured, so they are very very aware this is not Tim.
They can't say anything though because they have no idea what powers the ghost king has or how to get him out of Tim's body. It is determined that the best solution is to play along till they have a plan so the ghost doesn't run off with Tim's body or hurt him in some way.
Thus begins a game of lies. Danny, fake it till you make it, Fenton, pretends to be Tim with only the info available on his Wikipedia page. The bats pretend to not notice anything is wrong.
Danny can't investigate how to break the spell because no one will leave him alone for any length of time. The bats are struggling to figure out how to get the ghost king out of Tim when all their magic users are saying the guy is basically all powerful.
No one is happy about any part of this.
Meanwhile Tim is playing a 5D chess version of psychological warfare on Danny while stuck inside his own head. Danny is just like, 'please have mercy I am trying to get us both out of this safely.' Tim is like, 'anyway here's wonderwall for the 40th time today.'
All the bats are trying to get Tim/Danny to go to a magic show where Zatanna will try something. While Danny just wants to go to Tim's lab so he can mad science a solution.
Dick had been losing sleep over the same questions ever since he'd gotten to see Tim in his natural habitat 4 days ago.
Maybe he could just be out of his mind. It wouldn't be that unusual for him. Or any of them, really.
"Good morrow, Richard. Eldest son of the Wayne household. Don't mind me, as I am merely headed to the dining room for some human food because I am human and thus, uh, do that."
And admittedly, he does sound kind of like Tim.
"I'm not doing anything weird. These blood samples were there when I got here. I mean samples, test tubes! With, aa-alcoholic liquids inside. Yes, you've cought me. I've been drinking. I'm sorry. I'll go to my lab now, alone, and think about what I've done."
OK. Exactly like Tim.
"Hey, the car only lost two pieces. That's good driving by my standards."
And he still infuriates Damian to no end. Could this really be his little brother?
There were some glaring differences ofcorse. He was willingly eating. Dick even saw him down a full glass of water. He's been going to bed at exactly 3 pm and getting up at 10 pm... consistently! And he no longer looks like he's constantly on the verge of collapsing. And occasionally, he did say things that were out of character. Mostly staring conversations or complementing people. All of this could be signs of possession, or he's just choosing a healthier lifestyle. Can head trauma make you healthier? Shurely it can't. Bullet holes, maybe. And certain types of poisons, sure. But a concussion?
So then I noticed that Robin had stopped showing up where Batman was, and Batman had started getting way more aggressive. I decided I had to go and-
"Tim! Wanna get ice cream with me?"
Danny snaps out of his trance and looks at Richard.
Oh, come on, Dick never takes me for ice cream.
"Dick?"
"Yes, it's me, Dick." The utter joy on his face easily spilled into his tone. Dick grabbed his brothers* hand as if he'd just woken up from a coma and practically dragged him out of the library.
"My book." Danny lamented the copy of A Breif History of Time unceremoniously dropped on the floor.
Imagine that Danny technically could get out of the body whenever he wants. It’s just that…it would kill Tim immediatly. Benefits of being a Halfa is that while he is pure energy in ghost form, he already has a human body. So he could technically just transform back and it would break the spell. The problem? If he did that, he would literally form the body from inside Tim. It would look like that one alien movie.
And that would kill the guy instantly. SO! He’ trying to find a…non bloody solution to get out.
(Imagine the family, magic user’s, and even Tim’s reaction when they learn about this.)
