Are you a DPxDC cultist? Do you want to make the ghost king aid your evil plans? Then this message is for you!
Sacrificing a bunch of heroes to summon the ghost king? Old news. Done before. So last season. It’s like inviting your boss to a dinner party in the hopes of getting a raise; a lot of work and risk for very little reward. Boss might not come (failed summon) or the meal could turn out poorly (heroes escape) or you might accidentally offend the boss (ghost king get angy) and after all that you still might not get your raise! (Boon from the ghost king). That’s just failure with extra steps.
So what do you do instead? Bring the boss down to your level. Make them work for you now. How? Make a powerful clone (stealing hero DNA is easier than stealing a whole hero) over which you have complete control. Then use a magic ritual to force the ghost king to incarnate into said clone and bind him there. Bada-bing bada-boom. Now you’ve got the ghost king as your pawn! The power of a god in a body built from the finest mortals! And no pesky sacrifices to escape and foil your plans! MWAHAHAHAHA!
Danny Fenton is not Danyal al Ghul. They’d wanted him to be, but he wasn’t.
He still remembers when he first woke up, his whole body feeling raw and ill-fitted. Even his mind felt wrong, his memories not quite his own.
Which, he supposes, they weren’t.
Because Danyal is still dead. Executed on the orders of the Demon’s Head for failing to live up to his twin.
But the spurned heir would make a perfect figurehead to build legitimacy for a coup, so a splinter sect of the League stole away some of his remains before they could be disposed of. They may not have had permission to access the Lazarus Pits, but they could still turn to some more unorthodox methods of attempting resurrection. A combination of cloning, a few stolen and processed samples of Lazarus Water, and pieces of necromantic rituals.
And it almost worked.
Almost.
The body they constructed did indeed come to life, and clearly possessed at least some of Danyal’s memories, but it wasn’t him. The memories were locked behind a barrier, present in abstract but not felt. This thing they created could never pass for the deceased heir, and thus could never be the figurehead they wanted. So they decided to dispose of him.
But the clone’s memories had shown him this sort of betrayal before, and he did still have some of the original’s skills. He struck first, killing several of their agents and managing to escape the lab.
He had no idea what to do next, but at least he was free. Free to form his own life, to become someone unique rather than just not-quite-Danyal.
my clone^2 au (danny is a clone of bruce wayne and he acquires a Damian Clone) except i succumb to The Urges and make it a Single Dad au. Clone^2 except Single Dad Instead.
Just about nothing changes except Danny is now 18 instead of 16. Damian is still 6. I have nothing in terms of conflict im just thinking themb,,, 18yo Danny living in a studio apartment in Amity bc he couldnt keep living in the house post-graduation. It makes returning ghosts to the Zone a little harder, but he's mastered the art of sneaking in since he was 14.
n just. One night in the middle of patrol, the universe drops a child into his lap. It was really quite the dramatic affair. The sky churned green and purple and the air flooded with ectoplasm like a storm building over the horizon, he could taste ozone in his throat and feel a singing under his skin. This much ectoplasm isn't normal for the overworld.
And the air splits open and spits a child into his lap. A small, teeny thing with a sword tailored to him, with green eyes and brown skin and a face that, horrifyingly enough, looks much too familiar.
Danny--this version at least--as a general rule tends to avoid looking at news relating to the Waynes. It's nothing personal, he just... never... really got over the whole clone thing. Something about being lied to for fifteen years over your own heritage that really fucks with your head. The mirror in his bathroom is covered by a curtain, and he lets Sam trim his hair.
Regardless, he recognizes the face of the child looking at him, because it shares aspects of his own. And he knows Damian Wayne is not a child.
He panics. There's a scuffle. He ends up taking the boy home. Somehow. He's not quite sure how he managed that with the language barrier, but he did.
The boy calls himself Damian. It takes very little time and a google search to realize that Damian Wayne of Gotham isn't missing. The only logical conclusion is a clone.
Danny makes a split second decision, and decides to keep him for the time being. It's not like there's much else he can do; Damian knows no english, and Danny has no way of sending him back to where he came from. And he doesn't think he would anyways; what kind of madman teaches a child how to wield a sword with the intent to kill?
(There's always sending him away. Letting the police handle it. Maybe contact the Template (somehow) to let him know of his son's clone. Let blood family deal with it.)
(But the idea makes him ill. Again; nothing against the Waynes. Danny's just always had a bleeding heart problem, and he doesn't know how the little Damian might react to being transported so suddenly across the country. Damian is small, and scared, and confused, Danny wants to help first.)
(And... being cloned is a horribly violating experience. All the love to Dani; Danny still burned everything he could find that had his DNA on it in the family incinerator to prevent it from happening again. Damian Wayne may not be a young child anymore, but he's still a teenager-- having a clone of himself thrust onto him right now would be a horrible shock. You know what they say about ignorance.)
So, little Damian stays.
And oh is it so hard. It's so hard. The apartment is too small, and Danny needs to go on an emergency shopping spree to get everything he could that Damian might need -- dipping into what savings he has for it -- and then he can't leave Damian home alone all day, but he has classes and work, and the ghost-fighting--
Then of course there's getting his hands on official documentation for Damian -- Danny's positive he doesn't even exist in any official government sphere, period. Being a clone and all -- but that part's a teensy bit easier because they had to do that with Dani. And it's harder too because Damian is Damian Wayne's clone, and social media isn't like the way it was when Danny was a kid--
Then there's Damian himself. Who doesn't want to stay. Who wants to go back home -- and Danny feels like such a scumbag for it, but he can't in good conscience allow him to. Not when Damian knows all these skills that no child should, and clones don't typically hold good track records for the reasons behind their existence -- and is insistent on fighting Danny every step of the way. Who doesn't speak english and doesn't like Danny and who keeps trying to sneak out -- Danny put child locks on all the windows and it did nothing.
(There's Danny himself too. He can't stand looking at Damian some days, he keeps finding little bits of himself in his face and it renders him ill. Damian is Damian Wayne's clone, Damian Wayne is the son of His Template, and Danny never got over being a clone. He can't stand his own reflection most days. It doesn't matter how long his hair grows or what piercings he gives himself, that face is still not his own. And he thought he got over throwing up in the bathroom at the sight of himself. He did not.)
And its so hard. Danny calls Sam and Tucker one night and cries; he never cries.
It starts getting a little easier. He starts teaching himself arabic and Damian starts learning english, and Damian starts warming up to him, and Danny gets a good schedule under control. He's looking for a bigger apartment and a better job with better pay and better hours, and he's on top of his classes despite things. And Damian blooms.
He gets happier, he starts to relax, to warm up to his surroundings. It happens only after he realizes that nobody is coming for him-- and that's an episode in and of itself --and he steps out of the shadow of Damian Wayne and starts becoming Damian.
(The first time Damian laughs, Danny commits the sound to memory and promises himself to get it to happen again and again.)
And I'm just. Sitting here. Picturing Danny and Damian in the apartment. It's early morning -- the sun is barely up and there's still fog coating the city -- and Danny is blasting music out of his phone speaker while making breakfast. Damian is in fuzzy pajama pants and one of Danny's stolen (old) band shirts, with his hair grown out and sticking out in a bad case of bedhead. Sitting at the table with a blanket cocooned around his shoulders and his knees pulled up on the chair.
Danny's in a similar state, sweatpants low on his hips and his pajama shirt hanging off his shoulder. His hair, much longer than Damian's and has been since he found out he was a clone, is unbrushed and tangled and pulled back only so he can see while making food. He still has residual eye makeup smeared over his eyes -- because in this universe, he has no ghost form, just a mask and some gadgets he made himself -- from last night's patrol. His mask is laying haphazardly on the counter nearby, and his boots are kicked off by the fire escape in a pile. His thermos in the sink and his grappling hook on the floor.
Danny sits down at the table, pulling his chair next to Damian, and Damian turns and flops face-first into the side of his arm with a grunt, eyes kitten-squinting with sleep. Danny's heart is SO fond, and despite himself he loops his arm around Damian's shoulders and tugs him into his ribs, and then hunches over to rest his chin on his head.
"Damiaaaan," he murmurs low in a sing-song voice, unable to keep the joy out. He can feel the way Damian's nose scrunches against his side. "Wakey-wakey bud, s'time to eat."
And he gets an noncommital grunt. He can't do anything but press a helpless and hopelessly in love smile into his boy's hair, and shake him gently, "Dames, m'boy," he tries again, "up and at 'em."
And OH are they so domestic. Oh are they so soft. They're not their templates. They don't have to be like their templates. Oh do they care so much about each other. And OH am i going insane.
Jack Fenton was a round kid. Jack Fenton was a round kid with big blue eyes and a pudgy face and a brilliant smile, with a big laugh loud enough to rattle your bones. He was a stocky kid, big and tough and strong as an ox. He was the champion wrestler at his high school. Then he grew up, and he's still big, and broad, with a square jaw and straight black hair. He can lift both of his kids with one arm and lift his wife with the other. His smile remains brilliant, he has eyes like the open ocean.
Maddie Fenton was a willowy kid. Maddie Fenton was a willowy kid with bright eyes and a round face and a mind sharp like a scalpel, with a smile that could convince anyone to do anything. She was a tough kid, thin and lanky and strong like bamboo. She was top of her martial arts class by the time she was twelve. Then she grew up, and she's still brilliant, and she's no longer willowy, with a pointed chin and eyes that look purple in the dim light.
Jazz Fenton was a thin kid. Jazz Fenton was a thin kid with bright teal eyes and a soft face and a mind like a rabbit's, with a silk-hiding-steel voice that could sink into your bones. She was a bright kid, social and bookish and brilliant. She jumps from interest to interest like they're lilypads, soaking in everything that catches her eyes. She wants to be a doctor, then a therapist, then a teacher. She's growing up.
Danny is.
Danny is...
Danny is a small kid. Danny is a small kid with pale skin and a chubby face and eyes that are neither round nor blue like the open ocean, with a quiet voice that sounds like the wind whistling through the trees. He is a quiet kid, shy and skittish and hiding. He has eyes like a lamb; big and sweet, and they will swallow you whole. His eyes are blue like a glacier, and they see right through you, curtained with dark, wet lashes. His hair is black like an oil spill, black like raven feathers.
Danny is a watchful kid. Staring and watching, silent. Observing. He stares at the stars, as his parents work, at the neighbor across the street as he tinkers with his motorcycle in his driveway. In a house full of suns, there must be a shadow. In a city covered in sunlight, the dark always goes somewhere.
Danny is an outcast kid. He is an ink blot on a white page. He is a dark storm cloud over an open field. The looming shadow behind the trees. He is young and sweet and scary, with gentle fingers that are slender and long. His laugh is neither big nor does it rattle your bones, and his mind is not quick like a rabbit's nor is it sharp like a scalpel. His mind is radiant, the nail catching on the loose thread and unraveling it all in meticulous precision, and his laugh is soft and warm and it seeps into the soil like rainwater, soothing the ground.
Danny is a kid with a face like a stone statue; sharp and cold and pale, smooth and tall and cutting. With hair black like the night, that wisps and curls behind his ears and at his neck, swooping in his swallow eyes. He squints in the light as if his eyes will never get used to it, if you listen to his heart you can hear it bleeding.
Amity Park is a city with a blue sky and white clouds and a bright sun, a postcard come to life. Pretty and safe, full of normal people and normal jobs and normal parks and normal schools and normal children. In a world of heroes and powers and magic and aliens, Amity Park is a place that your eyes slide right over.
Amity Park is not made for a child like Danny Fenton, and Danny Fenton is not made for a place like Amity Park.
do yall ever think about bruce/batman!clone danny standing in front of his bathroom mirror after finding out he was a clone and silently tracing his face. The slope of his jaw and point of his chin. The high angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, the curve of his brow bones and the shape of his nose. The volume of his hair and the way it curls and gets fluffy when it gets too long.
His hair is black the same way a crow's wing is black. His dad's hair is black the same way a black bear's fur is black. His dad's eyes are blue like the ocean is blue. Danny's eyes are blue the same way a glacier is blue.
His dad has a square jaw and straight flat hair, and he tans and gets a face full of freckles when he's out in the sun for too long. Danny burns like a lobster and his face remains untouched. Danny has a sharp jaw and tall cheekbones, and Sam says when he's not smiling there's almost something regal about him. You would never call Jack Fenton "regal" when he's not smiling.
Sam says when he's not smiling he looks scary the same way a stone statue is. Jack Fenton when he's not smiling looks scary the same way that german shepherd staring at you across the street is.
Do you ever think he grew up wondering if he was adopted. Because of course, he has black hair and blue eyes like his dad. But having the same color doesn't make you someone's child.
Or, worse, things he's heard from the other kids and the other parents and even some of his teachers growing up; that he was the product of an affair. And that his dad was just too stupid to notice. And Danny would defend his parents until the day he died, because Jack Fenton wasn't an idiot and Maddie Fenton wasn't a cheater.
But doubt comes in with fickle tongue. his parents swear up and down that he is their child when he asks about either. That Danny just had his grandparents' features, but he was their son and they loved him.
But Danny doesn't look like either of his parents. His mom's eyes are blue like an aquamarine and Jazz's too. And they burn like lobsters in the sun too, but Jazz gets freckles on her face and so does Maddie. And as Danny grows up he doesn't bulk up or get stocky like his dad did, and when he hits puberty he doesn't shoot up like a tree like Jack Fenton did.
He stays small, and they say he's a late bloomer (and he is), or that he just has his mom's height. But he's fast and has good stamina, and some days it feels like he's built entirely different from his family. That the things they went through growing up just didn't apply to him. Jack and Maddie Fenton both had acne and breakouts when they hit puberty, and Jazz inherits it and he's seen the amount of skincare products she keeps on her side of the bathroom.
And then he hits puberty and breaks out maybe once or twice, but his skin stays clear for the most part and the problems and changes his dad went through just don't happen to him.
So when they decided they wanted kids, they figured they could do the in-vitro fertilization themselves. They’re scientists, after all, how hard could it be? Additionally, because they were concerned that their DNA could be contaminated by the Ectoplasm they’ve been working with, they decided to add a bit of a third person’s genes to try to cover for that.
Except, well, they didn’t do that part entirely right.
They didn’t realize it at first, but only the third donor’s genes ended up sticking around in the embryos. Meaning that their kid was, technically, a full clone of that third person.
…needless to say, it was a bit of a shock for everyone when they found out later.
