Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
Percabeth antis: Percabeth is such an abusive relationship!
Me: Really it's abusive? Perhaps you don't know how relationships work. You clearly say Annabeth is abusive by saying she judo flipped him (which yeah I agree it's not a good scene) which have you heard of messing around. Also ever heard of nicknames? Also you guys don't know jack shit about abuse. I've seen it and been through it. You guys claim Annabeth is abusive but then you proceed to ship Percy IN toxic relationships such as Percico and Perpollo (which the gods are usually abusive). It's the same with Annabeth when you guys ship her with Luke. Or Annabeth with Reyna or Piper (Reynabeth and Pipabeth are good ships actually. But I feel they barely interact??? Correct me if I'm wrong)
I don't care about the antis liking Jasabeth( I engage with that tag occasionally. But I've seen some jasabeth shippers that are anti percabeth) but I still think it's ridiculous that you antis see one scene that is completely harmless and normal for teenagers to do. Then you call it "abuse".
I want to walk through this statement simply because I found it interesting. It is a disagreement, yes, but in no way an insult to the OP.
Percabeth is not my main ship. Yes, I believe Percabeth is not a healthy relationship, for either of these characters. I do, however, enjoy the exploration of this dynamic because it's one that has potential. This is relevant only in that I am acknowledging my biases.
Saying Annabeth judo-flipping Percy "is not a good scene" is an interesting way to minimize Annabeth physically lashing out at her significant other out of anger. Which is, canonically, what she did. Did she plan to do it? No. She got angry and reacted to that. Is this a dealbreaker? Depends on the person. It was, however, something that should have been worked on. No matter what relationship you have with somebody, unless you are under attack, it's not ok to turn your anger into a physical attack. Percy is not her enemy; Annabeth was not under attack. Does this make Annabeth a horrible, irredeemable human being? No. She is a deeply traumatized teenage war veteran, and she is allowed to have slip-ups. It was not an ok thing to do, it was not a healthy developement for the relationship. Acknowledging that is not condemning Percabeth to die. Again, in this particular case, it's an indication that they need healthier ways to deal with her anger.
Comparing the judo-flip scene with messing around is disingenuous. And it's this comparison that is made in order to call this scene something harmless and common for teenagers. The difference comes from intent: messing around with somebody, physically, through banter or in whichever form it comes, implies a level of playful intent. Annabeth was not relaxed in the slightest; her intention was not to play with Percy, to joke. Her feelings are explicit in the scene: she's relieved to see him and then, just as fast, incredibly angry that he left. She reacts to that catharsis of relief plus anger by attacking him. These two things are not comparable. It's ok to say that the judo-flip scene was not ok and still think Percabeth is a healthy enough relationship. There's no need to minimize what is, objectively, an unhealthy moment in the relationship. I would find a fic where Percy and Annabeth work through this moment to be very interesting.
The thing about the nicknames: alright. They have nicknames for each other that have history. I don't see an issue with the nicknames as long as both parties in the relationship are comfortable with this. Could it be twisted in a fic to make it seem bullying? Sure. Depends on which story you are trying to tell, but I agree. They are teasing nicknames, kinda cute with the history of them. And the comparison with other ships: I believe the OP is trying to say that they're hypocrites for disliking Percabeth for being abusive while liking these ships when written as abusive. I suppose? I can understand how that can be frustrating, even if I am not bothered.
Now, onto the part that made me want to respond: That somebody has seen and been through abuse does not make them an expert in it. Abuse, in any relationship, is a complex matter. One person's experience with abuse in one or multiple relationships does not make them qualified as the be-all end-all of what abuse is. Yes, I wanted to talk a little about the judo-flip scene and Percabeth in general because I do like exploring the relationship. It's complex, with two interesting characters. It has the potential to be a powerhouse of a relationship or to break down in flames, depending on how each author plays with it. But ultimately, this is the part I wanted to address: being a victim of abuse does not qualify you to tell others what abuse is or isn't due to how complex abusive dynamics are.
I have also lived through abuse; I have seen it, lived through it, sat down with my therapist, and worked through what it has done to me. If I sit here and declare that Percabeth is abusive, how are we to determine which of us, abuse victims, has a better understanding of abuse? Do we sit here and compare which one of us had it worse? Or which one of us had a more similar relationship amongst our ill-advised adventures? Further, how do you know that no anti-Percabeth has suffered abuse? How do you disqualify their expertise under this belief? It's absurd.
Ultimately, Percabeth is a fictional relationship. There's nothing wrong with deciding to showcase them as this incredible power couple, or as a sweet, gentle couple people write poems about, or as an abusive dynamic. Whatever makes the author happy and gives the author the catharsis they need. As long as people tag everything as they should, so that it can be better found or hidden in your search, I don't see an issue.
Assassin Heir? Crime Fighting Furry? NOPE NO THANK YOU!
"Danyal, its time to end this game and return with me."
Danny should had known Clockwork had something in mind when he sent him on this mission. He knew he should had been suspicious of the time keeper when he noticed the little 'this is going to be fun' smile on his face when he sent Danny off into the portal.
"Get back here you demon spawn 2.0!"
But how was he supposed to know that he'd wake up in this world version of himself in a pit full of corrupted (AND NASTY) ectoplasim at the tender age of five or that when he swam up to the surface he'd be meeting face to face with what was apparently a cult.
"-O just spotted him a block away! I'll try to cut itty bitty bridie off!"
An Assassins Cult his, new to him, loving yet a little insane mother was in charge of (though during the few months he stayed in the compound he heard rumors and gossip from maids and others alike that if his grandfather returned from the dead he'll take over once again, no doubt punish Talia for creating another heir after the failure of the last one, most likely was going to kill Danny and that... that was can of worms Danny didn't wanna deal with yet)
"Ten bucks says they try to stab RR when we get the feral thing home"
"...Losers bet...."
Danny had lived with his mother for a while after being brought back from the 'dead' for apparently the first time, it turned out training a five year old with an actual sword and a dumbass hidden revenge seeking teacher was a terrible idea.
"I swear if this one tries to murder me like the others I'm asking Zatanna if there is a curse on me."
He dealt with her high demands of perfection, the endless training, and the constant comparisons to his apparent older brother Damain... Who didn't know Danny, or rather Danyal existed.
Nor did his father (when Danny, using his powers he's kept hidden since 'waking' up in this Realm, he sneaked his way around the base and discovered how he came into the world. And tbh he couldn't blame his mom how she made him, she was an assassin first and foremost, being naturally pregnant would had painted a target on her for to long... but he also felt it was unfair and an asshole move on his unsuspecting father as well)
"As your elder brother I demand you to stop running!"
Now don't get him wrong, he did like his new mother (total badass assassin lady and all that) and he knew she loved him in her own... deadly way. But yeah, she really shouldn't be taking care of kids. He could tell she struggled with wanting to be a normal mother but her first instinct after so many years was to be an assassin first.
Something she was trying to engrave into Danny with as well.
"Ah, hello Beloved. I see you've learned of our Danyal."
"Talia. Back away from him and leave Gotham now."
"I can not do that. The League needs an heir and since Damian refuses to return... I have decided to create a new one and I shall not be leaving until he returns with me."
"Talia."
Hence why when Danny, or rather Danyal al Ghul had gotten decent control over his powers he decided to leave the League. Again nothing wrong with the life his mom leads, to each their own, but he... really, really didnt want to be an assassin. Or an assassin heir.
So here he was, after almost a year on the run, using his powers and training to out smart and out maneuver his mother and her many band of Assassins, in Gotham. One of the last places he ever wanted to run to cause he knew his father and brother lived here.
It was just his luck that his mother had managed to intercept his train ride that passed into Gotham for a few hours and forced him to run into the city...
Add her assassins into the mix and running into Robin, who heard from Oracle his mother had been spotted chasing a young boy across the city, that same night.
After that it became a full on "catch me if you can" chase for not only his mother but for the batclan as well.
And after two whole days of chase, it seemed like the final showdown was about to begin because everyone was on top of this rooftop, his mother and her assassins on one side, his father and the batclan on the other and Danny well... he was right in the middle of all of it.
He just had to hope no one would notice him once the fighting started...
The two sides were glaring at each other. Or at least, that's what Danny assumed. It was hard to tell when people's faces where half covered. Neither side moved watching the other.
"Danyal. Come here," his mother ordered.
Nah. He loved her, just as she loved him. She wasn't exactly the sanest though. Neither was his dad, since he was a surprisingly popular out and proud furry. Danny was waiting. As soon as the two sides went after each other, he was going to make a run for it. His mom stepped forward, and the batclan leapt forward.
Danny dodged and weaved as the two sides clashed, trying to prevent the other from getting to him. Once he was pretty sure they were all distracted, he jumped down onto a fire escape and made himself invisible, running away. He couldn't hold it for long, but it should hold long enough for him to lose his tails for a bit.
***
Danny was pretty sure he wasn't followed. He'd managed to make his way to the observatory. It was easy to sneak inside. He'd decided to use the techniques his mom had shown him. Danny was still tired from using his powers earlier. He paused at the gift shop, looking longingly at some of the posters, toys, and clothes. He could live without it, but it would be nice to have one of those.
Danny shook his head.
He didn't want to steal.
Sighing, Danny moved on. He wanted to check out the movie room. It would be a nice place to sleep for the night, and he could fall asleep listening to the stars. Following the signs, he made it to the theater room. It was easy to find the console. From there, he turned on a video about the Hubble telescope and the James Webb telescope. Those would be fun.
Danny started them up, then meandered down to the rows of chairs. He laid down in the first row, spreading himself out across two of the seats. They were cushioned nicely. He'd been taught how to fall asleep when in uncomfortable situations. Danny drifted off hearing the narrator talk about the galaxies.
***
He woke up hearing two people talking, asking who had been the last to lock up for the night, how could they have left the projector running. Danny scrambled to get up and hide. It was child's play to sneak back out. His stomach grumbled. He'd had to steal food this past year in order to say alive. He didn't like it, but it was necessary. Danny made his way to a fancy looking grocery store that wasn't that far away.
His mouth watered seeing the fruits and vegetables. He'd hated them in his last life, but he appreciated them so much more in this one, where he rarely got enough to eat. Danny went in, looking for an adult to hang around who he could pretend he was with. There. There was an elderly gentleman stocking up his cart, filling it full. Danny made his way to the man and hovered around him, but not too close.
Danny stole an apple and an orange, hiding them in his hoodie. He also snuck a chocolate bar. Life was tough. Some sugar would do him good. Not only that, but chocolate was full of magnesium. That was an important micronutrient. He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard the elderly man say to the cashier.
"Add an apple, and orange, and a kit kat bar. I'm afraid my grandson has squirreled them away. He refused breakfast, so of course he is hungry now." Danny's head snapped up, assessing the man.
He had white hair and was balding at the top. He looked stern, but there was a kindness to him. Afterall, why else would he have paid for Danny's stuff? He followed the man out of the store.
"Thanks. You didn't have to do that," Danny admitted, scuffing the ground with his toe, ashamed yet grateful.
"No. There is a a small bakery and coffee shop down the street. If you help me put the items in my car, I'm more than happy to get you breakfast," the man explained. Danny nodded. It was a good trade, not only that, but it was easy to help the man. He told Danny his name was Alfred Pennyworth. Danny just said his name was Danny.
At the cafe, Mr. Pennyworth got some tea and scones while Danny got hot chocolate and an egg quiche with vegetables. It was really yummy. Danny tried to savor the drink. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had something so yummy. Definitely not since waking up in this body.
"Some of my grandsons will be here shortly. They were in the area. I do hope you won't mind them joining," Mr. Pennyworth told him calmly.
"Okay," Danny mumbled. Maybe he should try to leave before that... he was kinda gross and stinky.
He didn't really have a chance to leave though, as it felt like just seconds later, three men entered the store. The oldest, silver just starting to enter his hair, sat down next to Danny. He shifted uncomfortably. It was going to be harder to leave now. He didn't want to act suspicious and attract attention though.
"Bruce! What a surprise. I'd thought it was just going to be Tim and Damian."
"I was the one who drove them out here! Tim wanted to check out the observatory," Bruce said joyfully before turning to look at Danny. It kinda unnerved him. It reminded him of his mother's gaze, picking him apart, looking for Danny's flaws. He hated it. He needed to get out of here!
"Hello there! I'm Bruce Wayne! Nice to meet you! Where did Alfred pick you up at?" Was this something Mr. Pennyworth did often? Danny thankfully didn't have to answer as the boys sat down. One was older, probably sixteen or seventeen while the other looked to be twelve.
"Here's yours," the elder one said sliding a cup to Bruce. He then sat next to Alfred, the twelve year old sitting at the end of the table.
"Thank you Tim." He was turning to ask Danny something again, something Danny didn't want. So he decided to jump in.
"Tim! You wanted to go to the observatory. What did you want to see there?" Tim blinked.
"Uh, they updated the documentary to include new information since the James Webb telescope was launched a little while ago."
Perfect.
Danny has spent all night listening to that on repeat. He could rant about that telescope till he bored them and made them leave him alone! He just needed to be as annoying and know-it-all as possible. Time to channel Jazz.
"Did you know that the James Webb was built to extend the capabilities of the Hubble telescope? It has a whole bunch of infrared equipment, that way it can be an orbiting infrared telescope. It's made with gold coated beryllium that way..."
Why weren’t they getting bored? Why were they all listening as if this was the most interesting thing they’ve ever heard? Danny was running out of information to info dump on them about the telescopes. He had plenty of more facts about space and galaxies and all that good stuff, but the satellites and telescopes? Yeah, he was out. Tim had been surprisingly knowledgeable and had been a good listener. He’d mentioned some a University in Arizona that was known for their optics program and made some of the best and largest lenses in the world. Also how they had a great astronomy and astrophysics program due to the fact that the sky was so often clear there and it was relatively easy to find an open patch of land in the desert that did not suffer from light pollution and view the heavens from there. Danny hadn’t known any of that, happily drinking his hot chocolate while Tim explained. He was brought out of his thoughts when Bruce interrupted.
“Wow. You know a lot about the stars. Would you like to come with us to the observatory?” Bruce was smiling, but it was softer this time and didn’t feel as fake. It still felt weird. Why was this family accepting him? It was really suspicious.
“Oh no, I couldn’t. It’s your family that you were going to do with Tim and Damian,” Danny protested.
He wanted to go. He did. But he shouldn’t. Also, this was Gotham? He’d heard so much about this city, who in the world were these people that they were like: ah, let’s take that street urchin in his ratty and stinky clothes to an observatory! Were they trying to kidnap him? Probably. Ah well, he could kick their asses when they revealed their hand and then leave. Danny was still trying to lay low and hide from his mother and his father, the Batman. Mother might suspect him of going to an observatory. She did know him, and knew that he liked stars. Probably? Was he giving her too much credit? She had him on purpose because her other son hadn’t turned out the way she wanted. Mother hasn’t been thrilled to discover his interest in space. No, she’d just wanted the perfect soldier, the perfect heir.
She’d lost that when she’d killed her son and revived him in the Lazarus Pit.
Older Danny’s memories had meshed with his younger, reincarnated selves ones, but older Danny had so many more memories and a lot more life experience. Little Danny? Not so much. The love he had for his mother had stayed though.
“Oh, I insist,” Bruce said, putting his hand gently on Danny’s shoulder.
Danny bit his lip. He glanced around at the others. Damian hadn’t said a word, just watching Danny. He had the same gaze as his father, Bruce, had initially. As if he was trying to look into Danny’s soul. Alfred looked serene and calm as ever. Danny felt safer if both Tim and Alfred would come with.
“Will you be coming too, Mr. Pennyworth?” Danny asked, trying to give his best innocent and cute look at the older gentleman. He also subtly pushed off Bruce’s hand, not liking it on him.
“I’m afraid I must get the groceries home. They would not survive a trip to the observatory,” Mr. Pennyworth said. Danny frowned. That sucked.
“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t want to impose…” yes, nice and easy, get away from this nice but really weird family.
“You wouldn’t be imposing! Don’t worry about cost either! I have plenty of money,” Bruce chuckled.
“Yuck,” Danny blurted, then blushed. Okay, so he kinda hated rich people. He blamed Vlad. Tim let out a surprised laugh, although he tried to stop it as quickly as he could. Damian, however, bristled.
“How dare you say that! Father is one of the most generous men on the planet and his charities help the people of this city and those all around the world!” Bruce put his hand on Damian’s shoulder.
“It’s alright, son. I don’t think Danny knows who we are. I’m Bruce Wayne, does that ring a bell?” It did, but Danny didn’t want to tell him that.
“No,” Danny told the man before finishing off his hot chocolate. It was a little cold at this point, but it was still good. He’d finished the quiche during his discussion with Tim. Decisions though. He really, really wanted to explore the observatory while it was open and not at night…
“I’ll go, but you have to answer one question first,” Danny told Bruce, looking up at him. He was going to have so much fun messing with this trillionaire.
“Of course!” Danny was going to make him regret that. They would either let him leave or still take him after this question. Probably let him leave.
“You’re not a pedophile, are you?”
Bruce’s eyes widened, and he looked stunned. Damian stood up and started yelling. Mr. Pennyworth looked perturbed. Tim looked like he wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or cry. What could he say? He was a bit of a chaos gremlin.
***
To Danny’s utter amazement, the Waynes still wanted to take Danny to the observatory.
They had to have some sort of ulterior motive. No one would have taken Danny after he asked Bruce that so bluntly. Were they connected to the Bats? Or his Mother? Either way, Danny was just going to use them a bit, making them go with him to every single exhibit, check out all of the telescopes, and watch as many of the movies in the theater as possible. Tim though, Tim had been the one to surprise Danny by getting him a few items from the gift shop. A little model rocket, a poster of a few different galaxies, and even some astronaut food.
It was really nice of the teen.
Damian had been extremely bored and clearly did not want to be there. He kept trying to tell Danny what to do and how to act, which just made Danny want to do the exact opposite. It was honestly fun to make the other kid mad. When he did, he would hide behind Tim’s leg and give the older teen the most innocent look he could manage. Bruce looked super tired from dealing with their squabbles.
If he couldn’t handle it, he shouldn’t have invited Danny along!
That led to the interesting conundrum. It was becoming dark, and the observatory was about to close. Bruce and his kids didn’t seem to want Danny to leave. It was super suspicious. They were outside now, Danny holding his little bag of goodies. While he could be subtle when he wanted to be, now really wasn’t the time for subtlety. Walking forward in front of the little family, Danny turned to face them. He was prepared to run if they made any weird moves.
“So. Who’s side are you on? My mom’s? Or are you on the side of my dad, the furry?”
“What makes you think we have anything to do with your parents? Whoever they are,” Bruce asked. Danny rolled his eyes.
“Please. Any normal person would want to get away from me as soon as I asked if they were a pedophile. The fact that you didn’t leave me alone right after that? Super suspicious. I may be five, but I’m not dumb,” Danny told them, annoyed. Sometimes being so little was helpful, sometimes it really, really sucked!
The three people studied Danny. He fidgeted.
“Well? Are you going to answer my question?” Danny demanded.
“We’re with… Batman,” Bruce reluctantly said.
“Yeah, I thought so. None of you really seem like people my mom would associate with.” Apparently, that was funny, as Tim covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his laughter.
“Why would you think that?” Damian questioned, crossing his arms and… pouting? Ancients, was the twelve year old kid really pouting? It was only because Danny had been taught how to read even the most subtle body language by his assassin mom that he could tell the other boy was upset.
“Uh, you’re not all stabby and don’t really seem super dangerous,” Danny explained. That seemed to get Tim even more, as he made a strangled sound and pulled out his phone.
“I need to tell Jason. He’s going to love this so much,” Tim managed to wheeze out. Danny was not waiting around till Jason showed up. He was getting out of here.
“Anyway, good to know that you’re with the caped furry. I hope to NEVER see you again,” he told them cheerily.
“WAIT!” Damian yelled, grabbing Danny’s hand. Danny frowned at the surprisingly strong grip. “Don’t you want to meet your older brother?”
“Uh, no,” Danny told the other boy. Damian’s face went stony at the answer. “I’ve been compared to my older brother my entire life. Mother said that once I beat my teacher, I could learn his name and once I beat her I could learn my father’s name. I don’t want to know, though. Mother always said I was slower than him, I didn’t learn as quickly as him. I wanted to yell at her so many times that I wasn’t him! I’m Danyal. I’m Danny. I don’t want to be my brother. I want to be nothing like him! Mother boasted how he’d completed his first kill at three. I’ve never killed anyone. I love my mom, but she’s not exactly sane and really shouldn’t be raising a kid.”
“So I ran away, and there’s no way I’m going to get involved with Batman, because if Mother picked him to be my father, then he’s probably not really sane either. I mean, he runs around at night in his fursona!” Danny argued. He tugged at his arm. “Now let me go!”
Damian wasn’t letting go though. In fact, his grip just got tighter. Danny tried a few techniques he’d learned from his Mother, but none of them worked. Damian had a smug expression on his face as Danny struggled to get away. Bruce and Tim got closer, caging him in.
Well, screw that!
“Yeah, no, bye!” Danny told them, turning intangible to Damian’s hand slid off him, his eyes ridiculously wide in shock.
Not bothering to see the other’s reactions, Danny turned and ran, gripping his bag of goodies tightly. He heard them chasing after him. His legs were short, but all he needed to do was get to the shadows, then he could turn invisible and get away. It didn’t matter if they saw he had powers at this point. He just needed to get away.
***
The bad thing about spending the whole day in the observatory was that Danny hadn’t picked a nice, safe spot to sleep for the night. Once he was sure he was far enough away from the Waynes, he’d dropped his invisibility then wandered. He’d received so many looks from others. Whatever. Danny could take care of himself. He could tell it was going to rain. He needed to find a place to get some shelter and keep warm for the night.
Danny found a nice little space to hide and keep warm, under the roof of a large building. The overhang was large enough that it kept him dry. The thick stone slabs on the… bank. It was a bank. The outside of the bank was warm. Well, warmer than elsewhere. From up here, Danny could watch the street and everything that was going on. The bag rustling, he pulled out the model rocket, admiring it. It was really, really nice of Tim to buy this for him. It was a model of the Javelin, the type of rocket that was a spaceship and a jet. It was used exclusively by the Justice League.
This type of technology hadn’t existed in his old world. He really wanted to fly in one. Or look at the engine of it. Saw how it worked. The specs on it. Danny wanted to know about the aerodynamics of the plane, the material used to make it both sturdy and heatproof for reentry into the atmosphere. He couldn’t always let his adult side take over, or dominate him. So Danny let his younger side out, making the Javelin fly around above him, making soft zooming noises. He thought about if he went with his dad, with Batman, maybe he could get to fly in one.
Danny shook his head, dispelling that thought.
It was a nice one, but he didn’t want anything to do with the Bat themed vigilante or the bird themed ones that seemed to flock around him. Danny just wanted to be a normal kid. Well, as normal as he could be. It wasn’t worth sacrificing his normalcy or his freedom to fly in a Javelin, as cool as it would be. Danny put the model on his chest and sighed. He tensed as he heard two people land on the ground by the entrance to the bank. It was Nightwing and Red Hood. Nightwing was hiding something behind his back, a smile on his face.
“That sure was a big sigh! Are you doing alright up there, Danny?” Nightwing asked kindly, giving him a small wave.
Oh great.
“I’m fine. Go away,” Danny ordered.
“Okay. If you come down though, I’ll give you this!” Nightwing brought out what looked like a Build a Bear in an astronaut costume. It was tempting, but Danny wasn’t falling for it.
“Pass,” Danny told him. Red Hood snickered. Danny eyed him.
“Are you going to try and convince me to come down too?” He asked the anti-hero.
“Nah,” came the robotic voice. A voice changer. “I’m just here to watch Goldie fail.”
“Little wing!” Nightwing complained. Wait a minute.
“Little wing? Red Hood is bigger and taller than you. How is he little?” Danny asked.
“Well, he’s younger than me,” Nightwing explained, as if it explained anything!
“So… Do you call people older than you Big wing?” Danny questioned. The logic wasn’t really logicing for him. Red Hood started chuckling. It sounded kinda weird with the voice modulator.
Red Hood might be enjoying this, but Danny was not. He glared down at the two men. Nightwing just cooed at him. What was wrong with the man? Why was he all excited about a moody toddler? Red Hood was staying true to his word leaning against one of the bollards in front of the bank. Weirdly, a couple of them were damaged. Were people so bad at driving in Gotham that they kept running into them? Or were there seriously that many attacks from proclaimed villains.
Ancients, this place got weirder and weirder the more he learned about it.
This place wasn’t going to work for the night. He got the feeling that Nightwing was like an overactive golden retriever puppy. Sorry Nightwing, Danny preferred Rottweilers and Doberman. They reminded him of Cujo. He really wanted to sleep. It’d been such a good day at the observatory messing with Damian and hanging out with Tim. He’d liked Mr. Pennyworth too.
Too bad they were all associated with his dad.
If only his mom had told him the names of his dad and older brother. All he knew was that they were Batman and Robin. Sighing to himself, Danny put his toy Javelin back in the bag, holding tight to it. He could climb out from under the overhang and then get on the roof, but with their grapples, they’d get up there before him and would be waiting for him. Danny would be captured, unless he used his intangibility again. That wouldn’t be good. His legs were hurting and he was tired, which meant he wouldn’t be able to told onto any of his powers for long.
“Danny? You okay up there babbiest bat?” Nightwing asked. Red Hood snorted.
“Babbiest bat? Really?”
“Baby Bat is already taken by Robin! Red Robin is Baby Bird and you’re Little Wing. I’m running out of nicknames!” Nightwing defended himself, pouting but focusing on Red Hood.
Now.
Now was the time for him to briefly go invisible and phase on to the roof. Hopefully by only using his powers for thirty seconds or less, he could make his escape. Up he went, then running across the roof, holding on to his invisibility for as long as possible. They’d somehow seen him, probably on the cameras. Danny needed to be undetected getting into his next sleeping spot, otherwise they’d find him. He really, really needed to sleep in order to regain his strength and his powers. He was running on empty, and they were bound to give out on him soon.
This time, even though it meant the vigilantes themselves might spot him easier, as the rooftops kinda made it easy to spot him. It kept him out of the line of sight from the cameras that were around the city. He’d heard of the Oracle person, that was probably how Nightwing and Red Hood had found him. As long as he was invisible, they couldn’t see where he was going, and he needed to get as far away as possible.
Danny stopped on an apartment building that was only a few blocks from Wayne Tower. He crawled into the space between the air conditioner and heater units that were bolted in place. There, he let his invisibility drop. It was cramped, and if it rained, which was likely, he would get drenched. Danny had to try, had to try and sleep for a bit. Shivering, he curled into a ball and tried to sleep.
***
Danny only got to sleep for three hours before the heavens opened above him, the rain soaking him to the bone. His entire body trembled. He was out of power, extremely tired, and cold. The younger part of him wanted to cry. The older part of him knew he had to get up, to go somewhere warm and dry otherwise he would die from hypothermia. Struggling, Danny got up and exited his hiding spot.
He stilled when he saw who was on the roof.
Red Robin was sitting on the edge, looking out at the city. Hearing Danny, he glanced back at the small boy before returning his gaze to the city.
“I’m done with patrol for the night,” the vigilante commented.
Danny’s mind was whirring. How long had Red Robin been there? Why hadn’t he told anyone? How had he found Danny?
“I’m about to head home. It would be easy to hide a small kid in my cape as I went to my apartment. The apartment I live alone in. Might even make two mugs of hot chocolate. You know. Just in case.”
Some of the fight drained from Danny, his stiff and tense shoulders dropping. That sounded really good. A dry and safe space to spend the night and hot chocolate. It sounded too good to be true! Yet he couldn’t stay out here. Danny had half died once and died twice now. He didn’t want to die a third time and deal with whatever nonsense was sent his way that time. Slowly, step by shaking step, he approached the unmoving vigilante. Swallowing his pride and taking a leap of faith, he tugged on Red Robin’s cape.
“Can you… take me with you to your apartment? I could… drink that extra hot chocolate,” Danny whispered. Red Robin looked at him and nodded.
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
It was nice, but still really weird when he was brought under Red Robin’s cape and held tight to the man’s (teen’s?) body. The trek across the city was quick. Danny was able to warm up a little. Red Robin’s apartment was high up and had a ton of security. Danny was ushered to the couch, and given some clothes. They were big for Danny, but they weren’t Red Robin sized.
“Those are Robin’s,” Red Robin told him. Danny stiffened, looking at the items. “He stays over every once in a while, or sometimes he changes here after school. It’s not often, but just enough that Nightwing insisted that I keep some spares here. The bathroom is over there. I’ll be right in the kitchen, starting the hot coco.”
Danny sat there, watching dumbly as Red Robin took off some of his outfit, but left the domino on. The man clearly didn’t care that Danny saw him in his underwear during this. Once Red Robin was in sweats and a ratty tee shirt, Danny made his way to the bathroom. He stared at the clothes. He didn’t want to be like his older brother, but at the same time, part of him was fascinated by the clothing in front of him.
It was 100% cotton, which indicated wealth. It was a solid green color. There was fur on it. That, Danny hadn’t expected. Most of it was black, but there were some white strands as well. Likely a mostly black animal with some white patches? The cuffs were worn, and there were slight wrinkles in the elbows and lower half of the sleeves. Danny’s older brother liked to roll up his sleeves a lot. The pants had the same type of animal hair and were of hush quality as well, not telling Danny much about his sibling.
Danny heard cursing coming from the kitchen. He exited the bathroom, finding Red Robin trying to mop up an overflowing pot of milk. Milk tended to bubble up quickly once it boiled. Did Red Robin not know that?
“Uh. Just… give me a minute. I have this under control!” Red Robin told him flustered.
The kitchen was actually pretty bare except for a super shiny and well used coffee machine. The rest of it had a small layer of dust. What did the man eat? Take out? Said man was opening a dusty box with round chocolate orbs.
“Nightwing gave me these. Said I should be able to boil milk and then just put them in a mug. They should still be good?” Red Robin questioned. Danny got the feeling he wasn’t supposed to answer that.
After all of that mess, he got a mug that was filled with warm milk and one of the chocolate balls dropped in. Danny was ushered to the couch again. Red Robin gave him a ton of blankets to snuggle under. Then the man left him for his own room. Danny sipped his chocolate, thinking. Danny had taken a risk to trust the vigilante, and the vigilante had taken a risk to trust Danny. Wait, that was the sound of security activating. Okay, maybe not a ton of risk, but it was smart of Red Robin to try and keep a kid trained by the League of Assassins out of his room while he slept.
He yawned.
Danny really needed to sleep.
First though, he opened the bag, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes seeing how the posters were ruined from the rain. The Javelin was fine, as it was made out of plastic. It was fine. Not all of his gifts from Tim had been ruined. Danny sniffled a bit, then sneezed. Setting his mug down on the coffee table, Danny wrapped himself in blankets and made himself comfortable on the couch, falling asleep almost immediately.
He was shivering and cold, his head was pounding, and snot was dripping from his nose. He’d caught a cold. Danny coughed weakly. His immune system was pretty good, and it had always been good as a halfa. Not eating enough, not getting enough sleep, and being soaked for a while had taken their toll and how he was sick.
Weakly, Danny stumbled off of the couch, clinging to the blankets around him. They dragged behind him like a little cape. He made his way to the door that had to be Red Robin’s bedroom. Danny knocked. It was faint, way too faint. Gritting his teeth, Danny knocked harder so it could actually be heard. He waited, swaying slightly. Oh, there was movement from inside the bedroom. The door opened, and Danny was looking up at Tim. What was Tim doing - oh. Tim = Red Robin. If his brain was currently trying to boil itself to make him feel better, Danny would think that over a bit more.
“I don’t feel good,” he announced sadly. Tim frowned, reaching out to feel his forehead. Alarm flashed across his face.
“Yeah, you’re definitely sick. Um, let’s get you back on the couch. I’ll… call back up and get you some kids motrin or something. Chicken soup, that’ll… yeah.”
Danny went back to the couch, cocooning himself inside his blankets, not before he grabbed the Javelin. It was his only toy, and he was going to hold on to it and cuddle it, even if it was a bit pokey. Maybe he should have taken the time to swipe the bear from Nightwing. It had been bought just for him. No. Danny shook his head. He could not be bribed! Not with gifts or toys! That was what Vlad did! It was scummy! The only reason he’d accepted the stuff from Tim was because he’d spent the whole day with Danny talking about space and the stars. He’d earned some of Danny’s trust.
Tim came back, on the phone with someone, sitting down on the couch next to Danny. Danny wanted hugs. He wanted cuddles. He felt bad and icky and just wanted someone to hold him and tell him it would all be better. He couldn’t remember that happening at all in this life, and it happening rarely in his other one. Danny sniffed, trying to hold back tears. Why were his lives always so crazy and bad?
“-he’s got a bit of a fever. Can you bring a fever reducer? Can I also bother you to make some chicken soup? I um. I have no vegetables or food in my fridge. I have milk and coffee creamer, but that’s about it.”
Tim was distracted. Maybe he wouldn’t notice Danny shuffling closer. Okay, that was a lie. He was a vigilante, he’d totally know. Tim had taken Danny in last night and given him shelter. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Tim ran his free hand through his hair, looking admonished. Whoever was on the phone was giving him a good scolding.
“I eat! I promise! You know I can’t cook Alfred. Not like you and Jason can. Coffee is about the best I can do. I over boiled the milk last night. It was supposed to be easy, just warm the milk and then drop the hot chocolate bombs in there. Yeah they were good. See you soon Alfred. Thanks for everything.”
“Alfred’s coming?” Danny asked, his throat all scratchy from the nasal drip.
“Yeah. He’s on his way with food and medicine. Um. Do you want to watch cartoons?” Tim asked. “I can make you some tea. Pretty sure I have peppermint. Alfred says it’s good for when you’re sick.”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
Tim left, and Danny slumped in his pile of blankets.
He could hear the sounds of an electric water kettle and the sound of the coffee machine starting up. Tim came back to grab Danny’s hot chocolate mug from last night, puttering around the living room. Tim was in a pair of boxers and an oversized sweater. Since the domino was off, Danny could see the deep circles under the teen’s eyes. Tim had to be a teen, right? Ages were hard to figure out with his brain a mix of old Danny and young Danny. Everyone was older than him, so it didn’t really matter that much. It was just how much older than him they were.
The TV lit up, his companion using the remote to go to a streaming service. A show called Bluey was selected. He wasn’t a baby! He didn’t need to watch a show about dogs and their life! It… wasn’t that bad though. It was much better than Paw Patrol, which he’d seen glimpses of while he was fleeing Nanda Parbat. It made his chest ache though. He’d never had a family like that. Not in his past life, and not in this one.
It wasn’t fair.
He’d been reincarnated here, why was he given such a crappy hand again? Wasn’t the whole thing about karma that you would reincarnate into a better life? Hadn’t Danny been good in his last one? He’d been a hero, he’d helped others! None of this was fair!
Danny was brought out of his thoughts when Tim set down two mugs. One was clearly coffee, and the other was the tea. Both were steaming. Tim left and came back with a damp cloth.
“Come on, we need to put this on your forehead to try and cool you down a bit. I don’t have a thermometer, but it seemed pretty high to me. Are you okay? You looked…. Sad.” Tim said softly, folding the cloth and placing it on Danny’s forehead.
“It’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“This. All of this. I just wanted a better life. I just wanted to be free.” He wasn’t sure if he was making sense or not. He didn’t care.
“Is that why you ran?”
“Yeah. Mom wants me to kill. Dad makes people fight. Neither was good. I just wanted to be normal. I want to be an astronaut. I didn’t ask for this,” Danny complained. Oh, he was a little dizzy now. The cloth felt nice, but he was still having the chills. So he still had a bad fever.
There was a sound elsewhere in the apartment. He should care, but all he could focus on was how miserable he felt. There were footsteps. Two people came in, but they were blurry.
“Did Talia give you the powers?” Danny shuddered. Weakly, he put his palm over Tim’s mouth.
“SHHH. Mom doesn’t know. She was dumb. Hired this - this guy who didn’t like her. He killed me. So I got a bath in the green pool. That’s where the powers come from. But that’s where the - the voice, the other me is from. Older me. He said…. He said mom wouldn’t ever love me the way I wanted her to. She wasn’t capable.” Danny hiccuped, the tears he’d been holding back starting to fall. There was a crash from the blurry people. Oh, Tim was looking blurry too.
“Said mom would never let me go if she found out what I could do now. So I practiced in secret. She can’t know,” Danny insisted.
“We won’t tell her. What does this… other voice say about me? About your dad?” Tim asked. His voice was nice and calm. Soothing even. Ugh, he was getting tired of all the stuff about his dad though.
“He doesn’t mind you. You like to talk about space with us. So you’re cool. My dad… he thinks he’s weird. Who runs around dressed like a bat? People who aren’t all there. But this whole place is weird. I don’t understand a lot. Um. Tim?”
“Yeah Danny?”
“Everything is spinning.”
That was all Danny got out before everything went dark and he felt himself pitch forward.
When he woke up, he felt a lot cooler. He was in a bathtub filled with cold water. Danny saw a few pieces of ice floating in the water. There was a man with black hair and a white tuft of hair in the front reading a novel. Not just any novel, it was Pride and Prejudice. He was big and muscular. It would have been more intimidating, if he wasn’t sitting clothed on top of the toilet.
“Who’re you?” That’s what Danny tried to say, but it came out really mumbled. The black and white haired guy looked up. There were so many nicknames that were flitting through his head at this point. Magpie. Skunk. Cow. Panda. Penguin. Sebra. There were so many animals that were black and white.
“I’m Jason. How’re you feeling?” Jason got off of the toilet, kneeling down beside the bathtub to feel Danny’s forehead. He had to move a damp washcloth to do so.
“I feel yucky. But not as bad as before,” Danny reported. Jason nodded, removing his hand.
“Seems like your fever has gone down a bit.” That was good. “You up to taking some Motrin? It will help even more. Your choice.”
It was nice of them to give him the option. Little Danny had never gotten to choose what happened to him. Mom and Grandfather had always decided for him. Was giving him a choice a reverse psychology thing? He’d be more likely to take it if he had a choice? Also, Jason was new. Danny didn’t know this guy, didn’t trust him.
“I’ll pick after I talk to Tim.” Tim hadn’t lied or done anything to make Danny mistrust him. He also hadn’t pressured Danny. Jason nodded.
“Okay. I’ll get him. We took shifts watching you.”
With that, Jason got up and left the bathroom. Danny sat up a bit, the washcloth on his head falling off into the tub. He’d been propped up on some stacked towels. He was still in his underwear, thank goodness. The bathroom was sea themed, the walls a pale blue. The soap holder was shaped like a seashell and the toothbrush holder looked like red coral. There was a painting with palm trees and the beach on it. The shower curtain, which had been pulled back, was covered in fish. It was a cute little bathroom. He hadn’t really focused on it last night when he’d changed clothes, more intrigued by what he could learn about his brother. Assuming it hadn’t been that long since he’d passed out.
Danny brought up his knees, bringing them to his chest. Here, in the bathtub, he felt so small and alone. It didn’t last long, as the door opened. Standing in the open doorway was Tim. Behind him, Danny could see Alfred and Jason. Tim left the door open and walked in. Like Jason had, he knelt next to the bathtub, leaning against the porcelain tub.
“Jason said you wanted to see me.” Tim’s tone was neutral.
“Yeah. He mentioned Motrin, and that I didn’t have to take it,” Danny explained. Tim nodded.
“Yes. You can take some Motrin, if you want. It will help get rid of your fever and some of your symptoms. If you don’t want to take it, you would need to get back in the ice bath the next time it spikes. We have a new bottle, unopened. I can open it in front of you, if that makes you feel better.” Relief flooded his body. Yes, that would make him feel a lot better. Never could be too safe after having grown up with assassins. Plus he’d been unconscious for a while. They would have had plenty of time to tamper with things. That did include the Motrin bottle, but it would be harder to hide that.
“That. Can you open it in front of me and let me read the bottle before I have any?” Danny turned to the side, turning closer to the edge of the tub. It was faint, but he could hear Jason and Alfred whispering in the hallway.
“It’s ironic how he likes Tim. Demon Brat hated Tim’s guts and loved Dick,” Jason mused.
“I would prefer if you did not refer to Master Damian as that around me,” Alfred scolded.
“Sorry. Habit.” Alfred merely tutted in response.
Danny did not want to focus on that. Yet his mind was already whirring. Demon Brat. That could only be his older brother. Alfred had called him Master Damian. Which meant the Damian Danny had met the other day. Danny had met his older brother. He felt… conflicted. Older Danny lamented, as his older sister, Jazz, had been incredible, one of the best siblings someone could ask for. Danny hadn’t like Damian. At all. But… Tim had been Damian’s older brother. So that meant he was Danny’s brother too. Tim wouldn’t replace Jazz, no one could. But Danny was looking forward to an older sibling, one that he wasn’t being compared to.
This didn’t mean that he was living with Batman!
Wait, this meant Batman was Bruce!
“Danny? Are you still with me?” Tim asked worriedly. He was holding the unopened Motrin bottle. One of the others must have brought it to him. He’d missed that.
“Huh? Yeah. Can I see it?”
Tim didn’t answer, handing it over. Danny skimmed the ingredients on the back. He also turned it over, checking the seal. It all looked good, so he let Tim pour himself some. Danny tipped his head back and took it like a shot of alcohol. That came from older Danny. Tim kept a calm, expressionless face, but Jason had clearly seen Danny throw back that little cup of Motrin, and he didn’t look thrilled.
Danny got out of the tub on shaky legs. Alfred brought him a towel, and he reluctantly let the elderly gentleman help dry him. Danny made his way back to the couch, where he was basically swaddled in blankets. Danny refused to let someone feed him, insisting he could do it himself. Tim sat on the loveseat that was diagonal from the couch. He was resting his legs on the coffee table. After finishing the soup, which he’d thanked Alfred for, Danny sneakily made his way over to the loveseat. He wanted to sit next to Tim, snuggle into his side.
Being sick made it harder than normal. He was so weak right now. Danny could tell Tim was keeping an eye on him. It would be okay, as long as he wasn’t rejected. Pulling himself and his mess of blankets onto the seat was the hardest part. Tim didn’t react as Danny slowly leaned against him, resting his head on Tim’s left arm. He wasn’t pushed off, so he counted that as a success. Tim kept working, fingers flying across the screen. Not that Danny could see it, as the brightness was lowered when he came closer. There also seemed to be a privacy screen on the laptop.
Tim probably had a lot of sensitive stuff on there, as Red Robin.
Jason stretched out on the couch, returning to reading Pride and Prejudice. Not before snapping a picture of Danny and Tim on the couch. Danny glared at the man, but he wasn’t cowed by his best one. Darn. Thankfully Tim wasn’t having it.
“If you send that to Dick and he comes here disrupting what trust I’ve built so far, there will be glitter in all of your safe houses and you won’t be safe for months,” Tim threatened, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. Danny couldn’t help but laugh a little. It came out raspy and ended in a cough.
“Fine, Baby Bird. I’ll wait. I just want to rub it in Dickie’s face.” Jason didn’t sound that put out.
Danny sighed and snuggled a little closer to Tim. He had a lot to think about. This was all good for now, but did he really want to give in and live with his dad? Tim was nice. How long would that last? How long would any of this peace and care last? It never had in his previous life or this one. Little Danny wanted to give in and have a family. Older Danny was skeptical. He was paranoid.
Tim turned Bluey back on, and Danny watched it listlessly. He was still half out of it. Alfred came by, checking Danny’s forehead and talking to Tim and Jason. The rest of the day was spent mostly resting and eating the warm soup that Jason and Alfred had made. Eventually both of them had to go. After they left, Danny felt good enough to take a shower. He’d had to promise not to lock the door, so Tim could get in if he got too dizzy or anything.
It was worth it though, to be able to stand under the warm spray. It had been a long time since he’d been able to shower. A few months? It was good to wash the grime from his skin and watch it go down the drain. Some of it had come off when they’d put him in the ice bath, but not all of it. Danny probably needed a haircut, as the wet hair was getting into his eyes a little.
After he got out, Danny investigated the cabinets. There were a lot of interesting products in the bathroom. Tim’s lotion wasn’t as thick as the one they’d used in Nada Panbarat. He… might have put too much on. There was a surprising amount of makeup in here. And perfume. Well, technically cologne because Tim was a man. It all smelled horrible though. Danny ignored the cleaning supplies. There was shaving equipment, but nothing else that was very interesting. It was only after his investigation that he realized he didn’t have any clean clothes to wear.
Looks like he’d have to ask Tim for some.
Danny exited the bathroom in a towel, padding over to where Tim was still on the couch.
“Um. Do you have any more clothes for me?” Tim looked up.
“Oh. Yeah, Jason brought some. It’s in that box over there. Hopefully it all fits. We had to guess your size.”
Looking through the box, Danny found some nice blue pjs with stars all over them. His heart clenched. These… had been bought for him. Bought because they knew he liked the stars. He went back to the bathroom to change into them. Once that was done, Tim seemed surprised that Danny crawled back on the couch next to him, snuggling back into his spot. Really, why wouldn’t he? Tim checked his temperature and made him take a bit more Motrin. Tim was hesitating. There was something he was worried about. Older Danny advised him to wait.
“Do you… do you want to sleep in the bed with me? It will be more comfortable than the couch,” Tim offered. Ah. That’s what he was nervous about. Little Danny was practically screaming in happiness and excitement. Older Danny was trying to keep their cool and not potentially screw everything up.
“Yeah. If my fever gets worse, you’ll be right there,” Danny agreed.
He could pretend, just for the night, that Tim was his family, his big brother and he was Tim’s beloved baby brother. Ancients, that fever was making him a bit delusional. One night would be okay.
***
He’d been with Tim for a full day now.
Danny needed to make a decision. Was he going to stay or was he going to go? He was in limbo here. He couldn’t really just stay here with Tim, could he? Was Tim even an adult? He looked like he was on the edge between being a teenager and an adult. Tim did have his own apartment though, so probably adult? If he did leave, where would he go? Metropolis? Central City? Star City? Those all had heroes though. Heroes who were friends with Batman. That would surely get his dad to come and try to catch him.
If he stayed here, with Tim, his dad might leave him alone? But he’d also have to see him. Was that a bad thing, little Danny wondered. Older Danny didn’t know. They had judged Batman based on how he looked. Bruce… had been weird and a bit awkward, but older Danny had been so, so awkward when he’d been a teenager in their previous life. Maybe Bruce had never grown out of that? It would explain how he had no shame when it came to running around in his fursuit. It wasn’t even that great of a fursuit, older Danny snarked. Their friend Tucker had made much better ones.
Danny sighed.
He was so comfy in the bed. He didn’t want to get up, but he was getting hungry. Tim was still out, the covers wrapped around him, drooling on the pillow. Danny sat up, alert, when he heard the security system beep, allowing someone in.
“Timmy! Baby Bird! Are you sick and hiding? Alfred doesn’t go and make soup for just anyone. Tim?” called out a masculine voice. Danny didn’t recognize it. Worried, Danny crawled closer to Tim and started shaking him.
“Wha?” Tim sleepily asked. It was too late though, as the door to the bedroom opened.
“Good morning Sunshine! It’s -” the man halted in the door frame, his mouth open in shock. Tim’s eyes widened.
“Don’t!” The man didn’t listen, running forward and leaping onto the bed. He was going to touch them! He was going to touch Tim and Danny! Panicking, Danny held onto Tim’s arm, turning them both intangible and invisible.
“Tim? Danny?” The man sounded surprised and shocked when he landed on the bed, the springs creaking.
“This feels… weird.” Tim said. Danny could see his faint outline turn towards him. “It’s okay Danny. He’s not going to hurt us. Dick’s just super physically affectionate.” Danny thought that over. He didn’t want to turn off his powers, not yet.
“He’s the one that you told Jason not to text yesterday?” Tim sighed. Dick sat up, looking to where the sigh had come from.
“Yeah. Dick’s over affectionate. I didn’t think that you’d… want to be smothered in his hugs and attention. Not yet. We’re still building trust here.”
Feeling better with the answer, Danny let go of his powers before crawling behind Tim, peeking out at Dick. Oh boy. He could practically see Dick vibrating with the urge to hug Danny. No thank you! Older Danny didn’t trust it and little Danny wasn’t used to hugs. So it was a no go for now. Tim accepted a hug though.
“I brought breakfast. It’s only for two, but I can go out and grab some more,” Dick offered.
“Thanks,” Tim sounded relieved. Dick laughed.
“No sweat. I can’t cook either. I’ll see you two again in about… oh, thirty minutes or so? That’ll be enough time for me to grab the food and for you two to get ready for the day.” Dick ruffled Tim’s hair. His hand reached for Danny, but pulled back after Danny leaned away. He left the bedroom. Shortly after the security system beeped.
Danny crawled out from behind Tim.
He’d made his decision.
Danny would stay with Tim, even if it meant having to deal with Batman. Tim understood him and didn’t push for him to do anything and gave him choices. He was also totally aware of where they stood, that Danny didn’t fully trust him yet. It also meant Danny would be warm, fed, and taken care of. Yes, Tim was the best choice.
Tim and Danny changed into clothes. He allowed his older brother Tim to check his temperature. The coffee maker got turned on and he got a glass of water. While Dick had left the two portions of food behind, it wasn’t nice to eat it without him also being there. Whatever was in there smelled greasy and good. Danny’s stomach growled. He climbed up onto the barstool to take a peek in the bag. Hash browns, sausages, eggs, pancakes, and more. All carby and delicious.
“You can start eating. Dick won’t mind,” Tim said, sipping on his coffee.
Well. He had permission? Hesitantly, Danny pulled out one of the hash browns. It crunched so satisfyingly, with a nice, warm mushy middle. Greasy food was something older Danny had all the time in the other world. Little Danny hadn’t tasted it yet. This was his first time. He hadn’t been desperate enough to dumpster dive for food yet behind a McDonalds. Danny finished the first one, then grabbed the second one savoring it. The security system beeped. Dick was back.
“Boys! I have noms!” Dick cheered. He was grinning as he walked into the open concept kitchen and living room. He was carrying three bags of food.
“Dick, how much food do you think we can eat?!?” Tim protested.
“Not a lot. But I texted Jason, and he’ll be here soon. Oh! Here! I got them to give me all of the Happy Meal toys! I have a few things in the car that I need to bring up, so I’ll be back in a sec. Feel free to dig in!” Dick placed two of the bags on the counter and handed the third to Danny.
“Wait a minute. You can’t just invite people over to my apartment! Dick!”
“Sorry Tim! Can’t hear you!” Dick sang as he walked back out. Tim huffed.
“Did you get anything good?” he asked, looking at the bag Dick had handed Danny.
Honestly, he didn’t know. Reaching in, he pulled out the first one. It was Wonder Woman, her lasso up in the air. Okay, that was kinda cool. Flash, Green Lantern, Hawgirl, Martian Manhunter, Superman, and…. Batman. Annoyed, he passed Batman to Tim.
“Can you put this in the trash please?” Tim took the Batman toy, looking at it and biting his lip.
“How about I hold on to it? For now?” Danny didn’t have a chance to answer as Dick came back into the apartment.
“Alright! Food time!”
The three of them ate. Danny didn’t talk much, listening to the two brothers talk. He tried to squash some of his jealousy. It was so… normal and mundane. How was work? How were their friends? How was Tim’s boyfriend? When would Danny have a nice life like that? He’d really like some friends please. Honestly, some friends, a home, three square meals a day, and a nice normal kindergarten weren’t much to ask for.
Oh, he needed to ask Tim if he could live with him. Permanently. That was a lot to ask though. Maybe he should do the long con. Ask Tim if he could stay for a bit. Then just just never leave. Yeah, that might work. Danny sipped from the chocolate milk that Dick had gotten him. Halfway through breakfast, Jason came. He slotted right in with the others. He felt… ignored. Unseen. Left out. Ancient' emotions were so much stronger when you were little. Danny tried so hard not to cry. Not to show how sad he was.
He slid down off of the barstool, ignoring the looks he got from the others. They didn’t stop talking though. Danny went back into Tim’s bedroom and climbed onto his bed. He spent a few minutes dragging all of the blankets into the corner, where the mattress was pressed against the wall. His little nest of blankets. Maybe he could pretend for a little bit that he was being held and snuggled by his older brother Tim. He was being stupid though. Getting so attached to some guy who had shown him kindness. Expecting to fit right in, when they’d all been brothers for years.
It still hurt though.
He wished he could fast forward. To where Tim and the others trusted him and he trusted them. Then he could get the physical affection he craved safely. Danny was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle knock on the open door. Tim entered, but stayed by the doorway.
“Danny? Are you feeling okay?” It was nice that Tim was checking on him. It was probably because he’d been sick.
“M’fine,” he mumbled. Tim clearly didn’t believe him, crawling in bed to feel his forehead. Danny let him.
“You’re not warm.” Tim looked into Danny’s eyes. He squirmed. It felt like Tim was analyzing him, staring into his very soul.
Seeing something in there, Tim just… picked him up. Danny didn’t protest. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s Tim’s neck, burying his face into the man’s T-shirt. Tim let out a short, surprised laugh. Danny got carried back out to the group. He turned to pout and glare a little at Jason and Dick. He wanted some alone time with his brother Tim! Dick in particular looked smug.
“Told you,” he said with a blinding grin.
“Yeah. Yeah you did. I didn’t fully believe it, but you were totally right,” Tim responded.
“You’re the chosen one, Timbo,” Jason teased.
“Oh, shut up.”
Danny didn’t mind anymore, that the brothers were talking. He was snuggled against Tim. His brother person.
***
The rest of the day wasn’t bad. It also wasn’t great. Danny played a bit with the toys except for Batman. He had the Justice League fly around in the Javelin. While Tim hadn’t been willing to throw Batman, Jason had. He’d done it pretty gleefully too. Dick had rescued the stupid toy from the trash though. Whatever. It was pretty clear Dick was Nightwing and Jason was the Red Hood. He was smart. Also, Dick had brought out the astronaut Build a Bear toy. Overall, the day hadn’t been bad. Dick had left, but Jason was lingering. He’d made a really nice sage and apple chicken dinner with peas and mashed potatoes. It had been really good.
Danny put down the toy Javelin.
Something felt off, felt wrong.
Little Danny had gotten it beat into him to always follow his instincts. He got up and went over to Tim, tugging on his pants.
“Something’s wrong. I don’t know what,” he alerted his brother Tim. Immediately, Tim’s hand went to his forehead. Danny batted it away.
“No, I’m not sick again. It’s something else, I don’t -”
Danny didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as the security system went off. Next thing he knew, there was the sound of an explosion outside, and the living room wall became dented and discolored.
“Fuck!” Jason cursed. “Tim!” Danny yelped as he was lifted into the air.
“I”ve got Danny! I’m going to set off the emergency beacon! B, Nightwing, and Robin are on patrol tonight. My gear’s in the bedroom and in the hall. You think you can hold ‘em off?” Tim yelled over the sound of another explosion. The wall was buckling. It wasn’t going to withstand another hit.
“You got it. My gear’s downstairs on my bike. There’s plenty of kitchen knives though,” Jason responded with a vicious grin.
Danny felt like a football as he was carried into the bedroom. He was lightly tossed onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress. Tim hurriedly stripped and opened a panel in the wall, frantically changing into his outfit. Once he was dressed, Tim looked back at him.
“Stay.”
Danny huffed. Yeah, no. Danny wandered out, behind Tim. The wall was broken, and there were ninjas. Specifically members of the League of Assassins. His mother was there too, looking as calm and poised as ever.
“Timothy. My father would be disappointed if you were to be harmed. Do step aside. I merely wish to collect my son,” Mother said.
“Yeah, that’s not happening. He doesn’t exactly want to go with you. He wants to stay with Timmy,” Jason laughed. “Guess he takes after Ra’s that way.”
“Really Jason?” Tim complained, his bo staff at the ready, body tense and ready to leap forward. Danny approached, standing next to his brother Tim. “Danny! Get back in the bedroom!” Tim hissed at him.
Nah.
Danny was going to help in this fight. If needed. The fighting started. Tim and Jason were holding their own. For now. Mother hadn’t joined the fight. She looked Danny in the eye. Little Danny wavered. This was his MOTHER. She’d raised him. She’d taught him everything he knew. Older Danny rebelled. Just because she was his mom didn’t mean that she was good! Talia had been cruel to them! She’d gotten them killed! It was her fault, her fault that they remembered who they were before, that their conscience was split in two. Hadn’t Tim been kinder to him? He’d taken care of Danny when he was sick. He’d tried his best to give him space and go at his pace. He’d gotten him food and let Danny snuggle him as much as he was comfortable with.
Tim and Jason were losing. They were outnumbered. Mother was walking towards him. Tim growled, doing his best to keep all of the assailants away from Danny, uncaring of the wound he received. Seeing how Tim was fighting for him… they were in agreement.
“Going ghost,” Danny whispered to himself, letting the transformation wash over him.
All heads turned to look at Danny as light engulfed his body. He wasn’t going to have much time, so he needed to make every bit count. Gathering the ectoplasm Lazarus magic in his hands, he sent it towards all of the attackers. It pinned them to the walls and the rubble around them, acting like a sticky glue. Danny stepped out from behind Tim, trying to look as confident as possible. He was going to need everything he’d learned in this life and the previous one to confront her and talk this through peacefully.
Shoulder back.
Head held high.
“Mother.” She was looking at him in awe. He figured he still looked like he had in human form, just inverted. He also had no idea what clothes he was in. Danny was… taller than his mother. It dawned on him that his ghost form was the age of her older aspect of him. That both made sense and did not. It was older Danny at the forefront at this moment in time.
“Danyal,” she breathed. “You have been blessed.” Oh boy. Right, the League of Assassins was basically an ectoplasm Lazarus Pit cult.
“Blessing. Curse. It depends on your perspective,” he told her, doing his best to sound mature and like an adult.
“Being revived in the waters of the Lazarus Pit has given me clarity. They have given me a maturity I don’t want and one that has shown me the path you had placed me on. Mother. I love you. I know you love me. It is not enough. I desire companionship. Friends. Siblings. To feel safe and carefree. To be able to play. That is something I will never have while living with you.” Danny saw a muscle in her jaw twitch at his words. He kept speaking, injecting some of his power, making his words stronger and resonate with power.
“Childhood is precious. The innocence that you seek to rip away from me can never be restored once it has been lost. The League claims to be for a better world and to rid it from corruption. Yet you would sacrifice a child? Your own flesh and blood to do so? Not only that, your desire for me to be strong caused you to have me train with a man who sought vengeance on our family; who ran his sword through my heart.” Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Nightwing, Batman, and Robin arrive. They were cautious, yet confused as to what was happening. Nightwing stopped to help Jason patch some of his wounds.
“You are the cause of my creation. Yet you are also the reason I died. You are the reason I was blessed. The reason I have been cursed. You have soured the relationship between my biological brother by constantly comparing us. It will likely take years, potentially decades, for me to unpack and unwind the hate that I feel for him. There is a chance our relationship has been permanently destroyed. While I love you, this… power that I have been given warns me away from you. It speaks to me, telling me how toxic you are and how I will never be happy or at peace with you. Being with you will only make me miserable.”
“I love you, Mother.” Danny took a shaky breath.
“But not enough to doom myself to a life of pain and suffering.”
“It draws you towards your father?” she asked quietly. Ancients, he hated this. Talia was hiding it as best she could, but Danny could see her hurt and pain.
“No. Someone who would willingly have children be vigilantes is not a healthy parent either.” Danny heard the muffled gasps and intakes of breaths from around him. None of them mattered at this point in time besides his mother and Tim. He stepped forward and cupped her face.
“Mother. This does not mean we cannot ever see each other again. Nor does it mean that I hold less affection for you. Nothing will ever change the fact that I am of your blood. I beseech you to reconsider your path. It is never too late to take a different one.” Danny rested his forehead against hers.
He hated that he had to be this cruel and to hurt her with his words. He had to do it so she would let him go. Mother had loved his brother enough to let him so, so it only made sense that she would love Danny enough to separate from him too. Talia stepped back from him.
“Goodbye Danyal. I will stop my pursuit of you. Till we meet again, my little star.” She turned and walked away from him, jumping off the edge of the broken and ruined wall into the dark night.
OH.
She did know him well enough to know he loved the stars.
Danny’s core throbbed and he released his hold on his ghost form, shrinking back to that of a child. The bonds holding the assassins faded, and they sprinted away, following his mother. Danny sniffed, tears falling down his cheeks. That had sucked. He hadn’t wanted to do that. It was necessary. Older Danny had done a good job. He wiped his eyes. Tim gently touched his arm. Danny turned and flung himself at his brother the older boy, sobbing. He felt bad. Tim’s apartment had gotten destroyed because of Danny.
Danny clung to Tim. He didn’t let anyone else take him. Tim grappled them to the Batcave. His Javelin toy had been destroyed. Danny decided to ignore the fact that there was a smaller tracker in the body of the plane. It was obvious that was how Tim had found him a few days ago when he’d hid between the air conditioner units. The astronaut bear had survived though. Dick - Nightwing - wanted to take him, but Danny refused to let go of Tim. He even turned intangible a bit so Dick’s hands would go right through him. Danny didn’t want to leave his older brother person.
There was a lot of arguing. None of them knew what to make of Danny’s affliction. That’s what they called his ghost form. They’d apparently dealt with ectoplasm Lazarus Pit water before. Jason especially. They hadn’t become half ghosts like Danny though. It sounded like they didn’t even know what that was. Tim tried to convince Danny to talk, to speak up and explain what he knew. He just grumbled and told them not now. He was still hurting. He didn’t want to sleep yet. But Nocturne was calling for him, dragging him under. He let himself succumb.
***
He had nightmares. Could they be called that, if they were just repeats of what had happened that day? His harsh words to his mother and her walking away. Danny woke up a few times that night, tears falling down his cheeks and a whimper stuck in his throat. Each time he was encouraged to fall back asleep by a large, warm hand that would stroke his hair and tucked a soft blanket around him. After the fitful night, he woke up.
Danny was still in the cave. He was on a cot, surrounded with soft blankets. During the night, someone must have given him the bear, as he was cuddling it. It was soothing, to cling to it. To bury his face in its soft fur. He ignored the man in the chair next to the cot. His father.
“How are you feeling?” His father, Batman, asked. He wasn’t in his Batman gear anymore. Just a dark turtleneck and slacks. He looked tired. Danny shrugged, not wanting to talk. He looked around. Where was Tim? He wanted Tim.
Danny didn’t answer his dad. He really didn’t know what to make of the man. Bruce had been okay, if a bit overbearing at the observatory. He’d spent a lot of the time watching Danny and Damian and keeping Damian from exploding when Danny pressed his buttons. Batman had chased and chased after him. Just wanting to catch him and keep him. What did he want with Danny? He just wanted Tim. Tim was safe and nice and would explain things. He would give Danny a choice instead of just forcing him to do what he wanted.
That was why Danny liked Tim.
“Danny?” Batman asked, watching him carefully.
“Where’s Tim?” Danny asked softly. He had regained some of his strength. He could turn invisible and intangible for a bit. Probably. The problem was that he didn’t know where Tim was.
“Tim is upstairs in his room sleeping. Did you want to see him?” Danny blinked in surprise and nodded. “Follow me.”
He hadn’t been expecting that. Grabbing the astronaut bear, Danny followed Batman/Bruce through the cave and to an elevator. He stood on the opposite end during the ride up, glancing at his father often. They exited through a clock? It was a cool secret door. He followed Bruce down some halls and up a set of stairs. He knocked on a door.
“Tim? Are you awake? There’s someone who wants to see you.” There was a groan from within.
Danny perked up. That was totally Tim! Turning intangible, he ran through the closed door and into the dark room. He jumped on the bed. Sure enough, eyes barely open, that was Tim. Danny crawled up towards his brother’s person’s face. He laid down in the crook of the other man’s arms, nuzzling into Tim’s chest. Danny felt better here. Safer. The door opened and a triangle of light fell onto the bed. Tim groaned, and hand flying up to protect his eyes.
“It’s way too early for this,” Tim complained. There was a light chuckle from the door.
“Chum, it’s nearly noon.”
“Lies,” Tim said with a sigh. He sad up a bit, jostling Danny. Tim looked down, seeming to realize Danny was there. “Coffee. I need so much coffee.”
Right. He’d only been with Tim for a day or two, but he already knew that his brother didn’t function very well without his caffeine. Tim staggered out of bed, fumbling to get into his slippers. Danny slid down to follow him. Should he go for Tim’s hand? Yes, he wanted to hold it. Using a burst of courage, he took Tim’s hand. Tim stopped in the hallway, looking down at their joined hands. Oh no. Did Tim not want to hold hands?!? Danny’s face burned and he tried to let go. Except… he couldn’t. Tim gripped his hand tightly, then resumed walking, Danny following in surprise. There was a hum from behind them. Right. Bruce. He was still there. Danny had kinda forgotten about him.
The dining room was empty, so they went into the kitchen. Tim still held his hand as he began to fill the coffee machine with ground beans and water. It was rather funny watching. Mr. Pennyworth came out from what Danny suspected was a pantry.
“Master Timothy. Wonderful to see you up and about. I’d feared we wouldn’t see you until supper.” Oooh. Mr. Pennyworth had some sass and snark to him! Danny giggled.
“Master Danny. Wonderful to see you. Would you like some hot chocolate? Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Can you boys wait that long?” Mr. Pennyworth asked this as he confidently strode through the kitchen; checking in the oven, stirring a pot on the stove, and washing lettuce for a salad.
“Yes, I would like some hot chocolate. Thank you,” Danny responded. He liked Mr. Pennyworth, so he’d be polite.
“I can wait till lunch is ready. Although I wouldn’t mind a small snack…” Tim said, sitting down at the table.
Danny sat down next to him. Bruce sat across from them. Before he knew it, hot chocolate was placed before him. He sipped on it and Tim drank his coffee. Bruce was just watching them. Danny did his best to ignore his father. He still had his bear. He wished he had his javelin. It was sad that it’d gotten broken the other day. Alfred gave them a plate with some crackers, cheese, and little meats. It was basically a charcuterie board. It was yummy and he kept going. He stopped when he’d eaten about half of the board. Tim had eaten some along with him.
The silence was awkward.
He wasn’t going to break it though.
When Mr. Pennyworth told them lunch was ready, all three of them walked to the dining room. Danny made sure to grab Tim’s hand again. Danny wasn’t expecting others to be there. He saw Dick, Jason, Damian, and two women. One had blonde hair, the other black. That could only mean Spoiler and Black Bat. Dick got up as they walked in. He had a large grin on his face. He pulled back the chair Tim had been heading towards. Dick patted it.
“Thanks?” Tim sounded confused. That’s okay, Danny was confused too. He didn’t see a whoopie cushion or anything on the seat, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some sort of hidden prank. Tim sat down. Danny let go, as he was going to sit in his own seat. Even if he would have a hard time looking over the edge of the table. Danny was rather small for a five year old. He’d been taller at five in his previous life.
Danny got what Dick was doing when he felt himself get picked up. Except. Danny didn’t want to be touched by Dick. He didn’t want to be picked up by Dick. He only trusted Tim right now. So he unleashed some of his freeze powers to make Dick let him go! He growled, angry at being picked up without his consent. Danny stopped as soon as he was placed in Tim’s lap.
Oh.
Okay, maybe he could somewhat forgive Dick for that. Danny turned to look at Dick, wincing when he saw the blue and purple hands. There were even little ice crystals on there. The entire room was tense, and there were tears in his eyes as he was trying to hold onto a smile.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you were doing,” Danny explained guiltily. “I’ll fix it.”He reached out, to try and draw the ice and cold back into him. He could do that.
Probably.
Thankfully it worked as Dick’s skin returned to normal.
“Note to self. Don’t pick up the baby without getting his consent,” the blonde woman muttered.
“It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it. I’ll know better for next time,” Dick said. Danny wasn’t sure if he really was forgiven. He cuddled closer to his brother. Dick pushed the chair in, so Danny and Tim were in the same seat.
***
When Tim had gone to sleep last night, he’d acknowledged that Danny, Damian’s biological little brother, was attached to him. It was becoming all the more clear how attached to Tim he was. The selfish part of him loved it. He’d always wanted a little brother. When Damian had first arrived, he’d been so excited. That feeling had been killed quickly. Danny though. He trusted Tim, and no one else. Tim was the first person he looked to. Danny had tried to protect Tim, when Dick had come in unannounced the other day, using his powers to density shift both of them.
Tim felt sorry for Bruce, that there was another son that wasn’t really accepting him. But he couldn’t help feeling happy that Danny loved him and no one else. He’d been jealous of the closeness between Dick and Damian. Now though. Now he had a chance to have that relationship with Danny.
A close brotherly relationship that he’d always wanted but hadn’t really gotten with Dick, Damian, or Jason.
My personal goal is to try and make fanfic binding as accessible to everyone as possible, so here are some resources on how to make a fanfic hardcover for under $25.
This is a barebones bind for the broke college students and such. Happy to field questions, too!
Here's a proposed budget breakdown:
Loosely organized thoughts:
Fanfic bookbinders often share typesets amongst each other. Never pay for a typeset for a fanfic.
You'll hear a lot about grain direction for your printer paper, but as a newbie on a budget without your own printer, settle for some nice 92 bright paper. If you like the hobby, splurge after but expect to pay at least 2-3x more for short grain paper.
Printing is a pain because some copy shops won't let you print intellectual property smut, and it's very expensive. You are better off bartering instead or looking for a free printer on Buy Nothing.
You know the thick paper wrapping that comes with online orders? It's a good weight for endpapers if you need to scrounge. Paper grocery bags or gift bags (birthday presents) might work, too.
Ask your local library to give you covers from books they are throwing out. Ask for outdated textbooks (those covers are built like tanks) or three-ring binders that are too busted to be binders anymore.
Obtain a used book that was mass produced (so your destruction of it does not impede anyone's access) and maybe even become a little vindictive with it.
If you can afford it, I recommend the Olfa SVR knife (~$10)
If you can afford it, upgrade your ruler to a t-square.
I really hope this resource is helpful! I want to stress how possible this is and encourage people to cherish what they love through art.
If you are interested in fanfic binding and have a little more disposable income, I have an affordable Fan Fiction Bookbinding Starter Pack that I carry on my site. I pack them myself and drop them 1x/month on the 15th.
@bubbletune6 You said you were already at your project for several months, so you may already be past most of this, but maybe there's something here that's useful for you?
So I've been in the PJO fandom lately and let me tell you, as both a pagan and an avid fanfic reader: this is a journey. Granted, I'm not a Hellenic pagan but still. I love the stories, and yet I've just noticed an interesting pattern.
The idea that the gods do not understand humans or humanity
There is an otherness to the gods, do not get me wrong. But they are, and I cannot stress this enough, old as fuck. We are fetuses compared to them and that is being generous. That is to say, maybe they don't understand some human things but they definitely have enough live experience that they've seen it and have dealt with it before. We are especial, yes; but not particularly unique, especially to entities that have existed this long.
Are there gods who don't understand humans? Sure. But most of them are gods who have little interaction with humanity. I can't imagine gods like Apollo, Poseidon or Hermes see humans as alien and incomprehensible. Maybe they can't quite grasp the emotion or whatever, but they've definitely seen it enough in their followers to identify it and deal with it.
Humanity is kind and gods need to learn to be more human
Admittedly, this tends to be a topic in the reading the books genre of this fandom more than anywhere else, but still. It strikes me as arrogant, ngl. But ignoring that, uhm.. no? Gods are not human, do not expect human reactions out of them.
There are things that we consider proper nowadays that will probably be considered cruel in a thousand years. Hell, there are things considered right and proper in our society that are likely considered rude or cruel in another contemporary society. Our way to see the world affects the way we interpret the gods, I'm going to leave it there because that is a much grander discussion than I'm willing to have online.
The relationship between CHB and the gods makes no sense from a worship perspective
Sure, "the ancient laws forbid the relationship between parent and child", but what about worship? There is no real worship at CHB other than the sacrifices before food. Is the equivalent of a Christian who only prays before eating but otherwise doesn't engage in the religion. Where are the little home altars? The prayers? Any sort of relationship with the gods? There's nothing.
In my experience and those of most pagans I know, most of us have our own way to communicate with our gods. Sure, there are organized groups; but most of us communicate with our gods from the comfort of our own space, too. And you know what seems to be true about the gods across the board? How in your ass they are about your self-care and maintenance of your mental health. I have never worshiped Hellenic gods but if Hermes is as mischievous as Loki can be, you bet your ass he's probably looking at the kids in his cabin and going: "drink more water, sleep properly but also where's the fun in your life? The spontaneity? Go play a prank, get some revenge. Go something that makes you feel alive. Oh wow, you went too far. Ok, what did we learn about this experience?"
The relationship between gods and worshipper is not one-sided in that the god is not expected to provide simply because "god" without the worshipper doing some worshipping, there needs to be a relationship there. Meaning, the worshipper is also not expected to worship without gaining anything in return. This gets muddled in CHB because these kids are definitely children from the gods and our view of modern parenthood is that they provide and guide while the kids are more or less expected to learn and receive. It's more one-sided, if you will, in terms of providing. And in that the rule of "no contact with your kid" sort of makes sense, if you see it through a lense of: they're trying to keep the relationship one of devotee-god and not parent-child.
And yet, there is no worship in CHB and virtually no relationship between the gods and the camp, according to most fics. (Let's remind ourselves that I'm talking about the fics, before my ADHD brain forgets).
Just re-read Ripples of the Olive Fountain and it has given me a hilarious idea. For context, in Chapter 2, during a council meeting involving the custody of Perse (Raisa in this case), Ares mentions fathers being the head of the household. (It is Ancient Greece, after all.) Then Athena realizes that her daughter's birth in the fountain could be compared to a child being born in the womb and proclaims herself to be Raisa's father.
So here's my idea: What if Percy has the same thought after emerging from the fountain? She then decides to be a gremlin and calls Athena her father, instead of Poseidon. Imagine the sheer chaos Perse would cause by doing this.
Ok, but does she call Poseidon her mom? Because I need that gremlin energy. Imagine Percy pointing to her side, saying : "and that's my beautiful and kind mother". Cut to Poseidon fucking ruining Odysseus life and killing all his men.
So I tried to be adventurous and bought this Asian tofu snack. Long story short: it looks nothing like the picture. I cannot emphasize enough just how disgusting this thing looks. My kindest description is wet cat foot in tiny convenient packets. (The big bag is filled with small bags filled with the snack.)
You can just imagine me, in all my starving glory, staring at this smallish packet in despair. But fuck it, right? I am starving!!! So I eat it. I have no words. This fucking thing is delicious. I've never been more madly delighted or delightedly mad. I don't know how to clarify that feeling. First, I was so happy and then so mad. This snack has lied to me thrice over!
This mini fic was inspired by the anon prompt to @faeriekit linked here and all the development that Faeriekit did for the idea. This fic is perilously regional. I half expect angry yelling from other areas of the Midwest.
Original post
Word count: 2718
Masterpost of my Archive Down Fics is here.
Jason came to with cream cheese stuck under his fingernails and in the creases of his fingers. He looked around the room wildly, trying to understand the situation he was in. The kitchen smelled fucking weird. He sniffed the air. Meat? Like, ham and also vinegar?
He washed his hands really well, grimacing at the greasy texture. Then he reconstructed what must have happened by the debris. This was not his first post-blackout rodeo, but usually he was reconstructing a literal crime scene.
There was an empty pickle jar on the countertop. There were packets of deli meat in the trash.
There was some kind of abomination on his nicest plate, which was obviously made of cream cheese wrapped around pickles, blanketed by the meat, and sliced thin like sushi rolls. It was lovingly protected by a perfect sheet of cling wrap.
“The fuck?” Jason said, a little scared and pissed off.
He paced the kitchen for a while and then went to pace on the balcony, because he needed a smoke to process this culinary abomination but something in his gut wailed at the tragedy of ruining it with cigarette smoke. Which was absurd, partly because the plate was in the refrigerator. He sensed in his bones that it needed to cool until the cream cheese was as hard as it would get, so that he could safely transport it. Transport it fucking where? Was this an assassination attempt against Batman? That sappy motherfucker was probably the only man in the world who would choke that down to make Jason happy.
He had a long drag on his cigarette and tried to ignore the way his fingers shook.
“Okay,” he said, squeezing his free hand shut and opening it. Maybe stimming would prompt his brain to go brr and explain this. “Did I have a stroke? Maybe I was possessed?”
It was hard to tell. He ground out his cigarette and tossed the butt in the tray before venturing back inside. He was calm. He was more centered. He flicked on the kitchen fan to clear out the pickle stink and then he went and put on his coat and grabbed the plate.
Why was he doing that?
The compulsion led him three blocks before he realized where he was going.
Not far away from the safehouse he was in, some college freshman had wasted the Joker when the clown tried to drag him into a van. He had called the police, crying the whole time in shock about being a murderer.
Jason had not been on the scene. He had only heard through comms. He had been out of town when the Joker got out. He had been rushing back on his bike, heart pounding and sick with nerves at the thought of his family out there without him.
And then the fucker had failed to secure the first victim for whatever sick play he’d had in mind, and the poor out of town kid who had apparently never heard of the Joker was breathing a sigh of relief that ‘oh, this wasn’t like, a birthday clown? Whew, that’s alright then,’ previous guilt over ending a life all gone.
Jason liked that. It was hugely undignified that the Joker had been got by someone who didn’t even know who he was. If he’d known, it would have killed his ego. As it was, Jason had laughed himself nearly sick before barricading himself inside to read the file Timmers put together on Danny Fenton.
Well. If his gut said that he should deliver this horrific dish to Fenton as thanks for the murder, well…
Jason grimaced. He just wouldn’t be seen doing it. If Fenton thought it was an assassination attempt and called the cops, Jason would never fess up.
He broke into Fenton’s apartment, very glad that the guy was in class at the moment. He mourned the loss of his plate but honestly, this was the least destructive black out he’d had, so it was whatever. He put the pickle rolls in the fridge, looked around, and then left. He was done. He’d thanked Fenton, or whatever (maybe he’d attacked him, honestly, Jason didn’t know how he would react to finding that trash in his fridge.)
It could end now.
The next morning, Jason scrubbed away a yawn and realized that he had just scraped a mess of chopped snickers bars into a bowl that already had clouds of something white and -
He took out a piece and bit into it to confirm that it was perfectly cubed green apple.
“I am possessed,” Jason said in horror, looking around the counter to see what the Pit Madness had cooked up this time. Why did the fucking Lazarus Pit know these recipes?
The white shit was a mix of cool whip and vanilla pudding, apparently. There was an untouched bottle of caramel sauce waiting innocently.
“...Does that go in?” Jason wondered, vaguely horrified.
Well, maybe an evil witch was doing this to him. Bottoms up. He poured caramel in until it felt right, guided by what had to be someone else’s goddamn ancestors, and then mixed it all up with a spoon.
This looked a lot better than the last thing. Jason scraped it into a bowl and then stole a spoonful of it to try.
“Holy shit. It’s like eating a caramel apple,” he said, muffled around the food. He swallowed and genuinely considered taking more.
Nope! His gut said nope. This was another offering for–
“Hold up, offering?” Jason put it in the fridge, clingwrap on top, and let his mind be blown. He put his face in his hands and just reeled. He was making offerings for this motherfucker now. He opened his phone, intending to search the things he’d been blackout making and froze.
His lock screen was Danny Fenton’s police intake photo, looking pretty relaxed after he'd been told the booking was a formality.
“I don’t remember doing that!” Jason frantically changed it back to his old lock screen, a grimy alleyway with a hilariously shaped filth puddle and one of his favorite rats.
He snuck this dessert thing into Fenton’s fridge, collected his clean plate with some relief, and left. He didn't know if Fenton had eaten that shit or if he'd thrown it away, but at least he'd washed the plate.
“That was the last time,” Jason told himself, pacing around his room. He wasn’t– that was two days in a row now that he had a normal day, went out on patrol, went to bed, and woke up in his kitchen. It wasn’t going to happen again.
He chainsmoked all day to such a degree that Stephanie Brown saw him, whined “Dude,” in disbelief, and jumped off a building while holding her nose to get away from him. It was a fair reaction. He had a shower before patrol so that no one could make a connection between Jason, stinkiest man in Gotham today, and the Red Hood, a guy who owned a shower.
Patrol went fine. He caught himself veering past Fenton’s shitty apartment building twice but no one was nearby enough to call him out for it.
He went to bed and got a jumpscare because at some point of his most recent fugue state he'd gone out and bought a bunch of wedding magazines and made them into a nest. He made a roar of frustration and pushed them off the bed with only a twinge of interest in what that swan centerpiece was made of.
Jason went the fuck to sleep, determined to walk this off.
He woke up the next morning in his kitchen. “Cream cheese, again,” Jason complained. He gave the bowl he was mixing a furious stir and then shoved it in the fridge.
Cream cheese, chopped meat, and chopped green onion. He searched the internet to identify the fucker. This was a cheeseball.
…He frowned, thinking of the fugly mess in the bowl.
It was the larval form of a cheeseball, he amended.
Why did he know this shitty recipe.
Stomach tight with dread, he looked up the other things. Day one was a pickle roll. Day two was snickers salad.
These were all real Midwestern potluck dishes. He hadn't made them up. Why did the pit know these recipes?
The Snickers salad offended him as a concept and he bitterly regretted finding it delicious.
“Salad,” Jason repeated in aggrieved disbelief. It was good but it was no goddamn salad. “I could just make him a real salad. Will this end if I bring Fenton good food?”
It wasn't the worst idea. He put a pin in it.
Grimly, as if he was going off to war, Jason researched how to shape the ball. If he was doing this, which apparently he was for no goddamn reason, he was going to do it to perfection. When he was done he wrapped it up tight, got an assortment of crackers, and left it at Danny Fenton’s apartment with a sort of tired resignation that this might as well be happening.
This time was different. This time, Fenton was home.
Jason barely avoided being seen by rushing out the window over the sink and hiding from the immediate line of sight. He was, however, close enough to hear–
“Holy shit, is that a cheeseball? Who loves me?” and then some truly ghastly, wet crunching as Fenton tore through the crackers and cheeseball like a wild beast. It felt like being in a horror film. Jason very badly wanted to leave. Jason very badly wanted to crawl back inside and present himself for a scrap of Fenton’s approval.
What the fuck? What the fuck!
He fled. And this time, he decided to take action. He was going get out of this sick mind trap and-
“Nothing wrong with you, it's not a curse,” Zatanna said, bored about it. “Whatever is going on is safe, sane, consensual, and none of my business.” She portalled away before Jason could argue that it did not feel sane. He was having an entirely new category of mental breakdown and when one of the Bats found out about it, he was going to be a case study.
Fine. He gritted his jaw. New plan. Maybe he could beat the curse by showing it up.
He called out of crime for the day and ignored the confused commentary in the background of his phone call– can he do that? Of course he can, he’s the friggin’ boss– and spent it furiously researching. He needed a crowning achievement. He needed to find out what was sacred in this culinary tradition, master it, and then tell the compulsion to suck on bricks.
Casserole. The answer was a casserole.
Jason scrolled through dozens of recipes, scowling fiercely. That was no good. That offended his senses. He just knew that would be bland. He-
“Do I want to make that?” Jason asked aloud, puzzled by his fixation on the old-fashioned goulash casserole recipe. Worcestershire sauce– he didn’t have that in this safe house for sure. Beef, pasta, tomatoes… yeah, okay. This was the one. For no fucking reason at all, this was the one.
He went out shopping like he usually went on life-or-death missions, full of grim purpose.
He got back and assembled his ingredients. It was not exactly a challenge to follow the recipe. Jason turned off the stove top and froze in place. “I don’t have an ancestral pan,” he said, horrified. Holy fuck. How could he dare to give it in a regular baking pan- he had to get one. Where the fuck does one acquire an ancestral casserole pan on short notice?
Panicked, he called the Manor, hands shaking as he packed the whole thing up and stuffed it in the fridge to keep it food safe until he could bake it.
Bruce answered, sounding a little choked up. “Hello, Jason, so glad-”
He hung up. He texted Tim. “I need you to steal something for me from the Manor.”
“You’re allowed in, you gigantic freak,” Tim wrote back.
Jason did some meditative breathing and resorted to outright pleading immediately. “What do you want? I will give you whatever you want. I just need an ancestral casserole pan.”
“I am NOT stealing from Alfred’s kitchen,” Tim wrote back. Which was fair. “Drake ancestral pan alright?”
Jason thought about it. It was still a family pan, sorta. By the transitive property, and that was a perfectly good property. He sent back a thumbs up, his GPS pin, and the word “Hurry.”
A while later, Tim dropped off a glass dish, loudly said “I don’t wanna know,” and slammed Jason’s door shut.
Fine. He was already moving his stuff from the now-cold frying pan into the casserole dish. It went into the oven from there. Jason spent the bake time trying to think of new coping mechanisms, because apparently smoking wasn’t up to this level of mental fuckery.
He waited out the bake time. He let it cool enough to be safe to travel with but hot enough to deliver warm. Jason grappled to Danny Fenton's apartment for the fourth time in four days, let himself in, and nearly jumped out of his boots when he realized that Fenton was in the kitchen watching him.
“Hey,” Fenton said. He was sitting on his counter in his pajamas, eating ice cream out of the bucket with a spoon. He was certifiable. Jason wanted to cross the room and kiss whatever Fenton would let him. Hands, face, feet, whatever.
Wow, weird.
“...Hey,” Jason said, way too late.
Fenton crunched down on his ice cream. “...That a casserole?” He said.
Jason nodded wordlessly, feeling very grateful that he had his hood on. He put the casserole down on the counter. He took a step backwards to flee.
Fenton pointed at Jason with the spoon, wholly unintimidated by the heavily armed man who'd broken into his house. “This is a proposal.”
Oh. Oh, motherfucking shitsocks. Jason felt weak through the knees. It was. Why was- why was he proposing??
Fenton took in his shock with a detached air. “Huh,” he said, like he'd learned something from this. “Um, it's nice of you and all. Have you been like, fixated on me for a while or- ohhh. I avenged you, didn't I?” He dropped the spoon in his ice cream carton and slapped both his palms down on the countertop. “He killed you? That sucks, man,” Fenton empathized. “I get it. I think if someone smashed the portal with a hammer I'd be down on one knee.”
Jason's brain was simply not running any program any longer. He gaped. He wasn't coherent enough to ask why Danny knew he'd been murdered by the Joker, but he had his shit together well enough to be fixated on the point.
“Um, it's not usually me being chased,” Fenton said. He made a face. “I… huh, I think I'm flattered.” He very obviously gave Jason a once-over. “I suppose this is your way of showing that you're a provider.” He heaved himself off the counter and went to investigate the casserole, sniffing and lifting the lid. “Oh, fuuuuuuck,” Danny groaned. He sniffed appreciatively. “Good demonstration of your husband material, t-b-h.”
Jason resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground.
“That's the good stuff.” Fenton closed it back up, but not before giving his ice cream spoon a considering look.
Oh, yuck. This guy was so grungly. Jason needed him badly. He shuddered.
Fenton looked at him.
Jason looked back.
“Do you wanna try moving in and see how we get on?” Fenton offered. “Take it slow, no wedding just yet.”
“Absolutely.” Jason full-body twitched with just how eager he was. “How do you feel about swans?”
“Neutral,” Danny said, after a brief moment of consideration. “I like stars, though.”
Okay, so that would be their wedding theme.
Jason only realized he'd said that aloud when Fenton's eyebrows shot up. Mortified and really wondering what was wrong with him, Jason offered a weak smile.
Fenton made a considering noise. He crossed his arms. He looked Jason up and down. “...Can you grill?” He asked. “Like, beer chicken?”
- bear(7) excused themselves with a Formal Letter, which was accepted.
- bug(4) however demanded to go to school, as they have a phonics test and are planning to surpass their fiancé on it
- mouse(1.5) after doing some strategic nonverbal squeaking and begging, was presented with a highly desirable used butter knife, adorned with Nutella residue, in a fit of absentmindedness by myself. Normally, house policy is that Mouse is not armed, but I was distracted and their squeaking was so confident that it just sort of happened. Mouse then carefully licked the knife clean and secreted it in a very clever place for later.
- the very clever place was down the neck of their sleepsuit/footie pajamas, so it slid down into their foot; upon being taken down after breakfast, they tried to subtly retrieve it and ALMOST got away with it.
[ID: A piece of paper (looks like it's magneted to a surface) with a child's handwritten note that reads: "Mummy, I am [underlined] Very coughy and feel porrly so I am writing a letter to comincate insted of talking. I would like to have a sick day please
mouse, an exceedingly small and mischievous person who is simply called Mousey instead of their actual name, commits myriad domestic crimes that cannot be predicted, and for which they usually escape accountability by having great charm.
mouse has put pet chickens in buckets of water. mouse industriously digs up earthworms to eat ON PURPOSE. At any given moment mouse IS putting a loaf of bread into the washing machine and turning it on. Mouse can open the liquor cabinet and, knowing they are being naughty, frequently does so when they think they are unobserved, simply to gloat over their access to the whiskey, stroking the bottles gently and evilly, and then locking the cupboard again and creeping off. mouse does it all so quietly and with such shining innocence that their nursery carers, the same nursery carers who saw through the bullshit of Bear and Bug, hand the criminal mouse over with a bewildered apologetic expression, explaining that they do not KNOW at one point on a Tuesday morning mouse learned to pick locks. Or HOW mouse almost caught a squirrel. Or apologising because mouse managed to do X with Y, X being an improbable verb and Y being furniture.
(Image ID: a bowl with mangled white mushrooms slightly chopped up.)
When children signal interest in grownup tools and activities it’s a good sign to start teaching them. At about 18 months I usually let kids stand on a chair in the kitchen and chop mushrooms with a butter knife. If you don’t mind mangled mushrooms of different sizes, you can actually use them. Otherwise, mushrooms are fairly cheap to buy peace while you’re cooking an intensive meal. Mouse has a tremendous interest in chopping mushrooms; today they were put to work, and filled three small bowls with their contribution before Getting Officially Bored with Knives. Knives handed to you by a parent in the expectation of doing chores = takes the edge (ha!) off the excitement.
In this way, it’s to be hoped that Mouse will eventually become a member of society.
I’ve seen this energy once before and I saved it in case it was someday relevant. That day has arrived!
Woke up; discovered 3-yr-old had had massive nosebleed, his clothes covered in blood; washed him; walked into the kitchen; found 5-yr-old stirring his brother's bloody clothes in a pot filled with hot water. "I need his blood," he said. "I need his blood for my poisons."
There is a pot of water, blood, cayenne pepper, & cloves boiling on the stove & it's only 7:53 AM.
It all started when Talia came to Gotham with a gift.
The gift in question was a twelve year old boy.
Bruce stared at the boy who was almost the exact replica of Damian if not for the blue eyes and longer hair. He looked utterly perplexed at the sight of Bruce, tilting his head before frowning at his mother with a visibly displeased look.
"Beloved, may I introduce you to Danyal, our Damian's twin brother. He was... Away... On a mission until recently." Talia hummed, a hand on Danyal's back.
"You... You didn't think to tell me about him when you told me about Damian?" Shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked down at the boy who looked a little more like him than Talia and felt himself softening. "Hello Danyal."
"Hello."
Talia smiled, before her expression fell. "A little warning, beloved. The twins do not get along. Damian is quite the competitive child and Danyal... Well, he's the nicer one if I must say." She shrugged, running her fingers through her son's hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Go on now, Najmi As-Sagheer (my little star)."
"Ummi... Must I join them? I am perfectly fine with remaining in the league." Danyal muttered, eye twitching but his expression was quickly schooled into neutrality.
"Yes, Danyal." She sighed, "I have no intention of letting father keep you."
Bruce raised a brow at her words.
"That is a conversation for another time, habibi." Talia lazily insisted, gently pushing Danyal towards Bruce.
Bruce, for all he's lived, immediately recognized a feral cat in the form a child. Yep. Another Damian. That was seemingly the nicer one.
But he was scruffy little thing who was being called little star by his mother. Bruce blinked, offering his hand to Danyal (like how a person would do by letting a cat sniff his hand to see if they were safe).
Danyal, more twitchy and annoyed than his brother, looked at the hand like it had personally offended him.
And that is how Batman brought home another child while holding him by the scruff.
(Danny hated everyone except for Alfred—both cat and butler)
Danyal was a much quieter person compared to Damian. Unlike his brother who had practically came into their lives guns blazing and declaring that he was the rightful heir to the bat, Danyal mainly ignored them. He would glare, snarl, and scowl, but not in the way Damian did. The kid was obviously threatened by them, but more for his own safety rather than inheritance.
He avoided them like the plague, only welcoming the company of Alfred and occasionally Cass.
He didn't join in on the vigilante business, opting to stay back with Oracle and just quietly direct them on their missions. It was strange in all honesty.
They didn't know much about Danyal, aside from the fact that his mother called him little star for his natural love of space. That he liked to tinker with gadgets and make his own weapons. That he really liked fudge.
Aside from that, the kid was quiet and was usually hiding out in his room.
Tim wasn't particularly thrilled to have another demon brat in the family. He avoided Danyal as much as possible expecting for the boy to be just like his brother and attack him.
But apparently not.
It's one of those unfortunate times that Tim's sleep deprivation and overload on energy drinks gets him benched by Alfred and not Bruce. No one particularly wanted to argue with their beloved butler/grandpa so Tim was stuck in place. It was a much quieter night than usual, almost peaceful (as much as Gotham can get).
Babs was relieved of her duties to have a night off, rest and relax and such, while Tim manned the bat computer in Oracle's place. He almost didn't notice the mop of black hair that suddenly appeared beside him.
Tim didn't want to admit it, but he flinched at Danyal's presence and how he was quietly standing there with a tray of coffee and cookies. Blue eyes blinked at him, silently pushing the tray forward to offer Tim the lone cup (most likely for him) and the plate of cookies.
Suspicious, Tim narrowed his eyes. "Alfred wouldn't make me coffee after benching me for this kind of thing."
Danyal shrugged, "Made it myself. Thought you'd need it since the others will be gone for a while."
"That's poisoned."
"It's not." Danyal frowned, immediately taking the cup and taking a couple sips himself before once again offering it to Tim.
Now, Tim wasn't stupid enough to ignore the possibility of Danyal having some tolerance to poison. But Tim was also tolerant to a lot of poisons so might as well.
When taking one sip, he was already feeling weird. One, there was no poison. Two, it was actually pretty good.
Danyal just sat there and stared at the screen, munching on cookies and pointing at the screen whenever Robin started to stray from the patrol route. Tim had a lot of fun reportingtattling to Bruce about it.
Eventually, it became a routine.
Danyal always sat beside Tim. Quiet and just offering random stuff, either food, some little gadget he made, or just the most bizarre stuff he found while at school.
Tim learned many things about his weird little brother. How cameras go crazy around him. How he had his reasons for not being touched. How Danyal was more silent than Cass. How Danyal vanished and reappeared at times.
(The glowing green eyes were the most concerning.)
He never really took notice of how Danyal started to gravitate to him. Always with him, barely without.
(Tim refused to admit that he was just the same.)
"Can I go on patrol with you?" Danyal asked, tugging at his Red Robin suit with a curious look. "I wanna meet Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn."
And Tim didn't really see much of a problem with that. Danyal was a highly trained assassin that Ra's apparently trusted to go on a solo mission while Damian had to be whisked away from the league. It wasn't too absurd for Tim to just shrug and let his kid brother tag along.
He was also very sure that his baby brother was an eldritch being with how the shadows seemed to rise around him. Yeah, the baby was a cryptid amongst a family of supposed cryptids. Very fitting.
It's a nice night. With Danny running amok with Tim, clearly having fun. But that one looks of sadness didn't escape Tim when Danny paused and looked to the sky with longing.
Tim remembers how Danny rambled about the stars in their shared moments, where it's just them.
Tim remembers how Danny would describe the sky in Nanda Parbar and how he often snuck out just to see it.
Tim remembers how much his little brother likes space and turns to the cloudy sky of Gotham that hides the stars.
Tim remembers how he was often depraved of the brotherly love he wanted. How he didn't get the full experience of having an older brother.
"You okay, little star?"
Danyal snapped his head towards Tim, eyes blown wide and flashing green (he knows that wasn't normal but he ignores that in favor to the way Danyal visibly softens at the nickname).
"'m okay, akhi." Danyal muttered, following after Tim after adjusting his own hood.
And it's like his heart stops.
Yep.
Tim has had Danyal for barely a year and he was willing to throw hands with Ra's, Talia, and Bruce for him.
"C'mon, qalbi(my heart). Batburger's still open."
He barely noticed the shift after that. But others think it's a glaring change that often made them stop and stare.
Danyal went to Tim whenever he needed anything.
If Danyal wasn't in bed, you'd find him snuggled up to Tim.
Danyal hated it when people touched him... Except for Tim.
Danyal liked Tim the most.
The day Dick thought it was a good idea to call Danyal 'Danny' (a nickname that was only used by Tim and Alfred), he almost got stabbed. Well, that's where all the stabbiness went to.
Safe to say, Tim was Danny's favorite.
And Danny was Tim's.
"Drake! What have you done to my brother?!" Damian pointed a katana at Tim, who lazily glanced his way before turning back to Danny who was comfortably snuggled up to him and watching Blue while Tim scrolled on Tiktok.
"I haven't done anything to Danny, demon brat. Now shoo!" Tim's irritation could be heard from a mile away, shamelessly shooing Damian away with a flick of his wrist. Then the next second, he was combing his fingers through Danny's hair and listening to his younger brother make a purring noise.
(Another point of investigation because that is not fucking normal, Tim. Cute though!)
"I refuse to believe that Danyal would prefer you over me!"
"You're just salty that he stabs you like you stab me." Tim waved him off again, watching as Danny yawned and continued to ignore everyone else.
The click of a camera immediately alerts him and he's tugging Danny down before the much younger boy lunges at Dick.
"Woah! What's up with him?" Dick nervously asked, instinctively raising his phone above his head.
"Delete that!" Tim snarled, pulling Danny closer and guiding his brothers face to his shoulder. "You know he hates it when people take pictures without consent!"
(Tim doesn't tell them that something goes every wrong with the footage if Danny was ever in the picture.)
"Dick." Tim warned, effortlessly picking up Danny, because yes, his seemingly cryptid baby brother could become weightless, and snatched Dick's phone. Yep. Instead of Danny, there was a very strange figure, a glitching silhouette of black and green. He deletes it immediately.
Dick was pouring, "I don't have any pics of Danny—"
"Don't call me that, Richard." Danny scowled, clinging to Tim like a koala. He was strangely more child-like than Damian, muttering about annoying people who interrupted bonding time. (Dick was just forced to pout.)
"Danyal." Damian crossed his arms, scowling at Danny who was still comfortably cuddled up to Tim. "It is not appropriate to cling to Drake in such a way! You will embarrass our mother and father if you are seen acting like a petulant child!"
Tim wanted to argue that no, he wouldn't embarrass Talia and Bruce by being a kid, but Danny just grabbed a cookie from nowhere (note to self, add possible teleportation powers to cryptid baby) and shoved it into his mouth.
Danny just yawned, fixing Damian with a lazy glare.
"Tuhali, can you shut up?"
Damian stood stock still, while Jason and Bruce choked on their own spit. Jason slapping a hand over his mouth and Bruce just staring at his twins like the apocalypse was about to return.
"What did you just call me?"
Danny yawne again, "My spleen."
Tim knew what Tuhali meant. Of course he fucking knew Arabic! But to think that his cryptid baby brother was straight up calling Damian his spleen?
The spleen that Tim doesn't have.
The spleen that's important to the immune system but you can survive without it?
Tim grinned, grabbing his cryptid baby and made a run for it.
Yep.
Danny was definitely his favorite.
Credits to: @strangergraphics for the dividers used.
prguitarman
kianamaiart
izzy806
germansingergirl
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jacobvanloon
