Damian's online friend is sleeping over at Wayne Manor, and its going great.

Well, until he dies.

They had all gone down to "sleep", which meant that they had Daniel go to sleep while everyone went out on patrol.

Upon returning, Damian checked on Daniel.

Just to make sure that his Grandfather had not sent any assassins that had taken advantage of Damian's weakness in friendships, of course.

Daniel isn't breathing.

When Damian goes to check his pulse, it isn't there.

Damian storms out of the room on a warpath; he would find who had killed his friend and he would make them pay.

Danny wakes up six hours later on a metal slab in a secret underground lair with one Leslie Thompkins hovering over him with a scalpel.

Part 9 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost

<<1 Previous Next

Pit Demons aren't pets, now stop biting!

Jason sighed as he pulled into the bat cave with his bike. This was the third day in a row now that he was coming back into the Manor now and most likely stayed over again. Steph and Cass were due back from her mission today and Jason knew Alfred was preparing for the Family dinner that was going to happen either today or tomorrow.

Depending if Dick could finally gets Bruce out of his office.

It didn't really matter to Jason though. He was just here to… well he didn't know either but he knew that he was trying to keep an eye out for the little biter. Even if he had to deal with Timber being frustratingly annoying with the whole ghost cult thing.

So what if he could read what they claim to be squiggles. Not that he could prove otherwise, because all he saw was perfectly readable letters. Thankfully he had gotten Tim off his back for some time as he went to deal with something in Crime Alley.

He checked the group chat and scowled.

Apparently the entire Manor was in a state of chaos and Demon Brat was dragging Duke around the entire manor to have him use ghost vision to find the little shit. Not that it was helping since the last update was from 15 minutes ago and apparently the light path Duke had followed ran into a wall.

He looked over to the Batcomputer to find Tim going through the security footage. The other hadn't even so much spared Jason a glance so far too focused on trying to find how the kid could have disappeared from Damian's room without any of them noticing. Alfred and Demon Brat had put down the kid for a nap in Damian's room despite having a room prepared for the little biter and when Damian checked on the kid after doing his school work he found the kid gone.

"Still nothing on the kid?"

"Nothing, it's like the kid vanished into thin air. Not even the sensors in Damian's room picked anything strange up that could hint at his disappearance."

"I still have bite marks, so he definitely was not a mass hallucination."

Tim glared at Jason and the elder only shrugged. It was probably a bit to soon for that kind of joke. But his brothers weren't the only ones worried.

He wasn't even sure if Bruce knew, considering the last he heard was Dick and the old man having a 'talk' again. Dick was probably leaving the search to them for the moment to deal with whatever problem B was having right now.

"Think someone kidnapped the kid?"

"No. Aside from us, and probably the LoA, no one should know about Danny. The League taking him back wouldn't make sense. Besides why would anyone attempt to kidnap him from the Wayne Manor of all places? Gotham's Kidnappers might be dumb but not that dumb."

Jason sagely nodded in agreement. There was something tugging at the back of his mind but he couldn't explain what. It was like on the first day he had brought the little biter to the batcave. Over his shoulder he glanced into the direction his mind -no, the pit was urging him to go.

The pit had been strangely quiet and subdued ever since he met the kid. Protective of the biter at times but he despite the way Timber had annoyed and pestered him previously, he had not felt his own annoyance swing over into that uncontrollable rage.

There was a suspicion, a working theory. Something he wasn't yet willing to share with the rest of the family, despite the fact that he was sure that they had also noticed. It was a glaring fact that he was staying with them in the Manor despite Bruce being there too.

But until there was more confirmation Jason wasn't going to mention any of his suspicions, not if they could possibly endanger a little kid.

Because if he was right then the little biter was brought back way different than him and could also have some Pit controlling powers. The way his own mental Pit reacted to the boy was most likely proof but also what the other had found out so far. Lazarus water was fucking affecting the kids DNA.

It didn't help that Replacement had mentioned a suspicion that the League had most likely experimented with the kid and the Lazarus water judging by the scars they had discovered.

Someone might have deemed the kid a failure at first or the kid had escaped and somehow found his way to Jason's apartment with him probably being the closest thing to what the kid was.

Maybe the kid could sense him the way he could with his Pit. Shaking his head out of these thoughts Jason focused back at the problem at hand.

"I will check with Alfie, see if he knows any more hiding spaces kids would love to use." He patted his younger brother's shoulder only getting a grumble as answer before turning and going towards the elevators.

But before he could enter he once more glanced at the direction the pit was urging him to go. Hesitating, he looked back towards Timber and then the elevator.

"Fuck it." He muttered and decided to trust that stupid pit instinct or whatever that was, though with a threat in his stomach that once more just like the first time when they had searched through the cave to find the kid, the pit was leading him towards the Lazarus Pit.

Once he realized where he was going he stopped. "I should just fucking get Replacement or Demon Brat to check there." Muttering to himself he stared at the direction he was heading towards. When he found the little shit there before the kid had jumped him, chomping down on his arms.

The kid had only led go of him after he spat out green fucking Lazarus Water. Like what the actual fuck? Jason had pushed that experience as far out of his mind as he could but he was remembering it now again. It had been worrisome but they had chalked that up to the kids' contamination.

But now? Now that the pit in his mind was urging him to go there again? He couldn't help but think that there was more to it. Maybe his own dip in the pit had something to do with the little shits obsession with him?

Letting out a sigh he was ready to turn on his heel and get one of the others to check this area when he suddenly heard childlike laughter. "You are shitting me…"

With a scowl he marched towards the Lazarus Pit only to stop in his tracks the moment it came into view.

The little biter was sitting on the ground by the Pit as green glowing blobby orbs floated around the boy. The boy was poking them saying something, he couldn't really hear from this distance and then laughed. There was a light in his blue eyes that Jason hadn't seen before, a happiness even. It would be a really cute image of the kid playing with some green blobby orbs, if these things weren't probably some sort of dangerous Pit Demons.

Fuck what was he going to do now? If they were dangerous and he startled them the little shit could end up in real danger. So far they hadn't noticed him.

Grumbling while keeping an eye on the laughing boy, he sent a quick message into the chat telling the others little biter was in the batcave by the Lazarus pit. He knew the moment Tim saw the message he would come running, same with Demon Brat.

Despite knowing that was not a cute moment but dangerous, he snapped a picture anyway. Just for the record and to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or something. Because the kid was actually laughing, not hissing, not blankly staring, glaring or watching one of them but actually laughing like a kid his age with a shine in his eyes he hadn't seen before.

Demon Brat can thank him later for that picture, if Jason decides to share it with the others that was.

Echoing steps could be heard behind him and just like he predicted his brothers came running. The kid's laughter instantly stopped when he heard it too and his head snapped towards Jason, eyeing him warily. One of his hands was still stretched out towards one of the blobs, probably to pet it, but had stopped midway.

It was weird how the blobs were also now turning towards him and sort of looked displeased? Were these demons upset that they made the kid stop showering them in affection?

"Danyal!" Damn were they fast if they wanted to. Rushing past him their formerly youngest kneeled by his younger twins side patting the kid down and checking them over. Jason narrowed his eyes. Did Damian not notice the green glowing orbs that were all around the kid?

"So he was here the entire time?!" Timber asked the moment he coughed up, baffled. "How did we miss that?"

"Hey Replacement?" He had to ask, like come on, he couldn't be the only one seeing these green blobby orbs floating around the little biter and now the Demon Brat.

"Do you see-"

"What are these green blobs?"

Duke appeared next to them, clearly worried. Well that at least spared him having to ask that himself. From the corner of his eyes he watched how Tim blinked confused then rubbed his eyes like he was noticing them for the first time.

"Are those?"

"Small Pit Demons." Demon Brat answered them casually, waving one of them away when it got too close to his face. "They used to be around Grandfather's Lazarus Pit all the time. They seem to appear where Pits are and are harmless if you leave them be."

"Wait, you know about them?"

"Of course. They usually stay out of sight but it was not unusual to get a glimpse of them every now and then. Danyal used to point them out when we were younger. I am surprised that none of you ever noticed them before."

"Demon Brat, are you fucking kidding me? We got literally Pid Demons in the Batcave?!" They had fucking Pit Demons in the Batcave because of the Lazarus Pit and the damned brat didn't bother to tell them? What the fuck?

"Blob Ghosts! Not Demons!" The little biter piped up and Jason turned to stare at the kid not quite in disbelief but really? That was what the kid cared about, what they called these things?

"I don't fucking care what they are called. They still come for the fucking pit"

"Uhm…" Oh right all they hear from the kid is chirping or thrilling noises.

"What did Danyal call them?"

"Blob Ghosts."

"Blob Ghosts…" Before he knew it Tim was gone, nose deep in the weird ghost cult book muttering something about a connection between the Pits and that cult. Was he seriously carrying that book around everywhere now?

"Dami, can we keep-"

"No." Where were Dick and Bruce or maybe even Alfred? He did not want to act as the responsible eldest here. Helping Demon Brat sneaking various animals into the Manor to annoy Bruce was one thing but keeping fucking Pit Demons? Hell normally he would be all for it but fuck did he not want to deal with anything that came for the fucking Pits. Nope, this was not his kind of deal.

Apparently the kid didn't like his instant refusal as all he heard was a hiss in warning, followed by the simple command of "Smother him!"

His vision was swarmed with green and not the kind of green that happens when Pit Rage took over. No it was the kind where a lot of green glowing blobby orbs decide to swarm you. He swatted at them like they were flies, sometimes it worked, sometimes he noticed how his hand would go right through them without effect.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Danyal!" He could hear Demon Brats scowling tone but he didn't know what it was about until a second later he felt a weight hitting his chest knocking him over.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! GET FUCKING OFF ME!"

There was another hiss and a pain, he was getting familiar with, bloosemed in his right forearm and in between the green blobs he got a glimps of the little shit biting down on is arm a-fucking-gain. Though the kids eyes were blue he could still see a green flickering in them.

"Oh for the love of… Danyal! I told you to stop biting them!"

"Shouldn't we be more concerned about the Pit Demons attacking Jason?"

"Todd will be fine as I said they are harmless. Danyal, I said get off him this instant or I will tell Pennyworth to withhold your snacks."

"I feel like priorities aren't set right here…"

Despite his doubts… Duke still took a picture of the chaos to share with the others later. Dick surely would get a good laugh out of whatever this was.

Keeping It Close To The Chest Pt 4

Hi Friends! Part four is here for you first!

General warnings for ya'll

Big sads, panic, PTSD, flashbacks/traumatic memories, Danny should come with his own warning, canonical plus one death but it's Danny, guilt (does it classify as survivor guilt? idk)

Anyway! I hope you enjoy! The Ao3 version will be up soon too!

Stay safe, take care of yourselves please, take your meds if you need to, water yourself, eat some food, get some sun! Much love to you all

~Ren

Danny hadn’t woken up this comfortable in a long time. Fingers dragged through his hair carefully working out knots before scratching at his scalp. He was curled into someone’s side. His automatic thought is he crawled into bed with Jazz after patrol. He grumbles a reply as he tries to bury his face deeper into the shirt? Blanket? Whatever it was, it was soft against his cheek. His core is purring in contentment. He feels safe. Something he hasn’t truly felt in a long time. He melts, even if Danny doesn’t understand why the logical part of his brain is begging him to be suspicious. He pushes the thought away and wants to revel in being close to his sister, just for a moment. 

A voice breaks the silence. “Are you awake Danyal?” It comes out hushed, but warm and fond. A distinctly male voice. Danny jerks so harshly the boy he’s resting with begins fussing, worried Danny pulled something.

Danny’s eyes shoot open and he tries to rear back to get a good look, something pulls in his chest but Danny ignores it. His brother’s arm tightens around him keeping him nestled into his side. His brother is staring back at him. Danny looks him over for the first time since he died in the League all those years ago. 

Short dark hair and a face like his own. Danny wants to weep gazing into his emerald eyes. How often had he transformed just to see green eyes instead of blue. Even if doing so brought his memories of the lazarus pits to the surface. 

(He doesn’t really remember, it was a wisp of a memory. His Mother carefully hiding their presence as she rushed his limp body to the pits. It was just nothingness… for once. No more harsh shouts and bruises just the soft transition from alive to dead. His heart had stopped, his lungs refused to bring in more air and then nothing changed to screaming pain searing him down to his bones, or maybe he was the thing screaming as he could feel what little air he had escaped into the toxic water he had been tossed into. He remembers the frantic way he swam upwards, breakinging the surface with hacks and coughs, only to see an unfamiliar landscape around him. This water was actually water, some sort of lake as far as he could tell. A little girl sitting on the dock had reached over and pulled him out of the water by the scruff of his shirt. When Jazz would recall she had always fondly said she had fished out her rabid kitten that day. The rest was history.)  

Danny couldn’t help himself. Kept going back to his mirror to stare into toxic swirling green, trying so desperately to see his brother reflected back. Only to swallow disappointment when the reflection always fell short. For all his genius, for all the solid, crystal clear memories he does have of Damian they are few. All the more Danny hoarded them cradled in between his ribs, mapped them along the many scars that he gained before meeting the Fentons. He had spent so many nights tracing them trying to remember just how he had gotten the mark, Danny instinctually knew that they would lead him to remembering the boy who’s shadows haunted him. Desperate and determined to hold onto any connection to his older brother.

Danny takes a moment to really look at Damian. Damian looks healthy, a bit tired maybe, but his clothes are casual and clean. Nothing like what they wore in training. Damian isn’t as tan as he was as a child, but it was a small difference. There is a faint scar by Damian’s left eye that catches Danny’s attention, it trails down his cheek and under his ear. His hand moves to cup his twin’s face without thinking, softly tracing the mark. Danny aches at the thought that Damian could’ve lost an eye while they were apart. A few more inches down or over and his brother wouldn’t be alive in front of him like this. 

“Damian” The name comes out broken, filled with reverence and awe. Danny can be certain at least in this moment they are safe, together now after a decade. Damian wouldn’t allow himself to be truly relaxed if they were still in danger. 

The world resettles around him. Danny remembers his escape, the portal that ripped through reality to reunite him with his twin. There was so much blood, Danny was sure he was gonna die for good on the floor of some dirty warehouse. Shame floods his system and settles beneath his lungs. Danny grips his hair in frustration as he tries to fill in the yawning blank spots of the last twenty four hours. His delirious panic yesterday is mostly a blur, he can remember soft whispers of Arabic and careful touches. How far he has fallen. He should know better. He should be better. 

He sees the questions that Damian wants to demand answers for behind his favorite pair of green eyes, the frustration that builds under his skin the longer his brother waits to ask. He wishes Damian would just ask him. Danny takes a trembling breath. Danny is confused why he would hesitate, his brother was never one to hold his tongue. A quick glance around some sort of medical room. It seems for now they are alone, proof Damian has some sort of regard or leverage here with their Father. With slight amusement, Danny catches the slight glare of wire and is sure part of the peace came from his twin having trapped any entry points into the room. 

As Danny takes more in the room uncertainty takes root as he starts catching sight of more of his brother’s traps, he was very thorough. Like he was trapping his bedroom in the League from those who would want to cull one of the young heirs. 

Perhaps Damian is also uncertain about his family’s reaction to Danny since he felt the need to defend them in such a way. Truth was Danny had no idea what any of the Bats were truly like. A few rumors about how metas weren’t welcome in Gotham had circulated but other than his childhood stories about their mysterious father Danny was going into this blind. His mother’s opinion was one thing, but Danny refused to be blinded by his feelings again so soon. Mother had said their father loved them, but what assurance was that? Mother wasn’t exactly a good standard to judge others on. The Fentons had said they loved him, they had taken him in as one of their own and raised him. After watching him grow up they didn’t flinch once strapping him to that table. Danny wants to ask just what about his existence is such a threat he must be wiped from the Earth, his memory squashed and scattered. Singular snapshots in time that are taken as the whole of his being. He could run again if he had to, if things go south and Batman also believes Phantom is a threat. If the vigilante wants to turn him over to the GIW...  

A shiver works its way down Danny’s spine and he pulls Damian closer. He can be untouchable and invisible in seconds, Danny reminds himself. The thought of leaving Damian so soon after their reunion makes him pale and his core protest in his chest. His form shutters for a brief moment. Danny tried to shove down the sudden desperation and panic he felt. He had nowhere else he wanted to be, together they could figure something out. Danny wouldn’t have to run. 

His brother is watching him carefully, goes to say something but Danny needs his older brother to just listen for a moment and pushes closer, a gentle hand over Damian’s mouth to silence him. “You said we were with Father. Do you trust them? Are you safe here?” The Arabic stumbles out of him in a hushed whisper. 

They stay like that, staring at each other. An assessment. Danny wants to shrink under his twin’s steady gaze but won’t look away. How Damian responds is important, Danny might be out of practice reading his brother’s expressions but if he tries to placate him, if Danyal isn’t safe here, Damian won’t be able to fully hide his unease. A soft grip pulls his hand away and Damian looks exasperated as he leans forward to bump their temple’s together. “Yes. Our Father adopted many children that despite their overdramatic behavior, they are reliable,” Damian says it begrudgingly but he also sounds incredibly fond. Well, fond for Damian. His brother had never given out meaningless praise before Danny was sure that hadn’t changed in their time apart. He can picture the way Damian’s face softens as he whispers between them, “Father allows me to care for a handful of animals and last Christmas Grayson and Pennyworth presented me with a Studio to create my art pieces in. ” 

A soft awed sound leaves him as Danny tips his head forward onto Damian’s shoulder. It’s just like Damian to know exactly what Danny was searching for even after all these years. Damian can indulge in things that once were decreed by Grandfather as weak here. He can be vulnerable and is with enough regularity that he has a special studio that was made specifically for him to use and a multitude of animals to care for. Danny is suddenly so happy Damian can spend his days petting animals and creating art on canvas instead of training. His brother could hold a brush in his hand instead of honing himself into a weapon to be wielded for the benefit of their Grandfather and his legacy. This was what they whispered about in the dark as children.

Relief is sweet, his body sags into Damian’s. Danny’s smile is so big it almost takes up his whole face, he’s almost drunk with how the release bubbles through his veins. His brother wouldn’t lie to him. If Damian would now just ask the questions they both know he’s itching to, Danny can answer them. Danny will trust his brother, if he trusts the family he is with now then he will too. Likely feeling Danny’s rising nerves Damian leans to catch his eye. “What happened to you, Danyal?” 

Danny can’t help the bitter laugh that leaves him as he sags back into the bed. This conversation will be long and he’d prefer not to go over it twice. “You wanna gather the Bats? I don’t want to go over this a million times.” He can’t help how sad and tired it comes out. 

It’s not the reaction Damian was expecting, unsure what sparked the change in his twin as he just blinks at Danny for a moment before smoothly replying. “ No one but me has access to the Recovery Room at this moment, although Pennyworth has successfully pleaded for his access to be temporarily reinstated when your bandages need to be changed and wounds assessed. I have stayed close to you since we brought you back since we were unsure if you would recognize any of the others and I refused to risk you panicking and reopening your chest wound again.” The hard glare at Danny’s chest makes it clear that Danny will not be escaping the care now that he is conscious and that Damian was aware of the possibility Danny pulled something earlier. He prayed he didn’t pop a stitch, half-ghost or not Damian was still very scary when upset. 

With a huff Damian adds, “Though the family is sure watching through the cameras as they are both worried and incredibly nosy, especially when a new sibling is involved.”  Danny could barely breathe, his gaze bounced about trying to spot the glint of a camera lens. The room felt smaller. How long have they been watching them? Why wouldn’t they confront him? When would people stop impersonally observing him? Were they scared to be close to him? Worried about contamination?

Before the fear could settle Damian caught Danny’s attention. “I simply meant you only have to tell me, once, here. I.. We had thought you would prefer what privacy we can afford while we determined who had done this to you.” The uneasy lit to Damian’s words was matched by his restless need to play with Danny’s fingers. “The family while well intentioned, can be overwhelming. It is difficult gathering everyone and having them sit quietly for extended periods of time and our family is… large.” 

Danny sat stunned. He would never say his brother was mean or cruel in their childhood but consideration of another person was frowned upon outside of ensuring the success of team missions. More often than not those who couldn’t keep up didn’t return. It’s just how the League had worked. For his twin to shield him, possibly creating tension amongst his family just to make Danny feel comfortable. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

It hurt to see how much his twin had grown in Danny’s absence but it also made Danny flush with pride. Damian’s behavior is proof to Damian’s claims that their father truly is different, maybe even safe for someone like Danny. Swallowing all the things he could say Danny clears his throat with a small but real smile, “Thank you Dami.” 

Once Danny makes a decision he throws himself in head first, this will be no different. Danny has to start at the beginning. He must tell them everything to have a hope of them understanding how Danny ended up dropping through a portal to his brother’s side. For… their family to understand what true danger hunts him even now. 

With a deep breath Danny goes back as far as he can.The terror of fighting to his first death, the enchanting embrace of the dark, his violent resurrection in the pit. How when he surfaced some strange red-headed girl was in his Ahki’s place to pull him soaking wet to the solid wood of the dock. How Danny knew their mother had defied the Demon Head and even if he knew how to get there, Danny could never go back. How when he had done his best to shake off his disorientation it had been childs play to integrate him into the strange family that found him. Danny was good at hiding, at adapting. 

Danny didn’t know how exactly but the Fentons had gotten their hands on a forged birth certificate and social security documents. He assumed through some government contract seeking their expertise on ghosts or weaponry. It was as if he had always existed in Amity Park, there was enough of a rotating population that not many remembered differently. Danyal Al Ghul son of Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne, twin heir to the Shadow and the Bat fully became Daniel Fenton, only son to Maddie and Jack Fenton, younger sibling of Jasmine Fenton.  

Things had been great for a while! Easy even. He gained a sister in Jazz. As he got better at socializing, Jazz’s dedication to practicing with him paid off, he gained friends in Sam and Tucker. Their afternoons spent studying or hanging out at Nasty Burger. He had creative parents who knew so much about science, technology and the universe. Who would take Danny and Jazz camping so they could fish, and eat fudge-filled s’mores by the fire. School was boring but he liked going to the library and looking at their books on space. 

Danny could’ve never imagined how happy life could be away from obligation and duty. Away from his Grandfather. He could live happily while keeping his weakness from eroding the League further. Danny had tried so hard to forget, forget so his guilt about him alone getting all these soft experiences wouldn’t eat him alive. How dare he friviously enjoy a normal childhood when his brother was left behind with the course sand and suffocating expectations.

Things had been great until their obsession with completing the portal infected his new home. That kind of overwhelming happiness was simply too good to be true for someone who had done the things Danny has. His parents would spend days holed up in the basement building. Grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, and maintenance to the house it all fell to the side. House keeping wasn’t nearly as interesting as trying to build a bridge to another world. Eventually Jazz dragged Danny to the library so she could teach them how to do those things on their own. Danny could never tell her he already had learned to do most chores on his own by the age of 5 and if the debit card stopped working he could trap and clean something reasonably sized in the woods for them to eat. 

Danny had tried to convince himself after the portal failed to open at his parent’s big presentation things would soon return to their normal, as chaotic as that normal was. Sure they had been really upset, slipping into depression, but they always started up again. Gained their groove. They had gone on their vacation and… Then the portal turned on. Well, he turned it on and was electrocuted with the entirety of the town’s power grid. (They had done the math at some point to figure out the exact voltage but Danny had never wanted it written down, if Tucker thought it was important to know he could keep it hidden under his firewall in a secure file.) 

His second death was painful. The electricity had burned its way through his body, stopping his heart, only for the ectoplasm to force it to beat once more. He was sure his heart would burst under the strain. Or the ectoplasm would rip holes in the delicate tissue as it puppeteered it into the sluggish beating he has now. How does he put into words what becoming the gateway between two realities feels like? It was… An eternity hoping for the agony lighting up his nerves to end in the seconds it took for the ectoplasm to merge with him down to his DNA. He could feel his cells splice, die, stutter, and trip but life surged and evolved. He became something new, something unknown, something rare.

Ghosts of Our Pasts: 8

DP x DC Crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Masterpost Previous Next

Ao3

Part 8

"I wasn't sure what colors were still free,"

"Tt, It is ridiculous." Damian needed to stop saying things on impulse. Even if the oversized construction-orange hoodie jacket was a monstity, everything he said sounded cruel. Everything was cruel, he was aware he was not a pleasant person. It had never seemed like a problem before.

But his brother took it in stride, just like all his brothers did. Danny grinned, "Exactly!"

"It will draw attention," Father warned, but in the resigned way most often heard when discussing Grayson's early decisions as Robin.

Danny shrugged, "I can handle that, but I'm not like, super attached to it though, if its a problem."

"It is not a problem. You're wearing pants."

"Oh?"

"Robin insisted."

"Oooohhh," Danny said, only... he was looking at Damian.

"Not me! That was Gra— the first Robin!"

"Are you sure, I remember a time when you and pants did not—"

"I am wearing pants!"

Dany made a show of considering this point before conceding. "You are wearing pants."

Damian did not grumble as he pulled a spare domino and Comm from his belt. He took a step forward to hand them off no too-quick movements, nothing that might be perceived as a threat. And Danny simply took the items, if his movements were equally choreographed he did not show it.

"Test, test?" The voice came clear through the comms. They ran the rest of the comm checks, everything came up clear.

Danny expectantly bounced on his feet, he was wearing worn sneakers not boots.

"This isn't a patrol." Father reminded them, then he looked to Danny "We may need to stop and handle something on the way. Don't feel obligated to join in."

"I haven't lost that—"

"I'm not discrediting your skills. Or saying you can't get involved. I'm asking you to take additional caution until we get you proper equipment."

There was a moment where Danny's mouth worked, the usual whiplash of being interrupted by someone who had accurately guessed your argument and addressed it before you finished the sentence. Then he responded, "Yeah, okay, makes sense."

A nod and then they were off. The route had been planned specifically so they wouldn't have to grapple until Danny had a proper harness. Damian didn't know exactly what Danny had said the night before that led to them leaping across rooftops, but he couldn't find himself suprised that Danny kept up with ease.

It was an inverse of a game they'd once played. Danny would run ahead to show the way, slowing so a younger Damian could learn the footing on his own. Only now it was Damian showing the path, and Danny attempting to reach the same place quicker or more efficiently. He melded into the shadows suprisingly well for someone dressed to meet OSHA safety standards.

As much as he had worried, this was a good idea.

---

This was a terrible idea. Danny reflected. He had no idea what was normal for an average human. He hadn’t stuffed himself so firmly into his flesh in ages, and trying to do that while leaping up buildings! Could normal humans jump this high? Should he be able to lift his weightlike this? Was the domino hiding the fact that his eyes were probably a fog light?!

His feet were too sure on uneven surfaces, his shoes were gripping far better than they should and he knew for a fact the shadows were clinging to him! He tried to tell Gotham to knock it off, but he couldn't do that without unfolding a bit and he was definitely gonna to do something inhuman if he did that!

Bio-dad was right behind him! He should've downplayed his skills more, should've just suggested they drive! But noooo, he'd wanted to run around Gotham's rooftops like a bat! He still wanted to, he just didn't know how to human!

It was so much easier back home, had he flown that last bit? Or had he caught a little gravity anomaly? Is he standing on a vertical surface as if it were the ground? Cool! Let's find the step that will let us do it too! Vanished from existence? Probably a portal, best avoid that area! Gotham was, while a bit more liminal than most places, was not going to hide his weirdness!

Crap, had he been breathing enough?

---

Neither of his children were out of breath. Bruce realized when he got to the top of the building. He was proud of them. But as they sprinted off across the next set of rooftops, he reflected that he was not as young as he used to be.

---

Danny stopped without warning. His shoes made the barest scrape on the ledge that alerted Damian to stop too. He was looking down towards an alley barely visible from their vantage point. Then Damian heard what Danny must have: a man's voice, demanding a purse.

Danny inclined his head, Damian nodded. As one they lept down.

He was a little insulted that the man noticed him first, instead of Danny who could only be more obvious if he was wearing reflectors. But he did notice Danny, and the crook for some reason decided Robin was the lesser threat.

Damian did not freeze up. But suprise made his actions waver, and it only took a second for the man to point his gun at his new target.

Less than a second to fire. Everyone was moving. The woman was running. The man was turning the gun Damian. Damian aimed his sword to disarm, because he had managed to retrain his instincts away from an automatic killing blow.

The gun toppled away. And before Damian could fear what the crook changing targets after firing might mean, Danny had the weapon pointed at the man.

The crook with a blade aimed at his throat and a gun pointed at his chest paled and raised his empty hands in surrender.

"Now what do we do?" Danny stage whispered to his brother.

-

-

-

Danny, realizing he can't suck the mugger into a soup thermos, and that human vigilanteism has so much more logistics to worry about:

The orange jacket is absolutely a reference to Haiju's sequel Shadow of a Doubt. Both Phantom of Truth and its sequel were a major part of me deciding to get into this Phandom, as well as part of the reason I write nowadays. So please check it out if you aren't familiar.

It's also a family thing for Danny, if he can wear both his dad's colors and his bio-dads symbol, idea makes the core go brrrr

Next one will be short one, because I find it super easy to set up lines that I feel close out chapters really well. And I couldn't just put more words after that! But it's already written, and so's the chapter after that, so I'll probably post it soon

Tag list!

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

Ghosts Don't go to High School

{Read on AO3} {Chapter 5}

Chapter 6

Tim likes lists. When things get overwhelming, lists help him organize his thoughts into easy-to-accomplish tasks. So, after his encounter with the meta, with Phantom, Tim makes a list. 

1. Find out who Phantom is.

2. Find out who Cindy is.

3. Find out who the Ancients are.

Okay, so it's not the best list, but it's a list. 

"You let the meta get away again." A voice echoed through the cave. 

"Shut up, Damian." 

"This is the third time. Are you that much of an idiot that you can't catch a single meta?" 

"I found out his name. What have you found out about him?" Tim challenged.

"Tt. It's not like his name has been helpful." Damian said, going back to the mats.

Tim hated that the demon brat was right. There was no record of a Phantom mentioned anywhere. Not one picture, video, or even a blog post mentioning the meta. It was suspicious. Someone was hiding Phantom, but until he could figure out who, he'd have to move on. 

Cindy was marginally easier. There was a Cynthia Howe who was reported among the missing in the apartment complex fire six years ago. Her mother, Michelle, had died in the fire. Her father, Cole, was in jail serving a life sentence. 

As far as Tim could tell, Cynthia's body was never recovered. And yet, Phantom had said she was a ghost. The ghost of a little girl who missed her mommy. 

After a little digging Tim came away with a plot number and a plan of sorts. All he needed to do now was implement it. He stood up quickly and had to sit back down again as the world tilted around him. Right. He hadn't slept since he woke up late on Saturday.

"Master Tim? Are you still down here?" Alfred called from the stairs leading to the manor.

"Yes, Alfred. I was just about to head out." 

"Perhaps," Alfred said after a second of observing him. "It would be better to stay the night here. It is almost a quarter to three." 

Tim tried and failed to suppress a jaw-cracking yawn. Perhaps it would be better to stay here. He'd get to grab one of Alfred's egg sandwiches for breakfast. 

"Alright, Alfred. I think you're right." 

The pleased smile, small though it was, was not missed. "Indeed."

Right before Tim settled into sleep he wondered if Danny would like Alfred's egg sandwiches, too.

***

Alfred drove Tim to school the next day. He was taking Damian to the middle school across the street anyway, and saying 'no' to Alfred when he uses logic is impossible. But he does get to enjoy his egg sandwich and coffee on the way. Alfred didn't say anything when he grabbed two from the freezer and popped them into the microwave. 

The drive to school was quiet. Damian didn't speak to him, which was a nice change of pace to their usual spats. He had been hanging out with Jon Kent, and the other boy had been good for mellowing out his little brother. Tim wondered if it was a little bit of Ma Kent's influence, as well. 

In any case, the ride to school was almost pleasant. Tim spent it staring out the window sipping his coffee. As they drove through the Bowery he was distracted by a familiar purple backpack and red hoodie. 

"Is there something wrong?" Alfred asked from the front seat. 

"That's my lab partner, Danny." He said, "in the red hoodie." He added unnecessarily since Danny was alone on the sidewalk. Alfred pulled the car over toward the sidewalk. "What are you doing?" 

"There is no sense making the young man take public transportation if we are heading in the same direction. Invite him to ride with us." 

Tim blinked once before rolling down the window and calling out. "Danny." Danny's head swiveled around and when he spotted Tim a bright smile spread across his face. 

"Hey, Tim. What's up?" Danny said, crossing over to the car, and taking headphones out of his ears. 

"Do you want a ride to school?" Tim asked. He heard Damian scoff something about 'picking up strays' but he ignored him. 

"Sure! Thanks." Danny said. Tim popped the door open and slid over to make room for Danny to clamber in after him. "Hey! Damian. Nice to see you again." He said when he spotted him in the front seat, Damian only answered with a click of his tongue.  

"Hello, Daniel. I'm Alfred. As soon as everyone is buckled we can go." 

"Oh, sorry Alfred. Thanks for the ride." Danny said, securing his buckle. 

"So, do you live around here?" Tim asked. For some reason that caused Danny to laugh. 

"Yeah, up on Ellis," Danny said, grinning. “I’m guessing you don’t.”

“No, well, I usually stay at my apartment in Somerset, but I stayed at the Manor last night in Bristol.” Tim said. “oh, I brought something for you.” he said, pulling the second egg sandwich out of his lunch bag. “Alfred makes these amazing egg sandwiches. I thought you might like it.”

“Wow, coffee yesterday, and breakfast this morning?” Danny said, accepting the sandwich. “You’re spoiling me.” 

“Can we cease the incessant chatter?” Damian demanded from the front seat. “I, for one, prefer to begin my day in peace.”

Danny cleared his throat as a blush crept up his neck and stared out the window. 

They rode the rest of the way to the school in silence except for Danny telling Alfred how good the sandwich was. Damian was dropped off first, and then Tim and Danny were driven across the street to the high school. They split up for their first class, and Tim was in a great mood for most of the morning. It was as he was heading to lunch that things started to go bad. 

“Hey, Fenton!” Tim paused putting his books in his locker and looked around. He didn’t see Danny, but Alex Duncan must have. There was a crowd forming down the hall, and he could see Alex’s red hair among the crowd. Tim crept closer to the crowd, wary but ready to jump in if necessary. The crowd was surrounding Danny and Alex, blocking all escape routes. From where Tim was standing he had a pretty good view of the scene. Danny had his back against the wall, lockers at his back, and Alex was standing close enough that he could probably grab him without too much effort.

“Saw you getting out of Wayne’s car this morning,” Alex said. “You’re spending a lot of time with him?” 

“What are you talking about, Duncan? I’ve never even met Wayne.” Danny said, adjusting the straps on his backpack. 

“I saw you at the coffee shop with his kids. It won’t be long before you’re one of ‘em.” Duncan said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Tim felt anger building in his chest as the crowd laughed. He had heard the rumors that people had spread when Bruce had taken in Dick, and again with Jason. He thought that kind of talk had died. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny asked, a dangerous quality to his voice. 

“Just that Wayne has a type and a pretty little thing like you? Well, let's just say you’ll fit right in.” Alex said with a smirk. 

Danny went eerily still. Tim wasn’t sure he was even breathing. His eyes flicked to Tim’s for a second, searching for something, before going back to Alex. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“What? What are you, some kind of fag?” Alex said with disgust. 

“You’re the one who called me pretty,” Danny said, a feral grin stretching across his face. “Which, I’m flattered, but you aren’t my type. I prefer guys with two brain cells to rub together.” 

The crowd 'oohed at that. Alex’s face twisted in anger. “What did you just say to me?” 

“I said if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your nose.” 

“I will end you!” Alex yelled. Tim saw it happen as if in slow motion. Alex threw a right hook, Danny flinched, and the punch landed squarely on Danny’s cheek. His nose immediately began to bleed. Danny’s feral smile became even more sinister as blood dripped down his face and onto his jacket. Alex reared back for another blow when Tim stepped forward and put a hand on Alex’s arm. 

“That’s enough, Alex.”

“What is going on here?” the Vice Principal’s voice echoed down the hall. The crowd scattered, leaving Danny, Alex, and Tim square in his sights. “Come with me, the three of you.” 

Vice Principal McBride said.

Danny, instead of following Mr. McBride, headed in the opposite direction. 

"Mr. Fenton, where do you think you're going?" 

"To the bathroom. I don't feel like bleeding all over my jacket." Danny said without turning around. 

Mr. McBride mumbled something before turning to Tim. "Mr. Drake, would you keep an eye on him? And bring him to the office when he gets that under control." 

Tim headed after Danny with a nod. He found the other boy in the first boy's room he came across. Danny had a wad of paper towels pressed against his face, already soaking through with red. There were splatters of blood on the counter and darker splotches of red on Danny's red jacket. 

"Danny? You okay?" Tim asked, taking in his shaking hands.

Danny met his eyes in the mirror and nodded. "Yeah, it's not the first time I’ve been punched in the face. Won't be the last.” Danny pulled the paper towel away from his face and cursed as blood dripped into the sink. "Hey, in my backpack is a red first aid kit, can you grab it?" He asked, wadding up some more paper towels.

"Yeah, sure," Tim said, unzipping the bag. He found the kit easily enough, since it was about the size of a lunch box, and handed it to Danny. He opened it one-handed and pulled out a nasal spray. Danny stuck one end up the nostril and pressed down, his face scrunching up in discomfort. When he pulled the device out, though, the bleeding had stopped.

"What is that?" Tim asked as Danny cleaned the tip with an alcohol swab.

"It's a styptic spray. It stops bleeding, but it burns like hell." Danny put the spray back into the kit and closed it before washing the blood from his hands and face. "Do you know how to get blood out of clothes?" 

"Uh, no. I could ask Alfred." Alfred could get anything out of anything.

"Right. 'cause that wouldn't be a concerning text to get in the middle of the day." Danny snorted. "I'm guessing McBride sent you to come and get me?"

"Yeah. He wants us to go to the office." Danny put the first aid kit back into his bag and tossed the bloody paper towels into the trash.

"Right," Danny said, holding the door open for Tim. They started walking back to the office.  

"So, you're gay?" Tim asked awkwardly after a minute.

"That's what you're worried about?" Tim shifted awkwardly. "No, Not exactly." Danny said "I like guys and girls. I think Pan describes it best." Danny stuck his hands in his jacket pocket.

"And your parents...when you came out..." Tim trailed off, unsure where the sentence was going to go.

"I didn't exactly come out. When Jazz brought home her first boyfriend, she didn't have to have a conversation about it. So when I brought home a boy for the first time... I didn't realize coming out was something people had to do. I didn't know anyone had a problem with it until Dash's parents freaked out when they caught us holding hands."

“What happened?” 

“Well, Dash didn’t want to play with me anymore. He’s a lot like Duncan now.” Danny said, shrugging his shoulders. "So far in the closet that he's almost in Narnia." Danny was quiet for a minute before he spoke up again. “What he said wasn’t true, right? About Wayne?” 

“No, of course not,” Tim said. “Bruce would rather die than hurt a kid like that.” Danny nodded. They had reached the office and the secretary waved them through into the vice principal's office. Alex was already there, arms crossed over his chest. 

"Now that we are all here." Mr. McBride began. "We can discuss what happened. As you are all aware, Gotham Academy has a zero-tolerance policy for fighting. So you will each be receiving a three-day suspension." 

"What?!" Danny half yelled.

"Mr. Fenton. Please…" 

"No, I will not!" Danny was on his feet now. "I get assaulted in your school, and I get suspended?"

"It's school policy for everyone involved in the fight to receive the same punishment." 

"I'm on scholarship! If I get suspended, I lose it. How's it fair that the guy who assaulted me gets three days off, and I lose my scholarship?" 

"The school has nothing to do with your scholarship."

"And Tim didn't even do anything, except try and stop the fight. He shouldn't get punished for that!" 

"Mr. Fenton." Mr. McBride stood up quickly, apparently done with being shouted down at. "That is enough. The punishment stands as is. Now, the three of you will go out to the front office and wait for your guardians to come to get you." 

Alex was the first to leave the room, practically bolting out the door. Tim stood, but Danny was still staring Mr. McBride down as if he were trying to set him on fire with his eyes. Then, Danny let out a long breath and turned around sharply, and marched out the door, Tim following behind him. 

It took ten minutes for Bruce to get to the school. When he walked into the office his eyes zeroed in on Tim, surreptitiously checking for injuries. "Are you alright, Tim? They said you were in a fight."

"I'm fine," Tim said, waving away Bruce's concern. "I tried to stop a fight." 

"Then, why are you in trouble?" 

Danny snorted. "The school has a zero-tolerance policy." 

Bruce eyed Danny's cheek, which was already starting to bruise, and the dried blood that he hadn't managed to clean off with the school's cheap paper towels. Then to Alex's bruised knuckles, no doubt putting the scene together from context clues. 

"Wait here, I'm going to have a chat with the Vice Principal." Bruce disappeared into the office. 

"Alright, I'm out," Danny said, standing up and heading out the door.

"What? You can't go." Tim said, chasing after him. "Danny, wait." Tim reached out and grabbed his jacket, holding him in place. "What about your parents?"

"They're at work. They won't be able to check their phones until around six tonight. I'm not staying here until then." Danny said. "Your dad will get you off suspension, so I'm going home." Danny tugged his jacket out of Tim's grasp and headed out of the school. 

Danny had been correct about Bruce getting his suspension lifted, and an apology from the Vice Principal to boot. No one mentioned Danny's disappearance. 

Tim started a new list on the ride home. 

1. Get Alex Duncan expelled

2. Make sure Danny doesn't lose his scholarship.

I posted 92 times in 2022

That's 92 more posts than 2021!

51 posts created (55%)

41 posts reblogged (45%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@binch-i-might-be

@ashleybenlove

@ford-ye-fiji

@aiyasbs

@dragonnnfly

I tagged 90 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#raven quills: fanfiction - 31 posts

#reblog - 29 posts

#my writing - 24 posts

#raven quills: prose - 24 posts

#ray &lt;3 - 13 posts

#also on ao3 - 12 posts

#writing - 11 posts

#rtf.asks - 10 posts

#to write - 10 posts

#writing ideas - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#bad parent talia al ghulfluffminor angstbruce wayne is a good parentattempt at humoryoung dick graysonyoung jason toddyoung damian wayneyou

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

respect our humanity (for we were once that which we shall never be again)

AO3

for @phicphight

humanity. such a funny thing, don't you think? four little syllables. one small thought. hum-an-i-ty. the condition - or the quality - of being human.

A sigh escaped Danny, taking air colder than ice with it. This felt like Ember, maybe; the taste of electricity probably meant a team-up with Skulker again.

"I'll take your pelt for my wall, you whelp!" Yup. There it was. Skulker crashed through the wall, screaming his trademark. Danny sighd, standing and let white rings envelop him until he was comfortable in his skin [jumpsuit?] again.

"Skulker," Danny greeted. "Do you really wanna do this right now? I have math homework due!"

"Wait." Skuler paused mid-punch. "You still do math homework?"

"Uh, yeah, dude!" Danny exclaimed. He shook off the hold of gravity and floated up to meet Skulker's eyes. "I really don't have time for fighting you right now, but I don't really think you care, do yo- oof!" He pushed tangibility off of him at the last second. Getting punched into a ceiling (or a door, or another person, or walls, or one memorable time straight through Dash) was not on his list of things to do before he kicked the bucket again. (Considering that he was functionally immortal... Yeah, it was a good thing that his bucket list was so long.) "Wow, rude!" He said. "You know, this really isn't product- Ember!"

Ember blasted him from behind, guitar letting off waves of ghostly supersonic force.

"Oh, come on!" Danny said, wincing after she let up. "Really, Ember?"

"Okay, look, babybop, I didn't really wanna do this, but then Skulky over here-" she gestured to Skulker, who frowned at her nickname "-said that you were free and didn't have anythin' to do, so we thought we might as well drop in!" She tried to slam her guitar into him. Danny rolled his eyes and shot an ectoblast straight at it, deflecting it (because no one wanted to deal with a guitar-less Ember McClain. Ever.)

"Oh Ancients, did you guys really have to team up right now?" Danny said, screeching indignantly when they chased him through the rooftops (and definitely through at least one apartment, and maybe a couple people. Danny saw far too much of his townspeople). He dodged one of Skulker's ectobeams, weaving around one of Ember's screams and shooting ecto-rays right back at them. "I have a bunch of stuff due in a couple days!"

"Can't-cha come on an' stretch your legs for a bit, bop-pops?"

"No, I can't!"

"Why not, whelp-?" Skulker cut himself off, staring at Danny. "What is it?"

"Shush, Skulker." Danny said. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown of Fire appeared over his head, the Ring of Sorrow glowing into existence on his left hand. His jumpsuit flickered into a tunic and breeches, a cape settling for a second over their shoulders. Their being flicked in and out of existence, glow stuttering as they pulled power from the Infinite Realms. "I do believe we have a... situation." They floated forward. Skulker quieted, thankfully. Danny's being flooded with power, their eyes shimmering an otherworldly green. He looked around, looking into the Realms, then turned toward the park.

Ember and Skulker followed quietly, respectfully. Danny swooped down in Amity Park's gardens. They looked down at the soul, the Form newly created, and felt some pity rise in their Core. They floated over to the poor soul quietly, settling next to them when they looked up.

Phantom? The soul, unfettered to a body and still mostly ambient ectoplasm, has a small gatehring around them. Phantom's presence next to them helps their formation go a little faster, though, and soon their body has solidified into an actually body-shaped puddle of ectoplasm, and Skulker and Ember quiet even further as Danny begins speaking to the newly-formed ghost in low, melodius tones. Neither has been witness to a Coming in far, far too long; Pariah's reign had been dark and desolate and most souls had decided to go on, journey through the paths to the After.

Phantom looks up at the two ghosts, and thinks that maybe they will be good Guides.

They beckon over to the two, and Skulker and Ember float up to the poor, new Form.

"Hunter Skulker, Ember McClain," Oh, they will be true Guides. "I present to you this Form. I trust you will find them a Lair suitable to them?" Both Skulker and Ember nod, quickly, and the Form is sent through a portal that Phantom creates with a wave of their hand and a smile. Before Ember and Skulker follow, tough, both ghosts hug Phantom to them.

When they get back from the Form's - Carna's - new lair in the Far Frozen, it's to a desolate Danny Phantom floating on his back, looking up at the clouds. They meet him up there, and pull him gently into gravity's hold in the park. [Ember, Skulker, and Danny all ignore the curious townspeople in the garden; this isn't about them, it's about Danny.]

He looks up at their faces, soft and caring, and knows that no matter what happens when they are fighting, when he needs them there - Paraiah Dark, Nocturne - when he really needs them to be there they'll be there at his side, with quips and snark galore, but there nonetheless. It's the same reason he knows that he can break.

He lets out a sob, then another and Skulker presses him into Ember. Her clothes are softer than he'd expected them to be, and she hugs him close. Skulker's metallic body is close behind him, caging Danny in, and he feels so so safe, because that was his first Coming and he hadn't expected it to be so hard, reliving a part of his accident and his death, because that's aparently what happens when you're welcoming a new ghost into your care.

Because Danny Fenton is fourteen and holds the responsibility of the balance of the Infinite Realms.

Because Phantom, Danny Phantom, hasn't even had five death days pass him by.

58 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#4

hey so who's gonna write the abandonment issues alex claremont-diaz fic??

63 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

#3

draconic boy

AO3

Hiccup and Toothless are inseparable.

Hiccup may be small and physically weak, but he bites.

Seriously, what do they feed the Norsemen over there?!

His teeth are sharp.

Neither of them will die.

Ever. We're pretty sure they've made some kind of deal with the Norns, because what the fuck they've survived being set on fire at least four times and amputations and nearly freezing to death but they're still alive

Berkians in general are... completely insane?

They were willing - and happy - to fight the dragons that hurt them instead of just... leaving.

One of them literally popped the head of a Monstrous Nightmare off of its body when he was a baby.

For Berkians Specifically: When your chief-heir is visiting other villages - with or without other people or his father or his riders - please make sure that he doesn't speak to his dragon too much.

It freaks many of us out.

How did he teach himself how to speak to dragons like that I don't think human voice boxes are supposed to be able to do that????

But if he must, at least refrain from swearing in Dragonese around our children?

Please let Chief-heir Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III know that while he can apparently eat fish raw, it's really fucking gross to watch him do so when in the Halls.

Many Norse settlements are willing to build him a seperate hut-space for his dragon if he needs it, they don't need to live in the trees and sleep upside down.

Seriously, if Hiccup Haddock human or just- not??

Please for the love of Thor have some kind of fire safety that isn't just "make a bigger fire that cancels out the first one"

Same for waves, minor dragons, and the fucking Thorston Twins.

66 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#2

dibs

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37873396

"No." Bruce said, frowning down at the social worker. She had a hesitant smile on her face, one that quickly disappeared at his refusal.

"Mr Wayne, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to keep this child-" A frown directed up at the kid, who hid behind Bruce's uncomfortably-uncowled-but-still-reluctantly-existing bulk. "With you! He belongs with his family, in the circus!" And Bruce doesn't miss the way she looks at him, the way she says circus and the way she shies against actually looking at Dickie, and the way his kid is small and doesn't know the ramifications of having not-white not-pale skin in the United States.

"I'm sorry, Miss-" except for the way he obviously isn't. "-But I've called dibs on young Richard Grayson, over here, and unless he really wants to" -have to emphasize that it's Dick's choice, not Ms Parrish's, whether he ever leaves Wayne Manor while under Bruce's care, and after he grows up too- "he will be staying here." Bruce watches Dick's blueblueblue eyes widen, meeting his eyes and baring his intentions out in front of him, because for a kid with the experience of all of nine years, Dick is surprisingly perceptive, and Bruce already loves him, even a week into having the kid at his home. Ms Parrish concedes with a huff and a condescending flip of her hair.

As she flounces out, Dick loudly asks Bruce - probably just to anger her - about what just happened.

"Oh, nothing, chum." Bruce will happily go along with his son's - his son, he has a kid now - fun if it pisses off the rude lady now walking out the front door. She stops. Bruce thinks her eyebrow might twitch a little bit. "Just a littl- Ms Parrish." He looks at her back, which is shaking in rage. His smile grows a little. "If you are having trouble finding the door, please look a few steps ahead of you to the large cast iron and wooden doors."

"Can we ge-"

"I have chocolate and cookies-n-cream ice cream," Bruce says. Dick's smile grows, wide and missing a tooth. "Let's go!" Dick jumps onto Bruce's back. Bruce automatically curls his hands around Dick's tiny little feet, holy sh- crap, and then they're off.

"IVY!" Dick calls, running toward the green-skinned woman. She's looking down at a small red bundle, a boy. It's a hoodie that Robin knows really, really well, it's Jason's hoodie. Jason who's dad is a Joker goon and in jail or dead, Jason who's mom overdosed three years ago, Jason who's finally bulked up a little after months of carefully-hidden feeding and care. Jason who is- "That's my little brother, Ivy, you CAN'T TAKE HIM FROM ME!" He rolls to a stop in front of her. "Besides." Dick feels a shaodw lands just behind him, feels a cold hand on his shoulder and knows that his dad - Bruce - doesn't know what's going on or why Dick's so scared-confused-annoyed, but trusts his Robin. "I called dibs!"

The bundle shifts, and then black hair and blue eyes peek out of red fabric. Dick can tell that Jason's mouth is turned up, and he softens. Ivy can probably feel Jason's body trying to push itself toward Dick, because she puts him down, and blinks as he scurries to Dick's side. The thirteen-year-old nudges him behind him, into a midnight cloak and turns to face Ivy.

Ivy, slowly, miraculously, tentatively, smiles.

"Well, then." She says. Her plants are withdrawing now, crawling up her body and disappearing. "I can't argue with dibs, now can I?" Before she turns, she looks to Batman. "Oh, don't worry, Batman, I'll stay on the DL for a few months. Gotta let you adjust to the newbie, after all." And with one last grin and a flick of glitter in Robin's direction, she's gone.

DIck sighs in relief, melting onto Jason. Jason clutches at him too, and they can feel Batman's - Bruce's, those are Bruce's not Batman's - arms encirlcle them and lift them both into the air.

Well. Guess he has a brother now, one in law and not just in their hearts.

Jason jumps his weight a little higher, grappling down very slowly. Wouldn't do to drop a child from a six-story building and not be able to catch him because Jason's legs froze off. Thankfully he'd been able to fight for skin-color leggings to be added to the suit ("As much as i love you, Dickhead, I don't want to freeze my butt off when winter comes around!"  --  "Aweee, you love me, Little Wing?") and a slightly warmer cape so that he could finally jump off the fire escape, disengage his grapple, and then wrap the kid - and that stupid fucking camera - in the cloak. Taking the cape off means sending B a ping - because first the cape then their armor then their masks -  so soon the Batmobile comes rolling up with a terrified Bat in the front seat. As soon as B realizes he's not in danger, he tucks Jason and Stalker Kid into the passenger seat and Jason can finally, finally go bonelessly relaxed.

Bruce is here, Dad is here.

He'll handle it.

He'll keep them safe.

He always has, and Jason thinks he always will.

When they get home, it turns out the kid is Timothy Jackson Drake, the son of Jack and Janet Drake. The archeologists.

Who work in digs around the world, and a half-hour's worth of digging reveals that they've only ever bought two tickets.

Tim has been left behind.

Every single time.

Jason, Dick, Alfred, and Bruce look at each other. A single unspoken line of communication occurs.

DIBS!

(It works out. Gotham runs on its own laws, its own life, and dibs count as a valid fucking reason to have guardianship transferred to Brucie Wayne.)

Tim shakes with rage.

He looks down at Damian.

Damian who is thirteen, Damian who should be able to go on a walk in his own fucking city without having to be worried about fucking ninjas attacking him out of nowhere. Damian who is Tim's little brother, Damian who has been kidnapped by ninjas. Fortunately Tim had the forethought to put his own tracker in Damian, or nothing good would've come. Nothing good ever comes from ninjas in Gotham.

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69 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

For the “Dibs” would Batman be trying to be like “Dibs” on Billy Batson”? If you don’t mind me asking

yes yes yes

man would be on billy so fast??? here:

Bruce sniffed. There was a child somewhere in the building. He could smell the perspiration. He looked around at his fellow Leaguers.

When his eyes met Captain Marvel's, his eyes widened imperceptibly behind his domino.

There.

As soon as the meeting was over, he melted into the shadows and then to the Captain's side.

"Marvel, come with me," Oops. The growl should not have been that deep. The child looked frightened. "It's okay, you're not in trouble. I just wanted to ask you something?"

"Of course, Batman, go right ahead." The Captain looked nervous. Bruce couldn't imagine why.

"Can- Has anyone called dibs on you yet?"

"What?!"

"Can. I. Take. You?"

"I'm sorry, Batman, I'm not sure what you mean?"

"You're a child, Captain, can I call dibs on you?"

"What?!"

This... would be a long process.

Thankfully, Bruce was prepared.

125 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

0cean

Favi Yet, in even one of the largest rooms filled with the most people, Favi heard Danny call out to her. A range of emotions swelled in her chest after hearing his voice but she restrained herself by inhaling deeply through her nose and cooly taking another sip of champange. Perhaps he was here to explain to her why he hadn't called her, but Favi knew that Damian had invited a select group of his business partners. Danny's presence was merely because of Damian. She scoffed at the thought, taking another sip of her drink and turning around to face in his direction. Favi didn't doubt that there was always the possibility that she was overthinking the entire situation, and that Danny could have a valid reason for his disappearance. But as she walked closer to him and her eyes briefly landed on the lavish coat that was a few sizes too small for Danny, her rationality disappeared. He brought another girl. Favi had brought a date too, yes, but she also didn't disappear for three weeks. "Mm," she hummed as she approached him, taking another sip from her glass. "You remember my name?" Although her tone was light, every word was traced with a hint of bitterness. Favi's eyes never left his. "I guess you just forgot everything else, hm?" she said to him as she passed and joined her date. Her date was a bit of a prude, but even as she placed her hand gently on his cheek and parted his mouth with her own - he did not resist. Then, after she ran her tongue against his and softly bit down on his lip before pulling away, she turned her head to view Danny and smiled. Raising her eyebrows once, she raised her glass to drink some more of her champagne. Tony Alas, his body just wasn't the same anymore after all these years. Perhaps if he were two decades younger then he would have made it upstairs. With sweat trickling down his forehead and running down his back, Tony had made it to the top step when he started to feel lightheaded. He supported himself with one hand placed on the step underneath him and used his other hand to try to open the door, but a few seconds later his head dropped to the floor and he was out cold. The odd thing about it is that Tony didn't dream this time. For a moment there was only darkness but then he started to hear the low drone of the heater in the corner of the room. At first he wondered if he had slipped back into his coma. The thought of being locked in his head again caused for his heart to sink a bit, because he had already spent so long trying to escape the first re-occuring dream, so he didn't want to have to go through any of that again. No one would, he assumed, especially after only being conscious and hearing the sounds of loved ones for only one or two minutes after what seemed like an eternity. But then he heard a woman's voice humming softly next to him and whispering the words 'i'm sorry'. Tony's eyes opened, although only just a little, and he opened his mouth to speak. His tongue felt like sandpaper and his throat like cotton, so he swallowed first to help. Then, he let out a low, breathy chuckle and sluggishly turned his head to see her. He wanted to joke about her crying, but he was tired. And incase he wasn't going to be awake for long, Tony didn't want to waste the little time that he had on a joke when he could say so much more. "No, I am." he said to her, his voice raspy. He took his time inhaling and closed his eyes. Apparently he had used more energy than he thought. "I've been gone far too long, mio amore." Elena Elena would have slept straight through Christmas Eve if she could have. After recieving a fresh story to cover from the news station on short notice, Elena spent the past three days working endlessly to gather information on the story to report. And it isn't like she has to prove herself to the station, her supervisor simply requests her for stories that he believes will bring in a bigger audience. Journalism has always been Elena's passion, though, so she doesn't mind the heavy workload. Besides, the new story was about the rising violence epidemic in Selcouth. Of course she would have to avoid revealing any of her family's involvement, but she would still be able to interview the smaller "gangs" around Selcouth. But before she could do any of that - Elena had to get up. Her alarm clock on her phone had sounded multiple times but Elena paid no attention to it. Why'd she set her alarm anyway? It was Christmas Eve. Her supervisor had finally gave her the day off, Fabian was on Winter break from - "Oh," Elena gasped as she lifted her head from her pillow. Her pillow being Sully's chest, that is. She had completely forgotten that Dante, her children's father, was bringing Nahla over for their supervised visit. Apparently asking him to bring her over on the actual holiday didn't fit his schedule. Still, that didn't mean that she wasn't going to treat it like it was Christmas. Kicking her legs out from underneath the sheets and slipping into her house slippers, Elena climbed out of bed and wiped her hands across her eyes as she exited her bedroom and headed over to Fabian's, which was two doors down the hall. His bedroom light was already on, though, and once Elena opened the door she saw him standing infront of his dresser and putting on his clothes. Fabian looked over his shoulder and then faced the dresser again, "It's okay Mommy, I got this." he said to her. A small smile appeared on her face as she pushed her hair back and walked over towards him, crouching down. "I know you do, sweetie," she replied, gazing at his hair and smoothing it back. She glanced at his outfit but she didn't say anything. A black and yellow Batman shirt paired with pink and yellow Steven Universe shorts was just fine. She did ask him to brush his teeth, though. Fabian assured her that his teeth were still clean from the night before, but after she reminded him about tooth decay and gingivitis he hurried into the bathroom. After that was handled, Elena made her way into the kitchen and took out a carton of eggs and a stack of bacon for dinner. She took out the butter for the eggs and while the butter heated in a pan, she looked around for her phone and remembered that it was still in the bedroom. Elena still had no clue when Dante was going to arrive, and as she scanned the living room and the hallway she could feel herself becoming overwhelmed. There were papers scattered on the living room coffee table and a basket full of clean clothes and towels that she still hadn't folded yet. Not to mention the crayon markings on the wall that she still had to scrub clean after Fabian decided he needed to showcase his art. She would probably have to buy white paint to cover it if the markings didn't come off. Lord, and she still hadn't taken a shower yet or done anything to her hair - Elena stopped before she reached her bedroom and took in a deep breath, pushing her hair back and holding the sides of her head. Calm down. She would just try to do the best she could and leave it at that. Exhaling, she walked into the bedroom and picked up her phone. Dante had sent a message half an hour ago saying that he was on his way. "Jesus," she whispered, locking her phone after she read the message. Elena hadn't even stopped to see if Sully was awake yet. Her mind raced with the different tasks she had to do before Dante arrived, but they cleared when she heard a knock on the door. That's when she realized that Sully was still here, and that Fabian's actual father was standing on the other side of that door. Now she was allowed to feel overwhelmed. Sure the simple solution would be to tell Sully the truth, but this was no time for that nor was it the time to think about that. "I'll get it!" Fabian called out from the hallway, the sound of his feet running to the door echoing as they neared to the front door. "Fa-" Elena began, leaving out of the room and closing the door behind her. Fabian had just started opening the door when Elena reached him and grabbed ahold of the handle. Her eyes quickly focused on Nahla. "Aw, neonata - baby girl," she cooed as she lifted her from Dante's arms. Elena kissed her on the cheek before turning to look at Dante. She watched as Fabian gave him a hug and pushed up his sleeves to show him his muscles. "Pretty soon I'm going to start getting chest hair too." Fabian said, tapping on his chest.Dante chuckled and grinned, "Is that so?" Fabian nodded his head in response and looked down the hall. "Sully has-" he began, but Elena grabbed ahold of his arm and pulled him inside of the apartment and out of the doorway. Dante raised an eyebrow and looked at Elena now. "Stai portando strani uomini intorno a mio figlio? - You're bringing strange men around my son now?" he asked, setting down the diaper bag. Elena rolled her eyes. "Fabian lo sa e mi fido di lui, okay? - Fabian knows him and I trust him, okay?" she glanced over her shoulder towards the bedroom and bit down on her lip, turning her head around to face Dante again. "Guarda, puoi andare da qualche altra parte questa volta, per favore? - Look, can you just go somewhere else this time, please?" Dante frowned and shook his head. "Fuck no," he said. "You heard what the court said." "Jesus, Dante, è la vigilia di Natale. - it's Christmas Eve." Dante's jaw clenched. A few moments passed before he said, "Fine." He looked at Nahla and leaned in to kiss her forehead before looking at Elena once more. "You have an hour." he said. As he started to turn away, Fabian stuck his head out in the hall and looked at Elena. "Can I go?" he pleaded, glancing down the hall as Dante began to walk further away. "No." Elena said, shutting the door and bending down to pick up Nahla's diaper bag. "But why?" Fabian cried, tilting his head back. "Don't you want to hang out with your cousin Nahla?" Elena asked, bouncing Nahla on her hip. Nahla had been unusually quiet, but Elena assumed it would just take her a minute to warm up around her again. "I guess." Fabian muttered. The smell of burning butter wavered past her nose.