#(OR IG ITS AN ATTEMPT. WHATEVER

[brontidepng]

"and email me three times a day!"

[dazedpainter]

the perspective's goofy but that's okay

turned red cross and deadloop from @in1-nutshell 's blog!! they finally reunited and i felt like celebrating

expect some more from me 🤕 they consume my thoughts chronically

[ponuchuu]

i fucking love the "A fell first but B fell harder" trope so much that shit makes me so ISJDJSJDJSJDJF

[narwhalandchill]

its been like. nearly a year (How.) already but i cannot lie theres Still a part in the back of my brain occupied with and being thoroughly entertained by the way that childes confirmed 4.0 complete self-awareness over waking up the narwhal at 14 recontextualizes some key liyue things leading to some very funny self indulgent scenarios in my head

like yes chili is old news its basic please excuse me for predictable popular ship crimes (do NOT however associate me w the crimes of fanon against their actual range. theyre peak to Me) but i just keep replaying the imagery of zhongli and childe back on their homoerotic Professional Working Relationship bullshit where their flirting passed the jkjk unless treshold of even remotely plausible deniability like 8 exorbitantly priced business dinners ago and theyre just like. doing that whole song and dance now neither committing to a move except zhonglis presently feeling moderately conflicted (but nonetheless fairly unfazed at) by the prospects of actually developing some sort of a thing for the harbinger hes supposed to puppet master into executing the major story climax of his 67-step retirement plan bc he turned out to be quite the strangely charming ginger specimen (to His weird fucking 6000 year old tastes at least. they deserve each other) with some fascinating life ambitions he cant help but be enraptured by.

but because hes still 100% Locked In on his entire plan zhonglis also just . simultaneously dual wielding his coy-ass "i like you and am taking it slow to Savor this developing relationship (Also bc of the Geo Archon Shaped Elephant In The Room) except am old as shit so my languid sense of time inadvertedly Automatically turns my behavior into an equivalent of the dark souls boss of playing hard2get" act (cue "waddup im ajax 24 and im in fucking agony with this hot funeral consultant". Yes they live like this) AND also meticulously theorycrafting like 12 moves in advance for his 6d chess play of leaving the most subtly crafted trail of breadcrumbs behind for the tsaritsas 11th to follow into the intended & completely "Coincidental" idea of unleashing the one particular sealed sea deity that zhongli Specifically wants momentarily released for his sweet 6k retirement party and graduation test for the nation hes helicopter parented for 3.7k years .

like. this is zhongli we r talking about the guy Absolutely has it planned out down to a fucking art like he has an entire branching path dialogue tree planned and memorized like its a visual novel for every possible way he can conveniently namedrop osial in a non-suspect way and also that he just happens to be sealed right over there across the harbor (what a coincidence!) and also to slip in the intel about the latent power of the sigil of permission etc etc. like zhonglis just out there doing all this massive galaxy brain computational work simultaneously while infodumping on an academic level about whichever subject childes latest random comment of amicable small talk happened to remind him of because in his helicopter parent in remission mind its Absolutely Critical that the idea about releasing osial occurs Completely organically in childes mind it Has to he Cannot risk revealing anything . (hes in remission not in recovery guys.) so like here we are. he requested notes from the tsaritsa Personally on the character of her 11th just to ensure every move was painstakingly crafted to draw him Specifically to the intended conclusion without risking revealing his true identity .

except. the thing . neither he. nor the tsaritsa . would have been informed of . is that this simply isnt childes first fucking rodeo waking up an eldritch city sized sea creature . and he is very well aware of this fact . he woke that beautiful wonderful beloved huge fucking narwhal up by himself had his brain chemistry Immediately and Irrevocably rewired as a direct consequence do you fucking think hes somehow stopped thinking about that singular moment for even a second since then???

yeah . thought so.

so what actually ends up happening in reality is theyll be on another definitely-serious-business-not-just-a-date and zhonglis going to get down to like dialogue selection part 10 of the 86 step conversation tree at Most where hes only beginning to like Vaguely allude to the key pieces of information involved but it turns out Because Hes That Guy (TM) And Has Been There Done That Before childes basic pattern recognition and sense of irony simply proceed to kick in Way ahead of time and hes Immediately perking up like Hey wouldnt it be really fucking funny if i wake up an eldritch sea beast Again . like just in case. as a last ditch effort .

and zhonglis just sitting there seeing the gears turn in his head as they enjoy their cringe fucking picnic (bc they just stare at each other intently like that nowadays its a thing. being in a room with them by this point is essentially a human rights violation) and is just completely fucking flabbergasted and lost on how in the hell childes speedran his way to that conclusion at what amounts to barely a 13% completion rate in his whole overkill fucking plan (just 1 of 3 contingencies btw) and its like yes he has his intended outcome but also precisely 0 idea on how the fuck said outcome was reached the way it was this fast . like hes still winning its His plan thats well underway and ahead of schedule but How

(pov: ur selling the concept of waking up destructive sea creatures to the guy who woke up a celestial body eating cosmic whale at 14)

anyway its truly beautiful i absolutely detest these two and have prime liyue AQ hijinks nostalgia now thank you for the lore drop that allowed this to become canon in my head hoyo

[pepprs]

turned off automatic updates for this stupid app. i am protecting my peace ♥️

[no-one-hears-me]

wow I really am terrified of gaining weight

[larkinginthedark]

imgohgn 2sleep goodbye🙂🙂🖤ilua ll

[vaguenotions]

Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)

Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?

[leoxxii]

so i have come to the conclusion that cheaping out on the ktape was a mistake and i am absolutely not going to be able to even slightly mimic a flat chest w this :( the tape isnt wide enough or sticky enough to stay in place :((

[hazbinsinners]

;; going all out on the aesthetics for my val blog. because he would be extra like that

[fable-x4]

Doing this because it makes me happy •Ꮂ•. Im making it difficult on all of you though.

1 note- I'll go drink water

10 notes - I'll set alarms to actually care for myself

50 notes - set up a daily productivity system so I stop wasting my time doing nothing.

100 notes - ask my friends to help me buy a skirt

500 notes - get a bra & a whole bunch of other affirming clothing !!!

1k - tell my dad that my gf is also trans

2.5k - ask my dad to address me by my prefferred name & pronouns 1k went pretty poorly, so I dont feel super comfortable making an attempt on this.

5k - try to get therapy/psychologist

10k - girl mode at all times (start actively wearing makeup/clothing/doing voice training around people at all times)

50k - try for HRT (0% chance) (also no guarantee on this one)

Asfgg. It feels surprisingly good to have a bunch of strangers who want me to be happy

I have now set up alarms for eating, waking up, and hygene related stuff. I seriously doubt we get to 500, but this has made me significantly happier •Ꮂ•

Doing some math... 25 notes in 4 hours. 6.25 notes per hour. 8000 hours or 333 days until this hits 50k. Hrt in a year ig.

Um. Wow. Its been a day, and we're almost at 300. Everything 500 & below was supposed to be things I'd do with minimal intervention. But now, we're getting to the scarier stuff. I am very intimidated, but also excited

My gf really badly wanted to be here when I buy some of the clothing, so the skirt will be this week, the rest of the clothing will be when she comes back from vacation

Saying that you're force femming me is so not allowed. This is unfair. You have no right to make me feel the ways Im feelingggg. Stop making me happy.

Welp. I told him about my girlfriend. And things went about as poorly as expected. He said that Im parroting what other people think. Slowly taking little parts of them, and applying them to myself. Specifically, being trans. He didnt even leave it to maybes. He said with certainty that I was copying everyone else. I know 9 trans people total. Only 2 of them are my close friends. Everyone else, Im barely aquaintences with. I should have told him that regardless of whatever theories he has, this has boosted my confidence massively. Slightly less excited for 2.5k notes. At least everything after that is very positive. And at least this lets me talk about my girlfriend for ages. I dont have to say her deadname through gritted teeth. Oh context. He already knows Im trans but was ignoring it.

I GOT A SKIRT!!!!!

Thank all of you so much. At first when I got the skirt, I was pretty intimidated by the idea of showing my legs. I thought everyone will just see me as a man. But there's a degree of confidence you all have given me. Yeah. Im pretty. Yeah, Im beautiful even. Yeah. Its a friggin fantastic skirt. And anyone who thinks otherwise is dumb. Im happy, and thats what matters.

[crabcrabcrabmeat]

The style of this narration is killing me bc it bounces between "here's X character's truth" and dry sections of lore super arbitrarily. Tomino I just need to know if you know which ideologies n pop sci are total junk. Pls.

[rateelism]

THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING FUNNIER THAN TAPAS MAKING MOONDAE'S HATE-NAME BE "MOONDOG"...like okay i totally get it bc "Moonpuppy" is like his affectionate nickname by fans but WWWWWWWW underestimating hater-dom...ppl are Totally willing to type "m00nda3" to fly under the radar lololol

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[m30wk1ttycat]

tough love

contains: teenagers being teenagers, cuss words, dirty thoughts, kissing, enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption mentions, smut ig?, getting caught sort of. pairing: newt x reader. summary: you're a med-jack. its almost impossible to ignore newt, always lingering somewhere in the corner of your eye. you hate him, or so it seemed. he hated that, so he decided to confront you about it, maybe force an answer out of you. word count: 1500, give or take.

you and newt had a bit of a rivalry going on. or at least, it seemed like it was rivalry of sorts.

"y/n."

"no," you murmur, trying to assemble some papers and whatever else it was that was on the table.

"please," he pleaded, leaning on the doorway.

"no."

this was just one of you guys' average conversations. you trying to do your job as a med-jack, newt trying to help you with whatever you were doing.

"are you sure?" he asked, still insisting on helping. you'd think he was in love with you or something - which wouldn't be too far off the truth, in all honesty.

"positive," you say, looking up at him from your place at the desk.

he was just so infuriating, persistent on helping with anything you did. everyone in the glade thought that it was just newt being sweet, but you were almost sure it had much more reason to it.

almost.

bandaging chuck's sprained ankle, he just had to walk in.

"need help?"

you roll your eyes in silence.

"thanks, but i'm good right now," you say, smiling. a smile so fake, even you couldn't recognize yourself. a smile you had to keep on your face for the sake of chuck. he was basically your little brother, why make it obvious you hated newt with all the strength you had?

"right," he muttered under his breath. finishing up chuck's ankle, you and chuck head out, completely ignoring his presence in the doorway.

"see you, then.."

"see ya, newt."

it didn't get any better when thomas arrived. the bonfire ended up being a mess to say the least. thomas got his ass beat by gally. and who tended to him? you. jeff had a headache that morning, hungover. clint overslept and skipped the entire bonfire last night. it was odd, because who would want to miss a bonfire night?

newt and thomas both got to the med hut/med-jack hut (i don't even know what to call it anymore). newt was there just to explain what happened, but it wasn't like you weren't aware. you were also there, after all. getting drunk and chatitng with the runners and the jeff, talking shit about the clumsy gladers who stumbled into the circle, who then got their faces bashed in by gally. it was bonfire night. you normally wouldn't even attempt to spark up a conversation with the guys who were most often in the med hut, unless they were injured and you had to take care of their injuries. no one was acting like themselves. but it was bonfire night, yay!!

"geez," you say as you sit him down, newt staring at you from across the room. "he didn't go easy on you, did he?"

and he, indeed, did not. he had several cuts on his forehead from falling, a busted lip and a bruised forehead.

"guess not," thomas shrugged, not wincing or anything. he kept calm, as calm as he could manage to be.

as you clean up the cuts and scrapes and whatnot, you could almost feel newt's eyes burn holes into your back. ignoring that feeling, you were done. thomas got up, smiling. you say your goobyes and thank yous, newt glaring daggers.

just as thomas left, smile still on your face, it quickly faded once you basically got body slammed by newt against a wall.

"why do you hate me?" he asked, frowning. "and don't say that you don't, we both know that's not true."

"newt," you breathe out.

"what is it that i'm doing wrong?" he was being harsh and he knew it. maybe pushing you and pinning you against a wall wasn't exactly his most isaac newton idea? "answer me."

you look away. the result of that? newt pressing you against the wall even harder, your wrists above your head, held together by his hand, his other leading your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"look at me. y/n."

"i am."

it wasn't like you had much of a choice anyways. he pressed his hips to yours, still waiting for an answer. he wanted you to say something. anything, really. just something to prove you weren't dead or slowly passing. though, his hopes were crushed when you stuttered your words.

he let out a breath, leaning his head down right above your shoulder.

"don't be so difficult, there's no need," he said, harshly so. he waited for you to react, only to be met with a small whine coming from your lips as you tried to free yourself. it was no use, he knew that, you should've, too.

your faces mere inches away.

"let me make this clear," he breathed, his lips inches from you, close enough to feel his hot breath on your skin. "i like you, y/n."

he liked you?

HE LIKED YOU??

he glared at you as affectionately as he could, trying hard not to seem like a bitch with the way he was holding you, smushed between him and the wall.

just like in every book, movie, fanfiction - the tension was there. the chemistry was there. the moment was there. the sparks, the butterflies, the way it felt like you were the only two in the world at that moment.

with a grunt, you tilt your head up to look at him, struggling to even talk with his hips propped up against your own, harshly so. "newt," you breathed, "i don't hate you."

"sure you don't," he said, furrowing a brow at you. he kept your wrists above your head, as much as you wished he'd let go. and the harshness of his hips against yours wasn't easing up. at all.

you roll your eyes, trying to look away to hide the blush on your cheeks, but his hand on your chin stopped you before you could even blink, his hand holding both of your wrists captive.

"if you don't hate me, why do you ignore me?"

you let out a whine, "ow-"

he tilted his head to the side, letting go of your wrists. he looked away, smirking. "sorry 'bout that."

he wasn't sorry and you knew that. he wasn't sorry. not one bit..

he also knew that.

and he also knew you couldn't just back away. literally - he had you pinned to a wall in the med hut, where probably anyone with a medical problem could walk in. anytime, too.

"you're making it hard for me to do my job.."

and it wasn't the only thing hard in the room, if you catch my drift. wink wink.

"so what?"

you're almost sure that he's just doing this rile you up, make you hate him even more, when deep down, it only made you want to fuck the life out of his pretty face even more than before. (meow)

"y/n, i love you. more than anything and anyone in this shucking place, really," he confessed.

"i love you too," you mumble under your breath, barely coherent enough for him to hear.

he shook his head, rolling his eyes, trying to seem as annoyed as he could. as much as he tried, the smile forming on his face failed him.

"shut up, i love you more." he pushed your hips back with his a bit. a deep brown gaze, pupils blown wide, he whispered something along the lines of "i'm getting sick of this". and before you could even process what he said, his lips met your in a passionate kiss. his lips tasted like fresh strawberries, a small hint of the moonshine from lat night during the bonfire. maybe he was still a tiny bit drunk, maybe not, but that didn't stop you two from making out in the med hut.

needy, sloppy kisses. hickeys on your neck here and there. newts hips rock, slowly, teasingly, against your own, the friction between you making for delightful shivers rushing through his body. his hands find purchase in your hips, pressing you harder against him as he sucked dark blotches onto your neck. you could feel the growing bulge against your inner thighs. desperately, he kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip. still, he was gentle. or at least trying to be.

how could he kiss you so fiercely yet so gently? was it the british charm?

whatever it was, you couldn't get enough of it. your mind couldn't either. it was concerning, how long he could go like this, sucking and nibbling at your neck like a snack.

too busy kissing him, you didn't notice minho in the doorway, waiting for you or just anyone to notice him. he stood there for a minute, eyes wide as he watched the second-in-command, his best friend, make out with you, the only available (not really anymore) med-jack.

he cleared his throat awkwardly. "y/n," he called, "gonna pay attention to your patients or what?"

whoops, awkwaaaaaaard..