#AND!! DID DINNER

[majorasnightmare]

I think you've kind of talked about it before but what would it have taken for Dirge to not fall down the path he has in canon? What would have "saved" him (for lack of a better term)?

What would his foster parents had done if they lived? Would they have tried to help him through The Urge or sent him off to someone else who was more equiped to deal with it? Is there a scenario where Dirge's parents still die and he somehow doesn't end up in the temple? Where would he go otherwise?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THIS IS A GOODUN

its gonna be a LONG one too so. readmore HA

all it would take for dirge to not go down the path he ended up on is a change of circumstance. hes extremely social, so his immediate circle determines a LOT of what he considers acceptable, and what he mimics behaviorally. hes hand crafted out of bhaals gore, so his first moments being distinct from bhaal himself are wandering baldurs gate, naked alone and covered in viscera. his default mental defense mechanism is social mimicry, because he isnt a person, hes a murderous cuckoo trying to assimilate into the nest. hes essentially building a brand new OS for himself out of linux while everyone around him got windows 7 just for booting up. change what he has access to and the end person looks totally different, even using the same building blocks

so dirge is adopted by a lolth sworn drow couple who fled menzoberranzan (i havent pinned down why) and ended up living in baldurs gate as lower income refugees. (two bedroom cottage. relative squalor. poor part of the city)

the two of them had been having trouble properly acclimating to life in the city before they encountered dirge, freshly created out of bhaals gore and set to wander the alleys of baldurs gate. theyre no strangers to the Gates darker side, and a blood stained naked tiefling toddler wandering the bad side of town in the middle of the night leads one to draw some conclusions. having already been thinking about starting a family, they take dirge in and raise him as their own.

dirge is adored by his parents. hes a sweet child, affectionate and shy and curious, and raising him is exactly the push their lives needed to move forward. notably they are both still Evil aligned. their reasons for fleeing the underdark were specific and individual, rather than systemic or moral. while i doubt they still worship Lolth, its not like theyre opposed to the murders Lolth so often asks her followere to commit.

the urge awakens young in dirge, and its first manifestation is to drag his child body out of bed, to grab a knife, and stab both of his sleeping parents in the throat.

this situation isnt particularly hard to avoid, and dirge is successfully isolated almost entirely due to the element of surprise. all it would take is his mom working late, or opting to trance instead, and hearing him pad into the room with a weapon. hes not even 8 when this happens, so is very easily overpowered by even his slighter built mother, even with the Urge unnaturally strengthening his tiny body. itd be a long, upsetting night, and thered be wounds to treat in the morning, but at the end of it dirge would come to and immediately start bawling, overwhelmingly guilty at having attacked them.

theyd take it in stride. they wouldnt know exactly what was wrong with dirge, but theyd very quickly figure out it was something happening TO him and not something he knowingly or willingly engaged in. hailing from menzoberranzan, theyd be familiar with all the ways the will of a god can influence the day to day lives of mortals, but wouldnt know enough about surface gods to have any suspects. but theyd simply adjust their lives around this new complication. only one parent sleeps at a time, and they use trance. the other one stays awake and keeps an eye on dirge in case of nighttime episodes. theyd adjust their work schedules around it so that he was never left alone and unguarded. if dirge has another nighttime Urge episode, he just ends up restrained until it passes and no one sleeps that night. after a few years of this, bhaal starts sending assassins from the temple to reclaim his heir. but if anyones prepared for visitations in the night by politically motivated assassins, its two people who grew up in Backstab City

so dirge here grows up loved, and valued, and protected, and most importantly with a support system whos priorities are about controlling and managing his Urge, not overcoming or repressing it. hes still surrounded by death and blood, the difference here is that his autonomy is preserved and encouraged. his parents wont let him be subsumed into the will of a defiant god, but they dont shy away from confronting the realities of what he is. dirge will always be driven to kill, but whats important is killing pragmatically, safely, in a way that doesnt risk the family's stability. dirge still ends up Evil, but its a quieter and more restrained evil, one that simply understands the nature of what he is (even if he doesnt know the exact circumstances) and refuses to deny it. there is no death cult nihilism or a burning need to prove himself through atonement and worthiness trials, and while hes ambitious still, its an ambitiousness that is focused more on whats feasibly within reach more than grand overarching goals. dirge here keeps his nature as a bhaalspawn tightly under wraps, because its less relevant for other people to know, and is loathe to leave his comfort zone of his family, as theyre the only ones proven to reliably handle his compulsions in a way that minimizes risk.

the alternate scenario, one where dirge kills his parents but manages to NOT become the absolute making serial killer we know and love, actually focuses more on his siblings!

so some context and setup. dirge is the last of four spawn, all crafted in the same manner. bhaal carved away chunks of his body to craft spawn to carry out his will upon the material plane, each found unworthy and unfit in some fashion. the first of these is zherimon, a tiefling paladin driven by pride. zherimon inherited rule of the temple from sarevok, who retires to the tribunal and focuses all his effort on the training of unholy assassins and deathbringers. however, zherimon feels that a being made from the flesh of a god is meant for so much more than lowly service, and has been seeking a way to leave the temple for some time. after zherimon was deemed unfit, owing to his pride making him uncooperative and ambitious, bhaal tried again. the second attempt was the drow paladin ornaryn, driven by a sense of duty. ornaryn came into his paladin oath after leaving menzoberanzan, and swore an oath of vengeance against all who would prey upon the innocent and weak. morally opposed to the acts bhaal would call him to commit, ornaryn is utterly against the actions of the temple, but is drawn there nonetheless. unfit to take zherimons place as head of the temple, the two are utterly opposed to each other on every level. ornaryn considers zherimon to have the potential to become one of the greatest threats to peace on faerun, and zherimon finds the drow irritating and aggravating for his constant efforts to foil his attempts to leave the temple and realize his ambitions. ornaryn stays within the temple of bhaal to maintain a watchful presence on zherimon, and to try and diminish and undermine the cult however he can. his actions to drive the cult to ruin benefit zherimon (who only makes token efforts of appeasement to bhaal) and thus his death has not been ordered... yet. Deeming Ornaryn a total failure, Bhaal instead uses the Urge to force uncontrollable acts of slaughter on Ornaryn, typically by forcing him to choose between two victims that would break his oath. Ornaryn uses the Cult to limit these incidents as best he can, and satiate his Urges with the blood of villains.

The third attempt, after Zherimon and Ornaryns back and forth made it obvious neither would make a point of slaughtering the other (both unwilling to bring Bhaal satisfaction on this matter), was a goliath barbarian, Haflidi. Haflidis Urge typically manifested as an all consuming rage that would not be quenched by aught less than a sea of blood, and the awakening of his Urge resulted in the deaths of every last person within his village, all before he had even become a man proper. However, while Hafldi was neither driven by ambitious pride, or regretful duty, he still proved himself utterly unworthy. Halfidi was completely unable to be motivated by anything beyond his self interest, and attempts to force him would instead result in him proving his divine heritage by digging his heels in and refusing to do anything at all. Lazy and slothful, Haflidi made his way to the temple solely because it would support his occasional need for blood, and near immediately proved that another heir would be needed.

That last spawn was Dirge. Coming on the heels of 3 failures, Dirge was crafted with the intent of forcing him into the role of Chosen, regardless of how much he would need to be broken for it. His Urges awoke earlier than any other, killing his parents, and driving him into the waiting arms of the temple, guided by a dedicated butler in the form of Sceleritas. When Dirge usually arrives at the temple, he then spends the next several years isolated within the temple, groomed and indoctrinated for the role of cult leader and chosen, alongside Orin. But the night he arrives is what provides the oppurtunity for events to turn out differently.

Orin has already slain her mother, and been used as Bhaal's Mouthpiece for the killing. While still young, Sarevok intends for her to replace Zherimon. Dirge arrives as the so called Purest Essence of Bhaal, and provides a second option. Zherimon, through Dirge and Orin, sees a means of escaping the Temple at long last. If one of them ascends as Leader, Bhaal's vindictive gaze would at long last stray to focus on them, instead of him, and he would finally have enough freedom to begin enacting his schemes without fear of divine sabotage. Ornaryn sees Dirge enter the temple, and understands EXACTLY what Zherimon is going to do. Predicting this, both Zherimon and Bhaal have forced Ornaryn into a new quandry: Follow the call of the Urge to slay the foes of Bhaal across the continent, or stay and be driven by it to try and kill two children and be slain in the attempt. Ornaryn typically forces himself to go that night, reasoning that if he manages to finish this dark deed with enough haste, he can return and free Orin and Dirge both, that Zherimon would kill him in his Urge maddened state if he remained, and he would be no help to them if he died. But Ornaryn was not intended to return, and he is kept from the temple for many many long years. When he does manage to return, Dirge has ascended into Zherimons position as leader, and has been utterly subsumed by his role as The Dark Urge. Zherimon instead forces Ornaryn and Haflidi both into supporting roles for Dirge's rule of the temple, and then retreats from power to continue pulling away from Bhaal entirely.

However. When Ornaryn instead chooses not to leave in the night, but stay.

Ornaryn waits, waits until the sun slips below the horizon, and the temple begins to empty out. All that remains are those who live within the temple itself, the bhaalspawn and the twisted and wicked too zealous to integrate into society even as a mask, so monstrous are they in their faith. The Urge will be sated tonight. But not by innocent blood.

Ornaryn kills every last zealot in the temple proper. Zherimon is sleeping within his chambers, and Sarevok resides within the tribunal. Ornaryns spear looses rivers of blood, and the temple runs red with it. When the deed is done, Ornaryn hurries to wake Haflidi and tells him they are leaving the temple, before rushing to grab Dirge and Orin, who were sharing a room to ease Dirge's first night in the temple. Sceleritas is slain before he gets the chance to wake them, and Ornaryn gathers the sleepy confused children into his arms to make a hasty escape.

Awoken by the commotion, Zherimon emerges from his room to a scene of carnage. Instantly understanding whats happening, he immediately rushes out to confront Ornaryn from stealing away his chance at escape. Zherimon catches up as they're making their way out of the Undercity, and Ornaryn shoves the children into Haflidis arms and tells him to run, run fast, and to never slow for anything. Confused and disoriented by the rushes series of events, Haflidi complies and sprints holding onto Dirge and Orin. Haflidi runs out of the undercity, out of the sewers, and into the Lower City, where he breaks into an abandoned house to try and wait for Ornaryns return. Hes there for hours, as his younger siblings fully awaken and begin to fuss and cry at having been dragged away for the temple, Orin throwing tantrums at being so far from her grandfather and Dirge utterly miserable at all the events of the day. Haflidi is on the brink of a rage, when Ornaryn returns stumbling, missing an arm and one of his eyes. Having managed to fight Zherimon to a standstill, he starts trying to recover and make a new plan of action to ensure their safety.

The events of the night have been tumultuous, and most importantly, loud. The conflict between the two eldest divine spawn was an arduous drawn out affair, and the battle has all the makings of a brewing incident. Attempting to get a handle on the situation before it escalates, Jaheira investigates the commotion, and follows the blood trail to a house in the Lower City containing not one, not two, but four Bhaalspawn, one of whom is the source of the gore and clumsily attempting to point a spear in her direction to protect the other three.

The end result of that chain of events, is that the four of them end up integrated into Jaheira's household close to the Upper City, to both provide the children with a chance for a better life, and to maintain vigilance over the movements of Bhaal's Cult, now severely weakened. Dirge grows up with a large family, but is constantly plagued by the Urge, as Bhaal is unwilling to surrender his goals for the youngest of his hand sculpted spawn. Dirge ends up something of a shut in, because of it, viewing himself as a constant potential danger to his family, and unreliable because of it. Jaheira tries to help satiate his Urges with hunting, but animal deaths barely satisfy it at all.

Hes mostly an introverted weirdo, who adores and loves his family but rarely leaves his room, or the shed outside where he practices his hobbies. The hunting may not help the Urges, but its fantastic for leatherworking and taxidermy, and Dirge supplies Orin with whatever materials she asks for as she pursues her art. Whole skinned raccoons, preserved deer heads, skeletons cleaned and then conjoined unnaturally. Orin maintains her independence and ambition, now supported by a whole adopted family, but spends a good chunk of her time worrying about her reclusive listless brother who doesn't seem to desire much beyond isolating himself. Despite having multiple siblings in his life, Dirge stays closest with Orin, the two of them as close as twins (Orin also maintains her habit of shapeshifting into him semi regularly).

Dirge here is closer to True Neutral, rather than his usual Neutral Evil, too anxious of himself and his nature to meaningfully commit to anything, but too supported and loved to develop his usual callousness towards life. Dirge mostly wishes to avoid causing pain for his family, and doesnt trust that he wont risk their lives and wellbeings in some manner. Hes nervous, antisocial, deeply loyal and affectionate, and very eccentric with his hobbies and passions. Different circumstances tend to emphasize different aspects of canon!Dirge and this one really highlights the ways hes just kind of. Odd. even without the murder

sorry this took SOOO long but hopefully the two for one au special makes up for it!!

[chiljax]

i just KNOW vanessa ships poolverine

[hinamie]

not my usual lineup

[pangur-and-grim]

I’m too gullible with people. I’ll have encounters and be like “aw they seemed nice ☺️” and then everyone around me will be like NONONONONO THAT WAS THE DEVIL!!!!!!!

[wolfchans]

pov: me watching the vlog

[fandomorientation]

house in his cunty turtlenecks (1 | 2)

[mystiffox]

— timelines overlap (but differences remain)

do you wonder who your other selves will be?

[egophiliac]

Hello ! I positively adore the running joke of Idia unknowingly finding Lilia to be the coolest guy ever whenever he doesn't know it's him, like when Silver described his father, or obviously with muscle red. I can't say what'd be funnier, Idia finding out his online best friend is actually Lilia, resident spooky hyper fairy; or them both never finding out, and it'd become even more ridiculous as time goes on. How do you think it'll play out ? You're always so on point

(Also, though it makes sense, I'm still devastated bat boy didn't get a ticket for the Halloween skeleton train : ( does anyone mentions him at some point ? Like how he'd have fit right in with all those Halloween town little freaks, and how he'd have impressed them with his spooks and scared techniques; after all he's been every Briar Valley's children worst fear on Halloween for centuries. I'm on the eng server and I didn't wanna spoil myself by watching the whole thing on youtube)

Have a nice day !

you and me both, Idia and Lilia being oblivious online BFFs (+ Idia being incredibly intimidated any time Silver brings up his jock gamer dad) is my favorite running joke/subplot. 🤝 it's SO good, to the point where I also am unsure if I actually want it to ever be resolved or not...maybe, like, as a post-canon stinger or something? everyone's standing around covered in overblot ink, and Idia and Lilia's phones go off at the same time...

(legit I do think this is part of why Idia couldn't be present for Lilia's dream, because for some reason Lilia decided he was going to just. embody his past self online. he probably quotes his own battle strategies or whatever in the middle of boss fights. Idia didn't pick up on the whole "oh how weird that we both live on a super remote island" thing, but he would spend thirty seconds listening to General Lilia describing siege warfare and be like "w-wait")

all that aside, however it does end up happening, I do see Lilia being very blasé and all "oh! cool!" about it. y'know, taking it very much in stride! and Idia...very much not.

(can't tell if tumblr is going to chew this into illegibility or not, this will be a fun surprise ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

as for Lilia sadly missing out on Halloweentown shenanigans...he does get one little mention as part of an offhand reference to the light music club, but so far no one has brought up how this basically is just Lost In the Book of Liliatown (Sebek's been too busy yelling about not getting to be in the same group as Malleus). 😔 honestly though, it's probably for the best that he got left out, because he would just settle right in and refuse to ever leave. canon would shatter. we would miss out on all the delightful angst of episode 7 because Lilia is too busy eating poisonous shrubbery inbetween practicing his very best screams, and no one can pull him away from it.

(I can hope for a sequel next year though...)

[catinfroghat]

I think the biggest grievance I have with severance season 2 was they still gave reghabi absolutely nothing and I think this goes along with the no black writers criticism quite well because you have this morally grey genius neurosurgeon who is also an older black woman so of course she literally just turns up to help the protagonist out of nowhere acts mysterious and then disappears again. We know nothing about why she turned against Lumon how she developed the reintegration technique how she managed to get in touch with Petey/convince him to reintegrate. It's a mystery show and we don't need all the answers straight away but even just some interiority for her would have been nice what are her beliefs is she feeling anything after the murder she committed how about after accidentally killing a patient does she have a family where has she been living all this time if she's on the run what's her history with Cobel just a crumb please

[faunandfloraas]

(this was not a carbsracha live)

[koipudding]

being with kaiser means having to dissect your own heart while stitching up his.

chewing on him jn the tags and etc. don’t mind me

he’d be pretty mean at first. he’s gauging your reactions; would you run if you saw everything that haunted him? how he haunts himself? Kaiser does nothing but spit and snarl at you, like a stray cat that’s only been kicked to the curb.

but you don’t leave him alone. not like every other one-night stand he’s had—no, you’ve made him breakfast—a traditional german faire—and brushed and put oil in his hair (his favorite scent too; you tell him it’s been your favorite for a few years. something in him softens).

It’s so domestic he almost vomits after that, but on his first night away from your apartment, he can’t sleep. Practice is shit and he’s not performing well, to the point where he initiates a facetime call (kaiser hates initiating. it feels like begging for your attention, when yours should be solely on him anyway.) and you pick up instantly.

the time difference makes something shatter in him. You’re just waking up… hair messy and eyes bleary. You can hardly speak or hold up the phone…

“Mihya…? You okay?” you’re slumped in bed, wearing his sweater. He might combust (when did Michael become so attached to you? He doesn’t know, but he whispers your name like a prayer, like you’re his guiding light).

“I’m better now, dear. Let me tell you what that idiot of a striker did at practice—“ he rambled on, and watches you nod along. You him and agree with him, and a weight falls off of his shoulders. Kaiser can love you. Perhaps he already does…

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

[anyfire]

jeff sadecki loves to be like Ugh my bitch wife has been so paranoid and high strung ever since she killed the guy she thought was blackmailing her friends over the stuff they did during the 19 months they spent stranded in the canadian wilderness. Something that has nothing to do with me at all

[mokulule]

A Man has Needs part 5

First | Masterpost Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom DP x DC Summary:

In which Jason keeps up ending up in Danny's bed and not even for any fun reasons.

With the comfortingly normal sounds of the coffeemaker huffing and puffing, Danny felt just a bit calmer. Surely things would be okay. What was a little boner between friends?

Were they friends? Danny liked to think they were, of a sorts. They were certainly friend-ly? And while his guest wasn’t the most verbose, Danny thought he enjoyed their time together? The thought niggled in the back of Danny’s mind that aside from that one disastrous time his guest had come to talk in the afternoon, they never saw each other outside the mornings after. But that was fine! The whole situation was kind of mortifying when you thought about it, which is why Danny tried not to think about it.

His guest couldn’t help his dysregulated ecto-metabolism. Until that was fixed this would keep happening, so Danny had tried to make the best of it - would keep trying to make the best of it.

Surely things would be okay, Danny repeated internally for the umpteenth time, as the coffee finished. He took out their mugs with a deep calming breath. If they could shoulder past the whole accidental bedmate sitch, surely this was just a little thing. A blip.

He heard movement in the bedroom, any moment now his guest would come out, and Danny would have to make sure everything felt normal. He forced an optimistic smile on his face as he started to pour the coffee. It would be fine in a moment, he just had to work through the initial awkwardness and everything could go back to normal.

There was the low squeak and thump of the window opening and closing.

Danny’s smile felt petrified on his face; he didn’t have to check to know his guest had left. He could feel it.

Slowly, carefully, he set the coffee pot down on the counter.

Danny’s shoulders fell in defeat. A ball of lead settled heavy into his chest. Somehow, he had not even considered that option.

Oo o oO

Fuck, he had ruined everything, Jason thought as he tumbled through his own bathroom window. Why didn’t he just go home yesterday? Why had he been so fucking weak!?

He longed to go back, to try to explain himself, to do anything but run away. But he couldn’t face Danny now, not after taking advantage like a creep.

Oo o oO

It was a whole four days later until Danny awoke once again in the arms of his sleeping guest. Clenching his eyes tightly shut he rolled intangibly out of the embrace. The ball of lead had migrated to his stomach, and Danny tiredly rubbed his face.

A cautious sort of hope lifted the weight slightly when his guest was still sleeping once Danny had dressed. Things seemed more normal today. Danny padded into the main living space. Automatically he got the coffee going then pulled out the carton of eggs and a pan.

He halted, one egg in hand, when he heard movement from the bedroom. He couldn’t help holding his breath as the seconds crawled along.

One minute…

One minute thirty-

The window opened and closed.

Danny’s breath left him in a punched out whoosh. He put the egg back in the carton and back in the fridge. He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

It was the herald of a new depressing normal.

Oo o oO

November turned to December. The leftover snow from one of Mr. Freeze’s attacks brought much happiness to children across Gotham and much aggravation to the adults who had to drive in it. The Holiday cheer, which had been negligible and relatively easy to ignore in November, had turned aggressive by the coming of December and now by mid December Danny was well and truly done with it.

His calls home were underscored by his parents’ age old Santa argument and he’d resolved not to answer any calls until January. It went without saying he was not going home for Christmas, which his parents’ somehow hadn’t understood why. It didn’t help that Jazz, Sam and Tucker were bothering him to come home for the Holidays as well, and they should fucking know!

His regular bus had been cancelled due to the weather, and he had quite a few more blocks than normal to walk. He trudged glumly along, trying to ignore the squelching of his wet shoes. Sneakers really weren’t for snow sludge weather, and his worn and beaten pair even less so. It was lucky that growing into his ice powers had come with a level of resistance to the cold.

Danny reared away from a donation box suddenly showed in his face, and resisted the strong urge to just go invisible and fly away. He just wanted to get an overly sugary coffee concoction and go home to study for his Finals without being accosted by jingle bells and unsolicited singing, was that too much to ask?

Finally, Danny’s local coffee shop was in view.

Unconsciously, he walked faster. He just wanted to get home already.

It was just Danny’s luck that just as he reached the door someone walked out - someone more solid than Danny. His breath was punched out with an oof as his kinetic energy got turned right around, converted into potential energy and landed him flat on his ass in the sludge.

This really was just Danny’s luck. It was December. December was always a bad month. Danny could handle that, but then the person spoke-

“Oh shit, I’m so- Danny?”

Danny knew that voice. He didn’t even have to look up to know it was his guest who hadn’t spoken to him in a month, stealing away like a thief in the mornings. Yet, he looked up anyways. There stood his guest handsome as ever, with a fluffy looking red scarf and a matching unevenly knitted beanie that spoke to someone having made it for him. His guest, who apparently knew his name, and who was flanked by two other shocked, unfairly attractive guys.

“Oh!” The older guy, who looked like he’d just exited a hair commercial for luscious wavy locks, exclaimed. His lips split into a blindingly white smile as he grabbed excitedly on to Danny’s stunned guest in a very familiar way. “You know each other? A friend Jaybird?”

“Uh,” Jaybird responded looking from Danny to commercial guy in a flustered panic and it was that more than anything that made Danny snap.

Danny had been angry at himself that he’d ruined things, that he’d made his guest so uncomfortable he’d rather leave than exchange a single word with him. He’d been devastated, and lonely knowing how things had been and what they had become, the potential loss of a friend who was also ghostly was especially hard to swallow. And now his guest couldn’t even give a little white lie to save Danny’s dignity. Was it that hard just to say yes?

“No,” Danny said getting up, batting the hand away reaching suddenly to help him and giving him a glare for good measure. “We just sleep together.”

Commercial guy spat out the coffee he’d just drunk, coughing and sputtering and the second guy started pounding him on the back. Danny flashed his teeth vindictively, turned and started the final trek home.

Even a sugary caffeine concoction could not save this fucking day.

-

I meant to post this in the weekend as a pick me up for my very busy 7 day work week, but alas the 7 day work week kicked my ass and I didn't get around to posting.

In wonderful news I'm gonna see a friend today. I'm very tired but very happy.

Tell me what you thought? Aren't they just amazing at not talking with each other? XD

(you can subscribe to the fic at the masterpost)

[undead-cypress]

Major metaphor re:fantazio sort of final boss spoilers!!!!

-

I was babbling to a friend about how elements of Louis's design can be found echoed in the healer line archetype design, and how cool that was to figure out even as early as the first dungeon that his archetype line was supposed to tragically be healer, when they got me with "um, his true archetype is whore"

Louis is so funny. We respect whores in this house, we just don't respect Louis.

(joking aside I do think it's really cool that archetype magic gives us armor but blasts all his clothes clean off. Of course it does. What else could it possibly do.

[no1deahow]

Besties and their kids hanging out 🥹💕