#and being told they are brothers

[harlynstein]

Idk saying that with ur college profile picture you haven’t updated in years is crazy

(Based on this meme I keep seeing float around and I took a crack at it)

[bluerosefox]

To Protect Them

Another DPxDC idea with twins Danny and Damian.

'He knows.'

That was only message Danny received before he felt like he had dropped in freezing cold Arctic waters naked and felt if he remembered to breathe at this moment he would see his own breath, even though he had an ice core and no longer felt actual cold anymore, and for a moment the world around him faded into nothing.

No sound, no touch, not even smell.

Nothing.

Then like a supernova, everything around him exploded.

Everything was too loud, to strong, his skin felt hot and cold at the same time somehow. The feeling of dread crawled up his body.

He needed to go.

Run.

This message was his only warning. The only thing his birth mother could send him in regards of help. He knows it, he knows she can't do anything else but this. He also knows she wants to do more but in order continue to be the eyes and ears inside of the hellhole he once called home, a place he both hated and feared yet somehow still loved if only for the memories of his mother and brother, she could not do anything more.

"Hey Dann-o! Anything good in the mail today!?" Came the loud voice of Jack Fenton, his adopted dad, from the doorway. The same man who took one look at a muddy, dirty, tense, untrusting, almost fully feral little six year old Danyal al Ghul who held onto his only daughter hand when she dragged him home after finding him behind the Nasty Burger looking for food, and decided point blank that he was now a Fenton. That Danny, Daniel was his son as if he always was.

Danny could feel his lip tremble when he realized if he ran, if he booked it out of Amity now, the people he loved, the people he would happily die for, would be targeted. It wouldn't matter if he faked his death, or just left with no warning and never contacted them ever, ever again.

They would be killed for just knowing him.

For their deaths would be his punishment.

Danny could feel the rest of the mail in his hands, the ones he had went outside to get before breakfast cause his mom asked him to, fall out of them, the only one staying was the message from his birth mother. He took in a shaky uneven breath and turned around.

His face no doubt was pale, paler than it normally was, and his body trembled, and Danny had no doubt that despite all the training he had learned when he was in the League that even if he brought it out and pretended he was fine, his dad would be able to tell something was wrong.

Because his dad's happy cheerful face shifted to a concerned worried frown, a frown Danny hadn't seen in a few years, a frown that was common when Danny would wake in the middle of the night screaming, begging, or cursing in his native language or when he would be spooked enough to reach for a knife. But even with those moments the man never ever found fault in Danny, instead he would lower his voice and speak softly to Danny, waiting until he calmed down before asking if it would be okay to touch or hug him. Then he would sit with Danny for hours, keeping his normally loud and booming voice soft as he talked about random things, like family fudge recipes and how they came to be.

"Danny?" Jack asked softly as he took a small step forward, one of his hands lifted up as if asking permission to reach out.

Danny wanted nothing more than to rush into his dad's arms and hide in his large frame. Hide from the world around him but Danny knows he didn't have time, none of them did.

He took in one more breath and could feel his body stop shaking, his mind no longer chaotic, and his nerves steeling up. For the first time in a long, long time, he wasn't Daniel 'Danny' Fenton anymore.

He was Danyal al Ghul again.

"Dad. Get mom and Jazz into the GAV. Now." Danny ordered, his eyes narrowing as he clutched the message in his hand tight.

His dad knew something big was going down.

And he trusted Danny enough to do so quickly.

Danny closed his eyes as his dad ran into the house, yelling for Maddie and Jazz to get into the GAV. Danny opened them when he could feel the message in his hands slowly being covered in ice and knew his eyes were now glowing green.

He didn't have a lot of time. He needed to get his family, Tucker, and Sam out of Amity.

He needed to get them someplace safe.

He needed backup. More than his family and his friends.

He needed-

Danny nearly jumped when he realized who he can call to help.

In a flash he took his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed a number he barely liked calling but needed to do so at this moment.

He waited, it felt like ages and it was agonizing, before the person on the other line finally picked up.

"What do you want-" came a somewhat same but rougher sounding of his voice but Danny cut him off.

"Dan, he knows." was the only thing Danny needed to say because he could hear the sharp intake of breath.

"Get them here now." was the order.

"Already on it. Is Ellie and Vlad with you?"

"Yes."

"Good. We'll be there shorty. Keep them safe."

"And then what?" Came the gruff question.

"Then... Then we'll prepare and call in Father and Damian. We need all the help we can get."

".....He won't be happy... About everything. Our... your fake death you know."

".... I know. But hopefully Father and the rest of his batclan will keep him from lashing out too much, especially with civilians and innocent lives on the line."

The two, Danny and Dan fell into a silence for a moment. Danny could hear his dad trying to hurry his mom and Jazz into the GAV despite their questions

".... Explaining all of this is going to be a shit show isn't it." Came Dan's voice after a couple of minutes.

Danny winced because yeah, not only explaining his actual past as Danyal al Ghul to the Fenton's, Tucker, Sam, and to Ellie, and Vlad but also having to explain his new life to his birth father and twin brother, a brother who thought he was dead, was going to be a hell in a handbasket.

"Yeah... it will be." Came his only response as he heard the GAV starting up and the garage door opening. Dan must of heard it over the speaker phone and said "Get Sam and Tucker and get here soon. No stops. We'll fortified Vlads dumb place in the meantime."

Dan didn't wait after that and instead just disconnected the call. Danny removed his phone from his ear and quickly pull up the group chat he had with his friends, sending them a quick message to meet him now. He used the code they had set up incase the Fenton's didn't take to him being Phantom well, he never had to use it since they took the news good, well as good as one could be after finding out their invention had half killed their son and that they had been hunting his ghost side down, but since this was important he needed them to be ready now.

He frowned as the Fenton GAV pulled up towards him and knew that what happens next would be...

Stressful.

[starry-bi-sky]

There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

[macksartblock]

beware of burnout it's so real i'm afraid

also bc ended up making my writing into a font to avoid killing my hand as much and bc I saw Caden do this, I thought it would be fun to see who y'all think it suits lol

[bittasol]

smile, iruma! | hey ive been here before

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[the-mpreg-guy]

I'm being so serious when I say that I just can't vibe with headcanons and fanfictions that depict Dean as biphobic. Like sorry for thinking someone can be in the closet for reasons other than thinking it's disgusting to love other men? It just feels weird and gross especially since the few times Dean reacts weird to being called gay in the show it was almost always specifically in reference to BEING GAY WITH HIS BROTHER

[0vergrowngraveyard]

villain au redesigns!!

so far in my efforts to revamp this, they’ve gotten worse! these two need to be separated!

[soupandsorcery]

Emmrich: I hope you were able to get some sleep last night, Lucanis.

Lucanis: A little. Spite finally tired himself out.

Emmrich: I promise you, I will do everything I can to figure out a way to reach Rook. It just might take some time...

Lucanis: We might not have much time left.

Emmrich: I know things are dire with Elgar'nan taking over Minrathous, but I don't think we are in immediate danger as long as we remain here.

Lucanis: I'm not talking about Elgar'nan.

Emmrich: Then who...

Lucanis: I have to go tell Viago that we lost his brother.

Emmrich: Ah.

[nelkcats]

Journey to another world

Gotham Academy is the least mysterious place in the entire city. Or so you would think, the place where students of all ages attend to learn (and sometimes discover that their teachers are Rogues).

On one occasion, Damian became bored and decided to explore. He didn't see the point of attending the academy when he was more advanced in his studies (Tim agreed with his brother) but his father insisted, probably because he thought he would make "friends".

So, the first chance he got: Damian escaped from class and explored. He wasn't missing anything anyway. During his exploration there was an attack from a Rogue, and he ducked into one of the lockers in an attempt to hide to put on the mask.

He was surprised when he was transported to a completely different school. One that looked very destroyed (much more than the Academy).

Forgetting about his mission, Damian explored the school with curiosity, many students stared at him in confusion and asked if he was an exchange student, to which of course, the son of the bat replied yes.

So, for months: instead of going to classes, Damian escaped to the dimension and learned from it, sometimes just because he wanted to escape from home. Of course, he didn't notice the suspicious look Danny Fenton was giving him. Nor Poindexter pointing out to the halfa that someone was using his locker as some kind of transportation, again.

Danny knew the "exchange boy" wasn't a ghost, but he had no idea where he came from. All he knew was that the boy was too proud to recognize his city as a danger (Danny had kept Damian from encountering so many ghosts), the boy snorted at the mention of ghosts and said it was absurd. Danny just wanted to avoid him being killed, and maybe close the damn portal.

The worst part was when more "exchange students" started showing up, students who were obviously taking his dimension as a vacation. The halfa growled in frustration, knowing he had a lot of work ahead.

[not-so-superheroine]

Jesus is my older brother, not my dad.

other christians don't seem to feel the same?

am i missing something where he insists on such a thing except perhaps with actual little children?

[theropoda]

Literally like the one good thing abt reading abt celebrities is sometimes they just have such interesting bizarre lives it's just fun to read about AND it's A+ character/writing insp tbh

[bluerosefox]

Presence Pressure

Danny learned the reason why both his adopted parents and the GIW find it a little hard to somewhat track him down in human form (unlike when he's in ghost form) is because when he was still in the LOA he learned to suppress his presence (he was always good stealth, blending in, and other things like that, unlike his brother who didn't have the patience for it) and he does it subconsciously in human form but not in ghost form.

After finding that out he starts to train his ghost form to suppress his core/presence to that nearly of a blob ghost (and boy has it been fun being able to sneak his way into fights when his rogues come to town. Skulker is both the best and worst, he enjoys the challenge, Danny won't lie he enjoys testing his abilities against the 'greatest hunter')

Once Danny got a good handle on it, his parents suddenly burst into his room and announced that they're heading to Gotham tonight!

Cause apparently that 'ghost scum' ecto-signature has been detected there and they finally found it after months of recalibrating their inventions to find his trail. (And where his parents went the GIW have their eyes in his parents which meant they're not to far behind)

Danny is stunned (he forgot Damian and his DNA were very similar due to being 'hand-crafted' and the fact they grew up around the Lazarus Pits, that Danny suspected was dirty ecto now)

Oh... oh no.

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[spectral-snippets-and-drabbles]

A Martyr From the Ashes

For everyone in the fandom saying saying that Danny thinks Martian ManHunter is cooler than Superman, we don't really see it all that much in writing.

I'mma try and fix that...

~•~•~•~•~•~

The Martian Book of Legends held the heroic tale of Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun of Mars, a sickly albino priest of a small town that held marriages, sermons regarding life and how it should be enriched and lived to its fullest, and specialized in funerals that used cremations with fire, a feat thought to be physically impossible by the masses. As people saw him look into the flames without fear while others cowered, rumors spread that the young man was blessed by H'ronmeer himself, the Martian God of Fire, Life, and Death.

People spoke about how Da'han'yul turned down all attempts at courtship, for he had decided to dedicate his life to bring light in the darkest times to all lives in the name of his God. He was a thing of beauty with a gentle soul and shy demeanor, even the Red and Green skinned who had still held a firm belief on the caste system could not deny his charm. How the terminally ill Martian carried on his mission with a smile, nobody knew.

However, tragedy struck on the day that should have spelled the beginning of the end for the Martian people. A parasitic species had invaded the Martian Homeworld and was causing untold havoc. As civilians fled from the threat and prepared a counter offensive, it was Da'han'yul Fen'tuun who charged into the danger headfirst to save his people from becoming prey.

As others pleaded for him to run away, in a great bright flash of light, a gigantic Martian loomed over the enemy emerged where the ill Martian stood, coated in flames in a form they've never seen before with a halo and body that burned a haunting green.

The deafening silence still held as the enormous creature brought a massive fist on the giant pale walker that was destroying homes. A wave of its hand sent a wall of green flames raced towards the foot soldiers, reducing them to ash while his people and buildings were not harmed in any form without an ounce fear of these fires the creature used to purge the enemy. Within the hour, the threat had been neutralized and peace was brought back to the red planet.

As the Martian people looked to the titan, they knew. H'ronmeer's had chosen his most loyal servant, Da'han'yul, as the avatar of his wrath to smite those who would bring his people harm. The people hugged and wept tears of joy and cheered for the priest and H'ronmeer for saving them, but the tears soon became tears of sorrow.

The giant groaned in pain as he fell on one knee as it began to crumble into ash before the people's very eyes. Like a flame, Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had burned his brightest when life needed him most, and now death called to him as it slowly extinguished it to give him peace. With a final message, he pleaded to his people to come together as one and to not see one another as lesser or greater than, but as equals who can help one another in the darkest of times and the hardships yet to come. With his final moments gone, a final telepathic embrace was given to all before he fell silent for the last time.

The massive pile of ash that were his remains was brought back to his little village and made into a beautiful garden of ash in the temple where the newly titled Saint made his home in, where it would be made a holy site that many would come to give their thanks and pay their respects for H'ronmeer' and his champion alike.

And for centuries, peace was held before it was shattered by Ma'alefa'ak, who unleashed the Fire Plague to take vengeance on his people for his inability to experience the psionic way of life that was the norm. His smile as his people screamed in anguish was knocked off his face in the most literal of terms when a Martian struck him down and had him by the throat.

A Martian with eyes burning in anger as Ma'alefa'ak failed to break free and was being beaten severely for his crimes against the people of Mars. A Martian made entirely up of ash and green embers.

Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had returned, if only for a moment longer. And he was not happy.

Quickly, one by one across the planet, the martians set ablaze burned a gentle green that healed them. In this miraculous act of divine intervention, not a single Martian had lost their life. Most were now unconscious with labored breathing being heard.

J'onn watched on as his brother screamed in agony as his body burst into green flames as a pool of ash began to swallow his brother whole. Before disappearing entirely, Da'han'yul told him the punishment his brother would be facing.

"Ma'alefa'ak's psionic abilities have been awoken. He will be sentenced to become a living flame until he has lived the collective life span of all that he has tried to extinguish."

J'onn was too stunned to speak. With how long a Martian can live, it was the equivalent of telling him his brother would be suffering for an eternity. It seemed unethical, but he knew his brother had dug his own grave the moment he saw the reanimated remains of Da'han'yul Fen'tuun's ashes take swift action.

"Everything will be ok now, J'onn. Go to your family and tend to them.

"Da'han'yul...Thank you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you when you were still alive." J'onn solemnly uttered as he looked to the ground, unable to look at his deceased youngest brother.

"Nonsense J'onn, it's not your fault...The caste system...it–"

"I could've done more! Instead I saved myself instead of being there when my brothers needed me most!"

"J'onn...you were just a child."

"It makes none of it right!"

He was right in that aspect, but it still didn't feel right. Ma'alefa'ak' was ostracized by society, was treated like a freak of nature for lack of natural gifts and he wanted to burn society to the ground in the most literal of terms because of it.

While Da'han'yul, the forgotten youngest brother, was treated horribly for being albino and treated cruelly. He contracted a deadly disease when he separated himself from the family to live in isolation with other albinos that made him sickly and cut his life expectancy down severely. Knowing what befell him, seeing him struggle to move and hold down food at times while J'onn and their parents did nothing.

These tumultuous emotions sat in J'onn for so long. The way he wanted to go and help them both, but the fear of association and social punishment for merely being seen with his brothers made him cry when he younger for being so weak willed. It wasn't until their parents bragged about the sacrifice their forgotten child had made, the sone they purposely scorned made him snap.

"J'onn, promise to keep my message alive for me. Help our people become whole again."

"Of course, brother." Is what J'onn tells him as he watches his little brother vanish again for a third and final time.

[basilbots]

Manifesting that by the time Moon actually decides to be there for his brother (which to make it crystal clear all this would entail is physically being there for Sun, he doesn't need to know what to say just sitting with him in the same room is an honest and welcome show of support that Moon has not attempted at all) Sun has gone off to hide somewhere so its too late