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s-creations · 6 months

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Comes in Waves - Free Day

Entries for the 2024 RadioStatic Week.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Cursing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I'll try and write a good mix of both happy and sad, They're both idiots when it comes to love.

Alastor was an individual who liked to be in control.

When he was alive, it was the ease at which he could go with finding his next kill. The enjoyment and thrill of planning, executing, and learning from each endeavor. It was listening to the latest reports on his murder sprees and squirming with delight in knowing the authorities had no clue as to what they were doing when trying to catch him. Above all, it was Alastor using his appearance and twisted words to make anyone follow him.

Men, women, it didn’t matter. If he found them interesting enough, he could ensnare anyone. Alastor knew he had the face that easily stuck out from a crowd but looked so ‘innocent’ that he’d been off the radar before too long. He held the right *ahem* coloring to be either someone’s greatest sinful thought or territorial fantasy. His voice was easy on the ears that carried a vocabulary that would make even a politician be stunned into silence. The promises that Alastor could offer brought any needy soul to his doorstep.

People were easy to fool. Trick. Manipulate. All met with a treat of something that Alastor would never produce for them. Because they were playthings. Mere toys for him to mess around with until he grew bored and realized the other had outgrown their usefulness.

They were all so desperate to see what he could provide.

Too bad for them, a good idea of a ‘thrust’ was vastly different from what Alastor was after.

When he’d arrived in Hell, Alastor didn’t feel all that much had changed. The difference this time being his rather smug attitude and indifference made other demons believe he was a walking joke. Someone who would be dead dead within the month of his fall because he’d be careless and crossed the wrong person.

Oh, how foolish.

All they had given him was another form of manipulation. Another element of surprise.

Another element of control.

When he’d taken down his first Overlord, Alastor spent 10 minutes, standing in that alleyway, laughing. Laughing his head off as if he’d been told the best joke ever. The sound seeming to echo through the relatively quiet area of Hell.

He didn’t think it’d be that easy. Surely someone who’d claimed to be so powerful and spent so much time putting Alastor down, that must have meant something. Right? Mayhaps Alastor was far stronger than even he realized. Did that matter? No. Because it allowed him to pull the rug out from others far faster than he originally planned.

He just needed a little more power.

Just a bit.

Enough to have a gaggle of underlings to constantly mock, enough screams to provide proof of what he’d done, and power to keep himself among the elite.

But never call him an Overlord.

Oh no.

No.

He was something better.

Something that would be feared by and nervously watched over.

He was the Radio Demon.

He had control.

This place was made for him and he was going to take full advantage of it.

And the Vox arrived.

Truthfully, their first encounter was a chance one. Built off of the fact Alastor just so happened to be walking by an alleyway. Which just so happened to be filled with the very gang that had called him out at least a week ago for a ‘fight’. Who just so happened to be focusing on a new arrival instead of how the air was suddenly filled with static.

Well, who was Alastor to pass up just a wonderful opportunity?

It was barely a fight. But Alastor was able to get his blood flow quota in and was counting it as a good cap for the afternoon. His enjoyment of slaughter came to a halt when he finally saw the new arrival.

Well, it actually ended when there wasn’t a single gang member still alive.

Semantics.

The point still remains that Alastor was a little…taken aback with seeing the other. He’d become painfully aware of the rise in technology and the new things being produced back on the living world. Mainly for the fact those same movements were making their way down here. It made it a little harder to remind everyone of the proper form of media and entertainment. But just a little. He was still able to hijack a lot of equipment that worked on similar frequencies and waves.

The fact was for the quick growth Hell was experiencing, there weren’t a lot of sinners that were closely tied with technology. Some did have little parts of their form changed. Maybe they had a cable that produced from their neck. Or their eyes were actually light bulbs. Small changes such as that were pretty common.

However, having a giant as all could be television for a head was…different. Drastic. It had Alastor pondering what that fellow had gone through before passing away to deserve that as his form for an eternity.

Not to be overly bothered by it, Alastor had sent the new arrival on his way. Providing directions to Cannibal Town and Rosie’s name to guidance before departing. With the mind that he’d never been seeing the other again. The city was big afterall. And Alastor had other worries than that of the physical formation of new technology.

Except it wasn’t that easy.

It felt that Alastor was running into the heavy headed demon almost on a weekly basis for how often the other just…appeared. The Radio Demon couldn’t conclude that the other was stalking him. Afterall, said demon looked just as surprised to see Alastor when they’d meet up once more. With an air that couldn’t be faked. Just wonderful happenstance that would bring them together.

Truthfully, Alastor attempted at first to keep the other at a safe distance. He didn’t want to have to worry about the information provided by another demon. He had enough on his plate. Plus, having a ‘partner’ of any kind made his skin crawl.

Yes, Rosie and he were friends. That was a bond created by necessity as the female cannibal was the reason Alastor was even here still.

Just as with the other demon…

It didn’t matter. Alastor didn’t want it.

Too bad the other demon seemed impervious to Alastor’s clear warning signs. Or just didn’t care overall. He’d happily provided his newly, self appointed name (“Vox, has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”), how he’d accidentally both shocked another sinner and plunged a city block into a black out (“Electricity based powers, who knew?”). At each turn, Alastor put up an air of clear indifference. Offering a small hum or a condescending “How interesting.” in hopes that his want of space would be recognized.

Much to his annoyance, Alastor still ran into Vox by random chance. And Vow was always happy to see him.

The first time Alastor had shown any kind of interest in what Vox was managing, he should have run. He should have physically put as much space between them as possible. Because he should have recognized he would start his descent into wanting the other around.

Alastor had found Vox in one of the many parks Hell seemed to spawn. This one in particular spouted a rather impressive lake that was a deep red yet somehow was still able to reflect the sky above clearly. His afternoon walk of terrorizing and hunting was put on pause when red eyes flickered over to a familiar form sitting by the edge of said water.

Vox was hunched over. Working furiously on something in his hands that Alastor couldn’t see from this point.

Now, the Radio Demon wasn’t a stranger to the things Vox could make. Namely pieces of technology and electrical doodads that Alastor had no interest in. The radio was a fine invention and the rotary phone worked wonders. Why push for more? Seemed like an annoyance, if anyone had been so kind as to ask Alastor his opinion on the matter.

What had caused Alastor to pause that day was the fact that he couldn’t find one scrap of mechanical what-not near Vox. Instead, a pile of some kind of shaving was resting at his feet. Steadily growing as Vox continued to work.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Alastor crept forward. Stunned for a moment in realizing that Vox was actually whittling. Slowly carving away at a piece of wood instead of trying to bash two pieces of mechanical equipment together. Alastor couldn’t see what the other was making. He could tell that Vox was putting as much effort into it as possible.

“Well, what do we have here?” Alastor finally broke the calm.

Vox gave a yelp that, later on, he would deny vehemently that he’d ever make such a noise. As it was, he merely stood up and quickly hid what he’d been working on behind him. So quickly that Alastor momentarily believed that the poor demon had stabbed himself with the knife, with how uncaring he’d been about its placement.

“Alastor!” Vox shouted out. He coughed and cleared his throat before continuing, “Hey…you, um, what are you doing here?”

“I feel that I should be asking you the same thing. Don’t you have a studio or something for you to work at? Yet you picked by the side of a lake to create something. How interesting.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to be crammed in there all day. I may like to work, but I’m not that crazy.” Vox gave a weak shrug, still holding his hands behind his back. “A change of scenery is nice. I…didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Afternoon strolls do wonders to keep my mind clear. But don’t be changing the subject to me. I would think that your delicate equipment and electrical pieces wouldn’t work well around water.”

Alastor’s brow raised as he watched in silent fascination as Vox’s screen flickered for a brief moment. Showing snow before settling back down to his facial features once more.

“...It’s not something electrical that I’m working on.” The Media Demon offered weakly.

Which only peeked Alastor’s interest more. “Well, you can’t just leave me hanging with that statement. Let me take a quick gander at what you’re working on?”

“I mean- It’s not that important! Just a little hobby I picked up, stupid really. You’ll just…laugh.”

“Well, I am in the mood for a good chuckle.”

“That’s not what I mea- Hey!”

Vox’s panic grew when a shadow tendril emerged from the ground and wrapped around what he’d been hiding. He made no move to gather it back as it was deposited into the awaiting Radio Demon’s hand.

Whatever Alastor had been expecting…it wasn’t this.

It was a small wooden figure, mainly that of a deer resting on what was just a lump of wood. The creation was only partially finished with the majority of the focus being on said deer. Even with how little had been created, the details that Alastor could see were impressive, to say the least. He was taken aback for a moment to think that someone so reliant on technology as Vox would take up a hobby, an interest, such as this.

“Is…it bad?”

Alastor blinked a few times, realizing rather late that he’d been quiet for a few minutes as he’d looked the figure over. Vox’s tone of anxiousness pulled him back over to the Media Demon.

“I…can’t give proper judgment on this,” Alastor started, “Afterall, you’re…clearly not finished yet. I do like what I see so far… When did you take up carving?”

“A while ago,” Vox answered as he drew closer, “I wanted something to do with my hands that was just building the latest…whatever. Don’t get me wrong, I like what I make. But it can be so..boring, exhausting, I get stuck in a rut and…I just wanted to create without having it needing to be the best thing ever.”

“Yet you asked for my approval?”

“You don’t demand things from me.”

Oh.

Alastor felt himself tense slightly as an unfamiliar feeling seemed to grow in his stomach. Which only became worse when Vox reached out to take his creation back and their fingers brushed together.

The Radio Demon cleared his throat. “You seem to have started off strong.”

“You don’t think this is stupid? You know…carving wood?”

“When you say it like that, yes. If you don’t want people to judge you for what makes you happy, then you need to create an air of indifference.”

Vox frowned softly, “But…I need feedback to grow better.”

“Ah, but there’s a difference between feedback and someone being an ass.” Alastor’s smile softened hearing the other snort, “You don’t need my approval, or anyone else's, to do what makes you happy. Constructive criticism is not a bad thing.”

“Besides, I think you’ve found something that will help you become…well rounded. Get you away from your constant need for flashing lights and screens.”

Vox laughed softly, “I’ll admit, it is a nice break… Thanks, Alastor.”

Oh.

That weird feeling hit him once more. Alastor felt the need to collect himself before he tried to move or speak. He’d never experienced this sensation before. It wasn’t bad…but it wasn’t good either. It was confusing, and he didn’t like being confused.

Maybe if had known then what he knew now, Alastor would have put that space between them.

But like a fool, he didn’t. Because he wasn’t aware of what was happening.

Like a cliche, he only realized what had happened after he fell so far.

Because after that meeting, Alastor had started to notice…little things about the Media Demon.

His overly charismatic and rather loud personality that Alastor hated was just a performance. One that Vox put on to have an air of superiority around other demons who he didn’t know or didn’t trust. When alone, however, Vox was nothing more than a grown child talking eagerly about his interests, his ideas, his plans for the future. Things that only Alastor had the privilege of knowing about. Which made Alastor feel just that much more special to the other demon.

While Vox’s control was over technology, namely those with electricity, he was clearly more than just a one-note individual. Beyond the wood carving, Vox also held a passion for music. One that wouldn’t necessarily rival Alastor’s knowledge, but that did impress the Radio Demon. Even if their conversations of the topic would more often than not end with them dancing together. Or, rather, Alastor teaching Vox how to dance and resulted in them both laughing like fools as they sat on the floor with their feet hurting for different reasons.

There was also the point that Vox's interests seemed to fluctuate from time to time. The Media Demon would have a new bullet point list of interesting topics he’d discovered that he’d read down when he and Alastor met up. The Radio Demon took note for himself that Vox’s interest more often than not revolved around sharks. Which is rather ironic as he was now a being who could be severely damaged or even killed by water if he wasn’t careful. But no matter the topic, Vox was the only sinner that Alastor could happily listen to ramble for hours.

For a while, Alastor was content with the situation. He was happy with the relation that he and Vox seemed to share. He felt strangely comfortable and at ease around the Media Demon, who was clearly happy to give Alastor the time of day whenever needed.

Then Valentino entered into their lives.

Alastor was only properly introduced to the moth during one of Vox’s large parties. Which he insisted helped him find new souls to exploit and build his still rather small business at the time, but Alastor found these gatherings more than annoying. After all, he could only destroy so many cameras from the media attempting to take his photo before he became bored. But, Alastor knew the other liked his presence there, offering silent moral support. And who was he to say no?

He fully believed that he would be walking into the same situation as before. Alastor remaining near Vox while the other worked his way around the room to gather what he needed. It was something they’d been doing for years now. Something that didn’t need words to be exchanged to know what needed to happen.

But as he crossed the large doors to Vox’s tower, Alastor’s eyes landed on a situation that made his insides freeze and burn at the same time.

A thin and tall moth demon, with wings a brilliant red wrapped around them, was leaning down to give Vox their full attention. Seeming uncaring as to what the Media Overlord was actually saying but was watching the other with a hunger in their eyes that Alastor did not like.

In a blink of an eye, the Radio Demon was by Vox’s side. His smile strained as he easily stared the moth down. Who had stood back, no doubt surprised by the other’s sudden appearance. Vox, however, paused in his ramblings and offered Alastor a wide smile.

“Alastor, you finally showed up! Thought you’d try skipping this one.” Vox said with a laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Alastor’s eyes briefly traveled up and down over the moth demon, “But I see that you’ve already started perusing the room.”

“Kind of. To be honest, Valentino just walked up and started asking a few questions. He says he has some ideas that could help with the future of the business.”

“Oh, you should know better than to take the words of some lesser demon at face value. I taught you better than that.” Alastor reached out to gently pinch the corner of Vox’s screen. Who just laughed and pushed him away.

Red eyes casually looked back over to this Valentino, Alastor more than happy to see how upset the moth now appeared.

Aw, did someone not like Vox’s attention away from them?

The feeling was mutual.

“So tell me, what delusional grandeurs do you have to offer to Vox here? It must be impressive if he was rambling about it when I was walking in.” Alastor said with a tight smile.

The moth took a slow drag from the cigarette, puffing it out to wash over Alastor. Who took a small sniff and felt his body reject whatever was infused into the scent. It smelled…disgusting.

“I’m not sure if I’m up for sharing ideas with a demon I don’t know.” Valentino huffed.

“Oh no, you know Alastor,” Vox said as he easily wrapped an arm around said demon, “This is the Radio Demon. One of the most powerful Overlords Hell has ever seen.”

“You flatter me Vox…but please, continue.”

Oh, he was taking so much enjoyment seeing Valentino's face become twisted into a snarl as he glared at the arm. Seeing the moth demon squirm with anger. This is what happens when someone tries to take what belongs to Alastor-

Wait.

What?

Were those…his thoughts?

Was he actually…

“So, you’re the Radio Demon,” Valentino scoffed as he took another drag, “Not much to look at. You older model Overlords must hate anything flashy for how dull you all look. Such a shame.”

“Well, we don’t feel the need to over-embellish. We tend to let our work speak for us. But I can see why you younger demons see it the way you do. Actually attempting something meaningful must be too much for you to handle. You make up for your lack of any skills by being loud. In more than one way.” Alastor shot back.

Vox, who was slowly realizing there was a bit of tension in the air, had his eyes traveling between the two.

“I’ll have you know that us ‘younger demons’ are bringing more to the table than you could ever imagine.” Valentino hissed out.

“Yes, you did make a remark on something ‘new’ that interested Vox. Tell me, what idea seemed to have worked its way into that thick skull of yours?”

“Alastor.” Vox whispered, a warning undertone held to it.

“If you must know, it’s a new form of entertainment. A new height of pornography that Hell has not seen before.”

Alastor’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “We have enough of that down here, thank you. With plenty of it appearing on Vox’s networks. I’m not seeing the draw to your ‘brilliant’ idea.”

“Because no one here has allowed the full potential to be reached. For it being Hell, everyone’s still playing relatively safe. My movies will be finding the limits and pushing past them.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Valentino smirks, a few streaks of red saliva sliding down his chin. “I have my ways.”

“How delightful.” Alastor growled out, not even bothering to hide his disgust. He was surprised as he was suddenly pulled away from the other demon. Allowing Vox to direct him to the closest dark hallways.

“Hold that thought for one second.” Vox called out to Valentino with a smile before he and Alastor disappeared from view. The Media Demon fixes the other with a pissed off but confused look. “What’s going on with you?”

“What, I’m not allowed to carry on a conversation with potential employees?” Alastor snipped back.

“If you’d done so in the past, I wouldn’t be this worried because it would be another way of you playing with their fears. But you’ve never been this…snippy. Even more so since it looked like you were going to tear his arms off at one point. Seriously, what’s up?”

“Nothing is ‘up’, I’m just…not a fan of that Valen-what’s-his-face. He’s offering a product that you already produce and acts like he invented the idea of recording intercourse. Smug little man in my opinion.”

Vox let out a slow sigh before placing a hand on Alastor’s shoulder. “Look, I need heavy hitters on my team. People who want to push past what’s ‘ordinary’ or ‘comfortable’. If Valentino thinks he has an idea to help, then I’m going to give him the room to do so. I’ll kick him to the curb without a second thought if he can’t produce.”

“So I don’t count as those ‘heavy hitters’ you’re looking for.”

That comment caused Vox to falter slightly. Even Alastor felt surprised he would make a call out like that.

“...I think you’ve made it very clear you don’t want to work with me,” Vox whispered, “But…I’m fine with that. You’re a one demon person, look out for yourself, right? I get it. That doesn’t mean you get to weigh in on my business choices.”

“I thought you valued my opinion.”

“If you had good feedback to provide, absolutely. Not when you look so…jealous.”

Alastor gripped his staff tightly behind his back. “I’m not jealous.”

“You were matching Valentino’s comments beat for beat. I don’t know if that was your attempt to make yourself the biggest demon in the room or what, but you’re intimidated by Valentino in some way. Is it because he’s taller? Because you’re taller than me without heels on and I’ve never complained.”

“I’m not- Stop putting words in my mouth. I only come to these ridiculous events because I found it entertaining how desperate demons flounder to you. If you’re not going to listen to my words, then I’ll just take my leave.”

“Alastor, wait, that’s not-”

But he’d already sunk into his shadows back into his domain before Vox could grab onto him.

That disgustingly warm feeling in his stomach now mixed with something bitter and cold.

Alastor hated how comfortable he’d felt in that state of dazed feelings. He’d become content with Vox, so much so he wasn’t sure if he was truly the same demon he’d been before. He hadn’t realized how far into Vox’s companionship he’d sunk into until this moment.

How many times had he told himself Vox was just a plaything? Someone to keep his interest between making deals and taking souls. That’s all it was supposed to be.

Yet seeing that stupid, disgusting, ̠v̠̠i̠̠l̠̠e̠, f̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞c̳̿͟͞k̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞g̳̿͟͞ r̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞p̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞s̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞v̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞ V̳̿͟͞a̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞ getting so close to Vox hit Alastor in a way he knew he couldn’t just push pasted this…

He needed help.

“How do you stop caring about someone.”

Roise finished her sip of tea before addressing her guest. Regarding Alastor with a raised brow and a smirk that clearly stated ‘Oh, I know where this is going’. She placed her cup and saucer down on the small table before gesturing to the empty chair across from her.

With as much refinement as he could handle in the emotional state he was in, Alastor all but flopped into the offered chair. Even with his constant smile, it was clear to the cannibal leader the other was pouting.

“Now, this wouldn’t happen to be about that Vox fellow I see you with so much?” Rosie asked while pouring Alastor his own cup. “Wasn’t he having a little shindig at his company today? It’s pretty common to see you at his side on these big events.”

Alastor let out a low growl before picking up the offered cup. “He found someone else to…converse with. I removed myself as my concerns didn’t interest that idiotic TV.”

“You didn’t seem to think Vox was an idiot when you offered the idea for that hunting show.”

He pointedly took a long sip of tea.

“I know you’re not a fan of sharing what’s going on in that head of yours. But I need something from you if you really expect me to help you.” Rosie stated, fixing her next cup.

“...I’ve now realized how close I was to him, to Vox, and that’s…”

“Terrifying?”

“I’m not built for…for caring for others and I never wanted to be,” Alastor said shortly, “Alive, dead, I don’t care. I…I cringe at that deep of a connection with someone.”

“You and I have an established relationship.”

“...It doesn’t feel the same as what Vox and I have. Or had, I’m not sure if we’re on the best of terms right now.”

“Oh, one little spat isn’t going to ruin anything. You’ll just need to be more honest when you see him next.”

“But I don’t want to be! I don’t even know what I want right now and it’s driving me crazy!”

Rosie said nothing as Alastor crushed the cup beneath his hand. Nor as he stood and started pacing the room. The Cannibal Overlord quietly called for a clean up and a new cup while she turned back to the other demon. “You’re certainly in a situation if you’re this riled up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tense before.”

“Because I’ve never…felt this before. It’s an uncertainty that I don’t want to face. I like control, I love being in control. This is making me feel that I’m somehow falling apart yet being put back together again.”

“It’s okay to be in love-”

“I̳̿͟͞ a̳̿͟͞m̳̿͟͞ n̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞.”

Rosie pointed an accusatory finger as Alastor’s voice shifted. “Don’t you snip at me, young man. You came here for advice and I’d like to give it without the worry of losing some part of me.”

“Then take it back.”

“I’m not silencing the truth.”

Alastor let out a hiss before turning his back to the other. Eyes widely looking around, as if he’d find the solution to all his problems in the room. He tried not to flinch as hands gently took one of his own to steer him back to the chair. Head bowed as he sat down, cup handed to him.

Rosie only claimed her chair once more when he didn’t break anything. “You can’t block this out.”

“I-”

“You already had your time for your tantrum. Now, you’re going to listen to me with that mouth shut.” She huffed, taking another sip before continuing.

“I think you’ve been lying to yourself this entire time. Your interest with Vox goes past just a ‘friendship’ or ‘companionship’. It’s something even deeper than what we share. You’ve just hidden it from yourself as a way to preserve what you think you want. Or deserve. There’s never been a challenge of questioning what you two shared because he gave you his world and you took it. Without a thought or worry as to what it could all mean.”

“Then this Valentino character shows up and you feel threatened. I’m not going to ask what the other demon did, because I know it’s more than just a sales pitch that pissed you off. But what you do see is a threat. To whatever you and Vox have.”

Alastor gripped the armrest. “...I don’t think I can explain it.”

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news on that front, but you’re going to need to figure it out. Because Vox is going to want an explanation and he deserves one.”

“...Say that I do…you know.”

“Can’t hear you over your whining.”

Alastor growled, “If I do love him, what am I supposed to do? I…don’t want to have that connection with someone.”

“Then you need to decide if you’re okay with letting Vox go. Because your attitude today shows that you’re not that much of a fan of anyone coming too close to him. But you can’t make that barrier for him if it means you can’t be honest as to why you’re keeping him for yourself. Either let him know, or let him go.”

Neither of those options seemed to settle Alastor’s worries.

He should just be able to let Vox go. Why not? Wasn’t that what he wanted for so long? To let that walking TV depart from his life to Alastor could return back to the quiet he’d been so comfortable with. That was what he wanted…when he didn’t really know Vox.

When the other demon had been just an annoying nuisance in Alastor’s life that couldn’t just take the hint. Now, however, it was a different story. Because having Vox leave meant returning to a life where it was just him and…somehow…in some way…

The thought terrified him.

Maybe he could fall back into the old routine he held. He’d done it for years before Vox arrived in Hell, surely it wouldn’t be that hard to do once more.

“Don’t lie to yourself, just because you believe the old was a comfort.” Rosie offered as calming advice.

“...I think I should leave.” Placing the cup down, Alastor didn’t wait to hear Rosie’s farewells before he was sinking into the floor. The shadows embracing him.

The sinners on the street provided a very clear path around the Radio Demon as he practically stalked the streets. Alastor wasn’t looking for someone or heading for a particular place. He just needed to move. Hoping the constant feeling of moving forward would help pull him from the fog.

It was a frustrating situation that honestly held an easy solution.

Alastor couldn’t deny that he’d allowed Vox far closer than he should have been comfortable with. Just the metaphorical idea of pulling away made Alastor’s stomach churn far worse than what he currently felt. So, remaining was the better outcome.

Yet, would Vox approve? To become beyond the companionship, the friendship, they’d built. For how long Alastor has put up his barriers, would Vox now be receptive to moving forward in a different direction? It was clear the Media Overlord did have an infatuation with Alastor, even if said demon fought against it for so long…

But wasn’t Alastor entitled to have a new chapter in his afterlife? Shouldn’t he allow himself the grace to try?

How cruel fate could be.

Because he knew he couldn’t manage that.

He knew Vox deserved someone who wasn’t a chore to…care for.

So he hid away.

Hid away from Vox.

Never rising to any calls or pleas that eventually turned into hostel threats and challenges.

If asked, Alastor claimed he had better things to do. And he did.

Anything that would make Vox hate him or forget him.

Anything to keep that space between them.

Alastor truly thought he could have something as meaningful down here.

What an idiot he was.

Then, he became lost.

Lost for 7 years.

Leaving behind a disoriented, broken, and confused Vox to wonder where he’d disappeared to.

______________________________

Well, perhaps he’ll know better when going against an angel to not stand directly in front of them, defenses lowered, when they were still on the attack.

Hand delicately placed against his chest, doing a horrible job of keeping his blood in, Alastor slunk back to his radio tower. It was broken into pieces. The only large part still kept intact was where his equipment lied. The rest nothing more that splintered wood with broken glass and wires littered everywhere.

Opening the trapdoor was a little tricky. Given the fact he was only doing it with one hand and it was stuck at an odd angle. But Alastor was able to get it eventually. Panting weakly as he shuffled his way over to the controls to collapse at the base of them.

He wasn’t going to die.

It didn’t matter how much pain he was in, how much blood he’d lost, how much it hurt to breathe, or that he wanted nothing more than to pass out. He was better than that. He was the Radio Demon. One who held his own against an angel, Adam out of all of them, and still survived. Even if other demon’s felt brave enough to mock them, Alastor could hold that above their heads. That at least he fought and lived to talk about it.

Which he would say before eating the idiotic souls that tried to challenge him.

For the moment, however, Alastor just needed quiet. A quiet calm to let himself slowly heal before he joined back with the others and-

Alastor tensed when the trap door was opened once more. Following the sharp action with a quiet curse. He sat up further in hopes to look somewhat intimidating or put together. Depending on who was coming through that opening. If it was an angel, he needed to be on the defensive. Someone from the Hotel, then it was more of a performance to show he was doing just fine.

He was startled to find it was neither option.

Vox, breathless and looking anxious, climbed his way through. Wide eyes landing on Alastor, who could only stare back in slight surprise.

“...Ah… Hello there.” Was all Alastor could muster.

That seemed to break Vox out of whatever turmoil he was dealing with as he let out a snort the next second. His regular smug face appeared back on screen. Yet Alastor could still see a bit through the cracks…

“Well, you look like Hell. What happened to you? Fight an angel and get your ass handed to you?” Vox replied.

“At least I was willing to fight against one. Unlike your business partner who could only talk a really big talk…” Alastor hissed as he tried to sit up further.

“Hey, I only wanted to look into security. Velvette has her own way of sorting out what information people know.”

“We see where that got her. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to lick my wounds in privacy.” Alastor let out a pained hiss as his attempt to stand amounted for nothing. His free arm unable to support himself and he slid back down. He allowed a few seconds to try and catch his breath, eyes stuck to the broken ceiling to avoid looking at the other demon.

“Well, what is it? Are you here to torture me physically or verbally? Or maybe just a straight up slaughter. Adam did the majority of the work for you. Very like you, wouldn’t it be? To try and take all the glory once someone’s done the work for you. Shameful. Did you purposefully change your outfit to reflect mine? I’ve been gone for so long and I still, somehow, take up so much of your mind. You truly are pathetic-”

Alastor winced as his hands were pinned to his sides. Eyes narrowing as Vox positions himself a little too comfortably over the other’s hip. The Media Overlord gave his own glare back as the silence stretched before them.

“...I could break out of this.” Alastor snipped back.

“Do it.” Vox challenged.

“I could tear you apart without lifting a finger.”

“Do it.”

“I could show you how pathetic you really are-”

“Ｔ𝓱𝑒𝐍 𝓭Ø Ɨ𝐓.”

Alastor should not have been taken so aback by those words said in that way. His own comeback died on his tongue as he stared up at Vox as his face twisted into a deep frown. The Media Overlord’s right eye flaring up.

When he didn’t receive a reply back, Vox’s face returned to its more calming setting before saying, “I’m going to let one hand go. Can you promise not to swipe at me.”

“...No.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Even with the rather weak deterrent, Alastor didn’t even twitch as Vox made good on his words. Red eyes watching as the other’s hand reached up…and moved to the top most button of his torn shirt.

Using whatever strength he could muster, Alastor attempted to push the other away. A growl escaping from him when his latching out was proved useless. Vox wasted no time in pinning the Radio Demon’s hands above him.

“Would you stop being an idiot!” Vox hissed.

“How strange to hear those words come from your mouth. That statement is normally reserved for you!” Hands no longer an option, Alastor resorted to biting the hand as it drew closer once more.

“Fucking- Stop it, I’m trying to help!”

“Why on any of the 7 Rings of Hell should I believe those words? You have no reason to, yet every reason to do away with me. Why keep me around? Clearly your meager existence was better when I wasn’t here. So make it permanent. Why wait any longer? Do it! Deliver the final blow and strike me down! E̳̿͟͞N̳̿͟͞D̳̿͟͞ T̳̿͟͞H̳̿͟͞I̳̿͟͞S̳̿͟͞!”

That final outburst took it all away. Leaving Alastor leaning against the soundboard side, gasping for air as he stared up at Vox. Who looked unimpressed with it all.

“Well, now that your temper tantrum is over.” Vox said this as if this was a normal routine. Hand going back to the torn shirt to undo it properly. Enough so that he was able to get a clearer look over the deep gash.

Alastor, on his part, could only sit and wait. Wait for Vox to pull out an angelic weapon that no doubt littered the front lawn of the hotel and stab him. Wait for Vox to just plunge his hand into Alastor's chest and tear out every part of his insides out to paint the floor red. Wait for said hand to slide up to wrap around Alastor’s throat to deprive him of the air he was still urgently taking in.

But none of that happened.

Instead, Alastor let out a hiss of pain instead of anger as a burning sensation was felt on his chest. Looking down to watch as the gash slowly closed itself back up, a faint blue light outlining said wound. It was over quicker than he expected. The area not fully healed, still a deep red but far better than it was before. Leaving Alastor feeling a little more awake and Vox…looking pale.

The Media Overlord leaned back enough to no longer keep the other trapped. Gracelessly falling back onto the damaged floor as his screen dimmed further. A few warnings of ‘Low Battery’ and ‘System Reboot Needed’ occasionally flashing before disappearing just as fast as they had arrived.

Alastor, on his part, ran a newly freed hand over the area. It was still extremely sore, but no longer bleeding, even appearing to be nothing more than an angry scar. The disbelief must have been written all over his face, as Alastor heard Vox let out a weak chuckle. Looking up to find the Media Overlord staring back at him.

“Don’t crash on my Bambi… I think only one of us needs to be close to passing out.”

“...Why would you do this?”

“Why not.”

“...I could kill you in the state that you are.”

“Would you? If that was the case, you’d have done it already…”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“For a while now, yeah…kind of.” They both jumped when Vox suddenly let out a rather violent twitch, screen glitching before going dark. Said demon letting out a small groan. “Okay…maybe I used more than I thought I had…”

Letting out a small huff of annoyance, Alastor shifted himself until he could lay next to the other. Feeling Vox twitch away slightly when their hands brushed together. No doubt more surprised by the sudden feeling than threatened with Alastor being so close suddenly.

“...I saw your stupid little…flying camera things.” Alastor eventually said.

Vox let out a weak laugh, “My security drones?”

“Drones, that’s what they’re called? Are they named after the way you talk? Droning on and on about things no one cares about.”

“Hey, I didn’t name them… A sinner brought the idea to me.”

The Radio Demon hummed, “Brought to you or that you overheard and killed so they couldn’t market the idea?”

“What do you think?”

Even with the situation they were in, both laying on the floor to recover from their own wounds, with the small want of being nowhere near the other demon, Alastor had to admit. This was…nice. Trading insults with no venom as if no time had really passed between them. When his radio tower was a grand structure on its own in the dense forest, allowing Vox to rant about whatever happened at work while Alastor pretended to not listen.

A good memory.

A…calming memory.

“You fucking left me.”

Alastor’s ear twitched, turning his head to look at the Media Overlord. Vox’s screen was still dark. But with how his body was tensed, Alastor knew they were reaching a boiling over point. One that had no doubt been rising for all these years.

“You left me… At the party, alone in this Hellscape… I looked for you…for 7 years. Do you know that? I spent 7 years building up my empire. Becoming stronger. Becoming my own Overlord with hundreds of contracts in my control. All because of you. Because when you left…” Vox’s voice became garbled for a moment and he fell silent.

Alastor remained quiet as well. Remembering a time, long ago, when Vox had explained a large downside to his new form. That strangely comfortable release when someone could let go of their sadness. Vox had been devoid of that. He still needed to eat, to breath, to drink. Yet that liberating feeling of letting sadness fully consume oneself was gone.

He’d become familiar with that sound from the Media Overlord’s voice. Alastor had heard it numerous times on days that Vox had just too much on his plate or something fell through and became a detriment to his plans.

Back then, Alastor hadn’t thought much of it. How trying to openly let out such a weak state of emotion in front of anyone in Hell would be seen as an opportunity to strike. But he never did. All he’d done was allow Vox to scream, shout, even destroy a few things. Then letting him collapse onto the nearest chair as the feeling continued to grow with no way out. The younger demon clawed at his chest as if that would yield the result he desired.

And how Alastor, the demon who was repulsed by touch from anyone, would place a hand on Vox’s shoulder. Or lay an arm across them. Even at some point allowing the other to lean against him. As if offering a small form of shelter from the storm.

Now here they were again. Alastor only able to watch as Vox struggled.

“...You shouldn’t have looked for me,” Alastor said softly, “It wasn’t worth it…”

“It was for me.” Vox shot back, voice still a mess.

“You had your own life to live, it shouldn’t have revolved around me. It should never revolve around anyone.”

“Fuck you.”

“Vox-”

“You don’t get to make that decision, not on your own. …Did I make you angry? You left at that party. I know we fought but we both said stupid things and I thought it would just blow over. But you kept… You avoided me, lashed out and… Fuck, Alastor, I couldn’t breath, I was so confused and you wouldn’t let me talk. Then I heard sinners calling us rivals and I knew I said nothing about it so assumed you had. With everything…”

“You should hate me.”

“I do…but for the wrong reasons, I think… I just hate that you left me there… Then you fucking disappear.”

Alastor’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “...It wasn’t my intention.”

“If you had stayed, would anything have changed?”

“No.”

“...Well, at least you were honest…”

“If you’re angry at me, why are you here?”

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I want to hate you. I freaked out when I saw you get hit. I would have been here sooner, honestly, but Val and Velvette held me back. Said rushing over was a stupid idea. They were kind of right. …I know you like your privacy and whatnot. Your mysterious air… If you want me to keep playing this role of rival, I will. Good thing to focus my anger on…I guess. I just…I wanted to know you were okay.”

Alastor didn’t respond. Eyes widening slightly, ears even tense as he heard Vox’s voice say those words. They hurt. Hearing out loud, from someone other than himself, it felt wrong. It’s as if Vox had said the words that had been resting on Alastor’s shoulders for so long.

Because, in some way, Alastor had been doing the same thing.

If he really wanted to keep Vox away, Alastor would have just disappeared to begin with. On his own terms. He wouldn’t have felt the need to rise and snap out his views against Vox. Alastor had no need to make their falsely created rivalry such a spectacle. At the time, he’d just assumed it was because he was trying to show off. To show his life could continue on like nothing was wrong. An act. A performance.

In reality, it was his way to make sure Vox was okay. That the other demon could remain on his own two feet without Alastor always being there. The small verbal fights were nothing more than Alastor checking in. A way to see how much Vox was building his empire and himself. To watch from the shadows as Vox strived in creating what he deserved. All without allowing the other the chance to ever get that close again.

Alastor didn’t hide physically. He tried to hide emotionally.

And suddenly…he stopped wanting to try. To hide what he thought wasn’t meant to be his.

Because he was Alastor, the Radio Demon, and if he wanted someone, he was allowed to take them. Without the fear of what others thought.

Vox’s screen flickered on when the air around him moved quickly. Having a moment of worry that he’d crossed a line and Alastor was finally done with him. Only to pause as the Radio Demon was now leaning over him. Smile tense and eyes narrowed.

“...Alastor-”

“I don’t want that.”

Vox blinked, “Don’t…want what?”

“I don’t want to play a role. I don’t want to be rivals, or to feel the need to fight you, or trade insults with the purpose to hurt you or me or…whatever. I…don’t want to go back to any of that. I don’t want to hate you… I never hated you.”

“...Then what was that all about?”

“...There were…certain things happening at the time that I was not…comfortable with facing.”

“You were scared.”

Alastor let out a low growl before covering it with a cough. “That is one way to put it, I suppose. I pushed because… I like control. This…feeling, this was not control. So, I did what I thought I had to do. I controlled the situation I had before.”

“You pushed people away?”

“Well, no, I actually killed them.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you went with the physical distance and not the spiritual distance.”

Alastor raised a brow, “I thought you could take me in a fight? Was that not one of your claims? That I was so old that I could break a hip or something trying to land the first hit?”

“Hey, that’s still a legitimate concern!” Vox argued back with a smirk, “But back then? No, no way could I have. I would have just been a gnat you could swipe at and do me in. Now…well, you might have knowledge, but I’m pretty sure I have you beat in strength.”

“Oh, do you now? Because that head of yours makes for a good target.”

“Oi! My head is awesome! Sleek in design and able to hold so much information. You’re just- You just wished you looked this good. Unlike you, still stuck with the pinstriped suites? ”

“I thought you liked me in these?”

“I mean, if anyone could pull off the look, it would be you. Doesn’t make it look any less ridiculous.”

“I should teach you to respect your elders.”

“Ha! You just admitted you were old!” Either from being delirious with how much energy he’d lost or really thinking he was that funny, Vox devolved into a small fit of laughter. Starting off strong before devolving into small giggles and snorts.

All the while, Alastor just watched and listened. Only pulled from his trance when Vox finally calmed down, looking up to the Radio Demon with a smile Alastor had not seen in years.

And that squirming feeling in his stomach was back…

Vox’s smile fell to a look of surprise when Alastor leaned down to claim his lips in a kiss. The shock wore off slower than he meant for it to, causing Vox to scramble slightly in wrapping his arms around the other in case Alastor took the wrong idea. The Media Overlord even getting a little brave to gently run his fingers through the other’s hair.

When the kiss ended, neither pulled away that far. Alastor eventually laying across the other, making sure not to stick anything with his antlers. Both allowing the moment to play in their minds once more.

“...This doesn’t fix everything.” Vox whispered.

“I’m aware of that,” Alastor replied, “I suppose I have a lot to make up for… But I’m hoping those aren’t words saying this can’t work.”

“No, just that…it’s going to be hard moving forward. For a lot of reasons.”

“...I can wait.”

Days later, when the hotel was rebuilt and all wounds (known and unknown) were healed up, Alastor was given a box by Niffty. The maid happily claimed she’d found it on the front steps of the hotel, only holding the Radio Demon’s name. Eagerly leaning forward as she waited for the other to open it. Only to be disappointed when Alastor retreated to his room to have some privacy.

The box didn’t hold anything that would make Alastor worry it was some kind of trap or anything to be worried about. Sitting at his dining table, he turned it over a few times in his hands before tearing the paper away and opening the box.

Inside was a familiar wooden deer figure. Now complete, the small form resting in a field, all of it a beautiful dark wood that shined from the varnish. Absolutely stunned, Alstor’s eyes roamed over every detail he could find and take in. Sitting in warm silence as he held the small creation in his hand. Only pulling away when something else shifted in the box. Reaching in once more to pull out a folded letter.

‘If it makes you feel better, somehow, you’re the only one who knows about this. If you want- If you’d like, I can show you what else I’ve made. Just let me know, okay?’

- Vox

Well, how could Alastor say no to that?

#radiostatic #radiostatic week 2024 #staticradio #voxal #alastor x vox #vox x alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #s-creations #fanfiction #i'm so late with getting this up #i'm just happy that it's up #XD

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starry-bi-sky · 10 months

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happens next?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only cries harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was... quite the staring contest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Batman is silently brooding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

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

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

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

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

"You'd be surprised."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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