"I need your phone."
Tim looks up from his laptop. The boy in front of him looks like he's been dragged to Hell a week ago and just made it back: smudges of soot on his face, his not-so-white t-shirt smelling of smoke, and a nasty looking burn on his hand that he somehow doesn't even pay attention to. Tim thinks back to his mental list of 'Rogues currently on the loose', but it's only Ivy and Harley (who don't even count anymore), and Penguin, who is not known for setting things on fire.
"I can call 911 for you, if you want?" He offers, because this is still Gotham. Despite the fact that a slightly scorched guy casually walking into a coffee shop is not something out of the ordinary here, he's not giving his phone to strangers.
The guy grimaces and starts aggressively rummaging through his pockets.
"No, thanks, ACAB and all that, and they won't do shit here anyway," he says, and then pulls a handful of tangled golden jewelry — rings, chains, necklaces with various gems in them — from his pocket and places it on the table in front of Tim. "I need your phone," he repeats.
Tim stares. First, at the gold — these things look antique, and his parents were archeologists, he knows what he's talking about — then, back at the guy. He looks... ordinary, sans the dirt and smell.
But the burn on his hand looks significantly more healed than it did just a minute ago.
Thankfully, Tim has already had his cup of morning coffee. Which means he is thinking very rationally when he does get his phone out of his pocket and hands it to the guy, just to see what he does next.
"Thanks," the guy grins at him, plucking the phone out of Tim's hand and unlocking it. Tim's eyebrows shoot up — there's a password there! — but the stranger is already dialing in a number and pressing the phone to his ear.
It takes less than a second before someone evidently picks up, and the guy starts talking.
"I have less than three minutes before the phone dies, so listen very carefully. Etrigan is fine, Jason is not, Klarion is still being a bitch. Dora won't help anymore, so you're on your own until Sam makes it there with the staff. I'm in Gotham because, apparently, mazes and I don't mix well together, so if you could summon me back, that'd be cool," he says, a look of mild annoyance on his face.
Tim is back to staring at him. He recognizes some of the names, and, well, one could have been an oddity, two a coincidence, but three is a pattern.
"The fuck you mean you can't, I gave you the incantation two months ago!" The guy raises his voice, his foot tapping on the floor in frustration. "Do you think I just go around giving my summons to people for shits and giggles? Like, yeah, have a spell that unleashes a cosmic being of immeasurable power, use it as a bookmark!"
This interaction, despite Tim only hearing one side of it, gets more and more alarming with every word.
But then, the boy suddenly straightens up and stills, his eyes flashing bright, unpleasantly familiar green.
"You what?" He asks, his voice slipping from just angry to quietly enraged hiss, "Sold it to whom?!" But, before he gets an answer, Tim's phone makes a thin, tiny buzzing sound, and the guy takes it off his ear, looking at the screen.
"No, no-no-no," he mutters, shaking it like that would make it work. To no avail, though: the phone screen flashes a few times and goes black. The guy curses. At least Tim thinks it's a curse because he doesn't understand a word, but the stranger's face and intonation are telling.
"Useless fucking moron of a human, I swear I'm going to drown you in cow shit once this is over," he switches to English, dropping the phone on the table right by the small pile of gold, "I'll bargain your pathetic soul from everyone you've ever dealt with and give it to the Observants, and maybe, after a few millenia of endless Council paperwork, I'll have mercy and sell it back to Lucifer and watch him fry you on a skillet."
...Whoever the boy is, Tim absolutely refuses to ever piss him off, okay. That's an impressive threat to even make, not to mention being able to go through with it.
"Do you need help?" He asks cautiously. If he is getting his context clues right, this is something that involves JLD, and maybe John Constantine specifically since Tim doesn't know any other man who is a magic user, sold his soul numerous times, would care about Etrigan's wellbeing, and could invoke this kind of murderous intent.
The boy looks back at him, his eyes back to normal blue.
"Huh? Oh, no, I doubt this can be helped," he waves Tim off and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sorry about the phone, but, unless you have a way to yeet me across the globe so I end up in London in the next twenty minutes..." he shrugs, smiling in that helpless 'nothing you can do here' way.
Tim picks up his phone. It's dead, wholly and completely, won't even turn on when he tries.
He really, really shouldn't do that. This is definitely none of his business, and very much out of his capabilities and area of expertise.
But he thinks about the zeta-tube in the Cave.
"Actually," he says, and the guy's eyes snap back to him, a bewildered sort of surprise on his face.
Part 1 - The Dinner
Part 2 - Training
Part 3 - Danny's "vitals"
Part 4 - D&D on Patrol
Part 5 - Father-Son Bonding
Part 6 - Danny's Name
Part 7 - An Unexpected Guest
Part 8 - One Pluralist Family
Part 9 - The Wayne Family Curse
Part 10 - He's Just a Silly Little Guy
Part 11 - Dr. Danny
Part 12 - Alfred Knows All
DPxDC Prompt where when Jason dies, his AO3 account goes sadly untouched for an uncharacteristically long time (considering his near-weekly updates prior to his death). His sudden absence does not go unmissed by his dedicated readers, and Danny’s always wondered what the hell happened to xXxNight_BirdxXx.
He mostly forgets about it– too distracted by the portal accident and fighting ghosts– but Danny never unsubscribes.
Years later, Danny just about breaks his phone when he gets an email notification saying that one of his favorite old fanfics updated. It’s one by xXxNight_BirdxXx, who he’d all but assumed fucking died (considering the guy also dropped off of the other community tabs he used to frequent).
When Danny checks the update, the author’s note is… a little strange. He thinks that xXxNight_BirdxXx might be joking about dying, coming back and digging his way out of his own coffin, and then getting sidetracked by revenge for a few years, but… well, Danny’s seen weirder.
Danny decides to take the most obvious course of action: subtly trying to ask this man a few ghostly questions through his comment section.
I hope this helps anyone who's trying to design their oc using a wheelchair, it's not a complete guide but I tried my best! deffo do more research if you're writing them as a character
redraw of that meme going around. i know danny would do this shit
Okay okay, but imagine if Danny just stalks Damian. Like, he has decided that he shall become this child’s unofficial guardian angel. Because Ancients know he needs it.
So, one time Damian and Jon are out and Jon wants to go to the Arcade but Damian just says something rude and then…
Danny: *whispering in Damian’s ear* You should be nicer to your friend
Damian: Huh?! *looks around, only to find nothing*
And that’s not all. Over time, Damian starts noticing how this strange presence as he calls it starts acting more and more. Whispering advice or words of encouragement in his ear (or just flat-out scoldings), making items he had misplaced magically appear back on his room the next day, protecting him from any surprise attacks any time he lowers his guard (which happens very rarely).
Heck, once he even brought him a starving kitten he saw once in an alleyway that he was planning to adopt anyway!
The Batfamily is aware of it. They refuse to do anything because they are far too amused. If anything, they give Damian a thumbs up and a “good luck" before sending him his way.
It all ends up becoming too much for Damian to tracks down Constantine and tells him;
Damian: I am being haunted. This annoying pest won’t leave me alone. Get rid of it, or else!
Danny: *whispering on his ear again with a Disappointment Mom voice* What did we talk about?
Damian: *sighs and cringes at the same time, before putting on a smile that looks more like a grimace* Please?
I'm absolutely obsessed with ur art style it's insane AGGHGHGHRGHG I LOVE THE WAY YOU DRAW DANNY AND THE BONES. THE. THE SKELETON. OH MY GOD. GRHVBHVHG IM GOING FERAL
I have some older art tips that I keep forgetting to post here. I'll add a few in the next few days, at least those that aren't too outdated!
This one is about giving an extra feel of weight to your characters.
There are just some days when writing feels like the hardest thing to do. You've made a mistake. In the excitement to share your ideas, you ended up pressuring yourself, and I'm sad to say I still do. So please remind yourself to take it slow. Remind yourself to take it easy. Each and every day, you shine in a way everyone can see, but you. Maybe it's time to look in a mirror. Not for looks or weight, pimples or insecurities. But just to reach out and say, "I see you and I love you."
You're a beautiful soul. You make beautiful things that make you laugh, cry, scream for the characters, and laugh again because you're a little stinker.
There are some days you're happy to watch go. You get to see the wonder of people growing around me. Siblings, friends, and family. But, aren't you growing to?
Life is pretty scary. Everything is an unknown. It's also what makes each day so exciting. You never know what may happen.
So be who you are. Love who you love. Make sure every day that you are doing what you enjoy. You may be slow or inexperienced, and that's okay. You're tender with what you love because you don't love much. You shouldn't compare yourself to others. They showed their love on their time and you'll do the same. Take your time. Breathe. Step away for a minute, an hour, or how much time you need. Just remember to do right by you. You're the only you you'll have.
Prodigal son beyond Time - part 2
Part 1 | Masterpost
Damian first met his great uncle Danyal when he is three years old. His mother says he's met him long ago, when he was but a babe with a memory too fuzzy to remember. But the man before him is his grandfather's favorite child. The son that scowls at his father as he cradled Damian in his arms.
"What have you done?" His uncle scowled, a gentle hand pressed against the back of Damian's head. "He's a child!"
"Danyal!"
"You weren't like this with me." Danyal spat, keeping Damian in his arms and pressing his lips towards his nephew's forehead. Damian notes how cold his uncle's skin felt like, but more welcoming than that of his grandfather's.
"Danyal, he is to be trained like a proper Al Ghul." Grandfather said, frowning at Danyal.
"You trained me like a proper Al Ghul when I was older than him!" Danyal immediately protested, "He's three!"
"Danyal—"
"Ukht, I understand that you wish the best for your son but this is not it." Danyal immediately said, looking apologetic for interrupting Talia, but went back to glaring at Ra's. "I've tried to tolerate the fact that you handle an assassin league, father but this? You taught me to be loyal to the family. You taught me to cherish the family, you're blood—why the fuck aren't you giving the others the same treatment you gave me?!"
"Because they are not you!"
Damian doesn't recall what truly happened that day, but he does remember how his uncle's eyes went from soft blues to the same shade that the Lazarus pits glowed.
Damian remembers everything going dark.
Damian grows up differently.
He continues on his training, but everything is kinder to him. The world is kinder when his uncle is home, having tea with grandfather and overseeing his training. Mother loves him and uncle Danyal the most, claiming that they are blessings to her life.
Grandfather is quieter nowadays, almost docile with his uncle around.
It's a little more peaceful. The assassin's continue to train, to fight. But their reign of terror fall upon those that are corrupt and destroying the world. It's one of the compromises uncle Danyal and grandfather have led too.
Damian grows up differently.
Damian's arrival to the Bats' lives was unprecedented and quite confusing. He was a child raised by assassins, a child raised to become the next leader of the league. But he was... Strange. Strange for that kind of standard.
Damian was rather sociable, hostile but not downright murderous towards them.
His uncle did make sure that he had friends in the league.
Ra's had been utterly ecstatic to find out that he had two more grandchildren while Talia was quite pleased to know that she had a niece and nephew.
Damian had a pair of strange cousins who snuck him out of training to go watch the stars, often getting them scolded, but it was worth it. Dante was older than Damian by five years. He was what other would call an angsty teen with how he often rebelled against his father. Meanwhile, Janelle—preferebly Ellie—was only a year older than Damian himself. She was a mischievous person who made sure that everything around her was swallowed by her own chaos. So when he entered the manor, suddenly struck with the reality that he had multiple siblings instead of just one elder brother, Damian knew what to do.
Murder was not the answer.
But by the words of his gracious uncle and the wisdom of his excellent cousins: fight your siblings like a feral child but defend them by being even worse to others.
So Damian's first act as Dick Grayson's younger brother was to bite him.
The undead were restless, rising from their graves or haunting their own corpses. It wasn't something they usually dealt with, forced to call upon magicians.
But even Constantine was bewildered by just how cursed Gotham's lands were. To bring back the dead. Jason was a miracle but this was like an abomination, a literal zombie.
No one really knew how to properly deal with the dead...
Well...
"My uncle would be willing to provide his assistance in this matter." Damian piped up, examining the contained zombies from a safe distance. All eyes were quickly drawn to him, bewildered and questioning.
"I hardly think that Dusan would be suitable for this." Bruce sighed.
Damian scowled, "Not him. My grandfather's first-born is whom I speak off. He is knowledgeable in the occult arts of the dead."
"Damian... Ra's Al Ghul only has one son."
"Untrue. Grandfather's greatest pride was always my uncle. He is precious to grandfather and ensures that no one knows much off him. I expected you and Drake to be aware of the first born."
Tim stiffened, "They weren't rumours?! Ra's actually has some cryptid son?"
Bruce, who had heard of the old tales of the Demon head's beloved heir, had always thought they were stories to scare the assassins. He's never seen the man, nor has he found any evidence of him in the league.
Jason finally started paying attention, "So the league's golden boy can help? Dami, I don't think Al Ghul will even let his favorite kid anywhere near us."
"You underestimate my uncle's love for me."
"You met him?" Bruce quickly interjected.
Jason shrugged, "He helped me out back then. Patched me up when the pit madness got worse and helped me manage it. But his face was usually covered and no one really knew his name."
"Aside from myself, grandfather, and my mother."
Bruce frowned, "Nyssa and Dusan don't know their brother's name?"
"Grandfather says that they do not have the privilege of knowing his name. Mother was the first of his other children to have met my uncle."
"And what about you? You won't give us his name?"
Damian scowled, feeling rather displeased with his father's choice of words. "Names are powerful, father. My uncle taught me this when I was young."
Constantine narrowed his eyes, "You're uncle some kind of fae, kid?"
"Watch your mouth, hellblazer. He does not like you." Damian hissed, having heard all his uncle's rants about the Laughing Magician, especially whenever he'd just randomly pick up Talia and walk around Nanda Parbat like she was a kitten rather than a deadly assassin. "But I shall call upon my great uncle and ask him for assistance. This matter with the undead shall surely pique his interest."
"Tell the old man I said hi!" Jason cheerfully added, sounding quite pleased to hear about the mysterious uncle.
"No." Damian blatantly denied. As much as he loves Todd (and he will never admit that), he was not going to let anyone threaten his status as his uncle's favorite child. Over his dead body.
Damian was quick to walk away from all of them, quickly retrieving all the materials he'd need to summon his uncle. Dark green paint for the summing circle, five candles, and an astrology book.
"Bats... Why the hell is your son performing a summoning ritual? For a ghost of the realms too." Constantine's tone was strained, clearly disturbed and wary of Damian's actions.
"Damian." Bruce warned but Damian just waved him off. He watched as Jason started lighting up the ut, humming an unfamiliar tune.
"D'you think the old man will help us?"
"Of course! Uncle adores me."
"You think he'll give me his name?"
"I will gut you, Todd." Damian immediately responded with the most nonchalant tone he could ever give.
Jason shrugged, before taking a step back.
"Damian! Whatever you're summoning—"
"I'm summoning my uncle, father. He's the best person to go to with these issues." Damian insisted, before muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
Bruce was startled when Constantine grabbed him, eyes wide and rapidly turning pale. "Why the hell does your son know how to speak the language of the—"
Fire burst forth from the circle, slowly morphing into an icy blast.
"Dead." Constantine's breath hitched, "Holy shit, your brat just summoned the ghost king."
Bruce grabbed Damian the moment a hand emerged from the blast of cold. He shoved his on behind him, suddenly feeling frightened as his entire body felt goosebumps. Fuck. Did Damian really just perform a summoning ritual for such a powerful being? He never expected for Ra's to brainwash his son into believing that such a powerful thing—
"Nephew!"
Bruce blinked, suddenly blinded by the light.
"Uncle!" Damian escaped from his grasp, rushing into the circle. Constantine practically screamed once Damian ran into the arms of what was supposedly his uncle and the ghost king.
In front of Bruce was the most gorgeous man he's ever met.
The floating hair that reminded him of snow and the green eyes that were purer than the Lazarus pits. He couldn't help but swallow thickly, blinking. Damian was held up by the ghost king, allowing the boy to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
"Hello, dami (my blood)." The king cooed, his pronunciation of the nickname much different from the shortened version of Damian's name. "I was not expecting you to call me. What's happened, my dear?"
Damian hummed, but before he could speak, he was immediately interrupted.
"Long time no see, old man!" Jason yelled, waving his arm as if he wasn't in the same room as the king.
"Jason! Hello! How are you? The corrupted ecto hasn't returned, has it? If it has, just tell me. I'll schedule a check up with Frostbite." The king quickly fussed, not minding the way Damian was baring his teeth at Jason. "Damian, behave!"
Damian just seemed to whine, refusing to behave and opting to pestering the king.
"I'm good, uncle. Haven't gone out crazy since you took me to the doctor." Jason smiled, already ripping of his domino mask to show that his eyes were green tinged with blue, not glowing green like the pits.
"Good, good. But I really must know why I've been called." The king softly said, directing his words to Damian who was already trying to wriggle our his grasp. Gently, the king settled Damian back on his feet.
"Right. Uncle, my father, Batman. Father, this is my uncle." Damian introduced, his tone hurried and a bit hesitant.
The king, Damian's uncle, smiled at Bruce. "Hello there, Mr. Wayne. I've wanted to meet you for a long time." The king hummed, "My name's Danny, but the Al Ghuls call me Danyal."
"Uncle!"
"Hush, hush, Damian. I can give my name to anyone I want. I don't suppose that your father is worthy of it."
Bruce really should be more concerned about the fact that the king knew his name.
"But what of the others?"
"Little one, I sent Nyssa and Dusan letters ages ago. But rest assured, dearest Talia is still the first to earn it." Danny—Danyal—the ghost king softly spoke and patted Damian's head. "And... Oh, it's you."
"Your majesty!" Constantine enthusiastically greeted while Danny scowled.
"Tax evading bastard." Danny huffed, shaking his head before promptly ignoring the tax evading bastard in question.
"Damian."
"The dead are rising."
Danny blinked, blinked again, before he groaned and shook his head.
"Okay, sorry. That seemed to be caused by an error on my side. Some prisoners of my realms started a riot and some of them managed to break out. Some have most likely decided to overshadow their old bodies." Danny sighed, "I'll have this taken care of. Apologies for the inconveniences."
"These... Zombies have been wrecking havoc across my city." Bruce frowned, "They've been harming people."
"Vengeful spirits do that. They're criminals meant to be in prison. It's rare for breakouts to happen, in all honesty." Danny paused, just long enough to run his fingers through Damian's hair. "But if you wish to take charge, by all means. These are corpses being possessed by their own spirits and... Well... They're out of their minds. Not really considered revenants since the possession isn't quite permanent."
"Alright, Bats. We've gotta make a proper deal here. His Majesty was summoned so we've gotta offer him something—"
"That's not necessary." Danny immediately waved Constantine away, evident displeasure from the man. "The sigil I gave Damian was just to call me to him. No need for an exchange."
"Seriously?" Constantine blurted out.
Danny just shrugged, "He's family. And my favorite nephew."
Damian smirked, absolutely smug. "I am your only nephew, uncle."
"Mm... Jason's also my nephew." Danny chuckled softly, easily stepping out of the circle and removing it from the floor—leaving not a single stain. "Now... Shall we deal with the dead?"
Bruce Wayne has made many bad decisions in his life, especially when it came to his relationships. Damian's ghost king of an uncle might be one of them.
Masterpost
bugs
Reblogger/Writer/ArtistAvid supporter of gay chaosMy safe haven for the ideas my brain comes up with
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