I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.
Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.
And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.
Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.
They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.
When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.
Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.
When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.
"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.
"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.
Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.
Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.
Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.
When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.
Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.
because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far
when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)
danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.
and god help him, he's going to help people.
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can i interest anyone in some codywan kissing on this fine thursday evening?
“Please, darling.” Obi-Wan looked at him with a gaze that could have melted butter. Fortunately, Cody was made of stronger stuff that than. “I promise not to lose it again.”
“Really?” Cody raised an eyebrow, pulled himself up to his full height so he could look down at Obi-Wan, just a little. “You promise?”
“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan leaned forward, let his eyes fall to Cody’s lips. Let them rest there until he knew Cody noticed, the bastard. “I promise.”
Cody didn’t move. With his free hand, the hand not holding Obi-Wan’s lightsaber far above his head, he threaded his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. Felt him shudder against his hand. “You see,” He kept his voice low in a way he knew drove Obi-Wan a little mad, “I don’t quite believe you.”
Obi-Wan batted his eyelashes in a way that said, who, me? Then smiled, his voice kept carefully level, “My darling, you wound me.”
“You’ll get yourself wounded, more like.”
“I would never,” Obi-Wan leaned closer, close enough that Cody could feel his breath against his cheek, “Afterall, I have the Force to protect me.”
“You have me.” It was a promise spoken again and again, whispered into Obi-Wan’s neck in the darkness of his quarters, shouted silently each time they fought side by side. Spoken so often, it was as familiar as breathing, yet still they said it. I’m here. I’m here.
Obi-Wan’s answer was a quick kiss placed at the corner of his mouth. For a brief moment, Cody almost gasped, almost dropped the lightsaber there and then. Instead he pulled back, just a little.
Obi-Wan gasped into the empty space. Still close enough to feel his breath, Cody shivered.
“Promise me,” His voice was heavy, weighted with emotion he couldn’t quite give words to. “Please, Obi-Wan.”
“Cody,” Obi-Wan’s voice was the mirror of his own, heavy with emotion in a way Cody so rarely heard, “Force, Cody, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you. I will try. I promise you that.”
“Alright. Alright. I know.” He finally let his hand that clutched the lightsaber drop. Stood there for a moment, the ‘saber resting in his steady hand between them. He leaned towards Obi-Wan, almost felt the tiny gasp that escaped his lips as Cody’s hand drifted to his belt. He clipped the lightsaber to Obi-Wan belt, let his hand hover for just a moment. Obi-Wan stood still beneath his hands, it was only his breathing that betrayed him.
“Thank you, darling.” The words were whispered into Cody’s ear, softly, they settled in his head.
“Just don’t lose it again.”
Obi-Wan hummed, and Cody watched as his hand curled its way around his neck. He leaned slightly into the touch, even like this the calluses and scars that decorated the hand were known to him, just as intimately as his own.
The hand twisted into his curls, gently pulling his head back, just a little. Despite himself he gasped, the little noise an almost desperate thing as it flew from his lips.
Obi-Wan grinned, there was something dangerous about it, just at the edges. “My dear, I never mean to disappoint you.”
He meant to respond, but found Obi-Wan’s lips against his own. He breathed into the kiss, instead, his mind filled only with Obi-Wan. The Jedi’s other hand curled around his jaw, his thumb pressed carefully into the skin beneath his ears, into the place that Obi-Wan knew made him gasp, desperate beneath his hands.
After what felt like a lifetime, a star born and collapsed again, Obi-Wan pulled back. His nose just brushing Cody’s, he breathed his name. It was promise, and prayer. Spoken with so much reverence that, if he was not seeing his own feelings reflected back at him, he would never have believed such a thing was possible.
He let the word hang, just for a moment, before he tugged gently at Obi-Wan’s hair. Felt him shudder against his hand, pulled apart in that instant. Felt honoured that he was allowed to see this, trusted enough that Obi-Wan let himself shatter like this.
He pressed Obi-Wan’s name against his neck, felt the way his hands, still resting against Cody, twitched at the contact. He pressed another kiss to Obi-Wan’s neck, then another to his jaw. Eventually, he reached Obi-Wan’s mouth. Hovered there for a moment, allowing his breath to flutter against Obi-Wan’s lips.
Something that sounded like his name caught up in a desperate plea fell from Obi-Wan, and at that Cody kissed him.
Heat curled through him at the way Obi-Wan melted into the contact, letting himself fall endlessly into Cody’s hands. Trusting Cody to catch him.
In answer, Cody held him. Did not allow any part of him to slip between his fingers as they curled their way through his hair. His free hand had, at some point, come to rest upon Obi-Wan’s back and he relished in the way Obi-Wan leant into the touch.
It was this trust, as much as the contact, that sent a heady sense of affectionthrough Cody. Love, if he was brave enough to let himself think it.
Obi-Wan gasped, briefly. Again and again, Cody’s name fell from his lips.
“Here, darling. I’m here.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the rest.
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