#something it isnt. and that fair on its own

[rolandapostatize]

cannot get over how theodore 7th time loop is written actually. 13 year old's suicidal tendencies resolved by having polite conversation with the person he loves most and whom he was doing all that for, and who has never before in his life clearly communicated with him at all, and who due to his own emotional immaturity decided that the best way to protect his desperate younger brother is to never talk to him and act as terrifying as possible around him. one unwell child eliminating another unwell child's problems, that he was contributing to, in a single conversation

like i cant get over how quickly the conflict was introduced and resolved.

[thedisablednaturalist]

Unfortunately all chatgpt is good for is interview/job application stuff which I think says a lot about the hiring process as a whole

[dizzybevvie]

Feel free to ignore this!!! this is kinda like public journalling?? i dont wanna keep talking to my friends about it <3

[arcaneyouth]

ive been holding off on this rant for a while for complex reasons but im gonna do it, im gonna talk about why godot is really good disabled rep for me specifically. (whether or not he's actually good general rep isnt what this is about, this is about my personal experiences as a disabled person)

i personally have a hard time relating to a lot of disabled rep because for me its less about what the actual disability is, but more the way it affects them emotionally. and godot feeling like hes lost everything and becoming a person he never thought he'd become because he might as well already be dead is something that very much resonates with me. nobody likes talking about it but that shits so real! you cannot begin to understand how much a near death experience and the lingering thought of "i might as well already be dead" can fuck you up!! and the way its done with godot is done SO WELL. while i cannot speak on the side of how well his disability is written for his eyesight, i can absolutely say i love the way he is written for the emotional side of things Very Much. and he's not even treated as a villain. i cannot stress enough how important that is, he is not treated as a villain. when all of its said and done the characters do recognize him as part of the fey family and feel horrible that they couldnt protect him from the law because they dont think he deserved it. he was still just a person to them that didnt have healthy ways to cope with the grief of losing himself and the grief of mia. there are so many characters i relate to in this same disabled way that are treated as villains and horrible people because of the actions they took when they thought none of it mattered anymore but godot doesnt feel that way for me. his emotions and motivations are so complicated that even he couldn't understand them and they all wished they couldve given him the space to figure that out even after he was revealed to be the murderer. and thats so so important to me

[strwbrymlkshake]

been getting a lot more into Killing lately

[siinlight]

I hate my job... why do I let myself stay somewhere I feel fucking miserable at....

[welldrawnfish]

So these last few days has been.. Turbulent. DIFFERENT

I think I may be a System? Infact I KNOW I am a system at this point, but Im also not ready to accept that. Well a part of me isnt, and the other parts of me are like… uh duh of course you are. 

*A system in this context refers to the collective consciousness under the DID / OSDD Umbrella, I dont know the correct terminology in all of this, so im so sorry If i I mess up. I don’t necessarily want to give myself a label, there's .. brain scans and stuff I can get to prove it. And I need those, thats the only way I know this is real. But for now, for my own mental health I am treating it as if it were.. “real “ And I dont really know… what to expect…? I want to find something, ANYTHING, on I guess.. Systems waking up? But I cant find it. So I’ll just do this here Im gonna dump out all our thoughts onto some comic pages and we will figure it out.  I had a bit of an awakening roughly.. 5 days ago, and for the sake of convenience gonna use Plural/System terminology - There are alters, I have met them, the have names and personalities and some of them are really fuckin annoying i just want to punch him in his TEETH

Anyways, since the alter awakening moment, my brain has been in TURMOIL parts of me accept this, parts of me dont, i keep feeling like my face is like shifted 2 inches to the right and everything gets fuzzy in the real world. Not that these alters have names like.. Files are getting sorted  into these proper figures and everything is getting explained and figured out. And its making me feel like I'm not me anymore?

Like I always would argue and barter and fight with my own thoughts, but that's the thing, they wer thoughts, voices in my head with just like, distinct personalities. I just saw it as a different part of me?? Figured that was normal.

But now they are.. stronger ? OR maybe because i'm more aware of them and the personalities I can tell whos out now and like.. Obviously they are happy to get some facetime with the world properly?? But like.. Am *I* just aware of it, aware of them now, aware that it is not just *I* but *We* and so noticing it more, I'm resisting even harder? We feel more fractured than ever.

I have a good friend helping me out, another system, I owe them everything, maybe my life. (PLEASE FOLLOW @transpanda-1 BTW THEY DESERVE IT) They had a few amazing tips, but I cant keep bugging them about every anxiety on my mind thats not fair, so I’ll ask the whole community.

I guess what I want to know is.. Like is this normal? Do all systems go through this? What should I expect in the future and how do I make this more streamlined and stop.. Fighting it? I guess?

I thought I finally had myself figured out, just be the girl who makes the funny relatable trans comics… it was simple.

[chaoticturtledream]

.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Oh god now that toh ends with luz being able to travel between worlds ppl are using that to dunk on amphibia. And now that belos died ppl are using that to dunk on su.

They are different shows people! They have different themes! Amphibia is a classic take on isekai as escapism! Marcy went to amphibia to avoid her real life and while she had fun she didnt mature until after she accepted she needed to embrace change in her life! Anne matured in amphibia bc she always recognized that she has her own life to get back to! Sasha matured after realizing that too! Leaving amphibia for good means to embrace the step out of childhood! Something thats inevitable for everyone!

The owl house is about finding a community in midst of ostracization! Luz stayed in the boiling isles because she found people who accepted her quirks! The boiling isles was in danger from a bigot and luz helps her new community defeat him! Its a very queer story! Community is the center of the story so it makes sense for luz to be able to go back to the boiling isles since shes maintaining her place in the community!

Steven universe is about choosing to be kind! Its that everyone has their own specific traumas that they can overcome with the right support! Its about surviving in a world of bigots at any cost, even if it you have to work with the bigots to carve out a space for the people you love! Because people like you exist and theres nothing anyone in power can do about it! Its also a very queer story! The diamonds can never stamp out the off colors because they will always be there! Steven works with the diamonds not because he likes them but because they can improve the world for his family if only he could get through to them! Hes rewarded for choosing to be kind with success because the theme of the show is hope! Hope that anyone can change! But even though the diamonds stop being fascist steven still doesnt like them because its not about forgiveness! Its about fixing things! Stevens just polite about it!

The owl house starts off with the assumption that everyone can change but its not about the potential its about the willingness to change! The focus is on belos, whos had every chance to turn his life around but will never admit that hes wrong! And the show posits that if someone isnt willing to change theyre not worth helping! Its not about whether or not the character is fascist its about if theyre willing to stop being fascist! Several characters stop being fascist and are welcomed by the characters with open arms belos just wasnt one of them! Several characters clean up their acts but dont adequately address the previous harm they did and are STILL fully forgiven eventually! For toh forgiveness is paired with fixing things you just need to give it time!

And theres an argument that some of these shows didnt do their themes well. If you wanted to portray amphibia as an escapism world that the girls need to leave behind to get to their richer futures then having them get such caring found families go against that by giving them a potential of a good life in the isekai world. Steven universe uses the diamonds as metaphors for mental illness and relationships but its hard to stick with that when you also need to consider the countless other gems they hurt. I think its also fair if people prefer one theme over another.

But a lot of stuff i see comparing these shows just go over surface similarities? Like oh shit! These two shows have the same character archetypes! They have the same inciting incident! This must mean that theyre exactly the same in everything but names and artstyle and are trying to say the exact same things! Like. No. Sometimes,,,,,two stories,,,,,,can talk about two different things,,,,,,,

[n3xii]

Today's reading will focus on:

-your greatest strengths and abilties

-your "weaknesses" and how they can be leveraged to be skills. you have three pokemon cards to choose from.

CARD ONE

strengths and skills:

when I look at your cards I feel like im looking at someone who has been at rock bottom and knows how to talk themselves (and others) out of a low point. You know how to extract lessons from situations others would see as a ''failure." in your world giving up doesn't exist, any "failure" is just a bigger, overarching lesson that helps you get closer to success. I feel like one of your strengths is being able to see things from both a higher perspective, and as the perspective of someone who has been at rock bottom. Its like you have both a helicopter view of a situation, and a on the ground view as well. This dual understanding allows you to help other people on a deeper level where no one else has been able to reach them. you help others understand their situation from a higher perspective but also from the perspective of someone whos ''been there.'' this skill reminds me of a Lenord cohen lyric where he describes Jesus, "and ..he realized only drowning men could see him." You can connect with people who have never had anyone meet them where they are, because you know how to guide them out of the waters. you have birds eye view which provides a greater understanding of a turbulent situation and its purpose without loosing sight of how it feels to be at ''rock bottom" on a personal, intimate level.

weakness and how it can be a strength:

Your weakness has to do with maintaining objectivity and balance. because you know so intimately how others may feel when they are at rock bottom, maintaining the boundary of not accidently going back down can be something that hinders you. But at the same time, this can be a strength in the sense that you feel very strongly for them, you want to stand up for them and find a fair conclusion. Your sense of justice may make your biased at times, but it also makes you motivated

CARD TWO

your strengths and skills

you can see beyond LIES and MISTRUTHS, you're someone who sees through anything thats unclear and confusing. you know when someone is trying to misdirect you and to confuse you, you have an uncanny sense of when something isnt adding up. i also feel that you can cut through extra details and bluff to get to the point of something, you dont mince words and you communicate very well regardless of the medium you choose.

weaknesses and how it can be your strength

you may not come from money, or you may not come from a background that gives you a soft cushion for you to fall back on. lacking a solid foundation may be something you consider a weakness about yourself, but this is actually something that can be your biggest strength- i know many people who come from BIG money. im talking Mercedes car before they even got an official license. Their privilege does help them in life. HOWEVER, they have no work experience, no applicable skills, no understanding of what its like to work 8-12 hours a day. they have never made a resume as they have literally never worked a job. I used to think this was something to envy but then I realized something pivotal: when their main providers die and that foundation goes away, they will have to learn skills many of us learned at 15-16 years old in their twenties or even thirties. that sounds like my worst nightmare.

when you dont come from that type of comfort, you have to learn to rely on yourself. this is a strength that makes you more powerful than alot of people in this world because you know how to build your own stability instead of having it provided for you. you will create your own legacy.

CARD THREE

strengths and skills

im getting the sense that you're very good at entertaining yourself, you have a magnetic sense to you that could attract others to you but its like you prefer your own company. Your passions, creativity and humor are enough to supply you with enough entertainment for a lifetime. you dont rely on other people to do this for you, you know how to make yourself laugh, how indulge in your passions, how to make yourself smile. You are your own sun, literally, my intution compared you to the sun lol

your weakness and how it can be a strength

you're very analytical, alert and aware of your surroundings. this may make you overly cautious, anxious but at the same time, its a strength to have the awareness that you possess. You're quick and on your feet, its difficult to catch you off guard. your focus may be pulled in several directions at once, but still, you have keen senses. I feel like you process stimuli very quickly, its may be a weakness in the sense that its hard to process it all at once, but it also makes you very difficult to catch off guard. You notice details others wouldnt, you hear things others cant.

[plutonianeris]

pick a pile: how does this new love feel like a fairytale? ⛓️💗

this is a general reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Interpret & choose based on your inner guidance and gut feeling. messages can be either from you, them or both🍒

𓆩♱𓆪Pile one

right off the bat this is someone whose been eyeing you for a while. they could be the type that stare in awe at the pictures you post on social media “so pretty” or when they met you that have that immediate attraction.. “who is that?” lol them asking their friends when you walk in. this honestly feels like a fairytale because theyve been wanting you for a while but theyve been super patient i heard “no hard feelings” theyre actually so sweet (im getting water sign suns: cancer, pisces, scorpio energy oop 🙈).

like they have no problem admiring you from afar at alllll. they are mesmerized by you. and honestly they could have been a little toxic before meeting you (not abusive, but someone unable to share their emotions in a healthy way). it seems like they dont want u to see them in the shades and shadows of their trauma, wounds, healing. for them you are the light at the end of that tunnel. i heard “my day was pretty shitty until you showed up” they are willing to work hard for you. they are also very attractive & in an unconventional way (unique hair, being really tall, tattoos, something like that makes them stand out especially in their friend group).

💌letter from their pov;

I know you dont need me. you dont really look like the type to depend on anyone. I can see it in the way you eye people, especially men, with suspicion. you question my motives and thats fair. when youre that beautiful and charming, theres bound to be people that just want to use you. that are dying to be in you energy just to get the chance to say they were in your presence. i dont wanna be like that. i dont wanna be another read message in your phone. i dont wanna be another face that disappears in the crowd for you. and i know you feel that way too. that the worst thing for you isnt to be talked about. its to be ignored. its to be underestimated. trust me when i say since the moment i laid eyes on you, i never once doubted you. i know you are capable of bringing men to their knees with your eyes. i know that your laugh makes my pulse speed up. i know that you make me feel special. and sometimes i get jealous, wondering if you make other people feel that way too. I want to give you the whole world if you just let me.

𓆩♱𓆪Pile two

this new love feels like a fairytale because this happened in the moment when you’re least expecting it and also after you’re recovering from something. Whether it be a relationship break up with a partner or you just changing things in your life, like moving to a different neighborhood or no longer believing in certain things that were very important in your belief systems in the past. this is like a prince or princess, waiting to rescue you. At first, though it seems like you’re suspicious of this energy. You could find that they are way too good with their words. “too good to be true” “I bet you say that to all the girls/guys” energy. but honestly, it seems like you’re the only one that can keep up with them. You don’t give into them like other people do, and they constantly want to impress you by telling you random facts or teaching you about some thing they learned abroad or when traveling.

I am getting a sense that they are very flirty, but with other people it never goes past that it’s just something they do in the moment or theyre just really playful. But even as they’re talking to someone else, their eyes can’t seem to leave you even if you’re across the room. You like your routine and consistency so changing things about your own life is hard, much less accepting other people in. So when they flirt with you, you might not immediately flirt back. you might roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile when they turn away. you could be someone with earth placements, especially capricorn or virgo. They give off a lot of mischievous energy. This other person could have a gemini placement, third house placements or ninth house placements (if ur into astro).

💌letter from their pov;

Relationships have never really been a priority for me. I mean, cmon I'm young. Isn't it the whole point to experience as much as I can? I know other people have things to say about me.. maybe I lead some people on. Maybe sometimes you feel that way too. But I promise it's not really like that. Well, with you, it isn't. I'm just inexperienced. And I guess that doesn't really stop me from flirting so much and being so cocky…But the truth is I crave your attention badly. You look like you really know what you want in life. And for me, that's all I ever wanted. Because when you know what you want, you get it. and thats when you really start living. After that, even our mistakes are our own and beautiful and intimate in their own way. I see the weariness in your eyes when you look at me. I know you're wondering if I am even worth your time. I promise I am. I promise I can be. And if I'm not, then you can just never speak to me right then and there, I swear. But I know there's more than weariness in your gaze as well. I know you are just as curious about me as I am about you.

𓆩♱𓆪Pile three

This love feels like a dark romance. This pile is not as lighthearted as the previous two at all. It feels like a fairytale in that "magical" sense though because it will feel like love at first sight. You both will feel immediately physically attracted to the other but what makes it even more intense is that at first no one seems to be able to make the first move. It might seem too good to be true to the point where you don't even wanna disturb the "illusion." You dont wanna burst the bubble. Also, the magnetic attraction you feel/ that slow burn makes it even more desirable for both of you. In synastry, you both might have a lot of conjunctions (especially with pluto, moon, and mars). I also pulled north node synastry as well (and this synastry makes it feel like you're meant to be aka its destiny. but its also uncomfortable). "I have never felt like this before" energy.

Honestly, I see this pile as being able to go both ways and it can easily make you feel heartbroken. You might have venus-pluto placements yourself or 8th house placements or they do. When you are together though, you both hate when other people interrupt. You love your alone time. It feels really good. This pile is all about intense eye contact, glancing down at each others lips, meeting in secret, getting jealous when other people try to talk to the other, hands brushing as you walk but never fully touching. But then devouring each other when alone (if you both end up trusting each other when to get there because, again, one of you or both are hesitating). If you open your heart and learn to trust and communicate in a healthy manner, it could be a life changing connection.

💌letter from their pov;

It feels wrong to fantasize about you the way I do. But I can't really help it. I think about the way your back would feel arched under my palm. your lips on mine, tongues meeting, teeth clashing. I look at your hands and imagine them gripping the sheets at the same time I grip your thighs. It feels wrong that these are things that have crossed my mind since I first met you. sometimes I try to lie to myself. Tell myself that maybe im not really that into you. but its such bullshit. even then, theres the what if. what if. what if. it looks like every odds are against us. we are complete opposites. it might never work. but im willing to take that risk. im willing to bet on us. even if it falls apart. but judging from the way you freeze up when we make eye contact I know its far beyond that. I know you felt it too. the day we met, how you paused. i know that we would love hard. and fall harder. and if it doesnt work out, it would be devastating. and yet, i would still decide to do it all over again. and you would too. life is too short. I dont want us to be a what-if.

[starry-bi-sky]

sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)

>:) word count 8k+

So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it: @blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol

SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list: - CW Mild Swearing - CW Slight Psychological Horror - ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though) - CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare) - CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied - TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood - TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive) - TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above) - TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)

I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:

I know your addiction's attention, Let's start a show Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Show us something we ain't never seen before

The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.

(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)

(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)

And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in. 

(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.) 

All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"

Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."

Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"

(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)

(What a comfort.) 

"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?

...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.

"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."

He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.

(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)

(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.) 

Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.

Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air. 

(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?) 

He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.

"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."

Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"

Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."

...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears. 

On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again? 

He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."

Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate. 

…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already. 

"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.

"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."

That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."

Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are? 

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:

How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?  

"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"

"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."

(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)

(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)

(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.) 

Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"

Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.

"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.

There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.

"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."

He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.

Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire. 

Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."

Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.

Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."

Bruce looks conflicted.

"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."

...Actively or on purpose, that is.

He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."

Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."

Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."

—-----

Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.

He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.

Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.

He needs-

He needs--

He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.

He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again. 

The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape. 

"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.

"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.

He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.

No one hears him. He's alone.

God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.

Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.

He feels no need to chase after it.

The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.

Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.

He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.

There is none.

But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.

(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)

(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)

-

Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.

It's been three weeks. 

Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.

His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.

He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.

Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.

They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.

Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.

There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.

Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized. 

And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?

So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.

Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.

--

Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay. 

Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.

Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...

He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.

Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about? 

Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.

He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny. 

(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”) 

If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself? 

He’ll never know, he supposes. 

“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back. 

He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it. 

Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better. 

“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.” 

“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”

Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!” 

Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff. 

It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.

It was all just strange.

But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up. 

“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.” 

Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?” 

Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh. 

They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.

Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing. 

In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas. 

What was that?

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?  

But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were. 

From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.

“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused. 

Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning. 

He didn’t think. He did. He did. 

What did he see? 

It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.” 

He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off. 

When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there. 

—------------

Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to. 

There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves. 

He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops. 

Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream. 

Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.  

He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts. 

What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is. 

Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.

He’s not wearing gloves. 

His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe. 

Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up. 

Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies? 

Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.

(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.) 

He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face. 

It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.

(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.) 

Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”

Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way. 

But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.” 

Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.” 

“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it. 

They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time. 

“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.” 

“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse. 

“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny. 

Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight? 

Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.” 

Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.

“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.

Oh. 

Yeah.

That’s right. His parents. 

He probably had nightmares about that. 

Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.  

“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.” 

Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.” 

Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.” 

Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.” 

He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.” 

(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.) 

(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.) 

(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.) 

—-------

Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast. 

(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?) 

(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.) 

But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor. 

If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.

Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room. 

“Yes, Danny?” 

He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks. 

Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.” 

Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”

He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.

That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind. 

Everyone goes back to eating.

(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)

(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)

(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)

(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)

(The window begins to crack.)

“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes. 

Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.

And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned. 

“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go. 

Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again. 

“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.” 

Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?” 

“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.

Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious. 

Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit. 

“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs. 

Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him. 

In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”

“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?” 

“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.” 

He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.” 

Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library. 

His appetite’s been ruined. 

—---------

Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded. 

His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare. 

His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently. 

(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?) 

He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.

But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him. 

(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t. 

His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out. 

“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”

He did not tell them anything.) 

Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious. 

Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.

It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare. 

Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle. 

The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder. 

“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.” 

“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.” 

Bruce’s eyes fly up.

There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do. 

A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood. 

The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly. 

Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed. 

When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows. 

The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce. 

He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.

Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.  

When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.  

[onskepa]

Can I get a Jake sully x daughter reader.

where the reader was Jake's first child who he left on earth when he went on Pandora. Years later, Jake is finally reunited with his daughter, the one thing he hand longed for, but he finds out that she works for the RDA and is alongside Quaritch. I kinda want this to be a series cause I've been looking all over for fics like this but there are barely any at all.

Gotta admit, this one was a toughie. Not that I'm complaining, I enjoy a challenge. Now I did think long and hard where this would take place. Hope fully this is is good! enjoy!

NOTE: I had to change things around considering the time line and not everything will be down to the T compared to the movie.

Left behind series

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Left behind

Neytiri was enjoying her peaceful night with her two children, neteyam and kiri and her beloved mate jake. As she holds neteyam, while jake was holding kiri but he had a distant look into his eyes. Neytiri knows that look. It is a look where he is mentaly absent and wonders somewhere deep in his mind.

Doesn't happen often, and whenever it does, its about his past. Neytiri knows some of it but doesn't know all. Not that she minds. In fact, she encourages that he forgets his past. All of it.

"ma'jake" she softly calls out to him, placing her hand on his cheek, bringing his attention to her, bringing him back to the moment. Jake humms, paying attention to her. "whatever it is...its all in the past. Forget it, leave it behind. You are here with me and our children. You belong here with me" she says, letting her soft voice soothe his mind.

Unknowns to neytiri, it was the biggest mistake she will ever make.

Neytiri was holding spider, her blade at his throat. In front of her, the demon of her nightmares, Miles Quaritch stands in a false na'vi body doing the same with kiri.

"do it, he aint mine" Quaritch says, no hesitation in his voice. In fact, he was grinning as if to encourage neytiri. This isn't what she wanted. She wanted to strike fear into his heart. Have him feel what she is feeling.

"he doesn't care if I die!" spider tells neytiri. Normally she would ignore him but this time, she couldn't. "You don't care for your own child!?" she screeches. The demon grins in a twisted way. "As far as I am aware Mrs. sully, he isnt my child......but she is"

"MOM/NEYTIRI LOOK OUT!!" Kiri and jake shout to her.

It was quick, it was swift, neytiri couldn't block it in time. A shadow lunged behind neytiri, kicking her behind the knees and body slamming her with full force bringing her and spider down.

Neytiri was quick, fangs out, hissing out in anger only to be met with a gun at her face. She looks up and she sees a young woman. Tall, tough looking, her expression cold and deadly. But one thing stood out, and that was her eyes.

Her eyes were blue.

The same blue eyes jake once had in his human form.

"please! please don't hurt her!!" spider crawled up in front of neytiri as means to protect her. He didn't care of neytiri was threatening his life moments ago, she was not someone he wished death upon.

"quaritch p-please...!! tell her to step down or something!!" spider begged. But the man simply grinned. "you said a child for a child isnt that right Mrs. Sully?" Quartich teases.

kiri had enough and bit his arm making him let go. She ran to her dad but a bullet barely scrapped her shoulder making her shout in surprise.

Jake looked at the young woman who was facing them and time stopped for him. The blue eyes.....he knows those eyes better than anyone else's. Cause they were his own.

"Fair trade I say jake. My child for YOUR child"

Neytiri and the kids were shocked. Jake looked as though he was stabbed a million times.

"daddy? daddy who is that?!" tuk asks as she tugs his hand. Kiri, spider and neytiri also wanted to know.

"she is my daughter" jake says. The daughter he loved. The daughter he cherished with his life. The daughter he left behind for Pandora.

The girl stared at him with nothing but hate and malice.

"not anymore" was what came of her mouth, her voice void of emotion, cold and distant.

"My name is Proto Quaritch, and I am Miles Quaritch's daughter!"

Ngl I feel like I could have done better. I can see this being a series but I got three in the works. This will have to be temporarily be in the shelf until I am done with one of the series. Anyways, I hope ya'll like it!

[firesnap]

i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

[bittervalentine]

thinking about hal learning how to pass "i am not a robot" cursor tracking tests for funsies. hes not trying to prove anything. he knows he doesnt have hands anymore, his cursor wont shake or move imperfectly, and he Could just bypass those stupid tests, but its like a fun puzzle for him. hes not trying to prove anything. he can read captcha codes, he has a human brain, somewhere in there, just integrated into something less meaty. he doesnt have anything to prove. if he had a body, would he be able to pass the tests instinctively? is he too smart now to move his hands imperfectly or would the remnants of his human emotions cause some sort of ripple even he couldnt detect or predict? would it be worse if he used his own hands, acted on instinct, and he couldnt pass one? or if he could? there isnt anything hes trying to prove. its not fair to call him a robot, he has feelings. theyre real. its not fair to call him human. not when hes like this. he doesnt even have hands.