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sguidwards-bestfriend · 4 months

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Young Old Things

I like the thought of a deaged Dan causing a misunderstanding between Danny, Vlad, and the batfam.

TW: sexual assault hinted at

....

Danny, Dan, and Ellie go to see Jazz in Gotham. They've been waiting to "visit" her for weeks since she moved out. Only waiting for her to get a big enough place for all of them. Danny already said he'd share a room with Ellie and Dan, especially now that they found out if she is her true age she'll start to stabilize more permanently with Danny's ecto. Plus, having Dan be the same size helps, or so she says (he might be desperate for a new family and Ellie is trying to help, Danny and Jazz never bring it up in front of him).

The Fenton parents don't know about Danny being Phantom, instead believing that some big ghostly event caused Danny to have a ghost daughter.

And that he tried to clone himself mixed with a ghost to use that body to stabilize her. They may be proud of their scientist son, they are not proud that he won't let them experiment on his ghostly "creations".

Of course they are entirely wrong:

Ellie is one of Vlads' attempts to clone him, the only one that survived.

And Dan is an amalgamation of Danny and Vlad from an alternate timeline. He doesn't know why he's keeping that from his parents. He owes nothing to that scumbag, but Jazz says many victims try to keep their abusers safe from facing consequences. Before Dan was deaged, and much before he met the Fenton parents, he'd pointed out that he'd be scared who his parents would have chosen to believe too.

Jazz gets a full ride scholarship with Gotham U, the Wayne's new massive donation to the psychology department, as well as her well written letter about being the head of her home, helped immensely.

She felt bad using a slightly blurred version of their story to get a good scholarship, but Danny pushed her to go for it.

Hence her, Danny and his 3 year old "twins" were at a gala for the university.

It was being held in the museum after closing hours. The invitation she got had specified that her brother was invited, each with a plus one.

They couldn't exactly get a babysitter for two super-powered toddlers in the city known for hating metas. Besides it wasn't like they had time to get dates anyway.

The night started out fine. There were scholarship students, student council members, some Gotham U staff, and a few rich folk mingling and eating tiny foods that both Ellie and Dan adored.

Ellie fell asleep in Danny's arms almost the second she'd finished eating, and Dan was overly protective of the both of them as always. Of course the dense crowd and constant noise wasn't helping calm him down.

A Wayne, he wasn't sure which one exactly, had brought Danny a plate of food and sat with him as he tried to distract Dan. At first Dan didn't care for him at all, but he mentioned reading about the constellation on Dan's shirt and he loosened up. He never let go of Danny's pant leg though.

The night turned sour when all three's ghost sense went off. There was no immediate threat, but even the Wayne kid noticed them tense and turned to the hallway.

Dan was the first to spot him. "Vad."

"Bad?" The man mimicked.

"He has trouble with his Ls."

"No! I can say Ellie." Dan huffed, poking the side of her sparkly green shoe.

"Vlad, the guy that walked in." Danny said, decidedly looking down into his daughter's sleeping face, squished into his shirt and drooling.

"Vladimir Masters?"

He nodded, before he could continue however Dan spoke up.

"He is bad. He's the reason I was born. And Ellie too." Dan put himself in front of Danny, his little legs going over Danny's feet like a guard dog.

He could see the Wayne's hands tighten into fists, he tapped the inside of his wrist a bit and watched as he squirmed in his seat.

"Hey, Tim." Another dark haired light eyed Wayne and a girl came up to them. "Who's this?"

"Danny, these are my sibilings. Dick and Cass. Guys, this is Danny."

"Hi, nice to meet you Danny. I'd shake your hand but it looks busy." He gestured towards Ellie. As his hand swept nearer, Dan tried to swipe it away. "Oh, and who's this."

"I'm Dan. You can't touch Mommy." His little face contorted into his best toddler attempt at scaring them off.

"I would never do that. No one here would." Dick said as he crouched down to be eye level with his son.

"He would." Dan pointed at Vlad, all three turned to look at the man. Before anyone else noticed, specifically Vlad himself, Danny pushed his arm down.

"Don't point, it's rude."

"He's a rude butt." Danny laughed softly and Dan continued. "It doesn't mater that I'm half of him, I'll never be evil like him." He yawned and laid his face on Danny's leg.

"I think that's enough signs that we should head home. Thank you for talking with me, Tim."

"No problem, it was m-"

Dan grabbed around Danny's legs and whined "I don't wanna gooOOOooo. I want more of the tiny hot dogs."

Danny looked up to see Vlad infront of the food table. The Wayne sibilings followed his gaze "I'm sorry buddy, but-"

Tim stood up, "I'll get you guys a whole mountain of the tiny hot dogs. Why don't you guys wait for me at the door." Ever so softly he heard Tim whisper, "Go with them." To his brother.

"Where are your things? I'll help you get ready." Dick looked around like he didn't know where the coat closet was. He'd probably been to events like this hundreds of times, but Danny appreciated the sentiment.

"Their stroller is at the entrance, I have to get my sister though."

The girl who hadn't said a word hummed and went off, "Cass can find her, I'll help you and we can meet at the entrance."

"Alright, thank you."

It wasn't until they had both kids in the stroller with their coats on and Dan had a bottle of milk (with a lot of ectoplasm in it) that Danny realized he'd never mentioned who his sister was.

Dick waved towrds the end of the hall and saw his sister and the two Waynes he'd met walking with Brucie Wayne himself.

Jazz looked down and pat Cass' hand. "Thank you for getting me."

"Danger." Her voice was soft, but she didn't seem shy like he had expected.

"All four of you seemed to get along well with my kids. Would you like to come by for dinner next week?" Brucie asked as he looked between the four of them.

"I'd love to!" Jazz said enthusiastically. "Would Tuesday ight work?"

Danny could see the gears start to speed up in her head and he huffed a little. "Jazz, I need to get them in bed."

"Right, of course. Thank you again, for everything."

"Tuesday night works perfectly," Brucie Wayne said with a massive smile on his face, "we'll send someone to pick you up. Have a good night."

With that they walked down the ramp and down a few blocks to their two bed room apartment.

"Jazz," She looked over to Danny, "I think they know more than they are letting on."

She lent over the stroller a bit to check if the kids were asleep, before adding, "I agree, I think there is something up with them, but I don't think they're bad."

"Dan was okay with them mostly, and Ellie was fast asleep even with then around."

"I guess we'll just have to find out, then. Besides, it would be good for you to make friends your age and not at the car shop."

"Yeah, alright."

#dpxdc #writing #deaged Dan #deaged ellie #deaged dani #i prefer ellie using a name thats a little different #like to show she isnt just a clone #maybe one day Dan will do the same #but he has so much he has to work through and i want to see him get to live a happy life #he was created at the worst moment of both Danny's and Vlad's existence #even if he has some memories of what a family was like through Danny. i dont think he sees those memories as entirely his own #mom danny

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queers-gambit · 7 months

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Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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sneakerdoodle · 4 months

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Hey all! I have compiled a small resource on the pressure targets identified by the BDS Movement

I have seen many calls for boycott of organic and organized consumer boycott targets (keep it up ✊🏻), but not a lot of conversation about what "pressure" might look like when it comes to pressure targets.

This carrd quotes the BDS Movement's official directions ("boycotts when reasonable alternatives exist, as well as lobbying, peaceful disruptions, and social media pressure") and compiles some fairly easy ways to follow them for folks like me, who are socially & geographically isolated and may struggle with finding accessible forms of engagement. As such, social media pressure is the main focus. The idea is as follows:

The background information blurb ("What you should know") helps you learn the brief timeline & details of the company's involvement and their response to public pressure so far;

The "Suggested actions" section introduces you to any existing campaigns or calls to action endorsed by the BDS, as well as direct links to the companies' socials, contact forms, and so on;

You are now enabled to publicly shame Google for their complicity in genocide and cite their failure to properly engage with their protesting employees, for example

I hope to receive some input directly from the BDS Movement organizers (should they have enough time and resource to entertain my inquiry), but as of now, this is based on my own interpretation of their guidelines. I welcome any and all feedback on what should be added, altered or removed. You may reach out right here on tumblr or via the email address listed on the carrd.

Please do share this around if this feels worthwhile, and I hope some may find this compilation helpful

#palestine #palestinian genocide #from the river to the sea #i stand with palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza genocide #bds movement #boycott israel #israel #tel aviv

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starry-bi-sky · 6 months

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I am procrastinating homework and finals studying so I'm making another DPxDC au -- or more accurately, I am making an au of an au. or combining two aus to make a third one, because I am Procastinating And thinking about it.

(the part two for my Danny is Jason Todd au is like,,, half-made and I will get around to finishing it, promiiissse)

So the two aus I had in mind were combining, of course, the two clone aus - the Danny Clone and the Damian Clone au. For folks who haven't seen either posts (or saw one but not the other) here are summaries of both:

Damian Clone Au: The LoA make a clone of Damian Wayne specifically to either kill Damian Wayne and have the clone take his place as the heir to the LoA, or to bring him back. At 6 years old though and through magical teleportation mishaps, Baby Damian ends up in the warehouse district of Amity Park and picked up (and later adopted) by Danny Fenton. They develop a brotherly dynamic with one another.

Danny Clone Au: Danny is straight up a clone of Bruce Wayne, doesn't find out until a year after he has his accident. And, for the fun of it, is also mostly-powerless (he retains his ghost sense and a semblance of a ghost core and signature, but no ghost form). His reasoning for becoming Phantom is because he has walked into the lab watching his parents dissecting ghosts post-portal working more times than he can count. And due to this, changes his beliefs from "ghosts are evil" to "ghosts are sentient and sapient beings who don't deserve this treatment". (masterpost pinned on my blog, its currently incomplete) He is also a little GNC, as a treat. Long-haired Danny ftw. Ellie is a halfa because of the ectoplasm that Vlad used, and also the same age as Danny. They call each other twins and she is viciously protective of him. He uses a baseball bat and brass knuckles that I call 'jawbreakers' to fight ghosts.

Now admittedly, not much probably changes with the combination of these aus other than the potential parallels between Damian and Danny, and Bruce and Damian - and of course, I am always a sucker for parallels. Plus Damian's running off would take Danny finding him much longer, since he can no longer fly, but all the more meaningful because he still took so much time to find him.

(It probably also makes their first meeting different as well - Danny wears a ROTTMNT Casey Jones Jr. esq. mask when he goes out, but Damian would recognize lazarus green anywhere. He'd probably try harder to kill him though once he sees his face, since he knows that its not his father but an imposter.)

It also includes what I consider a hilarious conversation: "Since I'm a clone of Bruce Wayne, does this make me your dad or your brother?" "Don't be an idiot, laeazir." "You didn't answer my question."

The biggest change that comes from this is, of course, the fact that Danny now no longer has a leg to stand on with the "you're a human, I am a ghost" excuse in order to prevent Damian to help him with ghost-fighting, because now Danny is also a squishy, fleshy and fragile human just like Damian. And a human who, arguably, has less combat training than Damian and no powers to make up for it.

Now, Danny in both aus are about 16-17-ish in age, so they've had time to adapt to their new vigilante-hero lifestyle, but its still not the same as Damian's training as an assassin. Damian, unlike in the original clone au, remains insistent on his want to help Danny.

And,,, eventually wears him down after weeks or months of sneaking out after him, helping in fights, interfering, arguing, etc. Danny eventually agrees, exhausted, but he makes Damian promise, promise, that he will be careful and to focus on dodging and distraction. At least until Danny can figure out a safer alternative. He wants him as far removed from the fight as he can, he's a child for ancient's sake, after all.

Which is another issue too - if we follow Damian Clone timeline, then Damian is six years old when this happens. I'll be point blank, I do not see Danny ever actually agreeing to let a literal 6 year old go with him. SO, solution, I bump Damian's age to 7 when he arrives in the Fenton Family, and make him freshly eight years old when he finally gets Danny to agree.

It still SUCKS. He is still very much an itty bitty child, but as someone who has seen the difference between a six year old and an eight year old due to working at a daycare, an eight year old is still... slightly feasible. And an 8 year old assassin even more so (even if he hasn't trained properly in nearly a year or so)

So Danny, reluctantly, agrees to let Damian come with him on patrols.

He ghost-proofs Damian's sword (as he has since learned to do with his bat and jawbreakers), makes him a grappling hook and a Fenton thermos, and reluctantly lets Damian come with in his old LoA uniform that he appeared in (with some tailoring and ghost-proofing, because he has since begun to grow out of the uniform).

(and Danny himself also finally starts looking into alternatives to improve his own "suit" - which is all but a hoodie and reinforced jeans and a hockey mask. He needs to set an example to his little brother, goddammit.)

Then, as they're planning for Damian's eventual (dreaded on Danny's part) debut, they sit in their shared room and brainstorm for what to call Damian. "Ellie already uses the name Spirit." Danny says, sitting criss-cross at his desk with the eraser nub of a pencil chewed between his teeth.

(Behind him he has an investigative corkboard set up -- his accident left him with the ability to see ghosts not capable of being seen on the visible plane. 'Stereotypical' ghosts. Between school work, his social life, and ghost fighting, some of his downtime is spent figuring out ways to help them move on. His most recent is a cold case.)

(Bc with Danny, I loove to have him have some sort of trait that ties him in with his original counterpart. Nature vs Nurture and all that. Investigative work can be part of that.)

"What about Wraith?" Damian suggests from the floor, leaning against the bed frame while he goes over one of his english books. They've been practicing his reading and writing.

Danny furrows his brows. "A ghost seen typically shortly after or before someone's death?"

Damian nods. "Yes, it's of a similar cadence to 'Batman and Robin'."

"What's with you and your thing with Batman and Robin?" Danny asks with a playful half-smile, Damian shrugs and looks at his books. Danny sticks the eraser back between his incisors. "Phantom and Wraith... that works, though."

The first night out together, Danny fusses over Damian, making sure every bit of uniform was secured and in place -- something Damian took mild offense over. His outfit was far more reinforced than the juvenile get-up that his older brother wore.

But he let him fuss anyways. It made him loved.

"Now remember, Wraith--"

Damian interrupts him: "Yes, I know, Dany. Avoid and distract. Stay situationally aware. I fear that is something I should be telling you, however. Mother would have your head if she ever saw what your training was like."

(It was, not for the first time, that Damian wondered how his,,, "mother",,, would react if she ever met Danyal. Not good, he knows.)

Danny's shoulders sag, and he sighs. "I believe that, what with that super-secret spy--"

"Assassin."

Danny sends him a half-hearted chagrined look, "Assassin," he corrects, "organization that made you. I'm sure I'd give your mother an aneurysm." When he's finally okay with whatever make-believe issues he found with his suit, Danny reaches for the nearby side table and carefully slips on a black domino mask over Damian's eyes. It was thin, flexible, and made with some kind of material that Danny reassured was environmentally safe.

("Some kind of matieral that Wayne Industries invented awhile ago, Sam bought it for me." Danny told him when he first showed it to him.)

It was also cold. But the chill was made up for, slightly, with Danny's warmer hands smoothing it out over his skin, and ridding of any ridges that could form. Damian isn't sure entirely what Danyal did to keep it stuck onto his face, but when he touches it with his fingers he feels a very faint seam at the edge, and it doesn't budge against his hands. It felt like a second skin.

"There we go." Danny smiles, pulling his hands back. He still looks nervous. "It's not the same as my hockey mask," which sat atop his head, ready to be pulled down, "but I think a domino mask will work better for you considering your background."

He was right, a hockey mask would only hurt Damian's peripheral vision. This mask was thin enough that it didn't.

"Ready to go, Wraith?"

"After you, Phantom."

+++

Damian has much issue with Danny's suit. He can think of a million ways to make it better. It is one of the things he and Samantha Manson can get along with, and the few times they have spent time together they have brainstormed suit ideas. He knows that since Danny took him on as Wraith, he has started to look into better suit alternatives.

However. They are both aware of the same thing:

Danny is not Batman, nor Superman, nor Wonder Woman, nor Aquaman, or the Flash, or Green Arrow, or Nightwing, or any single hero on the public roster. He is also not rich like Lex Luthor or Vlad Masters or Bruce Wayne himself.

He has no money and no contacts, and thus, no way of properly improving his suit to be something even half as safe as the other supers.

And he refuses to let Samantha Manson help him find a way to fix that - even with all that money, Samantha Manson is on an allowance from her parents, and also, despite her other range of abilities, not capable of getting those materials without putting herself on a list of some sort. They are at a standstill.

Damian knows this, because he has asked.

Until one day when Danny is talking about a case he is working on and telling Damian about old adventures he had in the Ghost Zone, does he see his brother get hit with a lightbulb.

He slaps a hand against his forehead and straightens up from his swivel seat. He huffs a laugh, "Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" And he turns on his heel and hurries to his bookshelf, pulling down a notebook and flipping open to an empty page.

Damian frowns, "Laeazir?"

"I know you don't like my suit, Damian," Danny says, striding over to his desk and snatching a pencil out of a cup. He begins jotting something down on the notebook. "And there's nothing I can really do about it because, well, I'm poor in comparison to my facesake, and I don't have the resources to get my hands on someone who would make me a new suit."

"Yes, we have talked about this..." Damian nods slowly, still frowning, and trying to follow his brother's line of reasoning.

Danny shoots him a megawatt, half-tilt smile, his hair tied up into a half-bun. "But! I was thinking about it from the wrong angle. I don't have the living resources to help me get a suit, but..." he trails off, staring at Damian intently.

It dinged in Damian's brain to where he was going, "But you have the undead resources instead." He says, his eyes widening slowly. Of course, of course! Danyal was ridiculously charismatic by accident, and Damian has seen plenty of times where his heart-of-gold had one or two non-hostile ghosts be incredibly grateful to him.

His brother makes a loud, 'ding-ding-ding!' sound, pointing his pencil at Damian as his smile stretches further across his face. In a few quick strides, he was sat down next to Damian and showing him his notebook. "Correct! When I first started out as Phantom a few years ago, I managed to help a ghost who called herself Taylor, and apparently she was a seamstress both in and out of life."

Damian watches as Danny writes the name at the top of the paper, and creates bullet-points down the page. "She said that in return for saving her, I should come find her in the Ghost Zone if I ever need clothes made for me. It's a one-time thing, but I was thinking that she could perhaps help make me a new suit."

Danny turns a bit pink at the ears, and rubs his neck, "I never thought much of it because I didn't think I'd ever go into the Ghost Zone, or ever need ghost clothes, so I forgot about it up until now."

A scoff forces itself out of Damian's mouth, but he is smiling. "Danyal, you are the smartest idiot I have ever met."

For the next hour, both he and Danny make a bullet point list of what both of their suits would need. Reinforcement in certain areas, gauntlets with reinforced knuckles to replace Danyal's jawbreakers. A different weapon than a bat.... a utility belt, reinforced boots. Anything they could think of.

It was Damian's idea to add a cloak to both of their suits, asymmetrical and torn at the edges for a more 'ghostly' look. They have a theme, after all. It's quite fun.

Then Danyal calls up Sam for help in drafting up design ideas. And while Danyal steps mostly to the side when it comes to the design itself, Damian and Sam fill pages with designs until coming up with one they both agreed on and like.

"What about a lightning bolt on the chest?" "Why are we using my traumatic accident as a symbol of my identity?" "Ghosts do it all the time, Danny. Ember sings about her death." "I'm not dead?" "No that won't work, Manson. Shazam already has a giant lighting bolt emblem." "Okay, but I still want to use it somewhere." "How about this?" "...That could work. Okay, now onto your emblem--"

Last was the hard part: getting into the Ghost Zone without the Fenton parents noticing the disappearance of their precious Fenton Specter Speeder. They employed Jazz's help with that. She would get the Fentons out of the house long enough for him and Danny to get into the ghost zone, hopefully find the seamstress, and cash in that favor.

They went through with their plan that following weekend. Danny tossed Damian a small jumpsuit as they both climbed into the specter speeder, but did not grab his own. He had a small duffle bag on him that he threw under the seat.

"What is this?" Damian asks, nose scrunching up at the gaudy picture of Jack Fenton's face square at the center of the chest. He held it far away from it, as if it had a disease.

"Your hazmat suit." Danny replies, settling himself into the driver's seat as the door hissed shut and he began turning it on. He had some sort of gas mask on in his lap, too small to fit Danny's head, but certainly the right size to fit Damian's. "Normally you wouldn't need it since you'd stay in the speeder, but we're both getting out once we find Taylor. It's to protect you from the ectoplasm."

A scowl forces itself across Damian's face, "You don't have one." He points out, finding seat in the passenger chair next to Danny. His arms cross over his chest, and he was not pouting.

Danny looks at him amusedly, "I have enough ectoplasm in my body that I don't need one, you however, do not." He retorts, poking a finger into Damian's ribcage pointedly. "If you don't put it on now, you'll put it on when we find Taylor."

Damian's scowl deepens, feeling petulant as he sunk into his chair. Danny turns back to the console and flips a few more switches. "I will not, it looks ridiculous." He turns it around to show Danny the Jack Fenton Face.

The Specter Speeder hums to life, and there's a moment of turbulence as it lifts off the ground. While it does, Danny turns back to him blankly, stares at the emblem, and then reaches forward and yanks it off with a scriiiiich of the emblem. He crumples it up with one hand, and throws it into a small bin at his feet.

"There, fixed." He smiles. Then turns back to the controls, taking the yoke with both hands. "And I'm calling Dad Rights; you will put it on when we find Taylor or you'll stay in the speeder."

Damian sputters, sitting up incredulously. "You are not my father." He argues.

"Teeechnically, I am." Danny says, "I'm a clone of your father, and since I am fully his clone, that makes you my son by a technicality." He says cheerfully, pushing the specter speeder forward and into the swirling green portal.

Before Damian can retort, they're passing through the portal. This was his first time going into the Ghost Zone, and for a few seconds there was nothing but bright, swirling green filling his vision. His body felt like it was being twisted and pulled, his up and down reversing and returning. It was painless, but dizzying.

It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like a minute, and when they exit out the other side, Damian is holding his head while his vision spots and swims. Internally, he felt like those cartoon characters when their eyeballs rolled around in their head.

The dizziness fades away slowly, and as Damian regains his sight, he notices Danny's hand splayed over his sternum, gently keeping him pressed against his seat. It fell away when Danny saw that he was alright.

"Put your seatbelt on," Danny orders, nodding to his chair. Damian listens absently, before remembering their conversation before they went through the portal.

"That is not how it works." He scowls, and, annoyingly, only gets a challenged eyebrow raise from Danny. He could see the words written on his face without Danyal ever having to say it.

Because, dangit, he was technically right. Damian refuses to say this aloud. He screws his jaw shut, and crosses his arms back across his chest.

Danny chuckles under his breath, and turns his eyes back to the ghost zone. "My point still stands, either you wear the suit, or you don't leave the speeder."

"Fine."

+++

They eventually find where the seamstress is. Through quite a lot of Danny stopping to ask questions with any friendly ghost he came across, they eventually locate an island with a strange, urban city bustling with life on it. Massive, rocky stalagmites grew from the ground, and buildings were built on top of it or around it, with strange, warping architecture.

It was oddly beautiful.

Danny parked the speeder on the side of the street with a two hour parking sign on a nearby post. As he turned off the engine, he flipped a switch on the console that darkened the windows. He unbuckles his seat, and stood up, stretching out his back with a deep groan.

"Alright, put your suit on. The windows are tinted, so nobody should be able to see into the speeder." He orders, pulling out the duffle he brought in earlier and unzipping it. He pulls out his hockey mask and the hoodie he wore out for patrol, and the notebook they'd been using to jot down ideas for their suit.

Danny even had the hindsight to write in their respective heights, and with Tucker's help, some of their measurements. While he did that, Damian sourly pulled on his hazmat suit, irritated by the need to wear it.

Unfortunately, he also had to wear the boots and gloves for 'extra precaution'. Damian nearly bites out a grumpy 'you're as paranoid as father', but holds his tongue. He wasn't going to tell Danyal that secret.

Once he was done and Danny has his hockey mask and hoodie on, Danny grabs the gas mask and helps fit it over Damian's face. It was a sleek, simple design, shaped similarly to a regular face mask, with little filters on both sides of the mouth and a clear, protective covering around the eyes and forehead. Danyal improved it from the original his parents made.

He was smarter than he gave himself credit for.

Danny checks, then double checks that it the mask is tight, then smiles. Patting Damian's shoulders before standing up fully. "Taylor's shop should be somewhere nearby." He says, grabbing the notebook and tucking it under his arm.

Damian nods, and follows him out the door and onto the busy streets.

Finding Taylor becomes remarkably quick now that they were inside her city - something that Damian silently wondered was based loosely off NYC. Danny kept a firm arm around Damian's shoulders the entire time they walked down the street, keeping the both of them on the inside sidewalk.

Barely anyone passed them a second glance, spare the few odd looks shot at Damian. Danny whispers to him the first time it happens that it's because he has no ghost core, those more attune to their signatures might've been picking up on it.

They didn't notice Danny, because he had one, albeit a weak one.

Taylor's shop has a big sign on it in logographic writing that Damian has no idea how to read. The text shifts slowly, a jambled squiggle of lines, dots, and connected curves that look like a mix of messy cursive, gibberish, and logographic alphabets. He only knows its Taylor's shop because Danny pulls them towards it, stating that it was the place.

"You can read that?" He asks, incredulous as they draw closer to the door. Danny moves his arm off his shoulder, and wraps his fingers around Damian's instead.

"Yep," He replies, then scrunches his nose up, "sort of. It's - uh--" he stumbles over a word that Damian's ears cannot comprehend, but fills his head with slight static regardless. Danny winces. "It's the written form of ghostspeak, but since I'm not a ghost, I can only read some of it. Like uh, dyslexia."

"...I see." Damian says after a moment of silence, trying to replay the word in his head. His mind can't grasp the sound.

When they enter, the door doesn't ding with the sound of a bell, but rather it makes a low scream. Nobody bats an eye to the sound, keeping to their slow search through the racks of clothes.

At the counter was a woman talking quietly to another woman, one of whom Danny recognizes, as he walks over to her.

He doesn't need to say anything, because the woman behind the counter sees him coming, and her face positively lights up with delight. "Phantom!" She cries, and gestures to come over. "I was wondering when in the high ancients you were going to come see me!"

Danny's face is obscured by his mask, but Damian knows he's smiling sheepishly with the way he tilts his head and the way he tenses his shoulders. "My bad, Miss Taylor," he says, reaching the counter and standing beside the woman she was talking to, "It kinda... slipped my mind."

Taylor waves her hand dismissively, "Well you are here now!" She replies, grinning wide. Then her eyes pop open - literally - and she puts a hand over her chest. "Oh, how rude of me!" She turns and gestures between Phantom and the lady next to him, "Miss Mabam, this is Phantom. I told you about him a couple of years ago. He saved me from humans. Phantom, this is Gigi Mabam, she funds my shop. In return I make clothes for her and her staff."

The 'Gigi' woman turns just as Danny does, and smiles wide at him. Damian narrows his eyes at her, shuffling behind Danny legs as he looked her up and down. She had silvery-white hair and purple skin, and wore a darker purple business suit, a red gem cravat at her collar, and teal cat-eye glasses.

There was a lot of purple.

"So this is the ghost-touched you were telling me about, dear!" The woman, Mabam, said. Her voice was rich and low but she spoke in a whimsical cadence. It made Damian's skin crawl, and his narrowed eyes turned into a glare. "I must thank you for saving my seamstress, it would've been quite a fizzy-wink if she had been lost to those ghosty hunters."

What were those nonsense words? Damian hated it.

"Miss Mabam here runs a five-star hotel nearby," Taylor explains, her body turned to Danny, "she also is in charge of the city's Battle Nexus."

Danny is silent for a moment, and his free hand lifts and places itself on the back of Damian's head, keeping him close. "Battle Nexus...?"

Mabam claps cheerfully, laughing low, "Oh yes! Ghosts from all around the zone come to attend and watch as their fellow haunties are ripped from limbity-limb in a blood-curdling battle!"

Danny is still as stone. "I see." He says, careful. Damian wraps his fingers around his pant leg. "Well, I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I was hoping to cash in that favor, Miss Taylor?"

"Of course! What do you need?"

Danny looks down at Damian, and he looks up at him, locking eyes with the ominous green glowing from the eyeslits of his mask. He nods, and Danny looks back up. "Do you know how to make suits? Of the protective kind?"

+++

The seamstress it turns out, is capable of such a thing. And she ushers the both of them into one of the backrooms, sending off Mabam with a farewell and a promise to continue their conversation soon.

She flips through their design book, and immediately gets to work making their suits. In the end, with the help of her powers, she gets both done over the span of four hours. It's longer than both Danny and Damian want, but neither rush her.

Damian just hopes that Jasmine can keep the Fenton parents distracted for that long. She will have to.

The suits are better in real life than on paper, and Damian preens from the side in his own custom suit as Danny examines his own in front of the three mirrors. They were both dressed in all black, but whatever fabric Taylor used was of a blackest-black, turning Danyal - and Damian's - bodies into a black hole to look at. Both of them were fitted for agility, with reinforced padding around their shoulders and chests, as well as around the joints of their legs. Their boots were reinforced as well.

("It was hard to make your boots shock absorbent," Taylor explains, "since we all fly, but I applied similar stuff to what I did with your shoulders and chestplate.")

On the side of Danyal's legs were raised, black, lichtenberg-like figures that were contained to the seams and disappeared under his boots. There were similar designs going up his sleeves, with spiked gauntlets wrapped around his lower arm and hands. The knuckles were reinforced, just like he wanted.

Damian's favorite parts were their capes, however. Black like the rest of the outfit, but "wrapped" around their shoulders like an apocalyptic shawl with a back that went down to their knees, and at the hems the capes were torn and ripped like a wraith. Danyal's mask had gone through very little change. It was made of a stronger material, and Taylor had gone and made it more skull-like in its shape, with three large grills at the front, and the sides curving inward below the 'cheekbones' of the skull to better fit his face. It was still shock white, the only white part of Danyal's entire costume.

Damian's suit was almost identical. However, rather than having the seams of his suit resemble lichtenberg figures, the seams of his sleeves and upper torso were that of a black skeleton, with bone-y designs over his gauntlets and the fingers an ombre of dark red-to-black. And around his torso were raised lines that looked similar to a ribcage. The edge of his cloak was splatter a dark red as well. And he had a new domino mask that looked similar to the upper half of Danyal's mask, with the outer edges curved downward over his cheekbones. He was briefly allowed to take off the upper part of his gas mask to try on the mask.

The best part however, was that since the suits were made of material native to the ghost zone, they could also be taken off quickly and hidden in a small artifact. It was magic, is what it was. Danyal chose earrings, and Damian chose a ring.

When they got back to the Fenton house, Jazz demands a box of chocolate for her hard work. Damian thinks that's only fair as Danny takes them both out to get candy for Jazz.

+++

But other than vigilante stuff, not else much changes. Danny gets to pull a "Dad By Technicality Rule" card over Damian when he's being a brat. Danny doesn't have his run in with Rift (a ghost who portals him into Gotham) until after he meets Damian/lets Damian join him on patrol and when they get new suits.

My reason? Because I want it to happen after that point in time lol. It also makes the eventual "heyyyyy you have a clone" @ bruce much funnier to me because not only does he have a clone of HIMSELF but also THAT clone has a clone of Damian living with him.

Also when Danny destabilizes for the first time Damian is terrified for his safety. The fentons are surprisingly good at cloning, Danny hasn't had any issues up until this point in time, and that's only because he got hit with a new gun from Skulker that messed up the ectoplasm he had in his dna, which in term fucked with his own DNA.

Danny's destabilization, imo, is not "I cast you with Melt" he's not Ellie, he's not made of 50% ectoplasm. His parents surprisingly knew what they were doing, and he was human. So his destabilization should be unique to himself and different. Thus his destabilization is "I cast you with Compromised Immune System" his body slowly weakens over time as his cells destabilize. He becomes unnaturally frail and sick. Damian calls Ellie for help when Danny doesn't get up after being hit in a fight that he normally, and Ellie helps figure out that he's destabilizing. This is whats gonna happen in OG clone au too, but Ellie is going to be there rather than Damian.

It makes going to Wayne Manor after that slightly more interesting,,,

#dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton is a clone #damian clone au #i couldnt NOT describe their new suits. i just couldn't. they're leaning into the ghost culture of being scary as fuck looking #i feel a little cheesy for giving them magic jewelry that lets them hide their suits instantly #but i have to make up for danny's lack of ghost form SOMEHOW #damian just gets it too by association #if anyone is curious #Ellie's ghost form is identical to Danny's suit just the colors are inverted. so her suit is all white and her mask is all black #its not a starry au unless its got a read more #did anyone notice the Big Mama cameo from ROTTMNT #its because Danny's mask looks like Casey Jones Jr's mask from ROTTMNT without the red marks on the eyes #Danny and Damian's dynamic itches my brain #Danny: im calling Dad Rights - youre grounded #Damian: nnOOOO #also also. danny uses sign language if he's in view of the living since they could recognize his voice. damian does not yet know ASL #so thats on his 'languages to learn' list #although he is not seen by the public since he has school and ghost attacks happen around danny and not him #Red Huntress gives the Phantom so much shit when she sees his sidekick. Phantom tiredly explains that he had no choice - Wraith would have #come with anyways. truly a robin at heart.#“idc if you say no imma do vigilantism ANYWAY. i dont NEED ur permission” is robincore and bruce/danny going #“fine but i'm gonna make sure you dont DIE then”#clone^2

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inbarfink · 10 months

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So when I wrote down that Big Undertale Meta Post about how Sans probably doesn’t remember RESETs at all and why that’s cool - I got a lot of responses to the tune of ‘that’s probably canon but I’m still gonna enjoy Sans Remember fics because of the angst’. And, well... first I want to emphasize that those are very good and correct responses! Like ‘I acknowledge might or might not be in the text but I am also gonna explore alternative ideas Because I Enjoy Them’ is a Good Damn Position to have! Transformative Fandom is Transformative on purpose! Engage with the text and it’s various analyses but don’t let it chain your creativity or fun!

It’s just that… all of the people saying that they prefer Sans Remembering ‘for the Angst’ make me think that maybe folks are kinda ignoring the incredible angst potential of Sans NOT remembering.

My original post focused on how cool it is that Sans manages to be so on-top-of-things even though he doesn’t remember anything - but let’s not ignore the fact that this situation is also grim as shit.

Through some mysterious super-science or whatever, Sans has managed to discover that his timeline is being RESET and altered constantly (before the Player came along, Flowey had already managed to basically 100% the entire Underground) and he has no memory of what's going on and what exactly is being altered.

He knows he might’ve gone through the same day over and over and over again thousand times but he’s simply not aware of it. It’s all the helplessness and lack of forward momentum of a classic timeloop and none of the benefits of memorizing occurrences or acquiring extra information. That’s exactly the thing that drove him into his depressive spiral.

That line always strikes me. It’s like… Sans suspects that without the meddling of capricious immortal time gods, he’d be a much happier and motivated person. But he doesn’t know for sure, because he can’t remember how he was in some distant ‘original timeline’. He is essentially fighting to avenge a version of himself that might not even be real.

Like, yes, it is very impressive and badass how well Sans trained himself to notice every tiny little hint that might indicate that a RESET happened - but it’s impressive because the deck is stacked so heavily against him. And it is very impressive and badass how Sans managed to turn his weaknesses into strengths during his Boss Battle - but it’s impressive because these are usually huge weaknesses. Trying to work to solve a timeloop that you can only infer is going on through context clues is quite a hopeless and desperate mission!

Another bit in the Sans fight that I often think about is his unique reaction if you kill him and then RESET to Fight him again.

With how skilled he is at reading expressions, Sans probably knows what that ‘weird expression’ means, he knows the Player killed him once before and is here to try again. And yet he still goes along with the same attack plan he has, the one he knows killed him in that previous timeline. Why? Because he doesn’t know where the flaw in his plan was exactly, he can’t even begin to guess. So he has no choice but to go along with the plan he knows did kill him, because that’s the only thing he has.

You know, the thing about Sans, is that he always plays his cards very close to his chest. It’s very hard to tell what exactly he’s thinking. That’s probably why so many people do believe he remembers RESET. If any non-Flowey character remembered RESETs, only Sans would be remotely able to hide it so well. But for me? It makes me wonder how much of his Troll who Knows Too Much persona is a bit of an act as well.

You know, Sans’ deduction requires some keen observational skills - does he ever second-guess his conclusions? Living on constant high-alert that something has been reversed or that someone knows something they shouldn’t requires fostering a lot of paranoia, and that can’t be healthy for him. Is he ever overcome with doubt on whatever something was really an indication of a timeline RESET or not? How does he feel when he realizes something horrible happened on a previous timeline (for example, his brother dying) but he doesn’t know about the context to feel sure that he can stop it from happening again?

I also think about it in terms of his relationship to Papyrus in general. Sans tends to hide so many things from Papyrus, especially in timelines where the Player is particularly kill-happy...

In part it’s about his perception that Papyrus’ kindness and pacifism is born from naïveté and thus the only way to preserve it is to hide the cruelty and harshness of the world from him (Undyne also does that). But also, with the paranoia and helplessness Sans lives in every day - is it any wonder that he might believe that ignorance is bliss?

I do truly think it’s beautiful how fandom can experiment with cool non-canon ideas! There are probably so many great emotional angsty ideas tied up to Sans remembering RESETs! I just feel it’ll be a shame if people ignore just how dire and depressing Sans’ canon situation also is!

#undertale #ut #utdr #sans #sans undertale #sans ut #undertale analysis

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peregrine-coast · 4 months

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Milk Bar: my sci-fi RPG set in a post-Soviet Poland is now live on Kickstarter!

Hey folks!!

Milk Bar is a sci-fi tabletop roleplaying game set in an alternate-timeline, post-Soviet Poland. After the Soviets grew in power, their ultimate clash with Capital left your city in ruin. All you can do now is gather your fellow Communards, salvage whatever you can, and build your Milk Bar.

Based on RPGs like Cairn, Mausritter, and Mothership, and video games like Disco Elysium and Control, Milk Bar is a game about the post-collapse and rebuilding.

A 100-page book featuring:

Quick, simplified rules in the old school tradition

A toolkit for generating a retro-futuristic, alternate-timeline post-Soviet Communist Poland

Funnel Rules which have your group of upstart Communards find and take back a Milk Bar from the grasp of Capital. Start at level 0 and Cut Your Milk Teeth.

Unique progression system tied to basebuilding. Want to stitch up those wounds? You better build an Infirmary and find a Doctor

Abandoned Soviet Superstructures containing reality-bending Future Tech deep within

A Bestiary melding Polish and Slavic mythology with classic science fiction

Solo Rules. Become the Biggest Communism Builder of the year '24!

Gorgeous production values: high-quality, uncoated paper and an exposed, yellow thread binding. Full of graphic design work from Eryk Sawicki (me!) and art from SADGHOBLIN

Pierogi

#rpg #poland #pierogi #osr #ttrpg #indie rpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #dnd #polska #milk bar #bar mleczny

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leeleebee · 7 months

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Sibling coded, child coded, selfcest?! Morality police are working over time. I have some thoughts XD

Sibling coded

Ok. So two completely unrelated people who are close in one way are also close in another way. This is like saying you can’t be best friends with your partner(s)? Or can’t have grown up with someone and then be in a relationship with them? Childhood sweethearts? No? What is happening here someone explain what the issue is.

Child coded

I almost don’t even want to get into how ridiculous and ableist this is… but I sure will! You are telling me people who are childlike in some way, physically, emotionally, intellectually cannot have desires or be sexual or engage in romantic relationships? The “coded” part of this means we aren’t talking actual children here, we are talking adult people. So what is really happening here is people (antis I guess) being uncomfortable with folks with certain perceived traits (again, adults) being sexual/romantic/autonomous and living adult lives. It’s weird. Stop it.

Selfcest

Oh my god. Oh. My god. How is this a thing. Our reality does not have human clones or alternate universe/timelines intermingling. There is no way this is even a thing to get up in arms about. It isn’t setting an example or normalizing or whatever the hang up is with other fictional relationships. But if that time comes boy howdy. I still won’t care.

#fandom wank #fandom #anti shipping #child coded #sibling coded #selfcest #it feels so ridiculous to tag those XD #fandom discourse #😐

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technically-a-kiwi · 7 months

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Hi guys ! I’d like to share with you my take on a possible DLC (or even sequel) for Pizza Tower:

Overturned Pizza Tower

(Yeah it’s a working title, I’m not even sure if "overturned" is english…)

Basicaly in the game, Peppino is forced in another dimension by a familiar looking but oddly different Pizzahead and has to conquer the Tower all over again, some stuff here and there are different with different levels and a much more different atmosphere, that being that this alternative tower looks far more luxurious than the canon one, let me know in the comments if you want be to develop on how the tower could look like in this mysterious alternative world

first cutscene rough storyboard:

And now for the juicy part >:) hehehe

The bosses:

When designing new designs for the bosses, I kept in mind to not go overboard with the modifications, what makes Pizza Tower’s characters so fun to draw is their sheer simplicity, and I must say in some of my early sketches, I was awfully close to the “ORIGINAL CHARACTER, DO NOT STEAL PLEASE” limit. So without further ado, here they are:

Pepperman:

So as you can see, our favourite fabulous pepper is rocking some boots, shades and a jacket, In this timeline his talent was recognised and became quite a celebrity in the tower, experimenting in other forms of art outside of painting such as photography, origami and clothing. I honestly think that the two drawings I did on the bottom left corner that Pepperman would absolutely embrace his fame and wouldn’t mind that much if people always ask him for an autograph in any place he walks in, he would be quite a diva if he could wouldn’t he ? Let me know your opinion on his design and if you think I should change some stuff.

The Vigilante:

Nothing much changes with Vigi here except a tiny scare under his left eye and a peace of turquoise on his hat, in this timeline the Vigilante is known as the "Bullseye" due to the extraordinary capacity of never in any circumstances miss a shot that it be with his gun, lasso or anything else he can throw at you (unless he misses willingly of course), outlaws truly quiver in fear at the site of him because they know they’re doomed. I must say Vigi was the hardest to redesign, because there’s so much you can modify with him until he just looks a slime with goggly eyes, a funny hat and an angry expression with random details… which…is kind of what he is but in a bad way… you know… Again let me know in the comments what is your opinion and if you think something should change.

Fake Peppino:

And here he is, the fan favourite, the goofy goober elderish monster of the saga. In this timeline the only difference is that instead of a tang top he wears an apron that is stained with a bit of… uh… tomato… sauce… yeah tomato sauce and he constantly holds in his right hand a ladle, he’s the proud owner of his own pizzeria of which he takes vey good care of (or at least he’s trying his best) and most of his clients are actually Peppino clones, as long as they pay for their food Fake Peppino don’t mind their presence, any other clients are very rare considering there is a rumours about the chef killing any clients who doesn’t leave a tip…Honestly one of my favourite design so far (wow how original, the goofy goober is my favourite…) once again leave a comment of your opinion and what you think should be different in my design

Final boss:

Yeah sorry I won’t give you my take on the final boss (yet), but if you think a little and look carefully I think you can already gess who’s the big bad guy, I’ll even post something if y’all really want

And that’s all for now folks!

Thank you so much for reading my post, if you really want me to give you more concepts and ideas for the characters, atmosphere or if you want full arts of the design I just showed, let me know in the comments. Don’t hesitate on giving me your truest opinion may it be positive or negative on this concept and if you think it could work for a DLC or sequel! See you next time :D !

wait… what is that ? Where’s The Noise ?

let’s… let’s not talk about him…

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #pizzahead #pepperman #the vigilante #fake peppino #the noise #gustavo #pizza tower au #pizza tower fanfic

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kalevalakryze · 7 months

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Yhe'na Det Och'sa

Chapter 1: Viida Ke Aht

Characters: Shin Hati, Ahsoka Tano, Huyang, Background Characters Tags: Alternate Universe: Canon Divergence, Protective Ahsoka Tano, Wet Cat Shin Hati, Professor Huyang, The Force, Lightsabers Notes: Welcome to the beginning! The Shin Tano AU has been rent free in my mind for so long, and we've been putting giant amounts of work into this project. This universe will span about three acts, with act one set for the early years of Shin's training under Ahsoka Tano, all the way to the end of the empire and the first time she meets Sabine Wren. (9BBY-0BBY timelines were changed to get rid of some ick ) Act Two will focus on the relationship between wolfwren and the time before Mandalore's destruction. ( 0BBY-5ABY ) And Act Three will be focused on the Ahsoka series. ( 9-10 ABY ) Other acts will be planned as we see what direction the series will be taking. This AU would be nowhere without Gabi, please make sure you give her all the credit she deserves because without her, we would not have any of the stunning art we have already that's helped inspire this AU! @somewillwin Also big thanks to everyone in the pathfinders discord ( @mandalorianfleshenjoyer , @cmbdragon98 esp for idea bouncing and double checking asdkvn!!!!) Word Count: 4,331 AO3 Link: Here!

Bail had reached out with a request for aid, noting a tentative ally in the inner city of Ibaar. Ahsoka hadn’t known all the allies a senator could make, but if Padmé’s arsenal of folks who owed her was anything to go by, then Bail must have a whole library full of names of people who owed him.

The streets ran rampant with poverty and starvation, just like any other world the Empire had locked its early talons into. Vendors of various kinds set up in any available surface, patrolled heavily by Imperial units every thirty minutes with shift rotations every five hours.

It was during this fifth hour that Fulcrum stepped into the streets, hood drawn close over her head, route back to the landing pad memorized, with a dock worker nicely paid off to pass her forged documentation through the Imperial database. ‘Ahsoka Tano’ may have died with her men, but ‘Ashla Tsu’ was just a contract mechanic no one would look twice at.

As she swept through the stalls lining the streets, hood drawn far over her eyes, allowing the Force to guide her between moving bodies, she felt something. A tingle- small, something barely noticeable, had it come before the Dark Times. Piercing blue eyes raised as her feet slowed; She hadn’t felt a pull so… innocent since The Clone Wars, since she was asked to help guide the children in their créche.

There was a child, sensitive to the force, and foolishly, with no thought of the dangers, reaching out against her presence. Fulcrum was filled with dread at the thought; of the notion that another child could be taken for its sensitivity, and turned into the boy she had killed on Raada.

She scanned the surroundings of the street quickly, allowing the force to guide her feet as she moved with a renewed vigor; she would have to be late meeting with the contact, and couldn't take a risk in losing another…

Clearing her head, Ahsoka caught sight of a lanky figure draped in dirty green fabric, ducking into an alley that backtracked her entire route, too close to the Imperial offices for comfort. “Come on, kid,” The Togruta hissed to herself, turning her head and stepping behind the thick canvases used to block sunlight from the nearest stall.

Ahsoka wasn’t as small as she used to be, her montrals set her in the taller end, almost reaching the two meter mark. Clearing the tight spaces the child had was difficult, and she found herself having to backtrack more just to keep on course.

“Stop that kid!” A human vendor shouted, trying to fight his way around the booth as small hands darted from tattered fabric to swipe something from his table.

Ahsoka pursued quickly, now able to move faster as the streets parted for the ‘hero’ that would help the vendor. It didn’t take long for her to catch up now, as folks ducked out of her way; even the emerging Imperial patrol left her to her devices, not worried about petty theft or some kid getting ‘what was coming to them’.

“Stop!” Ahsoka poured suggestion into the force from a limitless reserve, brushing out against the panicked presence she felt thrumming all around her. The worn soles of the child's shoes skidded in the dust as she ground to a halt. The panic that met her in silvery blue eyes was enough to make her stop. Clutched in bony, shaking hands, Ahsoka found the crumbling contents, snagged from the vendor's trash pile; food that couldn’t have been safe for even the most resilient species, if the growth on the side was anything to go by, it certainly wasn’t fit for a human.

The child’s chest was heaving, muscles in their arms twitching as they tried to think of a way out. “Here!” Their voice was high and raspy, cracking like the dried skin on their lips as she thrusted her hands out towards Ahsoka, giving her a smell of the unpleasant odor from the mystery meal. “Please let me go,” Their eyes were watering as their weight shifted; Ahsoka did have her cornered, but folks were starting to close in;

“Don’t eat that, it’s trash,” Ahsoka shook her head with a frown, lekku twitching as she heard feet approaching them. “Let… Let me take you to get something real, alright? Please?” She hadn’t reached out in the force like this since she lost her Master, promising her intentions and holding out the hope that the child would understand, that she wouldn’t hurt her, but they needed to move.

The kid still didn’t budge, which, as much as she hated the reality, was smart; she was a stranger, after all. “Can I tell you a big secret?” Ahsoka knelt slowly to the ground, to be closer to the lanky child’s height. Uncertain eyes watched her the entire time, dirty fingers still sinking into the repulsive mystery meat as if Ahsoka was trying to trick them away from what looked to be their first meal in days.

Ahsoka could feel trepidation as it rolled down pale skin, wiry muscles tensing to run as the stranger reached into her cloak. The lightsaber was pulled from the hidden pocket of her cloak, still knobby with scrap pieces sticking out, she needed to remember to cut them down… one day, if she had time. “Do you know what this is?” She kept her voice low as she cradled the weapon close between them, squaring her shoulders on the off chance she misjudged the sounds of troopers and citizens behind them.

The child’s head shook quickly, diminishing some of Ahsoka’s hope for making this quick. “You’re like me, and well; people like us; we carry these around to protect people who can’t do it themselves, there aren’t as many of us as there used to be, which is why I want to help you. Search your feelings, you can feel the world around you, right?”

“Mhmm…” Dirty, choppy brown hair fell into an angular face as she peered at the saber in her hands.

“How many are coming?”

“Four troopers and seven people, they’re mad…”

Ahsoka smiled as she shifted her weight against the ground. “Very good,” The child’s weight shifted, eyes widening at the minimal praise; The Togruta tried not to think about how much of herself could be reflected in those eyes. “If you put that down, take this, and follow me, I’ll get you a warm meal… I can help you. I want to help you.”

The child’s eyes jumped distrustfully between the shouldn’t-be-called-food in her hands and the silver metal in Ahsoka’s palm. The food dropped to the ground in a way that made Ahsoka gag, but hey.. At least the kid had the decency to wipe her fingers off on her shirt before snatching the saber from her hand. “Hide it well.” She urged as the child tucked the saber close to her chest. “And don’t touch that button, I’ll show you why, later, I promise,”

“Follow my lead, alright? Trust in the force,”

Confusion laced her eyes before Ahsoka’s hand was wrapping around a thin wrist and pulling her close, careful not to move too fast or to jar the child and knock the shoto loose from wherever the child hid it. “What did I tell you about taking things that aren’t yours?” She scolded gently, allowing the girl to tuck into her side.

The young Force Sensitive played along nicely, forcing her features into something akin to shame and embarrassment. “Not to.” They grumbled, barely loud enough for the approaching shopkeepers to hear as they formed a tight semicircle around the two.

Ahsoka turned towards their audience, facial markings furrowed in mock disappointment as she searched for the shopkeeper. “Now, what do you say?” She guided, gently squeezing her emaciated shoulder until their head rose from staring at a hole in her boots. There was a moment of terse silence as silvery eyes turned to glare at the shopkeeper they’d ‘stolen’ from. “Shin,” She called, words forming on her lips without any thought.

The now-appointed Shin’s eyes jumped up to stare at her with wide eyes and parted lips. Ahsoka cleared her throat and nodded towards the human. “Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” Their voice was hoarse, raspy and grating now that she was speaking louder than a whisper. The poor thing was definitely going to need water, sooner than later, if the way their skin clung to bone was any indication.

“We’re sorry,” Ahsoka added, allowing Shin to tuck herself into her poncho as shame burned at their cheeks, hands tucking back into their cloak to hold onto the saber they’d been handed.

“She’s lucky it was just trash, this time.” The vendor growled, sneering at the child and crossing his arms over his chest. “Woulda had you strung up before the sun went down, again.”

Shin pressed closer into her side, Ahsoka could feel the way they shook against her, fear, and the growing knowledge of Kyber inside the saber no doubt reaching out to her dangerously. “I can promise it won’t happen ever again, sir. Please, if you’ll forgive us this last time?”

Murky green eyes danced between the two women, and the plastoid armored stormtroopers all around them; their fingers hadn’t gone to their blasters yet, but Ahsoka had felt the squad leader unhook a set of binders from his belt. “Hrrng. Fine. But if she comes back and does it again, I’ll make sure whatever the courts decide next sticks.”

Ahsoka’s montrals twitched with the sharp inhale and the quiet sound that they tried to hide. Wrapping the corner of her poncho around the small child, Ahsoka nodded curtly. “Thank you for your mercy.” She did her best to appeal to whatever sense of masculinity he wanted, just trying to get Shin away from them as fast as possible. The crowd parted for the woman and her embarrassed child, not a soul stepped forward to inquire about her intentions, though several did remark about the odor from the lump of meat that now sat in the dirt.

Once they were clear of the crowd, Ahsoka allowed her hand to drop from their shoulder; their conflicting feelings were tangible in the force, but there was no time, not when their stomach rumbled, and the chrono on her wrist was ticking dangerously close to ‘too late to reasonably reach out’.

The Cantina she’d swept Shin into was small, one she’d scoped out the entire morning thus far; one way in, with several ways out through access tunnels running beneath the foundation, butler doors built into walls and floors that made for easy restocking for the staff, and an easy escape into the basement and beyond for a Rebel. Her contact would be inside, no doubt enjoying a meal or a drink of their own. She just needed to order and pay, and get Shin set up somewhere she would be able to keep an eye on them.

“Hey,” She whispered as the child crowded into her again at the intensity of the crowd, leading the girl over to a smaller booth. It certainly was no place for a child, but she was running out of options, and way out of her element here. “Get whatever you want,” The child’s mouth parted; Ahsoka knew what was going to come out of her mouth before her vocal chords even rumbled. “Not alcohol,” She settled into the seat across from Shin, allowing her eyes to sift through the muggy atmosphere around them to find her contact.

There were voices close by, but tuned to the back of her mind as a member of the considerably small waitstaff approached. Shin stumbled over the words as she ordered, but thankfully, they’d found at least one person on this blasted planet with the manners to not be mean to a child. “I’ll take the same,” With no idea of what Shin ordered, but too entrenched in her work to tear away to look over anything.

There, back booth, a too-clean glass held in dainty fingers, golden rings circling each digit, with his sleeves pulled sloppily over his hands to cover the expensive jewelry. A newbie, which in many cases, was dangerous. She’d have to play this one carefully.

“Who are you?” Shin asked at last, hands wrapped around blue tinted glass of water, sipping slowly at it as she looked at her strange savior, trying to read what they could see, and to decipher whatever the Force was showing them, if the hesitantly probing presence was anything to go by.

“Right now, my name is Ashla,” Ahsoka leaned back in her seat, finally getting a good look at the child when she wasn’t in fight or flight mode. “I never got your name,” She smiled sheepishly and leaned forward, offering her unwavering attention.

“I didn’t..” The child shrunk under her gaze, dirty fingertips picking at the lip of her glass as she tried to form words. “I didn’t have one, until…” Her cheeks darkened and Ahsoka understood.

“Well. D’you like Shin?”

Their head nodded quickly, grateful for the interference, and the name. Ahsoka reached across the table, settling her elbow against the smooth stone as she extended her hand. “Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Shin,”

Her hand was small and cold in Ahsoka’s, the Togruta had to resist the urge to wrap her fingers around theirs to warm it up, not wanting to cross any boundaries that had gone unspoken thus far.

Ahsoka kept her hand still at the prod of fingertips against the hardened skin on her palms, silvery eyes studied the lines in her hand in fascination as they compared their hand to her much larger one.

Shin’s study was broken moments later with hot plates being set on the table. Blue noodles piled onto both plates with a suspiciously chunky sauce all over. “It’s cu..” Their brows furrowed as they stumbled on the words. “Cru…” Huffing, Shin leaned back in her seat, determined to get the word right before trying again. A jagged fingernail traced the letters into the stone table, mouthing out the syllables as they went. “Crupa,”

“Very good,” Ahsoka’s lips twitched at the instant relief on Shin’s face, nodding her head once in acknowledgement, before the girl was awkwardly grabbing the fork and digging in. It certainly wasn’t the worst meal Ahsoka’s ever had, GAR ration bars really were not fit for a carnivore’s consumption, and while she’d long gotten used to the discomfort of food not fit for her species, the poultry managed to offer some true nutritional value.

“Sometimes, they let me come in and clean up after they close, and Drell gives me some leftovers,” The child spoke through a mouthful of noodles, forcing themselves to slow at the rise of Ahsoka’s facial markings.

Any other conversation faded into silence under the necessity of food. Ahsoka kept her montrals perked and at the ready, listening in to the senator’s quiet grumblings to gauge his annoyance. When he seemed to be getting ready to leave, Ahsoka rose. “Shin,” She called quietly, as the child fought to gather the last noodle onto her utensil. “You know how I told you people like us help people? I have someone I need to step away and talk to for a moment.”

Silver eyes widened in a way that made Ahsoka’s heart hurt, she could feel the way the child prepared to be cast away again. “Can I count on you to make it to my ship yourself?”

Shin nodded their head quickly as they slid from their seat, hands tucking into the worn brown fabric around their shoulders, reaching for the Shoto to offer back to its rightful owner. “You’ll give it back to me at the ship, yeah?” Ahsoka’s lips pulled into a warm smile as a hesitant hand rested on their shoulder once more. “Remember, don’t take anything that isn’t yours, without permission; And if the droid says anything, tell him you’re waiting on me, and show him the thing I gave you,”

Ahsoka could feel the sense of responsibility as it ebbed into the small child, gently pushing on their shoulder, towards the door; she’d have to hope that her instructions were clear. She watched the bob of choppy brown hair as the child dodged other patrons, heading for the door under Ahsoka’s watchful gaze.

At last, she turned her attention to the senator in the booth, brushing her fingers down the wrinkles of her cloak with a soft sigh. “This is where the fun begins…”

Small feet padded up the ramp of the shuttle, nervously twisting the fabric of her cloak up in her fingers. Dock workers stared at her in confusion the whole way up, used to seeing kids like her trying to sneak off world in hopeful cargo ships; It had to work for the others she’d grown up with, they never came back to Ibaar after securing passage for themselves.

Not only did she have no recollection of being somewhere so clean, it was giant, like it had been built specifically for beings as big or bigger than Ashla. Or… Shin glanced down at her shoes as she came to a stop at the top of the ramp - mauve she was just small.

There was a rustling in a closed off room to the side, Shin watched the durasteel door carefully, tucking her hands back into her cover to wrap around the metal cylinder she’d been trusted with; Ashla told her someone would be here, a droid? She didn’t know any binary, but she’d promised the droid would understand if she showed it the item.

There was something special about it, and the way it thrummed where she gripped it in both hands, as if there was something reaching out to her, like Ashla had. Something… that understood? There were intricacies she didn’t know how to explain, couldn’t even begin to imagine the complexity of the kyber inside, or the journey it had been on to heal from the abuse it had suffered at the hands of someone… Dark.

“Who’s there?” A robotic voice called out, freezing every spindly muscle in the child’s frame as heavy metal feet thudded against the cold floor. The door slid open with a hiss; dull silver eyes met glowing yellow, both being's heads cocking to the side. “You’re not supposed to be in here,”

Fear ignited in her veins like a fire, thin fingers curled around the cold metal in her hands, thrusting it in front of herself as a beam of white sprung forth the moment her finger ghosted over the button. The droid moved as if startled, springing back as Shin gripped the hilt with both hands, arms already shaking with the exertion on underdeveloped muscle to keep the blade from dropping; she didn’t know what this thing was, but she could smell the ozone burning around the bright light, and feel the heat where it scorched the air around her.

“You are going to hurt yourself!” He scolded, vocal chips screeching as he attempted to step around the blade, growing frustrated as the child turned to keep him in front of her. “Or me!”

Huyang was at a loss in terms of what to do about the situation. A local kid stumbles onto his ship with one of Ahsoka’s lightsaber, and then threatens him with it! A Jedi would never-

“Tighten your stance,” He instructed sharply, there was no use in letting the kid lob off an arm while they waited for Ahsoka to return, hopefully soon. “Don’t lock your knees, but you can’t just hold it like some kind of a toy. The lightsaber is the lifeline of a Jedi, for thousands of generations before you.”

Shin followed his instruction, finding the saber easier to keep up when she wasn’t too lose in some areas and unmoving in others. Their brows furrowed as they watched the strange droid. “Who are you?” They rasped, nostrils flaring as the droid stepped closer.

“Lightsaber architect and designer of the Jedi order. I contain a record of every lightsaber ever made, and the Jedi who fashioned them.” He explained quickly.

“Ashla made this herself?”

“Ash-” Huyang paused; if he could get a headache, he knew he would have one by now. “Yes, she did. Where is Lady Tano at now?”

“What’s a Jedi?” Shin butted in, nose scrunching in telltale avoidance; they had no idea where Ashla went, and that was worrying, what if she was secretly Empire or a pirate, or;

The droid sombered, his demeanor changing in a split second. “There was a time, not so long ago, when all knew of the Jedi. They were keepers of the peace for the citizens of the republic,”

Shin’s arms lowered, the white of the blade disengaging back into the clunky hilt as she listened. “What’s a republic?”

The servos in his neck whirred and clicked as his head snapped up to stare at her in disbelief. “Take a seat, youngling, we have much to discuss,”

Ahsoka stepped back onto the shuttle with a sigh, shedding her cloak the moment the ramp was closed. Huyang was sitting at the table, holo novels projecting above them as he read aloud.

Shin was sitting on their knees, elbows braced on the table as she stared up at slow-moving projections, stories of the Jedi that Ahsoka had even learned once, so many years ago.

“The Unifying Force is a vast cosmic power. You may not sense it yet, but with patience and insight, you will. The Force is the stars and galaxies, the rippling surface of space and time. It is the whisper in the night that tells you your destiny… Make no mistake, young Shin; The Force does have a Will, and it is the will of the force that you are here today,” He explained to the attentive child, looking almost warmly at the youngling as they soaked up his stories.

The Togruta settled her shoulder against a wall, watching the way silver-blue eyes danced across the different lines of the hologram committing the lines of the ancient Jedi crest to memory. Ahsoka allowed her mind to push out then, reaching into the howling of the force that was Shin’s unique presence, something playful and teasing, met with a familiarity that had the child spinning in their seat and poking their head up and over the top. “Ahsoka!”

The woman’s facial marking rose in Huyang’s direction as she pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Try as you might, Lady Tano, you cannot hide from who you are, especially if you intend to take this youngling on as your Padawan,” He explained himself as he rose from his seat to greet her.

“Huyang,”

Seeming to sense her indecisiveness, the droid cut her off. “Apprentice, then. I often forget that you do not identify as a Jedi, despite your numerous accomplishments,”

Rolling her eyes at him, Ahsoka spotted her shoto on the table, using the force to call it back into her hand and watching as Shin’s eyes went wide at such a display. “Thank you for keeping this safe for me, Shin,” Their head nodded quickly as they rose from their bench.

“Did you get what you came for?” The youngling asked as her old boots hit the ground, following Ahsoka as she led the way to the cockpit, with Huyang following behind.

Patting the pouch hidden under her cloak, the older woman nodded. “And then some,”

Settling down into the pilots seat with Huyang perching in his own seat beside her, Shin stayed awkwardly between them. “That’s right,,, you’re too small right now,” She thought out loud, bringing her first to her chin in a way reminiscent of her Grand Master Obi-Wan as she thought of the best way to get through orbital turbulence without jostling the small and brittle human around too much.

It took some work, and much less than standard modifications that would have made Echo have an aneurysm, Shin was soon buckled just behind Huyang, bundled in seatbelts, with their feet dangling off the floor comedically.

“Have you ever been to space before, Young Shin?” Huyang questioned as the pair went through their checklist.

“Nuh-uh,”

“I do suggest holding on, I am aware of who trained Lady Tano to fly, it is quite wild.”

“You’re being dramatic again, Huyang,” Ahsoka shook her head as she powered up the engines and engaged the thrusters. “Next stop, Alderaan,”

As their ship sprung into the sky, Shin stared out of the viewport, watching the world and the life they’d known begin to slowly slink away into nothingness before focusing on the fast approach of space. Their small form strained against the safety belts where they leaned forward against them, taking in the moons and the stars in absolute awe, blind to the woman at the controls, purposely going slow to give the youngling the time they needed to observe as she prepped the hyperdrive.

Blues and purples mirrored in their eyes as they started their breach of hyperspace, as big as saucers with their mouth agape. There was no doubt in Ahsoka’s mind that they were unable to feel the force, in this moment, she could feel them as they reached out to grasp at the unifying cosmic power around them and felt the way it permeated all things, from the galaxies they passed in a flash of light, to the droid in front of them, and even to the smallest strip of durasteel that flaked from the tail of the ship into the void the further they traveled.

If there was one reason to be proud of what they were doing, for Huyang and Ahsoka to see the effect even their smallest actions could have, both would bet money that nothing less than the absolute fall of the empire would ever come to top this.

TIMELINE 10 ABY: 9 ABY: Ahsoka Series/Mandalore S3 8 ABY: 7 ABY: 6 ABY: 5 ABY: Mandalore is destroyed, Sabine Wren leaves Ahsoka and Shin Tano 4 ABY: 3 ABY: 2 ABY: 1 ABY: 0 ABY: Battle of Yavin, Ahsoka Tano returns to take Sabine Wren under her wing 1 BBY: Rebels S4 End, Ezra Bridger goes to Peridea 2 BBY: Rebels S3 3 BBY: 4 BBY: Rebels S2, Ahsoka Tano 'dies' (returns to this timeline/Malachor upon 1 BBY revival by Ezra Bridger) 5 BBY: Rebels S1 (Fulcrum works with Ghost crew + reveals only Ahsoka Tano, Shin Hati continues to work intel + on the ground BTS with Ahsoka Tano) 6 BBY: 7 BBY: 8 BBY: 9 BBY: Ahsoka Novel End | Ahsoka Tano finds and takes in 7 year old Shin Hati 10 BBY: Ahsoka Novel Start 11 BBY: 12 BBY: 13 BBY: 14 BBY: 15 BBY: 16 BBY: Shin Hati/Tano is Born 17 BBY: 18 BBY: 19 BBY: Order 66 | Ezra Bridger is Born 20 BBY: 21 BBY: Sabine Wren is born 22 BBY: Clone Wars Starts 36 BBY: Ahsoka Tano Born 41 BBY: Anakin Skywalker Born 57 BBY: Obi-Wan Kenobi Born Togruti Translations Yhe'na Det Och'sa - Survive The Stars Viida Ke Aht - Time To Rest

#Shin Tano AU #Shin Hati #Ahsoka Tano #Huyang #Ibaar #Ahsoka Series #Ahsoka Novel #Fanfiction #star wars

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