"It Doesn't Work Like That For Me, I Could Get ARRESTED,"

the crushing guilt of being unproductive vs the exhaustion of being burned out. fight.

Damian was having a very, very bad patrol. A group of cultists had ambushed himself and Nightwing, and kidnapped them both for a ritual. From what Damian had gleaned, it was a summoning ritual for an entity of ice and snow to bring an eternal winter to the unworthy. Or so they said. And also required a blood sacrifice. Which Damian was.

Damian barely registered Nightwing's shouting from the corner where he had been tied up. They had taken him too so the other Bats had less of a lead. This was highly unfortunate, given that the leader was seemingly nearing the end of the ritual, knife hovering over Damian's chest.

Was this how his brother felt? Before he was killed? Not the same, his brother couldn't have known what was happening. But this dread, this anticipation. Was this what his brother had felt? Before he was stabbed through the chest and discarded into a pool of green?

How ironic that Damian was going to be stabbed through the chest. But there would be no pool of green, only red. At least this time his Father would have a body to bury.

The chanting rose along with the knife. Nightwing screamed. Damian kept his eyes open. He would see his demise. He would not look away.

The knife came down and Damian's vision was consumed by black. There was a choked breath and Damian could no longer hear Nightwing.

Dying hurt less that he thought it would. Then the black in his vision shifted. It was... a person. The black-clad back of a person, sitting up and forcing the cultist to stumble back. Had one of his family arrived in time, only to sacrifice themselves for him?

No, none of his family had pure, glowing white hair. Had the ritual been successful? But the sacrifice had not been completed. The person grabbed the knife and pulled it out of their torso.

There was no spurt of blood as there should have been. Instead, the knife gleamed with dripping bright green. The same toxic green as Lazarus water. The being discarded the knife on the ground, ignoring the cultists and their frantic murmuring and Nightwing's renewed shouting.

They turned around and Damian couldn't breath. He had seen pictures of his father when he was younger in the manner. He had seen what his father looked like at Damian's age, as a teenager, and as an adult. This being, with their Lazarus blood and Lazarus green eyes and his father's teenage face smiled at Damian.

"Hi little brother," They said. "Couldn’t let you get sacrificed, now could I? That's my job, y'know,"

(Danny had gone to Clockwork for answers. Danny had gotten answers. Danny had not been happy with those answers. Clockwork had told him that his little brother was about to be ritualistcally sacrificed, and would Danny like to do something about that? Danny very much would. And Danny did. Time to say hello to his alternate dimension extended family.)

DC x DP: The Real Blood Son

It's a year after Damian came to live with them that he decides it is an excellent time to bombard Bruce with his news.

"I had a blood brother." He says to Tim after the other commented how important blood meant to Bruce-ie, not enough to make him get rid of his other sons. "He was the first from the artificial womb mother made with Father's DNA; however, he was disposed of once his heart condition became known. I highly doubt you will last even twice as long Drake-"

"What"

Bruce didn't know that he could make his voice that cold. That dead. What in the world does he mean disposed.

Damian goes still. The kind of still where he isn't sure if he just earned a punishment and is trying not to react to the fear. "My elder brother. Did mother not inform you?"

"Damian," Bruce struggles to level his tone at Dick's hard stare. "She hadn't even informed me of you. Please, can you explain more about your brother."

The youngest nods. "He had no name, but he was my biological brother. He was forced to grow to age of three before they realized he was defective. Grandfather had him sacrificed to the pit."

Jason growls "what do you mean?"

Damian looks confused- as confused as he can with his league training kicking in. "The Lazarus pit is made from the bodies of young virgins. No older then ten. They are sacrificed in exchange for the Infinite Realms' power to sink into the water. The children are not aware of what is happening to them until the very end. They do not suffer."

Bruce feels sick.

They talk a bit more, on how certain followers throughout history were more then happy to offer the great Ra's their own children to renew the pit. How Damain had watched three children when he was seven be sacrifice- it happened every five years- and how the children were given the best week of their lives.

They purposely given the most joy they could feel before the blades to make the Pit as pure as possible. He talked a lot about watching the youngest- five years- be laughing and splashing in the Lazarus water before his mother cut him down, his screams drowning in the green liquid.

"They say the Pit absorbs the last emotion of the sacrifice. Grandfather hopes the children realize the importance and honor they have to be ended for a glorious cause, but occasionally a few are disloyal. When Todd had taken a dip, the previous Renew, had a brilliant girl who figured out what was happening and attempted to escape. She failed, of course, and her arm was amputated in a mission, but she died angry. That's why Todd had such strong madness compared to-!"

"SHUT UP!" Jason roars suddenly, eyes glowing green, and for a brief moment, Bruce swears he hears an undertone of a young girl in his scream "SHUT UP! YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING! YOUR OWN BROTHER IS IN THERE"

Damain scowls "it's a honor. My brother's body was defective. But he at least had aidded in a glorious ritual."

Bruce can't help it; he leans over the BatCave Railing and hurls his dinner. Damian finally realizes that something is wrong.

They host a funeral for his three-year-old son, who died without a name, and place his gravestone next to his parents. They explain to Damian why the Renewal ritual is horrific but Bruce feels it take years before his son can see that.

Jason, went out into Crime Alley to let off some steam and had been going on a rampage against the underbelly of Gotham. He can't find it I'm himself to stop him.

Bruce asks Constantine to come over and do a small ritual, to hopefully unbound his child and let his son soul move on. Constantine warns that with the kid's name it may not work and that they could only free souls they share blood to but the English man tries anyway.

They send his son their prayers, and hopes. And they try to put him to rest.

Across the Infinite Releams to three dimensions to the right of the Wayne's soul resting ritual, The Fenton's adoptived son, Danny Fenton jolts in his English Class.

The strange stabbing scar above his heart- which is why he never takes off his shirt- burns then cools as if someone had tried to place the temperature-changing ointment. He rubs his best, confused.

What was that?

He'll have to check with FrostBite. Maybe his heart condition is acting up again. It happens every five years even though no doctors his parents have taken him to could figure out what it was.

Until Frostbite. The yeti claimed it had something to do with dark arts, but he's unsure what type.

Frostbite is still doing more testing.

"I wish you had lived, brother. I wish I knew you name"

The wind whispers, and Danny feels a flash of deep longing and grief before it's gone. Yeah, he needs to talk to Frostbite.

Danny: I want to Take A Nap, does that count?

"This a diplomatic summoning so be respectful-"

"Yeah, bats, we got it." Flash interrupted him, after all this was the 90th time he repeated it.

Batman huffed and Nightwing, who was there to keep Batman from looking too scary, had to work to keep his laugh inside.

"Okay, let's do this" Constantine mutters and starts the ritual. Which, he might add, was very confusing.

A few minutes later, the circle on the floor starts turning green, a swirly lazarus green pit opens and-

"A kid?" Flash sputters out.

"Wow, that's rude you know, I didn't choose to die looking this way" Said the boy? Ghost. Said the ghost.

Nightwing had to hold back a wince because the ghost looked very much like a mix between all of his siblings, change the hair and eye color and you got them down.

"We, uhm, this is supposed to summon-" Superman starts, with that voice of his that is not meant to be condescending but-

"I do have other forms, but most think it's quite...unsettling. So yes, I am the ghost king, phantom. What do you need" phantom said, sounding quite annoyed. "You were interrupting me you know."

Oh no. The ghost king. Is a.

Moody teenager.

Anybody else love the differences between interesting (complimentary) and interesting (derogatory)?

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

✨️Why thank you.✨️

Sobbing dying and crying about the mustic understanding au. How dare you guys make something cute and interesting.

awww thanksss~ its is quite a fun au!!

i love spinning it around in my brain and giving more scenarios to it.

Im glad to have you sobbing, dying and crying!

@lirabuswavi

Danny keeps on meeting Brucie Wayne at Galas when he goes to keep Sam company. He hates the man. There is no adoption, no adoption jokes, he never meets Batman. Give me Danny Fenton and his unending beef with Brucie Wayne. Bruce finds this absolutely hilarious. This feisty 14 year old is incredibly fun to antagonize.

writing for me only exists in extremes either it's like pulling out each of your teeth with pliers one by one or it's like having to perform an exorcism before it bursts out of your chest and splatters across the page like some newborn beast clawing its way into the light

Jason, showing up in Gotham a month later, ecto-smoothie in hand and Danny clinging on his back: 'Sup.

Batfam: Uh, watcha got there?

Jason: A new little brother. Congrats, B. You're a father. Again.

Johnny hits Jason with his bike ("we were supposed to go through him babe!" "But we didnt!") which knocks Jason unconscious. Kitty sees he's a ghost and is like "its a baby!" gif and refuses to leave him there.

Jason wakes up to the weirdest coddling experience of his (after)life. After many many tries he cannot successfully escape the growing group of concerned ghosts who are doing the coddling

Two days later Batman issues a search for his missing son, becoming more and more distressed when the batfam finds no leads

a special treat for those of us who enjoy watching sam reich torture his friends and/or employees