fox mulder is the character of all time, he's a 6 feet tall little spoon, he's severely traumatized, his two jobs are being no.1 enemy of the state and a professional personal space invader, his ideal date is going ghost busting on christmas eve, he fought nazis in world war 2, he loves spock, he has a porn collection but hasn't been laid in 10 years. he's utterly devoted to his coworker, to whom he proposed multiple times, but waited 7 years to kiss her. He wore said coworker's cross on a date with a hot vampire lady, he punched his boss in the face, he has 2 different fathers, his best friends thought he was a serial killer. he fucked on Sir Arthur conan doyle's grave in college, he is even bisexual.
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i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.
He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.
And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.
And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.
Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.
Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."
There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.
It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.
Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.
At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.
"Do you like to do anything?"
Nothing. Just silence.
Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.
Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.
Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.
And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.
He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.
Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.
So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.
"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"
"Don't."
He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.
Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"
"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."
It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"
The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."
Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."
And they fall back into silence.
Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."
He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.
(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)
At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.
Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.
("Tucker told me once--")
("Tucker?")
("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")
(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)
(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)
It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."
The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."
The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.
When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.
Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.
"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."
When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.
Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.
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So I noticed something in Harrow the Ninth. In chapter two, when John is trying to console Harrow over having lost Gideon, he puts his hands on her shoulders, and he says "Gideon Nav did not die for nothing."
Harrow feels "a hot whistle of pain run down
[her] temporal bone," which is, we know now, Harrow having a stroke as her skull alters her brain so that she hears him say 'Ortus Nigenad' instead. And she replies to him in kind, using Ortus' name. So the interesting bit is John's reaction, look:
He had his hands on her shoulders the whole time. Physical touch negates lyctoral blindness, and she had a stroke while he was touching her. That look on his face. Is he working out an emotionally taxing anagram, or is he taking a good look at her and working out what the hell just happened? Then he says Gideon's name again, like he's running a test, and Harrow has another stroke. That's exactly the same test Mercy performed to figure out what Harrow did to her brain in chapter twenty-nine.
He knows. He's known about the lobotomy since chapter two. He thinks she did it to forget her grief and guilt, and he thinks he understands.
Which means when he 'notices' the lobotomy in this scene:
He's not really noticing it for the first time at all. He's calling attention to it. He's just told Harrow that she didn't open the Tomb, that she's wrong about the events of her own life, and then he deliberately 'discovers' and points out her brain damage to seal the deal.
John Gaius uses: Gaslight! It's super effective.
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hot take but you all NEED to stop telling people to kill themselves.
yes, even *those* people. i don't care if you're talking to some monster who puts live puppies into a wood chipper for fun, don't say that shit.
because mx. puppychipper isn't gonna be affected by your words.
but you know who might be affected? some innocent third party reading the words you said on a public website.
because telling people to kill themselves says "suicide is a punishment for being a bad person. bad people, upon realizing they're bad, should simply commit suicide instead of working to atone for their actions."
and that is NOT a message you wanna be normalizing to anyone, but ESPECIALLY people with depression (who, let's be real, make up a higher than average chunk of this site's userbase). whose mental illness is already telling them that 1: they're an inherently terrible worthless person no matter what they do 2: death is an appealing option.
is reading "kill yourself" once or twice gonna make them do it? nah, probably not. but reading it multiple times a day every day is gonna make their mental health worse. it's probably not good for your mental health to be saying that kind of thing, either.
just knock that shit off. the world is already so hostile to people with mental illness, and managing mental illness and unlearning unhealthy thought patterns is already so difficult. you don't need to be out here making it worse.
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