#Batman (adding to his file): Go on…

[imnotditzy]

What if a Greek Chorus acted like Captain Marvel was the lead of their play?

What if a Greek Chorus chose Captain Marvel as the focus of their narration? This could be due to a magic mess up and now they’re stuck talking about The Champion for a while, but I’d like to think that they’re just extremely bored ghosts of prestigious Chorus members who have nothing better to do. Like all of a sudden they’re just haunting Billy and narrating whatever he’e doing in such a dramatized way.

Context for the post/Brief history lesson:

(Shortened version: A Greek Chorus is a group of people who act almost like narrators, speaking about the main elements or the takeaways throughout a play. They spoke in unison to carry their voices better. They had multiple ways to communicate the takeaways, this post focuses on speech and body movement.)

(Example)

*A media example are the muses from Disney’s Hercules. (Except the members of the Greek Choir don’t sing.)

—-

History lesson, done! Now onto the post.

—

Billy: sits down on his old mattress

Chorus: The young boy strew himself along as he perched upon his withered bed. The pesky jabs of fatigue and exhaustion’s claws bore at the young one as his body ceased to relent its constant shivers. 😔

(A few of the ghosts have their hands on their foreheads like they’re about to faint, the rest are shivering like they’re a moment away from hypothermia.) Billy: I’m not even that tired, and my bed is fine???

Chorus (puts hands on their unbeating hearts): To appreciate sanity at mind, the poor youngling deluded himself. Choosing to experience the world in a more gentle perception than what has been given to him. Billy: Oh knock it off!

—

(Captain Marvel/Billy saves a cat out of a tree.)

Billy: …Did I lose them?

(The Chorus pokes theirs heads out from behind the tree)

Billy (clutching his pearls): Gah!

Chorus: In a swift moment of honorable heart, The Champion draws the feeble cat, and all of its quivering self, out of the tall and winding Maple. The daint kitten’s form consumed by the engulfing man, forgoes its fear as it slows stills in warmth.

Billy: That was so NOT cool!

(Random citizens watching Captain Marvel get spooked at absolutely nothing and hearing the echo of a group of ominous voices): Hm. Seems like the Captain’s schizophrenia has gotten worse. It’s materializing now.

—

Imagine during this catastrophe there’s a meeting at the Watchtower. Billy begging his pantheon to do something and their just like…

Atlas: Sorry Billy, there’s nothing more we can do.

Zeus: Shut up Atlas, you know no more than a grapefruit. But also there’s nothing more we can do, Billy.

Heracles: Do not fret however, this is very typical for beloved heroes!

Achilles: Yes, besides the ghost ordeal and the obvious-continuous stalking, this is very common.

Billy (growing more distressed): Not very comforting…

[cottagecore-moss-king]

Not so Artificial Intelligence Part 2

When Bruce finally managed to get the time to look at the file Danny had added to the bat computer, it was almost patrol, and the rest of the family was filling in to get ready to head out. Even Jason had shown up, but that was probably just because he was bribed by Alfred with leftovers from dinner. Bruce couldn’t really blame him, Alfred’s food was the best in the world, but he does wish that he would show up more often just to hang out with him and his siblings.

Bruce sat in the bat-chair, graciously labeled with a sticker from a recent prank by Stephanie. She had gone around and labeled everything in the bat cave, but added the bat suffix in front. It had taken forever to find most of them, but he allowed some of them to remain. 

Finding the new folder was easy, it was labeled FROM DANNY, and left in the middle of the screen. Clicking it open and sipping his fresh coffee he glanced at the first document. The folder was full of notes, pictures and videos, but all of the previews were white, green, or black. 

Bruce started to read through the document, and chocked on his coffee at the contents.

Hello Batman and family, I hope this reached you before they do. I didn’t bring this up just incase you knew and were supportive, but how you act and how contaminated you are I will assume you do not. There is a Government Law that declares any being that has come into contact with enough or creates ectoplasm as non-sentient and non-sapient, but at the same time malicious {Abbreviated the AEA}. We are to be turned over to the GIW to be experiment upon and exterminated. This is literal torture, and I have gathered as much evidence as me and my friends could without being caught. I beg you, please be careful if you decide to take these people down. From what is on here, I think that Lazarus Water is a form of corrupted ectoplasm. Also, anyone who has died and come back to life no matter what are counted, and anyone with godly blood within them. Please Please, save us. My parents are the leading “scientists” which is bullshit, and they’ve already tied me down once. I can’t go through that again. Please, Amity and the Infinite Realms need help. If you don’t help us, I’m scared we may be forced to go to war, and I don’t think you can win against the godly dead. 

Please, I’m begging you - Danny Fenton {King Phantom}

“You good B?” Nightwing asked strolling over casually. He didn’t know how to answer, how was he supposed to say ‘Oh yeah, just found out that the government calls us non-sentient\sapient, and we are to be experimented and slaughtered. Also if we don’t stop them our worlds probably going to fall and we’re all going to die a painful death.’ That’s a fun conversation to have.

Clearing his throat he finally spoke up. 

“Red Robin, Oracle, I need you to help me sort through these, Nightwing, get the Justice league ready for an emergency meeting, call the Dark too. Look at this.”

“Are we sure it’s real though? It could be a prank,” muttered Oracle, though even she doubted her words.

“Even so, the threat is there and we should certainly look through this, and that means the League needs to know.”

Batman carefully mourned the loss of a peaceful evening, and his coffee, he was going to need to leave that at the cave, he had an image to keep. 

Nightwing wasn’t smiling anymore, Robin looked concerned, and Red Hood was openly gawking at the screen.

“I’ve called the emergency meeting, you three sort these files out, I’m calling up the JLD now. Guess we should warn Constantine to bring a couple extra bottles huh.” His joke fell flat, but Bruce wonders if he should bring some alcohol and coffee with him, image be dammed. 

“Wait a second, godly blood included? They fuckn’ shittin’ on Diana!”

“That’s what your concerned about Todd? Not that the we both fall under these parameters, along with Father and the rest of the collection? I will go fetch Thomas from his chambers, he will need to suit up to follow us to the watchtower.”

“Good idea Damian, tell him to hurry up. Everyone else, in the Zeta Tube, Alfred, you can stay here if you want.” Bruce gathered his laptop and moved the file over, copying and sending it to Tims laptop as well. 

“Thank you master Bruce, I will wait for the younger masters then I will be up shortly. Run along now.” Alfred excused with a bow, but even his face was shadowed in worry and thinly veiled anger. 

“See you in a bit Alf.” Dick replied, inputting directions to the watchtower in and doing a quick headcount. 

With a flash, the dark gloomy cave was replaced by fluorescent lights and the steel infrastructure of the watchtower. Hopping off the platform another flash of light appeared, and Aquaman stepped out. The group filled out as Aquaman politely greeted them. Making their way to the nearest meeting room, Batman and Red Robin began to set things up as the gathered heroes began to sit. 

“Hey Nightwing, what’s with the meeting, you never call for an emergency meeting, Blüd rarely has big threats.” Flash mentioned as he zoomed into the meeting room, last as always, and began to dig into his waffle plate. Where he got waffles from, Bruce didn’t want to know, they weren’t serving waffles in the cafeteria today, or yesterday from leftovers. 

“This isn’t just Blüdhaven, it’s all of the united States.” He worried, checking over one final time to make sure everyone was here. A collection of the main heroes from the Justice League, they’d need to figure out who counted as ecto-contaminated before throwing people around, and Constantine, Zatanna, and Deadman were gathered to represent Justice League Dark. At least he assumed Deadman was there, as a chair was pulled out and labeled for him. At least they wouldn’t have to race to find him, they could tell him just to stay up in the watchtower if things got bad. Finally, Robin and Signal rushed in, signal tiredly rubbing his eyes and his helmet in Agent A’s hands. 

“As some of you know, a person got stuck in the batcomputer a couple months ago. And was only recently released.” Murmurs and imputed questions rose around, and Nightwing promptly ignored them. 

“They left behind a file for us, and we were looking through it and discovered many hidden crimes from the US government. They have taken and labeled a whole species and group of people as non-sentient and non-sapient, and have been experimenting and committing genocide on them.” Again, a chorus of questions and yelling went up, and Nightwing had to take a moment to pause. A glance at Martian Manhunter reviled a stone cold face, quietly waiting for more information. 

“Oh god… what is this?” 

[bonchobrick]

So I’ve seen some posts going around about a ‘Bruce adopts Danny and everyone thinks they’ll finally have a normal family member—Danny is very not normal’ and here’s my late night take on it.

Or

Danny batfam au where they batfam tries really hard to keep their vigilante ass-kicking nightlife a secret from danny because he is ‘the only normal one in the family’ this becomes a problem however when danny gets kidnapped.

——-

The batfam all work together in a deeply serious family meeting to save their boy. After hours of combining their brains together they come up with a plan that will effectively save danny from joker, kick joker’s ass, and also make them look really cool while doing it.

So they bust in that warehouse, guns blazing, explosions fading in the background, a gust of dramatic dust covers the air

Batman steps infront of the rest of the team and demands to the blurry figure somewhere in the distance, “Where is Danny!”

The dust clears–they expect bad guys pointing weapons meancingly at them, they expect a cackle of a wicked clown amused at whatever plot he had planned coming to life, they expected a terrified boy perhaps tied somewhere likely siting in a chair that joker could present to the bats as a way of taunting them.

The dust settles–they observed their surroundings looking around and realize that, there are few new facts to be added into this ‘defeat the villain, get the bro, happy ending equation’

There is decidedly no weapons being pointed at them: In fact, all of the henchmen are already knocked out and tied up.

There is decidedly no evil laughs being echoed their way: In fact, the only noise that isnt coming from them is a light scritch scratch of a pencil

And there is decidedly no terrified little boy, there is a Danny however and he seems to be doing alright–actually scratch that.

Danny is doing wonders for the situation he’s in right now: In fact–

–Danny is sitting criss cross applesauce on-top a knocked out tied up Joker doing his algebra homework

The small blue eyed boy looks up at Batman's voice and visibly brightens, “Oh hey guys, I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jason says with the utmost of comprehension, “...what.”

“So hi, I’m kinda new to gotham so sorry about beating these guys up, I think they’re villains? I dunno, anyways if you could take care of these guys while I call an uber home that’d be great.”

Danny sends them a blinding smile which would've been adorable if there weren’t a massive pile of bodies he were casually walking away from.

As Danny nears the exit he looks over his shoulder to the baffled group of vigilantes and blinks

“Oh yeah one last thing,” Danny rubs the back of his neck nervously, “Could you guys not tell the Waynes about this.”

Damian speaks up for the rest of his frozen family, albeit hesitantly, “I do think they have already been alerted of your kidnapping.”

“Oh no that's fine.” Danny starts nervously, “It's more about me being the… fighter… in this situation. I was just adopted by them and they seem really nice, I don’t want to scare them away being all grrrr im a scary monster boy and i love to hurt people argh.”

“I don’t think they’d think you're a monster.” Tim adds quietly

“Eh, tell that to my birth parents–they went psycho on me. Like evil scientist psycho, it was not as awesome as the movies make it sound, having scientists for parents.” Danny says bittersweet as he admits with a shrug

There is a moment of silence as the batfamily reevaluate the adoption file that states Danny’s family before they passed were very good people–albeit a bit excentric.

Dick blurts out, “Where did you learn to fight?”

Danny sends him an anxious chuckle, “I actually started when I was fourteen–my town always ran into some trouble so I had to step up. It’s part of the reason I moved here actually. I really don’t want anything to do with that hero vigilante life anymore…” The boy puts his hands together in a pleading motion, “So please don’t tell The Waynes!”

Bewildered at the situation as a whole they nod in a daze

The boys eyes widen at their easy agreement and he grins, “Thank you so so much! I’ve got to go now, it’s way past my curfew. but you’ll probably see me again next time I get kidnapped–I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you guys with my family bye!”

And just like that Danny slips off into the night leaving behind a family who were so sure they finally found a normal addition to their pack.

Jason sighs looking forlornly at the spot Danny had previously been standing, “You could just never pick the just semi-mentally healthy normal kids could you?”

Bruce groans pinching his the bridge of his nose

[luludeluluramblings]

Bruce Wayne's Obsession with Smalltown!Reader - Revised

A/N: I honestly have no idea where this came from. I just wanted to revise it and then I spiraled. I'm just trying to keep the creative juices flowing and attempted to add dialogue. Next thing I know, I wrote this. Maybe it's the on coming fall? Fall is my time of year. Still might make some more revisions to this and other's. Especially if I keep putting off the main story.

A/N: Consider this a test of me adding more lore to Reader. It'll help Smalltown make sense when we get there in the next two parts. Or, at least I hope it will.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Link to Original

Yandere Type: Platonic Father

Reader’s Momma is Adeline

Reader’s step-father, Daddy, is Samuel

Bruce was obsessed with Reader as soon as he saw the little bitty picture of them in that tiny hospital crib. And, for a while, that single picture was all he had of them. 

Imagine the surprise he felt to come back for a six month long mission off planet to find out that the brief relationship he had with a woman from outside of Gotham had produced something. 

He’ll admit, he hadn’t been that careful with Adeline. She was a gorgeous and charming woman, with just a hint of a wild side. She had been just a bit too sweet for his taste. Sweet enough he wasn’t too concerned about any lasting consequences. She had been quite understanding when he had ended things. Perhaps a bit too understanding. 

He had to find out through court papers that sweet Adeline had actually been more his type than he expected. Bruce didn’t expect her to even have a bitter side. But, apparently, she could be petty and spiteful, and had some damn good lawyers. 

Bruce hadn’t expected to get Adeline pregnant. He understands how it happened, and he made sure to lecture both Jason and Dick about being cautious after the whole ordeal, but he hadn’t expected it. And, he most certainly hadn’t expected Adeline to keep the whole thing under wraps before filing for full custody with no child support or visitation. 

To say Bruce was pissed was an understatement. The Wayne lawyers had dropped the ball on this matter, and subsequently been fired. They had wrongly assumed this was some revenge publicity stunt, and that Reader probably wasn’t his. 

But, he saw that little picture. That sweet face laying in the hospital cradle. Those were his mother’s eyes on that little baby. His mother’s eyes. 

Of course, Bruce tried to do damage control. Claiming he hadn’t known about the court date (which was true). But, Adeline had some damn good lawyers and had made sure to do all the court procedures out of state and out of his circle of influence. 

He did manage to get one thing. The DNA test. Not because he doubted that Reader wasn’t his. But, so Adeline couldn’t win completely. She could remarry. She could leave the birth certificate blank. She could fill their child’s head with lies about him. But, that child was his. His baby. 

Naturally, the results came back with absolute certainty. Reader was his. And, he had to fight himself to not drag Adeline back to court. 

Hell, he had debated on proposing to her. Forcing her to marry him. He was willing. Adeline was sweet and gentle, and this side of her, despite how much it was pissing him off, was quite attractive. The pettiness, the cunning, the protectiveness, weren’t exactly turn offs for him. 

Luckily, Alfred had pointed out to him that he was being irrational. Sure, it wouldn’t have been the worst idea he had, but Bruce wasn’t going to give up being Batman. Not at this time. Not yet. 

Would he really be able to handle a newborn and a pissed off wife on top of Gotham’s crime? What if something happened to them in Gotham? What if history repeats itself once more? 

Reasonable and both unreasonable questions. 

That being stated, Bruce concluded it would be best to let Reader grow up outside of Gotham. He couldn’t give up being Batman for them, but he could at least let them grow up without Gotham’s smog sinking into their bones and marrow. 

Not to say Bruce didn’t just let Reader linger in the back of his mind as a spare thought. He thought about them often. But, he was always careful. 

His enemies grew bolder and more numerous every year. 

Bruce had resigned himself to one day a year to dedicate all his time to checking on Reader. One day where he would hack anything and everything for information about his child. Adeline’s phone and social media for pictures of Reader. Milestone updates for Reader’s pediatrician. Preschool footage to see his child toddle around and make friends. Researching those friends and their parents to make sure his child was safe. One single day a year.

He nearly lost it when he found out Adeline had met another man and introduced him to Reader. It enraged him further to see the wedding pictures. To see this man holding his child in his arms with such a loving smile and pressing a kiss to their cheek while holding Adeline in his arms. 

He had done background check after background check into this man, Samuel. As much as Batman and Bruce Wayne could without arousing suspicion. 

And, he was clean. A good ol’ boy. Focused on family and minding his business. And, he was good at business.

Samuel owned a massive regional construction company. Not as wealthy nor diverse as Wayne Enterprises, but stable and steady. He had a secure income, not a negative thing written about him ever. In fact, if Bruce had met the man under different circumstances he probably would appreciate Samuel’s practicality. 

But, his first introduction to this man was from watching a video that Adeline had filmed of Reader having a birthday party. Of Reader making a wish, blowing out the candles on their birthday cake. 

“What did you wish for, baby?” He could hear Adeline’s voice in his mind. A warm loving voice that was the prelude to his heartbreaking. 

“I wanna little brother!” Bruce watches as a sweet grin forms on a frosting covered face, every time. He’s watched this video over and over. Memorizing the words. Memorizing the smile. Memorizing the sprinkles on the half eaten cake.

“Oh? What if you get a little sister?” 

“Nah, it’ll be a brother. I know it.”

“And, how do you know it, sweetpea?”

“Cause last year I wished for a Daddy and now I got one.” 

Those words are what breaks Bruce every time. Every single time. 

It should have been him being called that.

That was his child. That was his baby. He loves them. He’s done so much to keep his distance. To keep them safe. 

Now, he’s resigned to watch as another man treasures his most precious thing. Probably the only innocent thing that will ever come from his existence. 

Alfred had a hard time convincing him that this was for the best. That he needed to let it go. 

Until now, he had accepted that it was necessary. Gotham needs Batman. For a moment he was ready to give it up.

But, then Jason died. (Temporarily.) Something broke when that happened. Bruce realized if Gotham could take Jason, it would’ve taken Reader, too. 

So, even though he hates it. Even though he is so bitterly jealous of Samuel, living a peaceful life with his child. Even though he would do almost anything to hear his child call him Daddy. He keeps being Batman. 

He has to at this point. Gotham took his family, and he won’t let it take anymore. Not ever again.

[axstoria]

Clark Kent taking his boyfriend out ice skating at a local winter fair in Smallville, not expecting the billionaire to know how to stand on his own two feet on the ice.

Now, of course, he forgot that said boyfriend is Bruce Wayne, of all people. The Batman.

The Batman who can do literally anything just by watching something once.

So, while Clark is still lacing up his skates, chattering along, Bruce's gaze is focused on couples and families as they glide along the ice, taking in each moment and stride, filing it away in his mind.

He already knows how to skate—having fought Mr. Freeze so often that he actually added retractable blades to his suit—, so he shouldn't be this observant of the other people.

Clark stands up, a boyish grin on his face as he takes Bruce's hand and drags him out onto the ice, carefully steadying his poor human mate to make sure he doesn't fall.

Bruce just waves off his worry and skates away like a damn figure skater, finding an empty space and happily twirling.

Showoff.

Clark catches up with a frown, grumbling something along the lines of, "You didn't tell me you knew how to skate!"

"A man never tells all his tricks," Bruce teases back, looping his arm with Clark's, and they begin to make lazy laps around the rink like everyone else.

An hour and a half later, both are nursing warm hot chocolate to their chests, taking small sips. The beat doesn't bother Clark's tongue, but he drinks only when Bruce does, not wanting to seem glutton.

They toss the cups in the recycling after they are done, opting to wander around the several stalls set up along the streets.

When Clark shows interest in something, Bruce is already handing over cash, not even bothering to check the price tag. Anything for his love.

Clark objects stubbornly, but eventually snatches up the bags, upset that Bruce was carrying things in his presence.

They find a bench to sit on that is further away from the crowd, Clark tucked against Bruce's side, a light purr coming from his throat as the billionaire scratches his hair mindlessly.

"Now since I went to the fair with you..."

"I'm not going to a gala." Clark's voice is low and there is a hint of hesitation to it. "I report, that's all."

"Alright, alright. I guess I can't force you. Though, once we're married, it's going to happen."

Clark mutters some kind of brush-off statement, wrapping a thick arm around his boyfriend, bumping their skulls together as he happily purrs.

"I'm gonna get you rocks."

"Rocks?"

"Mhm. From whatever planet you want. I'll make you diamonds if you want them."

"That's nice, Clark. What for?"

"Our wedding. Humans give each other rocks, right?"

"Mhm."

"Kryptonians do, too."

"That's nice."

"I'm gonna get you a sapphire. Like your eyes."

"Okay, Clark."

"I love you."

Bruce pauses, a little sigh escaping him—he really did have to pick a hyperactive one, didn't he?— before he replies softly, "I love you, too."

[brucewaynehater101]

I had an AU, that at this point is more of a headcanon for me, that I thought you might enjoy because it's a nice mix of angst, Tim not thinking things are as bad as they very clearly are, and some fluff.

So it's pretty widely accepted that the Bats don't really know anything about Tim's days with Young Justice right? Like they might know one or two small facts, but they don't know that the gang blew up Mount Rushmore, any of the times the DEO tried to arrest them and drag them into Government Labs for experimentation, or that time they went to a Disco Themed Hell with Supergirl. They sure as hell don't know about any of the things that happened with Secret and Harm. Even though Tim would canonically be gone for days at a time (some of his adventures, mainly the one when they were gone for THE ENTIRE WINTER OLYMPICS) with no one noticing. One time they were in space and had enough time to not only go to Darksied's planet but spent WEEKS there and when they got back still not even Batman knows that Tim was even gone.

Anyways, all this to say. If Tim vanished for a month or two and just said he was spending time with Young Justice again while sending in case files and stuff to keep Bruce busy, I don't think anyone would notice. Nor would they notice if he suddenly switched from being Right Handed to being Left Handed and then after months of practice he goes back to being right handed. It's such a small change after all.

So here's the headcanon. On a Young Justice mission, something goes horribly wrong and Tim full on looses his hand. It's simply gone. The reason no one knows or notices is that he got a robotic replacement, a very realistic looking one like Roy Harper has, that he spent a few months learning how to work with and then went to physical therapy for it for years. It's just part of his life now and he thinks everyone knows, after all. How could they miss it? Jason has seen his palm open with a screw driver deep in his wires. Jason thought he was still tripping from fighting Scarecrow a few hours before. Not a single person outside of Cassie, Tim, Kon, Bart, Greta, Anita, Slobo, and Cissie knows that Tim is missing his right arm just below his elbow for almost 5 years.

That is until Tim has been up for 4 days straight and Dick says something about needing a hand with something and in a moment of sleep deprived brilliance, Tim takes off his hand, and throws it at Dick.

Yes! I love this AU/hc. There is a fic that kind of has this situation: "I told you about that... Didn't I?" by weewoow_070603. Jason is the one to find out, though.

I like the details you added in this AU that the fic (as far as I remember) didn't add: Tim being gone is a regular thing, the fear toxin with Jason, the months of physical therapy, etc.

I do think something as vital as this would happen to Tim, and he'd just forget to tell his family. At first, he tries to hide it. He doesn't want to deal with their fretting, the lectures, the scolding, and them getting involved. He has it handled, after all. After a while, he forgets that he should hide it and why he did in the first place. Then someone finds out, and he's confused why they don't know such a common place thing.

I'm also super glad you tied in all those YJ examples that you did. People tend to focus on the space baseball or Santa Clause (which I love those events too), so it was refreshing to see other events as examples.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

one free one

"How is Batman?" Starfire asked, looking out the window of her bedroom. The phone pinned between her shoulder and her ear as she inspected her nails.

"Awake and on the warpath, how else, Star?" Dick snorted. "But- this is a nice little bit of comeuppance."

"How?"

"The only person he really ever fucked over is back. And now she knows the truth- the whole truth. Not just the parts he wanted her to know. And I don't think he ever counted on it."

"Are you frightened?" she asked.

Dick smiled a little at the worry in her tone, "No. Not of her. Even if she's playing a long game, she wouldn't want any of us dead. Or hurt. But she's gonna fuck with us- mostly Batman for a while. I'd swear to it."

"She sounds dangerous, Dick," she warned. "Be cautious-"

"If she's like the woman I remember at all, if it is who I think it is, our biggest danger is Batman getting his feeings hurt.

____________________________

Bruce watched the airport security footage and frowned.

It was quiet. Somone knew who he was. And yet. There were no demands. Not one. So what was the point? They'd saved him. A criminal would have seized the opportunity. Even a citizen might have if-

He dismissed the thought shaking his head.

And again reviewed the evidence. He'd been hidden, but Dick had been able to find him. Stitches- done in a hurry but not rushed. Steady hands. The cowl was left, not taken as a trophy. Placed. Almost like a taunt. He remembered the fights before.

He remembered collapsing.

But he didn't remember who was the one who found him.

"Master Bruce," Alfred sighed, "you haven't left the study all day."

"We're at risk of exposure, Alfred," Bruce said looking up from his files. "If that happens-"

"It may not be that dire," Alfred mused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you haven't heard?" he hummed, "Miss Y/N called. She told me she's on her way home."

"Y/N?" Bruce demanded. "Alfred I told you-"

"Come now, Master Bruce," Alfred tutted, "Your little falling out was ages ago. Surely afterall this time-"

"Absolutely not! Not now! If she sets foot in this house-"

"Very well sir," Alfred said, "No need to yell." Or stomp your foot, Alfred added silently. He didn't know WHAT that argument had been about all those years ago- but he did know that one way or another, Bruce was going to apologize. No one who was blameless acted LIKE THAT.

[lady-ace]

FIC WIP BE UPON THEE

(Captain Marvel x Pokémon, which i'm planning on putting on AO3 once i'm done with like, 5 chapters or so. This is the WIP of the first chapter.)

Captain Marvel is the brand new Fawcett hero. The man simply showed up one day, and started helping the community, be it with fighting crime or the most mundane things, like helping children find their parents when lost or help a person cross the street. He wasn’t as famous as Batman or Superman, and he even doubted he’d even been heard of outside of Fawcett. He was still very new, after all.

When flying around on patrol, Captain Marvel and Tawny — Who was on the ground, following along — spotted two men cornering an elderly woman in an alley, knives in hand, poised to attack.

“Pass em’, grandma!” One of them ordered, bringing the knife closer to her threateningly. “Give us the necklace and no one gets hurt!” The other thug exclaims, getting closer to rip the necklace off the lady’s neck altogether.

“No, please!” The senior pleaded, “It was a gift from my grandson!” She added, clutching her necklace close to her protectively, clearly close to tears and panic evident on her voice.

Marvel looked at Tawny as the Raikou growled and went into the alley, passing and startling the robbers as he stood in defense of the lady, growls coming out like crackles of thunder, loud against the silence of the alley.

“Shit!” the first thug yelped in surprise, “Is that the hero Raikou?!” the second one asked, taking a step back in fear of the large feline in front of him. “I thought it was a myth!”

Captain Marvel slowly floated down to land alongside Tawny, standing tall and opposing the two criminals, who were looking ready to bolt, shaking hands reaching to the Pokéballs on their belts.

“Tawny,” The hero called, nodding at the Pokémon, “Electroweb.”

At the command, electricity charged all around the legendary Pokémon, surging forwards as two webs that wrapped around the two criminals, shocking them to make them drop their weapons, before staying dormant, only serving to keep them both still.

After checking on the restrained criminals, Marvel turned to Tawny. “Good job!” he smiled, petting the Pokémon’s head, who trilled back proudly at the praise, happy with his work well done.

After the brief congratulations and pets, Marvel turned around to check on the elderly woman. 

“Thank you, thank you! This necklace is oh so dear to me, I can't bear to even think of losing it.” The senior babbled, voice full of relief and a big smile upon her face.

The Captain smiled back at her, “No need to thank me, Ma’am. I’m just glad you’re safe.” he responded, before being lightly headbutted by his partner Pokémon, trying to get his attention.

“Yes?” he asked, confused, as the pokémon walked to the thugs restrained on the ground, referencing them, their fallen weapons and Pokéballs with a paw. Realization dawned on the champion, “Oh! Them! Right, right.” he noted.

“Ma’am, I need to go deliver those men to the police. Stay safe, alright?” at her nod, he grabbed both restrained thugs, still struggling in the electric webs, and took flight, being mindful of the Pokéballs still on them. He absentmindedly noted that Tawny took both of the dropped knives before he followed him. 

──────────────────────────

Today was a calm day in the Justice League watchtower. Batman was researching some cases and compiling files, with his Noivern by his side, while Flash’s Jolteon raced by, chasing Green Lantern’s Reuniclus.

The Jolteon, happily yipping after the other Pokémon, stopped once they both reached the recreation room. The large TV was on, displaying the news.

“Hello, good morning, Reporter Jessica speaking, reporting from Fawcett city.” the reporter started. Behind her was a large person who was talking to the police. The person didn’t seem thrilled at all to be talking to them. “This morning a criminal duo was apprehended by Captain Marvel, the newest Fawcett hero.” She said, stepping aside and letting the camera focus on the tall person — Presumably, Captain Marvel — talking to the officers. She moved again, the camera focus going right back at her. 

“We are hoping to get an exclusive interview with him, and get more information on the crime.” Jessica says pointedly. She was not too close to where Marvel and the officers stood, but with the subtle raise of her voice, it was obvious she was heard. Especially when the Captain seemed to beam out of nowhere, saying rushed goodbyes to the officers, waiting patiently as the news crew moved in.

“Hello, Captain Marvel. Could you explain to us what happened earlier today?” The reporter politely asked, raising her microphone near the hero. He seemed somewhat relieved, or more accurately, less on edge talking to the curious reporter and cameraman than he was talking to the officers.

“Of course!” The hero said with a bright smile. The news banner silently changed from ‘EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH NEW FAWCETT HERO AND LEGENDARY PARTNER’ to a blank banner. “While on patrol today, me and Raikou,” Upon being mentioned, a Raikou showed up, who was previously out of the camera’s view. The hero seemed surprised too, “Oh, hi.” He cut himself off briefly to greet his Pokémon, who simply let out a chirp at the camera. “As I was saying, me and Raikou were on patrol when those two,” Marvel pointed behind him. The camera follows where he points, ending up on the two criminals, handcuffed and inside the back of a police car. “Decided to try and rob an old lady.” 

The reporter feigned a gasp, and proceeded to ask more questions, some very unrelated to the matter at hand. —“Could you tell us if you’re Kryptonian, Marvel?” and “Were there Raikou on your planet?” couldn’t have anything to do with an older lady getting saved from two robbers, after all—The TV channel’s banner now read “NEW FAWCETT HERO SAVES OLD LADY FROM ARMED ROBBERY, NEW SUPERMAN?”.

While the Pokémon watched, mesmerized by the seemingly random appearance of a legendary Pokémon — A caught one! Can you believe it? — on live TV.

The Jolteon and the Reuniclus started chattering to each other back and forth, communicating with wobbles and barks. The excited Pokémon chatter attracted Noivern’s attention a room away, who went to check it out.

Upon arrival, and seeing what all the noise was about, Noivern quickly returned to Batman, the normally quiet and composed Pokémon suddenly chirping rather loudly to get the man’s attention.

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

smoke + shadows

Summary: Marie gets kidnapped + Bruce does everything in his power to find her.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f! original character

Word count: 11k

Chapter List

The soft glow of morning filtered through the massive windows of Wayne Manor, casting golden streaks across the sprawling bedroom. The air smelled like clean linen and Bruce—the warmth of his skin, the faint scent of cedar and something undeniably him.

Marie lay nestled against his chest, her fingers absently tracing patterns over his bare skin. His arm was draped around her, holding her close, as if even in sleep, he refused to let her go.

The room itself was breathtaking. High, vaulted ceilings stretched above them, dark wooden beams adding to the rich, old-world charm. The massive four-poster bed they lay in was draped with sheets softer than anything Marie had ever slept on, the deep navy comforter a stark contrast to the crisp white pillows.

A fireplace sat along the far wall, the stone mantle adorned with a few personal items—a watch, a book Bruce had been meaning to read, a small, framed photograph of his parents, and a Polaroid of Marie. It wasn’t anything staged or glamorous. Just a simple snapshot—Marie laughing, slightly out of focus, her blonde hair a mess, her eyes full of mischief. She’d taken it herself, playing around with one of Bruce’s old cameras, and he had kept it, right there among the things that mattered most.

Despite its size, the room felt intimate, wrapped in the quiet warmth of morning.

She sighed contentedly, pressing a lazy kiss against his collarbone. “I like this,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

Bruce’s lips curved against her hair. “Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, his voice rough from the morning. “Me too.”

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze—those impossibly blue eyes, still heavy with sleep but filled with something softer, something reserved just for her. She kissed him then, slow and lingering, savoring the way he melted into it.

His fingers skimmed down her spine, sending a shiver through her as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world.

Then—

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath, his body tensing beneath her. A quiet groan slipped past his lips.

Marie pulled back immediately, concern flashing in her eyes. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly, shifting slightly beneath her.

Her gaze narrowed. “Bruce.”

He sighed, knowing he was caught. “It’s nothing serious,” he admitted. “Just a… minor disagreement with a mobster and a steel pipe last night.”

Marie propped herself up on her elbow, gently running her hand over his ribs, her fingers ghosting over the tender spot that made him wince. “Minor, huh?”

Bruce smirked. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not the flex you think it is.” She gave him a pointed look before pressing a feather-light kiss to the injury. “You work yourself too hard.”

His hand slid into her hair, tugging her gaze back to his. “And you don’t?”

Marie huffed, knowing he wasn’t wrong.

“You’re out there every night,” she murmured, her fingertips trailing along his jaw. “And still, you’re here. You take care of this city in ways no one else ever could. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Bruce’s expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You love everything about me.” His voice was teasing, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the playfulness.

Marie rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “Almost everything.”

Bruce hummed. “I’m just the night shift. You deal with Gotham all the time. I think that means you do more than me.”

Marie snorted. “Oh, please. You’re out there getting into fights with steel pipes. I just shuffle through case files and question guys who think they’re smarter than me.”

He smirked, tracing his fingers along her arm. “I know better than to try that.”

“Smart man,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss him again.

Bruce pulled her closer, his lips moving against hers with an urgency that made her stomach flip. She could stay like this forever, tangled up in him, in the warmth of the sheets and the way he made her feel like the safest place in Gotham was right here.

But reality was waiting.

Marie groaned as she reluctantly pulled away. “I have to get ready. My shift starts soon.”

Bruce exhaled dramatically, rolling onto his back, one arm still lazily draped over her waist. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I.” She kissed his cheek before slipping out of bed, stretching as she padded across the room.

Bruce watched her, his gaze dark and lazy with admiration.

Marie disappeared into his massive bathroom, flicking on the light. The space was unnecessarily large, all sleek marble and glass, with a shower big enough to fit five people.

She turned on the sink, reaching for her toothbrush—

And then Bruce was behind her.

His arms wrapped around her waist, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck.

Marie sighed, tilting her head to the side as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against her skin. “Bruce,” she warned, but there was no real conviction in it.

“You sure you have to go in?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing. His hands slid over her hips, pulling her back against him.

She swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the sink. “Mmm-hmm.”

Bruce kissed her again, just below her ear, and her resolve wavered.

“You could stay,” he suggested, his lips skimming over her shoulder. “Call in sick. Say you’re dealing with a personal emergency.”

Marie met his gaze in the mirror, arching a brow. “And what’s the emergency?”

Bruce smirked, his fingers trailing beneath the hem of her shirt. “Me.”

Marie laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “You are so damn cocky.”

Bruce just grinned, dipping down to steal another kiss. “You love that too.”

She sighed against his lips, her fingers curling into his hair. God, she really did.

But she was already running late.

With monumental effort, she pulled away, pressing one last lingering kiss to his lips before stepping out of his grasp. “I really do have to go.”

Bruce sighed, watching her with an almost amused resignation. “Fine. But I’m picking you up later.”

Marie smirked, grabbing her detective’s badge off the counter. “We’ll see about that, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce just watched her go, shaking his head as she disappeared out the door.

Yeah. He was definitely picking her up later.

///

The Gotham City Police Department was already alive with chaos by the time Marie stepped into the precinct, the scent of burnt coffee and cheap cologne lingering in the air. Phones rang, detectives shouted across desks, and officers moved with purpose—a usual morning at the GCPD.

Marie adjusted her badge, pushing back the lingering warmth of Bruce’s touch still ghosting over her skin. She’d barely sat down at her desk when Gordon’s gruff voice called from his office.

“Manning. My office.”

Sighing, she grabbed her notepad and headed inside, closing the door behind her.

Gordon stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on his nose as he rubbed his temple. A half-empty cup of coffee sat next to a thick file with a red URGENT stamp across it. Marie knew that look. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

“Black Mask escaped from Blackgate last night,” he said without preamble, looking up at her.

Marie felt her stomach drop. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Gordon muttered. “Security footage is useless. Looks like he had inside help—cameras were disabled before he even made it out of his cell. He killed three guards on the way out, execution-style. Quick, efficient. No hesitation.”

Marie clenched her jaw. “That’s his M.O.”

“Exactly.” Gordon opened the file, flipping through grainy surveillance photos. “Word on the street is he’s already making moves, but we don’t know what. No one's seen him, no one's talking—except one guy.”

He slid a paper toward her—a mugshot of a wiry man with hollowed-out cheeks and a scar cutting through his eyebrow.

“Charlie Vitti,” Gordon continued. “Low-level weapons dealer. He’s got ties to Black Mask’s operation but never had enough clout to make himself useful. A couple of our guys picked him up last night on an unrelated charge—some bar fight over in the East End. He’s in holding, but he’s spooked. Real spooked. Said Black Mask is planning something big, but he won’t talk to just anyone.”

Marie exhaled sharply. “You want me to handle it?”

“I want you to get him to talk,” Gordon corrected. “And I’m not sending you alone.”

Marie arched a brow. “Who’s my babysitter?”

“Bullock.”

She blinked. “Bullock?”

Gordon sighed, anticipating her reaction. “Look, I know you two haven’t worked a case together before, but he knows the East End. Knows how to talk to guys like Vitti. You’ll need that.”

Marie leaned back against the chair, crossing her arms. “Bullock knows how to talk to guys like Vitti, or he knows how to bribe them into spilling?”

Gordon smirked. “A little of both.”

Marie huffed, shaking her head. She liked Bullock well enough—they had a joking, somewhat sarcastic rapport around the precinct—but she also knew he had a reputation for being lazy. He’d been around the block, sure, but he wasn’t exactly known for his work ethic.

“Fine,” she said, standing. “But if he makes me do all the paperwork, I’m making him buy me lunch.”

Gordon chuckled. “Take it up with him. In the meantime, I want you wired for this. Black Mask is unpredictable. If he really is planning something, I don’t want you walking in blind.”

He reached into his desk, pulling out a small earpiece and an extra radio. “Keep the earpiece in so we can track you. If things go south, I want to know about it immediately.”

Marie took the devices, slipping the earpiece into her pocket. “Got it.”

Gordon’s expression softened slightly, though his voice remained firm. “I mean it, Manning. Be careful. Black Mask isn’t like the other scumbags we deal with. He doesn’t just kill—he enjoys it. If Vitti knows something, it means Black Mask is getting reckless. That makes him even more dangerous.”

Marie nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Gordon studied her for a moment before nodding. “Good. Now get moving.”

She left his office and headed back to her desk to grab what she needed. As she clipped her badge onto her belt and checked her sidearm, her phone buzzed.

She nodded and left the office, heading back to her desk to prepare. As she gathered her notes and checked her sidearm, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Bruce.

Miss you already, lieutenant.

Marie felt a grin tug at her lips.

She was quickly pulled out of it when Bullock approached her desk, chewing loudly as he shoved the last bite of a burger into his mouth.

“You ready, Manning?” he asked, wiping his hands on his coat.

Marie sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Ready as ever.”

///

The East End was its usual brand of bleak—narrow streets lined with crumbling brick buildings, neon lights flickering overhead, the stench of cigarettes and stale beer lingering in the cold night air. The city’s filth seeped into the cracks here, pooling in the alleyways like oil slicks. Even the streetlights did little to break the overwhelming darkness.

Marie and Bullock moved through it with purpose, their breath misting in the chill. They had spent the last hour chasing leads on Zitti, one of Black Mask’s known associates, but the man was proving impossible to pin down.

"Well, this is a damn ghost hunt," Bullock grumbled, adjusting his coat. "Been to three different dives, and all we got was a bartender tellin’ us Zitti skipped town."

Marie tightened her grip on the radio in her hand. “No way in hell he skipped town,” she said, eyes scanning the dimly lit alley ahead. "Black Mask just got loose. Zitti’s not running—he’s hiding."

Bullock let out a tired groan. “I swear to God, if this is another dead end, I’m gonna—”

“Complain? Yeah, I figured.” Marie shot him a smirk.

They stopped in front of a run-down convenience store, the kind that never closed, where cashiers worked behind bulletproof glass and half the stock was expired. Marie pulled out her notepad, checking over the last tip they got—a supposed Zitti sighting in the alley behind the shop.

“Alright,” she muttered, shoving the notepad back in her pocket. “Let’s try back there.”

They slipped into the alley, the space between buildings narrowing to a grimy passage filled with dumpsters and discarded needles. A single flickering light buzzed overhead, barely cutting through the darkness. The farther they walked, the more Marie’s instincts itched.

Something felt off.

Too quiet. No distant city hum, no muffled music from the club down the street. Just eerie silence.

Marie’s fingers brushed against her holster as she turned to Bullock. “This feels—”

Suddenly, a sharp crack split the air.

Bullock let out a grunt before his body crumpled to the ground.

Marie barely had time to process it before something—someone—slammed into her from behind with bone-crushing force.

The air whooshed from her lungs as she was thrown forward, hitting the ground hard. The rough concrete scraped against her cheek, the sharp impact rattling through her ribs and leaving her momentarily stunned. A jolt of pain shot through her hip where she landed wrong, but she had no time to focus on it before hands—strong, unrelenting hands—latched onto her arms.

Her instincts took over—she fought with everything she had.

Marie twisted violently, trying to wrench herself free, but her attacker was too strong. She kicked back, the heel of her boot connecting with something solid—a shin? A knee? Someone grunted in pain, but another set of hands seized her ankles, dragging her across the pavement.

No. No, no, no.

She threw an elbow, aiming for where she thought their ribs would be, but her strike was wild, off-balance. A curse rang out, followed immediately by a crushing blow to the side of her head.

A burst of white-hot pain exploded in her skull, her vision going black for a split second. Disorienting. Blinding.

Her body swayed, knees buckling beneath her as she felt herself sag against her captor’s grip.

Stay awake. Stay awake.

The world spun. Her ears rang. Then—rough fabric slid over her head.

A bag.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

Marie gasped, her breath suddenly hot and stifling inside the thick material. Her pulse thundered against her ribs, her breaths turning shallow as panic clawed at her chest. She tried to steady herself, to focus, but the overwhelming sensation of blindness and suffocation sent adrenaline surging through her system.

Someone yanked her arms behind her back, wrists wrenched together. Plastic zip ties cinched tight around them with a sharp zip, biting into her skin.

“Bullock—” she tried to say, but her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Somewhere close by, she heard a groan. Still alive. But unconscious. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

She was alone.

Marie thrashed, kicking wildly, twisting, struggling with everything she had left. But it didn’t matter.

Her captors barely even slowed.

She was lifted off the ground like she weighed nothing, hoisted up and carried—dragged—through a doorway. The hinges shrieked, the air shifting from the biting cold of the alley to something damp and stale. The distinct scent of rotting wood, oil, and rust filled her nose.

Then—the metallic clunk of a car door swinging open.

Her stomach dropped.

“No—NO!” She bucked, trying to dig her heels into the floor, to get any kind of leverage, but a firm shove sent her sprawling forward.

She landed hard, cold leather pressing against her cheek.

The seat beneath her felt old, cracked. The smell of cigarettes and sweat filled the enclosed space, thick and suffocating. The car dipped slightly as more weight shifted inside.

Her wrists strained uselessly against the zip ties. Her heart pounded as her brain screamed at her to move, fight, do something—but before she could, the door beside her slammed shut with a heavy, final thud.

Then, a low, amused chuckle.

The engine roared to life.

The tires screeched against the pavement.

And Marie was gone.

///

The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, each second a punch to Gordon’s gut. Two hours. Two hours since Manning and Bullock had checked in. Two hours of radio silence. Two hours for things to go terribly wrong.

He leaned forward in his chair, his jaw tight as he reached for Marie’s radio one more time.

"Manning. Bullock. Status update."

Nothing. Just static.

His unease turned into something worse. Something sharp and ugly. He grabbed his desk phone and tried Marie’s personal cell.

Straight to voicemail.

“Dammit.” He slammed the receiver down. “Fuck.”

The feeling in his gut curdled into certainty—something was wrong.

Gordon shoved out of his chair and stormed into the bullpen, his voice cutting through the steady hum of chatter and ringing phones.

“Alright, listen up!”

The precinct froze. Officers, detectives, even the administrative staff—all eyes snapped to him.

“Manning and Bullock have gone dark. Last known location, East End. I want every available unit out there looking for them. Now.”

A storm of movement followed. Officers grabbed their gear, radios buzzed with deployment orders, but it wasn’t enough. Not for this.

Gordon exhaled sharply and stepped back into his office, his pulse hammering.

He needed to let Bruce know.

Not Batman—Bruce.

Because Bruce Wayne was more than just Gotham’s billionaire. He was Batman, the one man who could find her faster than anyone else. But more than that—he was in love with Marie. And if something had happened to her, if she was truly gone…

Gordon didn’t know how Bruce would take it.

His thumb hovered over his contacts list for only a second before he made his decision.

He called Bruce Wayne.

The phone rang twice before Bruce answered. “Gordon?” His voice sounded confused. Gordon never called his personal phone, not once in all the months since he’d figured out the truth.

Gordon’s grip tightened. “This isn’t official business.” His voice came out grim. “It’s personal.”

There was brief paused before Bruce’s voice shifted. “What happened?”

“It’s Marie. She’s missing.”

Gordon was met with complete, utter silence. The kind that made his spine go rigid, because he knew that the moment Bruce inhaled sharply, the moment his breath stilled, that he’d just shattered his world.

“When?” Bruce’s voice was low, dangerous.

“Two hours ago.” Gordon tried to keep his voice even. “She and Bullock were looking for a lead in the East End. Charles Zitti. I haven’t heard from them since. No radio, no cell, nothing.”

Bruce was already moving. Gordon could hear it—the shuffle of footsteps, the rustle of fabric. Could picture him already out of his chair, already storming through the halls of Wayne Manor.

“Two fucking hours?” Bruce’s voice was sharp, edged with something lethal.

“I wasn’t sure if they’d gone silent on purpose—”

Bruce cut him off, “I’m on my way.” and the line went dead.

As soon as he was off the phone, Bruce moved like a man possessed. He tore through the halls of Wayne Manor, the walls narrowing around him, his lungs burning.

Alfred barely had time to step out of the study before Bruce stormed past.

“Sir?”

Bruce’s voice was hoarse. “She’s missing.”

Alfred’s expression darkened. No further explanation was needed.

Bruce descended into the cave at a dead sprint.

He didn’t know who had taken her. Didn’t know why. Didn’t care. All he knew was that she was gone.

He yanked on the suit with practiced efficiency, but it felt different this time. This wasn’t just another mission. Another criminal to bring to justice.

This was Marie.

His hands trembled as he pulled the cowl over his face.

There was no time for hesitation.

With a growl of frustration, he vaulted into the Batmobile, the engine roaring to life as he shot out of the Batcave like a bullet. The tires screeched against the damp stone, the force of his acceleration pressing him into the seat, but he barely noticed.

Gotham streaked past in a blur of neon and darkness, but none of it registered. His mind was consumed with one singular, all-encompassing thought—find her.

The Gotham City Police Department was already drowning in chaos when he arrived. Phones shrieked through the air, overlapping in a symphony of urgency. Officers darted back and forth, their voices rising over one another, papers flying between frantic hands. The scent of burnt coffee, sweat, and cigarette smoke clung to the walls, mixing with the metallic sting of tension. It was thick enough to suffocate.

Then, the front doors slammed open with a force that made the hinges shriek.

A gust of cold air swept inside, snuffing out every conversation in an instant.

Batman strode in, a walking nightmare of black armor and fury, his silhouette a dark stain against the fluorescent lights. Conversations died in throats. The rustling of papers and the tapping of keyboards stuttered into silence. He had never entered the GCPD like this before—never so openly, never in the merciless exposure of bright overhead lights where every officer, every detective, every damn bureaucrat could see him.

But none of that mattered.

His steps were slow, deliberate, each heavy thud against the tile carrying the weight of a warning. Cops shifted instinctively, stepping back, forming an unspoken path without even realizing they were doing it. Some gripped their holsters on reflex before thinking better of it. Others, the ones who had seen him work, knew better than to move at all.

He didn’t acknowledge them. He cut through the room like a blade through flesh, his presence coiling around the precinct like a noose tightening by the second.

Near his office, Gordon stood in tense conversation with a detective, his voice low and urgent. Then, he looked up. His breath hitched.

"Let’s not—" Gordon started, but his voice wavered. "Let’s calm—"

Then, the front doors burst open again.

This time, the silence didn’t just return—it imploded.

Bullock staggered inside, his usually disheveled coat now a mess of blood and grime, his face slick with red that dripped onto his collar. His breath rattled in his chest, coming in short, gasping wheezes, his body swaying like he was barely keeping himself upright.

The room detonated with noise—officers surging forward, exclamations of shock, radio static crackling in fits and bursts. Someone called for a medic. A dispatcher cursed into their headset. But through it all, Batman was already moving.

Gordon reached him first, gripping Bullock’s arms and steadying him as his knees nearly buckled.

"Where is Manning?" Gordon’s voice was tight, urgent.

Bullock blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. His pupils were dilated, his expression dazed, but the sheer frustration in his voice burned through the haze.

"I—I don’t know." His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "We were out there looking for Zitti, following leads, and then—bam. Someone fucking blindsided me. Next thing I know, I wake up on the damn pavement, and she’s gone." His breath came ragged, like he was choking on his own words. "I don’t—I don’t remember a damn thing."

Gordon inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands curling into fists.

Bullock slammed his own fist down onto the counter, making a nearby officer jump. "I should’ve—shit!" His voice cracked. "I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve done something!"

The guilt was already devouring him alive.

Through it all, Batman didn’t move.

Not a flinch. Not a shift in stance. Not a single damn muscle.

But the air around him was suffocating.

His gloved fists clenched at his sides, the leather groaning under the strain of his grip. A shadow darker than the suit itself passed over his expression, something lethal, something barely contained.

Bullock turned to him, desperation leaking into his voice. "You gotta find her."

Batman’s head lifted slightly, and for a second, Bullock almost wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

The next moment—

He was gone.

No sound, no warning. Just a sudden absence, like a phantom had vanished into the night.

The only thing left in his wake was the sharp swing of the precinct doors and the lingering, spine-chilling certainty that whatever poor bastard had taken Marie Manning was about to learn what true fear felt like.

///

The Batmobile tore through the streets like a phantom in the night, its engine a guttural roar that sent shivers down Gotham’s spine. Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the city into streaks of neon and shadow, but Batman’s grip on the wheel was ironclad. His pulse pounded like war drums in his ears, his mind locked onto a single objective—find her.

He had never felt this way before.

Not when the Joker had poisoned the reservoir. Not when Bane had broken his body.

This was different. This was her.

Marie.

And she was out there somewhere. Alone. Afraid. Hurting.

His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding as he swerved onto a side street, tires shrieking. He should have been thinking strategically—staying calculated, detached—but every second that passed without a lead chipped away at his restraint. The city was a vast, rotting corpse, and he was tearing it apart limb by limb, determined to find the infection at its core.

Tonight, Gotham was going to feel his wrath. And he didn’t waste time on subtlety.

His first target was Theo "Fangs" DiLuca, a low-level enforcer with ties to every major crime syndicate in the East End. He found him inside a seedy dive bar off Grant Avenue, leaning against the counter, laughing over a drink. The laughter died the moment the door slammed open, ripped off its hinges.

The room plunged into silence.

Batman’s shadow swallowed the dim bar whole as he strode forward.

Without breaking stride, he reached out and ripped Freddy from his stool, sending his beer bottle shattering across the floor. Before the man could scream, Batman drove him into the wall, the plaster cracking beneath the impact.

The bartender ducked. A few patrons scrambled for the exit. No one tried to help.

Freddy gasped, his fingers clawing at the fist locked around his throat.

“Where is she?” Batman’s voice was a growl, low and deadly.

“W—what?” Freddy choked out, eyes bulging.

Batman slammed him into the wall again. Harder.

“WHERE?”

“I—I don’t know, I swear—!”

Batman didn’t have time for lies. He let Freddy drop to the floor, only to deliver a brutal kick to his ribs that sent him sprawling.

“You have three seconds to be useful.” Batman loomed over him, his presence suffocating, his patience gone.

Freddy coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. “Shit—okay, okay—Black Mask’s been making moves in the East End. Had some of his guys sniffin’ around earlier—hired muscle. He—he’s been looking for information on Batman. On—on anyone connected to him.”

The world narrowed. She was taken because of him. Because of her connections with Batman. The thought alone killed Bruce.

Batman shook the thought from his head and grabbed Theo by the collar, yanking him up. “Where’s his base?”

“I—I don’t know! He moves around too much, but—” Freddy coughed again, wheezing. “He’s got warehouses. All over. He—he likes abandoned places—places no one would think twice about. Could be the docks, the Narrows—”

Batman didn’t wait for him to finish.

He spun on his heel, already reaching for his grapple. The moment he was airborne, disappearing into the night, the entire bar exhaled as if they’d been suffocating under his presence.

He was going to find Black Mask. And when he did, God help him.

///

Marie’s head pounded before she even opened her eyes.

It started as a dull, throbbing ache in the back of her skull, radiating outward like splintering glass. Then came the sharp sting of her split lip, the deep, bone-deep bruising in her ribs from—what? A punch? A kick? She couldn’t remember. The details were murky, lost in the haze of unconsciousness.

Her wrists burned. The zip ties bit into her skin, cutting off circulation, and the chair beneath her was rickety, the kind of cheap metal folding chair you’d find in a rundown community center—only this one was bolted to the floor.

She was trapped.

And she wasn’t alone.

A slow, measured pair of footsteps echoed through the warehouse, each step deliberate, predatory.

Black Mask.

“Well, well,” Roman Sionis’s voice slid through the air like oil, thick and slick and wrong. His shoes clicked against the concrete, expensive and out of place in a place like this. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Marie’s head lolled slightly, her vision adjusting to the dim, flickering light overhead. The first thing she saw was the mask—a grinning, blackened skull twisted into something monstrous under the shadows. The second thing she noticed was the smell.

Cigars. Gunpowder. Blood.

It clung to the air, heavy and suffocating.

She swallowed, forcing her spine to straighten despite the restraints. “Wish I could say it’s nice to see you.”

Black Mask chuckled, his broad shoulders rolling with amusement. “Feisty. I like that.”

He crouched beside her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating off him. He smelled like expensive cologne and violence, a scent so sickeningly familiar in Gotham’s underworld that it almost made her gag.

“You know,” he mused, tilting his head, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to wake up at all.”

Marie smirked despite the pain slicing through her lip. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His amusement flickered, darkened.

“Oh, you haven’t disappointed me yet, baby girl.” He reached out, brushing a gloved finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “But you will—if you don’t start talking.”

Marie didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

She let her gaze drift past him, scanning the room instead. It was a warehouse, all right—concrete floors slick with oil, rusted chains hanging from the ceiling, wooden crates stacked in uneven piles. The air was damp and cold, the sound of dripping water somewhere in the distance.

More importantly, she wasn’t alone with him.

Two guards stood by the entrance, both armed—one with a pistol holstered at his hip, the other cradling a rifle like a security blanket. A workbench sat against the far wall, scattered with tools—pliers, a hammer, something that looked like a blowtorch.

Her stomach twisted.

She needed to get out of here.

Black Mask let out a slow exhale, the leather of his gloves creaking as he flexed his fingers. “I know you’ve worked with Batman before. You were all over the Red Lotus case together, playing detective and vigilante.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “You two seemed like quite the dynamic duo. Chasing down leads. Cracking the case together. Taking down Maroni.”

Marie said nothing.

She kept her expression blank, her breathing even, but her eyes never left that workbench. If she could get loose—if she could just get her hands on something—

Black Mask grabbed her jaw suddenly, forcing her gaze back to him. His fingers were too tight, his grip possessive, like he was testing her, seeing how far he could push before she broke.

“So here’s the deal,” he murmured, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His touch was deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the brutality she knew lurked just beneath the surface. “You tell me who he is, and I let you walk out of here with your pretty little face intact.”

Marie stared at him, unreadable.

Then—she smiled.

Not a warm smile. Not a real one. It was something colder. Meaner.

“You really think I know who he is?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You think Batman—of all people—would trust a cop with that information?” She licked the blood from her lip and smirked. “I hate to break it to you, but I’ve never even seen his face.”

Black Mask was quiet for a moment.

Then—CRACK.

His backhand hit her hard, snapping her head to the side.

White-hot pain exploded through her skull, her teeth cutting into the inside of her cheek. Her ears rang. Her vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in like ink on water.

Before she could recover, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.

Her throat was exposed now, vulnerable, and he hovered inches away, studying her like a wolf deciding how much of the carcass to pick apart first.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, his fingers tightening.

Marie’s breath came out ragged, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “And you’re a pathetic little man who thinks hiding behind a mask makes you powerful.”

A mistake.

The room tilted violently as his fist slammed into her ribs, the force of it knocking the air from her lungs. The pain was immediate, sharp and suffocating, and before she could even inhale, he drove his knee into her stomach.

She choked.

The zip ties cut deeper into her wrists as her body jerked against the chair.

Black Mask stood back, rolling his shoulders like he had just finished a warm-up round.

“See, I really hate liars.” He gestured to one of the guards. “Bring me the knife.”

A flicker of panic jolted through Marie’s chest.

The knife.

She forced herself to stay calm, to think.

The workbench. The tools. The guards. The layout. She took it all in, cataloging every possible weapon, every possible weakness.

Black Mask took the knife from his goon without breaking eye contact with her.

The blade gleamed under the flickering warehouse lights, long and wickedly sharp. He turned it over in his hands, testing its weight, before dragging the flat of it along Marie’s cheek—slow, deliberate, teasing.

“I’ll give you one more chance, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice almost affectionate. “Who. Is. Batman?”

Marie clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of flinching. “Go fuck yourself.”

Black Mask exhaled through his nose, his patience snapping.

“Wrong answer.”

The knife pressed against her collarbone, just enough to bite into her skin. A slow, stinging line of blood beaded at the edge of the blade, warm against her already bruised flesh.

But Marie didn’t give him a reaction.

She focused instead on the sounds beyond the warehouse—the distant hum of Gotham’s streets, the faint echo of a passing siren. Every second that passed meant Bruce was getting closer.

He was coming. He had to be.

Black Mask clicked his tongue in disappointment. “You’re really not making this easy.”

Then—THWACK.

His fist drove into her ribs again, harder this time. The pain was immediate, white-hot, stealing what little breath she had left.

Marie gasped, her body jerking violently against the restraints.

“Still nothing?” he mused. “Shame.”

Another punch. This time, her vision spun.

She tasted blood.

“Y’know,” he went on conversationally, brushing his knuckles against her jaw, “I don’t mind taking my time. I could play with you all night.” He leaned in, lips grazing the shell of her ear. “I’d actually like that.”

Marie’s stomach churned, but she forced herself to keep breathing.

Keep fighting.

Her wrists burned against the zip ties as she flexed her fingers, testing for any weakness. There had to be something—

Black Mask sighed, irritated. “You’re getting boring now.”

And then—

A sharp, blinding crack against her skull.

The world tilted.

Pain flared through her head like a gunshot, her vision going dark at the edges.

Her body sagged against the chair, her thoughts slowing, scattering like sand slipping through her fingers.

She barely felt it when Black Mask grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to inspect her.

“Such a shame,” he murmured.

Marie tried to stay conscious, tried to fight against the darkness swallowing her whole.

But as her vision faded, her last thought was simple.

Bruce will find me.

And she knew—

He’ll bring hell with him.

///

Batman moved through Gotham’s underbelly like a relentless force, his presence felt long before he stepped into the shadows of the city’s most dangerous corners. Every den of criminals, every hidden safe house, every alleyway where Gotham’s worst whispered their secrets—he pursued them all with unwavering determination.

His fists struck with precision. He didn’t break bones needlessly, but he left a lasting message in every blow. A dislocated shoulder, a bruised rib, a sharp strike to the gut that left his targets gasping for air—painful reminders of his wrath, but nothing they wouldn’t recover from.

Questions were asked only once. If an answer wasn’t given, he tightened his grip, pressed a little harder, made them feel the weight of their silence. He never needed to go further. Fear did most of the work for him.

By the time the city clock struck midnight, he had torn through three more hideouts, leaving behind a wake of groaning criminals too shaken to think about lying. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation—only purpose. Tonight, there was no room for patience.

Every lead brought him closer.

But not close enough.

The fourth informant barely had time to register the looming shadow before Batman had him pinned against a rusted chain-link fence, steel rattling violently under the force. The man wheezed, his face a contorted mask of terror as a gloved hand clamped down over his throat.

“Where is Black Mask?” Batman’s voice was a guttural snarl, low and menacing.

The man squirmed, his fingers clawing at the powerful grip crushing his windpipe. “Please—I don’t—”

Batman twisted the man’s arm back at a brutal angle.

“Where?!” Batman barked, his patience long gone.

The man yelled out, his body shaking violently. “I—I swear, I don’t know! Black Mask’s been off the grid for weeks—no one’s seen him! I swear on my mother, I don’t—”

Batman let go, disgust curling his lip as the man crumpled to the ground, clutching his dislocated arm. He wasn’t lying. He was too much of a coward to lie under pressure like this.

Batman turned away, his mind a whirlwind of fury and desperation.

Then his comm crackled to life.

“Batman.” Gordon’s voice was sharp, urgent. “We found Zitti.”

Batman didn’t waste a second.

He was already on his way to the station.

///

By the time Batman reached the precinct, the air was thick with tension. Officers moved in hurried strides, phones rang incessantly, and Gordon was waiting for him just inside the entrance, his face set in a grim expression.

“He’s in holding,” Gordon said, leading Batman through the station, their boots heavy against the tiled floor. “We picked him up outside a club on Grant Street. He knows something—he has to. He’s been in Black Mask’s orbit for years.”

Batman said nothing. He didn’t need to. The way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw locked, the way his cape flared out behind him like an omen of death—it all spoke volumes.

As they neared the holding cells, Batman didn’t even slow his pace.

“Batman—wait,” Gordon started.

Too late.

The door to Zitti’s holding cell slammed open so hard that the hinges nearly snapped.

Zitti barely had time to blink before Batman grabbed him by the collar and hurled him against the concrete wall with a sickening crack. The force of the impact rattled the glass window behind them, sending fractures through it.

Zitti groaned, his head snapping back against the stone, dazed from the sheer force. His hands flew up defensively as Batman loomed over him like a specter from his worst nightmares.

“I don’t—”

Batman’s fist slammed into his gut.

Zitti gagged, doubling over as the air was driven from his lungs. His knees buckled, but Batman didn’t let him fall. He hauled him back up, shoving him hard against the wall again.

“You know where she is.” Batman’s voice was quieter this time, which somehow made it worse.

Zitti coughed violently, his breath ragged. “I swear—I don’t—”

Batman grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him clear off the ground, slamming him into the wall again, the impact shaking the entire cell.

The fear in Zitti’s eyes sharpened into something primal.

Batman leaned in, his voice lethal. “Tell me where Black Mask is holding her.”

Zitti swallowed hard, his pupils blown wide with panic. “Warehouse—” he gasped. “Dockside—by the old shipyard—”

Batman let go.

Zitti crumpled to the floor, coughing and wheezing.

Gordon, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. “We’ll deploy all officers—”

Batman was already turning.

“No,” he cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll get there first.”

He strode out of the holding cell without another word.

Gordon exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose before barking orders to the nearest officers.

“Suit up! We’re moving out! Now! Send all available units to the old shipyard!”

Red and blue lights flooded the night as the GCPD mobilized, but Batman was already ahead of them.

He would reach her first.

He had to.

The city blurred in a haze of lights and shadows as he rocketed down the streets, the familiar landscape of Gotham flashing past in a whirl of urgency. His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles white, his thoughts fixed solely on the warehouse, on Marie. His mind was nothing but a singular, destructive focus now.

He didn’t care about the risks. He didn’t care about anything except getting to her.

His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline pulsing through his veins as he wove through Gotham’s maze of streets. Each turn was calculated, each movement a flawless execution. He didn’t notice the speed, didn’t care about the way the wind howled around him or the sharp hum of the Batmobile’s engines. All that mattered was getting to that damn warehouse before Black Mask could do anything else to Marie.

Gotham was about to burn, and they were all standing at the edge of the fire.

///

Pain.

It was the first thing Marie felt as she drifted back to consciousness, a dull, throbbing ache that pulsed behind her eyes and radiated through every inch of her battered body. Each breath sent a sharp sting through her ribs, her limbs felt like lead, and the coppery tang of blood coated her tongue.

Slowly, she forced her heavy eyelids open.

The warehouse swam into view under the dim, flickering glow of an overhead bulb. The space around her was cold and lifeless—stained concrete floors, steel support beams looming overhead, and the acrid scent of old oil and damp wood filling her nose. Her arms were yanked back, wrists bound tight with thick rope, the fibers digging into her torn skin. Her ankles were the same, tied so cruelly that her circulation had started to fade, her feet tingling with pins and needles.

Black Mask was gone.

Marie’s pulse picked up. He wouldn’t be gone for long.

She had to move.

Forcing herself to breathe past the pain, she scanned her surroundings. A rusted metal table sat against the wall, littered with tools, empty liquor bottles, and a scattering of cigarette butts. A stack of wooden crates was pushed into the farthest corner, and high above—

A window.

Her pulse pounded harder. It was small, grimy, but open just enough that she could slip through if she could reach it.

But first, the ropes.

She twisted her wrists, biting her cheek as the rough fibers scraped deeper into her skin. Come on. Think.

Her gaze landed on the table. A knife. Rusted, but sharp. If she could just get to it—

Marie shifted, forcing herself to inch her legs toward the table. She stretched, using what little movement she had to push at one of the table’s legs with her foot. The metal screeched against the floor. Her stomach clenched. Move, damn it.

One last desperate shove—

The knife clattered to the floor.

Her pulse roared as she twisted her body, inching closer, the pain screaming through her battered muscles. She stretched, fingertips grazing the handle—got it.

Her hands were shaky as she maneuvered the blade against the rope, sawing frantically. Each movement sent fiery stings through her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through.

The rope gave way.

With a sharp gasp, she ripped her hands free, barely registering the sting of her torn skin. Moving fast, she cut at the bindings on her ankles, hissing as blood rushed back into her numb limbs.

She stumbled to her feet, dizziness crashing over her like a wave. The ground tilted, her vision swam.

Not yet. You have to move.

Marie braced herself against the wall, taking a deep, steadying breath before staggering toward the crates. She shoved them into position, stacking them into a makeshift ladder.

Every movement burned, her body screaming in protest. But she climbed.

The window was just within reach.

With the last bit of strength she had, she shoved it open. The cool night air rushed in, sharp against her bruised skin. The distant hum of the city buzzed beyond. Freedom.

But she wasn’t finished yet.

Her gaze flicked back to the table. The cigarette lighter.

Marie’s mind worked fast. The warehouse was old, rotting. The wooden crates, the oil-stained floors—highly flammable.

She grabbed the lighter, flicking it on. A small golden flame danced in the darkness.

Her eyes landed on a pile of discarded cloth, soaked in something greasy and foul.

She held the flame to it.

The fire caught instantly, devouring the fabric, licking hungrily at the wood beneath. It spread fast, leaping from one surface to another, crawling up the walls like a living, breathing beast.

Marie didn’t wait to watch.

She hauled herself through the window, gasping as she tumbled onto the dirt outside. The rough ground scraped against her already raw skin, and her limbs barely held her weight as she pushed herself up.

Her legs faltered.

The world tilted.

Her body was giving out.

Her vision blurred at the edges, the pain consuming her, and just as she felt herself falling—

A roar.

The low, snarling growl of an engine.

Headlights sliced through the darkness, blinding her for a moment. She tried to lift her head, tried to focus—

The Batmobile skidded to a stop, tires kicking up dirt.

Then—he was there.

Batman.

A black shadow, moving fast, cutting through the night with purpose. His cape billowed behind him as he sprinted toward her, his boots pounding against the ground.

“Marie.”

Her name was raw in his throat. A breath, a prayer, a promise.

Her legs buckled.

She felt herself sinking, the ground rising to meet her—

Strong arms caught her just before she hit the dirt.

She was lifted effortlessly, cradled against the solid weight of his chest, the scent of leather and smoke filling her senses.

“Hey, hey—stay with me,” he murmured, his voice low, hoarse. One gloved hand cradled the back of her head, the other holding her so tightly against him, like if he let go, she might disappear.

Marie forced her eyes open, her fingers weakly grasping at his suit. Her breathing was shallow, uneven, but she still managed a faint, battered smile.

“I got out,” she whispered. “I torched the place.”

Batman’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning her face, his fingers brushing against her bruised cheek so gently, so reverently, it nearly undid her.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with something deeper, something unspoken. “You held on.”

A tear slipped down Marie’s cheek, mixing with the dirt and blood on her skin. “I knew you’d find me.”

His grip tightened. “Always.”

Then, before she could say another word, he kissed her.

It wasn’t desperate, wasn’t hurried. It was steady, firm, grounding. Like he needed to feel her alive, needed to remind himself she was still here, still breathing.

She collapsed into him, her body weak, trembling, every muscle drained of strength. Her fingers, barely able to hold on, curled into the fabric of his suit, gripping as if he were the only thing tethering her to reality.

Batman held her against his chest, his arms unyielding, shielding her from everything—the cold night air, the pain, the world itself. Behind them, the inferno roared, flames devouring the warehouse in a violent, hungry blaze, sending thick, black smoke curling into the night sky like a specter.

His grip on her tightened, just enough to let her know he was there, that she was safe. She shuddered against him, her breath warm and uneven against his neck. His fingers traced soothing circles against her back, a silent promise that it was over.

Then, with infinite care, he lowered his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her temple. A quiet moment, stolen in the chaos, meant only for them.

Then—sirens.

The piercing wail cut through the night, growing louder as flashing red and blue lights painted the scene in a chaotic glow. Police cruisers skidded to a stop, their tires kicking up dust. Firetrucks roared in behind them, their ladders rising, firefighters already moving to contain the raging blaze. EMTs rushed from their ambulances, their equipment rattling as they moved with practiced urgency.

Gordon was the first to emerge from the swarm, his trench coat whipping around his legs as he took in the scene. His eyes moved from the burning warehouse to the two figures standing just beyond the fire’s reach. He saw the way Batman held Marie, the way she sagged against him, the way his grip on her was as much about support as it was about reassurance.

Gordon exhaled, slow and measured.

“Let’s give them some space,” he murmured to the officers behind him, his voice low but firm.

No one argued.

Batman pressed another soft kiss to her temple, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

And for the first time all night, Marie let herself believe it.

///

The steady beeping of a heart monitor pulled Marie from the depths of unconsciousness. The world around her felt soft, distant, like she was floating between reality and a dream. The scent of antiseptic and clean linen filled her nose, replacing the acrid stench of fire and blood that had clung to her before.

Her body ached, a deep, bone-weary exhaustion settling over her, but the pain was dull now, cushioned by whatever painkillers were coursing through her system.

Blinking against the sterile white light, she let her gaze wander. The hospital room was quiet, the muted hum of machines the only sound. The walls were a pale, impersonal blue, and the IV in her arm tugged slightly as she shifted. A bouquet of fresh flowers sat on the bedside table, their petals delicate, untouched.

And then—

Bruce.

He was seated beside her, in the chair closest to the bed, a book resting open in his hands. His suit jacket was draped over the arm of the chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the bruises marring his forearms. There was a tension in his posture, a quiet stillness that was different from the way he usually carried himself.

His hair was slightly disheveled, dark circles smudging beneath his eyes, like he hadn’t slept—not really.

Marie stirred, her fingers weakly gripping the blanket draped over her.

Bruce immediately looked up.

The book was forgotten, discarded as he leaned in, his blue eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. His hand found hers, warm and solid, his fingers tracing gentle circles against her skin.

"You're awake," he breathed, relief evident in every syllable.

Marie tried to smile, but her lip was split, the movement sending a dull throb through her face. "So it seems."

Bruce exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for hours. Without hesitation, he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against her knuckles.

She stared at him, stunned by the tenderness of it, the way he held her like she might slip away if he let go.

“How long was I out?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

"A few hours. Doctors said you'd be fine, just needed rest," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her wrist, grounding her.

Marie blinked up at him, a ghost of a smirk playing at her swollen lips. “Hospital, huh? I half expected to wake up in your cave.”

Bruce huffed out something that almost resembled a laugh. "I wanted to," he admitted, his expression softening. "But there were too many officers at the scene. If you disappeared in the Batmobile, it would've raised too many questions."

She let that settle, nodding slightly. It made sense. It was logical. But part of her still wished she had woken up somewhere private, somewhere she didn’t feel so exposed under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Bruce must have sensed her unease because he shifted closer, his other hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face.

"You scared the hell out of me," he said quietly.

Marie swallowed, staring at the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled just slightly against hers.

"You saved me," she whispered.

Bruce shook his head. "You saved yourself. You got out, Marie. You lit the place up. By the time I got there, you had already won."

Her chest ached, not from injury, but from the weight of those words. She had fought. She had survived.

But still—

"I knew you'd be there," she murmured.

His lips parted slightly, his expression flickering with something unreadable. Then, without another word, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger there.

Marie sighed, her body relaxing into his touch.

"I'm not leaving," Bruce said, his voice low, steady. "Not until I know you're okay."

She squeezed his hand, holding on tight.

"Then I guess you're stuck with me for a while, Wayne."

His lips curled into a faint, tired smile.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I think I can live with that."

[little-pondhead]

Some fic because I love your au, Fenton is gender brainrot, and little baby dan cracks me up. Full disclosure, my only familiarity with DC is DP crossover fanfic, and a Batman movie I fell asleep during. (If I had a better grasp on the characters I would totally write more :(( i love interactions) also sorry for the weird spacing. Idk why tumblr did that

~~~~~~~~

There was an empty cardboard box on the table of the Justice League’s main conference room. Taped on the top flap, next to a doodle of Fenton’s logo, was a jump drive.

Heaving a sigh, Batman plugged it in and pulled up his screen on the projector. The drive, which was named “little baby dan’s evil playtime”, contained two files; WATCH_ME_FIRST.mp4 and its-a-secreeeet.pdf. He clicked on the video file, and immediately the projector filled with a blurry close-up of Fenton’s goggles.

After a moment of fiddling with the camera, Fenton stepped back, giving a cheery wave. His lab coat and goggles were a pastel pink, which was new. “Heeeeya, Bats! Whoever else is there! If you’re watching this, you probably weren’t there when I dropped the box off, aaand it’s probably empty.”

He clapped his hands together gleefully. “And Connie, if you’re there, this is payback for cussing around my daughter.” Batman was instantly relieved that Constantine wasn’t on base. Hopefully the situation wouldn’t require Constantine’s expertise. (Or any of the Justice League Dark. Fenton seemed determined to drive them all to an early grave with his casual refusal to acknowledge the supernatural air around him.)

“Now, as you’re all heroes, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the whole,” Fenton paused for a moment, as if searching for the proper words. “”You ate a burger on a Tuesday or something equally inane, and it kickstarted a series of events that led to you going insane and evil and murdering 95% of the Earth’s population and now you must fight your evil alternate self, because your time-controlling cryptid Peepaw said so,” shtick, so I’ll skip the backstory. Say hi to Dan!” Fenton grabbed the camera, and Batman quickly jotted down several notes about the concerning number of things the boy had just said.

The camera swiveled around to show Nightingale, holding a strange beast in a manner that reminded Batman of an “elongated cat meme” Nightwing had shown him when he was still a Robin. The creature bared a maw full of razor sharp fangs at the camera. Nightingale adjusted her grip to hold the creature’s paw and make it wave, which evoked a deep growl.

“Haha, he’d kill me if I did that. Dan likes Nightingale much more than he likes me.”

“Because the worst she has ever done is attempt to shoot me.”

The camera had moved, so Batman couldn’t visually confirm that the deep voice had come from the creature, but the voice didn’t match any of Fenton’s previously revealed companions. “Yeah yeah, her aim sucked back then.” Fenton gave the camera a toothy grin that was only slightly less unnerving than the creature’s. “Dan’s not technically me, he’s much more like Dani, actually, but the world would probably end again if we left him with his other... What did you call him?” Fenton glanced offscreen.

“Bane of my accursed existence.”

Fenton chucked. “The other half responsible for his existence.” Batman added more notes to his file. “So, yeah, Clocky left him with us for a bit to help along his rehab. But a certain psychologist-in-training I know says that repressing rage isn’t healthy, and even without a lot of his powers, he can wipe out most of a city in- what, an hour? We tested it. It was around an hour.”

Everyone present shared a look of deep concern. As if able to see their reaction, Fenton quickly held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry! Clocky reset it. Approximately zero people have died from Dan in this timeline.”

“Yet.” Came a furious rumble from off-screen.

“Yes, you’re very scary.” They heard Nightingale coo.

Fenton laughed. “Yeah, we need him- and all of you, -out of our hair for a bit while we concoct more evil plans, and you’re all the least likely to die to him, so you get to babysit! Thanks!”

He reached to shut off the camera before pausing and turning away. “Foley! Which of the furries is the one who really likes animals?”

“Man, do you realize how that sounds out of context?” Foley laughed. “I think Tim said it’s the little one. Damian?”

Fenton nodded and turned back to the camera. “Don’t let Damian try to adopt Dan. Or anyone. Dan will bite their hands off. I mean it!” To emphasize his point, he removed one of his hands.

Batman sighed and added “ability to remove limbs” to a list of Fenton’s powers.

“I’ll include a list of “tasks”” Fenton’s disembodied hand made finger quotes, “we gave Dan to keep him occupied. There’s some at the bottom for you guys. They’re mostly just blatant abuse of his powers for the sake of fun and science. I’d appreciate it if you’d let him mark things off the list and add notes on how it goes. Or you can do it. Or I can steal your cameras. Your choice.”

He thought for a second. “I think you’re supposed to leave, like, pizza money or something, but I don’t think you can get pizza delivered to space. Anyway, thanks for letting me blab your ears off while Dan’s probably committing war crimes for twelve minutes. For your sake, I hope he inherited my interest in space. Good luck! Thanks for babysitting!”

Waving with his still detached hand, Fenton ended the video. Batman closed it and opened the PDF as the few other members present murmured amongst themselves. Most of the pages were filled with a curling script Batman didn’t recognize. The fourth page had a huge, bolded header, reading JP TASKS.

The door opened and shut in half a second as the Flash burst in. “Superman!” The speedster wailed. “I can’t get this thing off of me!”

The Flash waved his arm around, sending small droplets of blood flying as he tried to dislodge the creature sinking his teeth into the speedster’s arm. Batman raised an eyebrow beneath his cowl as Superman quickly lent his super strength in attempt to pry the creature’s jaw open. Dan didn’t budge.

Well, he could certainly see the family resemblance been Fenton, Dani, and Dan. Shaking his head, he turned back to the list.

Task 1: Find Dan. He’s probably attacking someone.

He highlighted the text and crossed it out. This was going to be a long shift.

[Anon, this is me crying over the wonderful gift you have given me. You bastard.]

---

"Do you think Fenton's regeneration powers extend to his..." Green Lantern frowned, trying to remember the word the kid had used but coming up blank. "I dunno. But do you think if we cut off little Dan here, he'll heal back up with no problem?" He gestured helplessly to the scene in front of him. Flash was still screeching about the beast on his arm, and now Superman and Wonder Woman were trying to pry him off. Batman was standing to the side, silently bemoaning the lack of quiet. He just wanted one peaceful shift. Just one. Please.

"I'd like to see you try, hero. And I'm not little." Dan spoke, startling all of them. His grip on Flash's arm tightened, making the speedster squeal before releasing the man and spitting out a mouthful of his blood. Batman noticed that his mouth didn't move despite the clearly spoken words. In fact, when Dan closed his mouth, it was like he didn't have one at all.

"So you do speak!" Superman marveled.

"Of course I do. I am not unintelligent, unlike you lot."

Despite his pain, Flash still made sounds of protest that everyone promptly ignored.

Superman flushed. "I just wasn't sure. It was hard to tell in the video."

"Ah, yes. The video that the Fenton menace sent you. Was there a note for me in the flash drive?"

"Uh, no." In one of his less finer moments, Green Lantern stuttered over his words and moved in front of Batman, obviously lying. Dan merely growled and flew through both men, heading straight for the giant monitor. Batman barely suppressed a shiver. Density shifting? Might as well add it to the list. He could see Martian Manhunter, who was in the back of the room, tilt his head at the display.

Dan ignored the room as he used his entire body to manipulate the computer mouse and scrolled back up to the top of the page. Staring intently at the scribbles no one could make out, the heroes could do nothing but shoot each other nervous and confused glances. More than a few of them jumped when Dan chuckled deeply. Honestly, his tiny body was at complete odds with his baritone voice.

"Maybe rehab will be fun if he's letting me do this." Dan sneered, flashing their reflections a sharp fang. No one wanted to ask what exactly he was in rehab for. The little beast turned his gaze to Batman. "You are the one called Batman, who rules the cursed city, correct?" The dark hero nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. "Excellent. You will be my chaperone for now, just as Fenton decreed it. Good luck, mortal man. Pray, I do not destroy your home a second time."

Without any time to unpack that conversation, Dan promptly disappeared from view. Some blinking text caught his attention, and Batman scrolled back down to the English text, glancing at the next few items on the list.

Task 2: Do not let Dan read his portion of this letter until you have a way to track him. There is no containing him.

Task 3: Keep him with a chaperone at all times. (If you can)

Task 4: Do not let Dan back into Gotham unless you're fine with a sudden decrease in the clown population.

Task 5: Take him for a walk in Death Valley. He likes hunting lizards.

Task 6: Make sure he goes down for his 2pm nap every day.

Task 7: He'll ask for it, but do not give him any burgers for mealtime. It upsets his stomach.

Task 8: Dan gets ONE(1) sweet after dinner before brushing his teeth. Those green pop rocks Batman always carries will do fine; he likes those. :)

A sudden alarm blared from his wristwatch, making Batman tear his eyes away from the screen, indicating an emergency at Arkham. This time, Batman actually sighed out loud. There was more to the list, but right now, he really needed to find their new charge before he killed the Joker, from the sound of it.

[noxioustoxins]

Food for Thought - JayTim - Batman

Jason just finished making pasta, a meal full of carbs and protein, with only enough sauce to make all the ingredients stick together, just the way Tim liked it. He wouldn’t eat it otherwise. He added some extra sauce to his bowl and left the kitchen.

“Any progress?” Jason asked, sitting next to Tim on the couch, mouth full of pasta and fork dripping with his properly sauced food.

Tim’s eyes flickered over, before almost immediately returning to the computer

Hook.

“The budget is almost illegible. It’s definitely on purpose but I don’t have proof of which shareholder is responsible for it.”

Tim has been chasing a shareholder through botched paperwork for a few weeks. It was a string of issues that they were not used to. Most situations they came up against could be dealt with through well-placed violence, but this was a game of cat and mouse. Which if it were an actual game, Tim might have enjoyed. But as it stands, he has a shareholder stealing money from the company and botching projects for insurance scams. The difficulty Tim was running into, the reason the investigation has been going on so long, has been because corporate scum bags fight in paper work and contracts. So, Tim has had to dig his way through red tape, new and old contracts, current budget meeting and previous budget meetings, all to match up numbers that claim to have been lost in the shuffle.

There have been a few of his ‘board of old men’, Tim’s words, that he had cleared. Each cleared shareholder lightened the load, but sniffing out one specific pompous asshole at Wayne Enterprises was taking its time; and a toll on Tim. He hasn’t been able to take time to patrol as Red Robin, and his team have had to manage a few cases without him at the helm because of the near quadrupled amount of paperwork he’s had his nose in lately. It was making him antsy, his mind had been busy, but Jason could feel Tim’s body aching to move. The way he shifted constantly lately, or got up just to walk around, the lessened patrols were definitely getting to him. When he had been able to go out, he wasn’t even working on investigations, and had taken to the role of simply beating assholes senseless.

But Tim wouldn’t let anyone help. His pride wouldn’t let him.

“So, no progress?” Jason said through another mouth full of sloppy, wet pasta.

“Not in this specific file yet,” Tim sighed, “but I was able to eliminate one more suspect today.”

Tim began chewing on his thumb nail, eyes still glued to his computer screen.

“Well,” Jason grunted as he stood up, “you have like, three extra jobs at WE now, so no one can blame you for it taking time.”

“I blame me,” Tim grumbled, “I have to wait for every new edition of every new contract and every new budget, and then having studied those, I have to wait for the board meeting, which I then spend most of that time trying to catch someone slipping, but these guys lie, cheat, and steal through their whole lives. It just feels like the progress is so slow its non-existent.” Tim pulled the laptop into his lap, slouched against the couch and scrolled through another page of gibberish on his computer that seemed to make sense to him.

“Of course it does. You’re climbing a wall of old man greed with bricks made out of million-dollar budgets and legal jargon.” Jason spoke up louder, so his voice could be heard from the kitchen.

He made his way back to the living room, taking a bite of pasta with not enough sauce, before sitting back down and staring intensely at the computer. Tim looked over at him as he entered.

Line.

“Wait.” Jason said, grabbing the computer off Tim’s lap, and putting the pasta where the laptop had been.

“What?” Tim said, leaning in. Jason held up his hand to pause Tim, and scanned the document on the computer.

“Nothing.” Jason said, looking over at Tim, then at the bowl, and back at Tim with a smile.

It was boring, and Jason had to reread every line twice for any of them to make sense. Beside him, Tim took a bite of too dry pasta.

Sinker.

Tim looked down at the bowl of pasta, made with just enough sauce for everything to stick together and extra parmesan cheese, just the way he liked it.

Tim’s glare meant nothing, as it was followed by an eye roll and a small smile. Jason closed the laptop, and Tim moved closer, another forkful of pasta in his mouth, once again reminded that, yes, he did need to eat.

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

I Know Those Eyes Pt 2

why yes i am continuing this

“You’re certain.”

Batman’s words were clipped. Less a question than a threat of consequences. Tim nodded, no hesitation.

“I’d have to have access to a blood or skin sample for 100% confidence, but… yeah. As of 1:23 A.M. this morning, we have confirmed visuals of Lex Luthor and Damian Wayne, alive and mobile, in downtown Gotham City.”

He brought up images of the hotel.

“Hotel Spillane, originally used by the Falcone family, mainly used by the successors of their original business interests. Several legal and executive representatives of one of these interests arrived over the course of the night and previous evening, with Luthor and… Damian being the last to arrive.”

Keep it together, Tim.

“Oracle looked into Luthor’s new identity. It’s so obvious I am actually mad. He’s backstopped a whole life story as Lex Luthor’s estranged twin brother, Lionel V. Luthor, going by the nickname Vlad. Sole inheritor of all Lex Luthor’s assets.”

He brought up the images on file for ‘Lionel’ as well as his own analysis of the footage.

“The confusing part is what he did after inheriting–he has been spending a lot of money on sustainability research, alternative fuels, updated emergency service systems, things like that. As far as I can tell he wants to make premium versions of those things and sell them for a profit, but is playing the long game by flooding the board with cheap goods while gaining good PR.”

He called up the files on VladCo.

“The rest he used to get a tech startup running, VladCo. Apparently he’s interested in ‘standardizing the nonstandard’, whatever that means, but he hasn’t really made anything for the mass market yet. The closest we can find is he’s been making something classified for the U.S. government.”

He took a shaky breath and called up what he had on Damian. He felt Bruce’s pained, shocked exhale more than he heard it, but it was there all the same. So… there really wasn’t any doubt.

“Daniel Summers. On paper he’s 24, was raised in Chicago, and while he’s acting as Luthor’s bodyguard we couldn’t find any official records of him being employed in that capacity. Probably because Oracle was only checking every thirty seconds and his birth certificate didn’t show up on any records until just before they arrived at the hotel.”

He started counting off on his fingers.

“So, 1: whoever is adding them to the system isn’t done yet. 2: they don’t actually care if they get caught. 3: they, very specifically, don’t care if we catch them.”

“You’re saying he’s taunting us.”

“It’s looking–hang on, Oracle says there’s a situation developing.”

One quick shortcut and video of a meeting room popped up on the screen. ‘Lionel’ was smugly facing down his very angry looking investors and their representatives. Suddenly, each of them seemed to calm down. Unnaturally fast, and in unison, with a very particular dull look to their eyes. Tim felt a chill down his spine.

Mind control. Lex Luthor was a meta now, and he had mind control! No wonder Damian hadn’t reached out–

But why? What did he still need Damian for? Unless…

Oh.

He met Batman’s eyes. The taunting, the lack of discretion, finding his first victims in Gotham City.

This was a hostage situation.

***

“You know, badger, you’re perfectly free to walk away from this part of the plan.”

“No, I promised. … still really creepy to watch, though.”

All the papers were signed, all the signatories overshadowed. Now all they had to do was get out of range.

Danny frowned as he saw the receptionist reach for the phone. Right, spy games. Someone was probably supposed to give her a code word when the meeting was over–

Her eyes went glassy, hand freezing around the phone, and seriously that would never stop being creepy to watch. Still, non-violent solution, he’d take it.

As they approached their car, Danny scanned the quiet, ominously lit street. Not for obvious cameras–he knew for a fact Oracle would never allow one to be obvious–but for the best possible angle a camera could have. Eliminating the ones that would have already been used, that left–

He had thought about this moment. How he would give some signal to let them know he was back. That he had been thinking of them.

… Tt. Another time. Too many layers to communicate through, too little space to do so. His gaze had lingered with a purpose, he could only hope that would communicate that Damian was still a part of him too.

For now, that would have to be enough.

***

-major reveal of this chapter: ‘Lex’ has mind control powers

-lol damian/danny is the ghost king, vlad holding him hostage? ha no

-yeah they did not plan the hostage thing but vlad is gonna jump on it with both feet later. like he’s not gonna take credit for it, amirite

-some chapters will be longer. some will be shorter. the main thing is still vibes

-yes, the last little bit is going to make things so much worse with the bats

-why Summers? anything winter-related would be too on the nose, and using a name associated with a very different comic book universe felt appropriate

-i've been a touch stressed so this got put on the backburner. yes, because current events

@hinari @blankliferain @grimdarling69

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Investigations are attempted

whumptober2023 day 12- red fandom- Danny phantom x batman TW- none summary- Bruce and his kids continue to look into Daniel Nightingale.

ao3 whumptober23 materlist Part 4 of ITR

Bruce stared at the file again.

Name: Daniel Nightingale Family: Unknown Previous employment: Nasty Burger cashier Magical ability: can sense spirits and magical artifacts, can see some mid-level spirits

He frowned. He’d already tried looking up Nasty Burger but no results had come up. He’d tried looking more into Daniel but everything seemed to be in place. Everything was almost too perfect.

It felt like a cover up, like a fake identity. But it was done so well, he was having trouble finding anything else. He’d already had Tim and Barbara try, but Tim didn’t get much further, only discovering that Daniel was his real name but Nightingale had been what was changed. Barbara had agreed and added that she recognized the signature of the hacker who had done the job, but that she had no idea who the hacker was except that they were on her level of talent.

Bruce closed that file and pulled up his search for Manson.

He turned aside to take a drink of his coffee, and when he turned back there was a message displayed on the Batcomputer.

Bruce stared at it before reaching up to his comm. “Oracle.”

“What’s up, B?” he could hear the clicking of keys in the background.

 “I need you to run a check on the Batcomputer.”

“I’m kind of busy at the moment, is this something that can wait?”

“I think we may have found the Manson we’re looking for.”

“Okay?”

“But I only know because the name started blinking across the screen.”

Oracle was silent for a moment before he heard her curse, then the clicking of keys continued at a much more frantic pace.

Bruce waited, the message had disappeared already and so he started looking up Samantha Manson. From what he found she reminded him of Ivy, and he could only hope she wasn’t some kind of villain as well. Manson was an avid protester against meat farms and deforestation along with several other environmental issues. She was also heir to the Manson company and fortune. When he looked into her background he found that she came from Amity Park, Illinois. But when Bruce looked the town up, he came up blank. He wanted to bang his head agaisnt his desk in frustration.

“B.”

“What did you find?”

“I don’t know where exactly the message originated from, but it has the same signature as whoever made Nightingale’s files.”

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement and frustration.

“I’ll keep looking but I've never been able to find this hacker before and I’m not sure I’ll be able to unless they let me.”

“Keep me updated.”

Bruce could practically feel her eye roll as she answered. “Of course, B.”

Bruce really hoped Samanthat Manson was the one they were looking for. But why would the hacker tell them? Regardless, it was worth looking into. It had been a month since Daniel had been taken and if this went on too long, Bruce wasn’t sure if Daniel would still be alive.

He looked up Manson’s whereabouts and his suspicions increased when he found that she had arrived in Gotham the day before.

He spoke over the comms again, “I need a volunteer to go with me to investigate Manson.”

“You finally found them? Who are they?” said Nightwing.

“Took you long enough, old man.”

“Did you or Oracle find them?” Tim asked.

“Neither. Someone hacked the Batcomputer to send the message.”

There was silence on the comms for less than a second before a flurry of overlapping voices made Bruce wince. 

“Quiet.” Thankfully they listened and Bruce was able to continue. “Oracle is looking into it, but I want one of you with me to approach Manson.”

“I need to wrap a case up in Bludhaven.”

“I’m busy.” Jason said.

“I’ll go.” Robin responded.

“Not you, Robin. Agent A informs me you have a project to work on.”

“But, Father–”

“Do you want to take it up with Agent A?”

Damien grumbled but didn’t say anything else.

“Red Robin?”

Tim sighed, “I guess I can go. Whoever this Manson is probably knows our hacker, and I’d really like to meet the person who can hack the Batcomputer. Who is it?”

“Samantha Manson.”

Tim spluttered. “What! Sam Manson, heir to the toothpick company!”

“You know her?”

“Do I know her? She’s the only reason I volunteer for the annual Baymont’s Gala, you know, the owners of that meat packaging plant. Her family always attends, and she always does something to make the gala more interesting. Last year she somehow put laxative in all the champagne. It was hilarious!”

He could hear Dick cackling over the comms.

“That’s ridiculous. Surely something like that would be in the news?” Damien said.

“I don’t think she’s ever been caught.”

“Then how do you know it was her?” Jason asked.

We’ve been going to that gala for years and she’s always very vocal about her opinions of the Baymonts and their company. And once I saw her slip a fake mouse into Avery Bellmonts dress.”

“I think I heard about that incident.” Dick said. “If she turns out to be good, we should invite her to the next Wayne gala; they are always so boring. No offense, B.”

“I agree, except full offense. And no names in the comms, Dickwing.” Jason said.

“Hypocrite.”

“It’s not my fault you–”

“Boys.” There was silence and Bruce sighed. “Red Robin, I’m sending you the address of her hotel. Meet me there in an hour.”

“Will do, B.”

Bruce silenced his comm and got up to get changed into the Batsuit. If Samantha was anything like Tim said, he was in for a long night.

[anawrites3]

Hi!!! I love your writing its awesome! Have you got any thoughts on how the dynamic between Slade and Dick would change if they were already in an established relationship when Bruce "dies" and Dick is Batman?

Aww, thank you so much, love!! That makes me so happy! 🥰🥰

Oh, their relationship would change a lot with Dick being the Batman. Dick would be running himself ragged every night and every day, trying to keep Gotham safe and doing what he can to stop his family from tearing each other's throats out because suddenly everything is going to shit and everyone is fighting.

Now Dick doesn't have time to eat, doesn't have time to sleep. When he finally sees Slade, he just kisses him and leaves to deal with another rogue.

"Oh. Slade." Dick stopped half-step and blinked up at him. It spoke a lot of his state, if he didn't hear Slade getting in. Slade looked him over without a word. His little bird was wearing Batman's suit and he seemed to almost drown in its huge form. There were bags under his eyes, as if he didn't sleep for at least a week and Slade wouldn't even be surprised if he really didn't. Slade wondered when was the last time he ate a solid meal and not just some protein bars or dry cereal. There was also a wound dressing on Dick's cheek, a stitched cut on the other one. "Little bird-" Dick smiled at him, a tired little thing and walked closer, to press a kiss against Slade's cheek. "I have to go now, baby, I'll see you later." He said, and before Slade was able to say anything else, Dick slipped the cowl over his head and walked out through the window. Slade watched him go with hands curled into fists, forcing himself not to punch out a hole into the wall.

Slade lets it happen the first time but he spends the next few days in Gotham, patrolling where no one would see him. Helping Dick however he can because his little bird has enough on his plate, especially with trying to raise Bruce's assassin kid.

But then, instead of it getting better, it's just getting worse and worse. Slade would deny it til the day he dies but he's a big softie and especially for Dick, and he stops taking contracts so he can focus on helping Dick and making sure his little bird stays alive.

Slade makes sure Dick eats. He prepares the meals for him himself and sits with him to make sure that Dick will actually eat it. He forces Dick to sleep, even for a short nap - and when Dick is too stressed to pass out, Slade fucks him and help him relax. He patrols Gotham by his side.

And Dick feels so bad with all of this because yes, they're dating but Slade didn't sign up for something like this. He will try to break up with Slade and Slade won't let him.

"I want to break up." Slade slowly looked up from the files he was reading over. If he was surprised, he didn't show it in any way and Dick hated how good he always was with hiding his emotions. Dick wondered if maybe Slade already knew that Dick would say that. Maybe he wanted to bring it up himself but didn't know how to, without being too big of a dick about it. Dick really couldn't blame him for it. But then Slade just looked back down at the documents in his hands. "No." He simply said.

Then they will fuck nasty about it :3 and afterwards, when they're laying together in bed they will have a serious talk about everything. Dick for sure will have an "Oh" moment when he realizes that Slade wants to do all that for him and that he really really loves him 🥰 After that, keeping Gotham safe will be easier for everyone and not long after that Bruce will come back.

The first thing Slade does after Bruce's return, is taking Dick away on vacation somewhere warm <3

This wasn't meant to be so long lmao but I couldn't stop myself from adding those little writings haha, yeah so basically before Batman Dick their relationship would be more casual, with them having dates and Dick spending a lot of time in Slade's safehouse in Blud and then after Dick becomes Batman, it will become more, they will both live in Manor and Slade would be taking care of his birdie in every possible way he's allowed 🥰

[ao3sbatfamily]

'how to feed your local demon' by InkpotSprite

“Oh, don’t forget your–” A few papers fell out as Dick lifted it up, revealing pictures of Nightwing, Robin and Batman in the middle of a fight with Poison Ivy. “Files.”

“Ah. Those.” Tim laughed nervously, the sharp, citrus-like taste filling the air.

Dick stared at him. Maybe the kid was just a fan, who happened to tote about a heavy folder full of pictures, bar graphs and pages of notes on them. It was possible. Weird, but nothing too out there by Gotham standards.

"I know you're Nightwing." Tim said, effectively smiting away Dick's hopeful optimism. "I like the new suit by the way. It's way cooler than the Elvis look you were going for before." He added.

Dick closed his eyes, wishing he could just go back to bed and sleep until life made sense again.

[dchuntress]

hi hi <3 you seem like the best person to ask and I trust ur taste so do you have some huntress/helena bertellini references I could use? anything full body or full face if u have it. if not that’s ok! your blog is super cool I hope u have a nice day <3

hey!! sorry for the late response. you're very sweet and i appreciate your ask so much, thank you!!! i hope you're having a good day too 💕

this response ended up longer than i expected, so to answer your question directly: i personally like her appearances in the hush comics the best! [ batman #609, #617 ]

i'm going to give a more elaborate response under the cut with more options and designs, because there's just no one way to depict her and you're always more than allowed to have fun with drawing her!! she can pull off anything 😈

i'm just laying out certain ways she's been drawn in different categories, these do not double as a comic reading list necessarily although if you do check out these comics, you'll find more material to work with! i'm just offering a glimpse. also, i'm sorry some of the images are out of order! i'm on mobile so i'm struggling a little; i added alt image descriptions to label the images

comics marked in purple are what i believe have some nice depictions of her in civil clothing too if you're also looking for that!

i hope this helps!!!

category one: blunt trauma, nightwing/huntress, her time in the no man's land era, her appearance in wonder woman #164

category two: birds of prey vol 1 (her first appearance starts from #57), birds of prey vol 2, the animated show justice league unlimited

category three: spyral/grayson comics, batgirl and the birds of prey

category four: detective comics (2016—) [ issues: #1034 to #1058 ], lazarus planet: dark fate

category five: [ the miscellaneous ] this screenshot from jla secret files & origins #2, batman secret files: huntress, cry for blood, the question: pipeline & convergence, injustice: gods among us, huntress: year one, the justice league unlimited comics

just a note? there is another character, helena wayne aka the huntress, who originates from earth 2. in crossbow at the crossroads, that's not helena bertinelli, it's actually helena wayne! this mistake is often made because the writer pulled a pretty terrible "omg helena wayne was pretending to be helena bertinelli this whole time lololol" plot twist and the comic's summary also mentions hel b, so yeah.

if you have any more questions i'm always happy to help!! 🩵