#I am a novice at comics so sorry if I'm still getting used to their characterisation

[professoruber]

Incorrect Quotes: Bruce giving money to the Bat-Family | Part 1

Next Part: Link

Bruce: Another broken chandelier, Dick? Really?

Dick: Well... to be fair, this time I was at least asked first before I showed off my circus skills to the gala-goers. Not my fault it was screwed to the roof so poorly.

Bruce: I doubt the designers were expecting to have to support the weight of a grown-man on top of an already heavy chandelier.

Dick: Anyway, do you mind...?

Bruce: Ugh. Fine. But you owe me for this. You'll be on gala shift again, and no more acrobatics. Understood?

Dick: Loud and clear. <Summersaults out the window onto a trampoline, before bouncing backwards into his car>

Bruce: ...

———————

Bruce: Oracle.

Barbara: Yes, Batman?

Bruce: Is it really necessary for you to replace the entire Clocktower with missile-proof interior plating? Do you know how much time, money and resources it'll require to do such a major renovation to a highly visible landmark without anyone noticing?

Barbara: Bruce. Do you have any idea how many times the Clocktower has been blown up? Even once is too many.

Bruce: …

Barbara: Also I've seen the stuff you're donated to the Justice League, don't pretend this is outside your budget or capabilities.

Bruce: Points taken. Fine.

———————

Bruce: JASON! JUST TAKE MY MONEY!

Jason: %@#! you Bruce! I Don't need your @&#$?&!  handouts!

Bruce: Strange thing to say considering you break into my mansion and safehouses on at least once a week to steal gear, supplies and even food.

Jason: ...

Jason: JUST KILL THE JOKER ALREADY AND I'LL TAKE ALL THE MONEY YOU WANT!

Bruce: WELL THEN MAYBE I WILl!

Jason: Wait really?

Bruce: ...

Jason: ...?

Bruce: Well. No. But still... JUST TAKE MY MONEY! AT LEAST LET ME THROW YOU A BIRTHDAY PARTY!

Jason: As if I'd eve-

Bruce: Alfred is making chilli dogs and Neapolitan ice-cream.

Jason: ...I might show up, but only if the Outlaws don't need m-

Bruce: I also found a pristine original copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen at a charity auction.

Jason: ...

Bruce: The Outlaws are invited as well, of course.

Jason: I'll let them know.

[aralezinspace]

Sweet Nightmares (The Tale of the Blade in the Dark) Part IV

A single Hidden One goes against Dream of the Endless, and gets way more than they bargained for. One does not emerge from a nightmare unscathed. Previous

A/N: (crossover with Assassin's Creed) My contribution to @roguelov's Sweet Nightmares challenge! Enjoy! gif by @honeybeezgobzzzzz Tagging @fangirlmary @alteon77 @boofy1998

Last part, a nice lil epilogue to wrap the story up. So this takes place in the world of Assassin's Creed Mirage specifically (the game takes place in Baghdad and there's a Sandman comic story also in Baghdad it practically writes itself) xD I'm definitely planning to write more for this world once I play the game but it doesn't come out til October 😭We're not done with Yeraz yet, it'll just be a minute. Thanks for reading!

Warnings: AFAB, named, they/them reader, blood, nightmare!Morpheus, some Endless style torture, copious use of petnames

“What happened to Yeraz?” a novice murmured, almost afraid to disturb the magic in the air from the elder’s story. 

The Assassin smirked under the shadows of their hood.

“No one knows,” they replied softly, the words filled with an almost wistful longing. “Some say that after killing their mentor, they fled the city and perished in the desert. Some say they killed him, then surrendered themselves to the Mentor here at Alamut and was executed for treason. However… there are some who believe they still live, roaming between the waking and the Dreaming, bound to an eternity of service to the Nightmare King. Forever paying the price for their Mentor’s arrogance.”

“Which do you believe?” another novice asked, too eager to sound humble. The elder chuckled softly. 

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. Think on my tale, and your answer will show itself soon enough.” They tilted their head up to the night sky. “It’s getting late, and I am sure you have a full day tomorrow. Thank you for your hospitality, goodnight young ones.” 

The novices understood a dismissal when they heard it. They all nodded to the elder and murmured, “Goodnight Master,” before heading up the path to the castle, talking quietly amongst themselves about the Master’s story. 

All except one. 

He appeared to be one of the younger novices, staring at the ground as he anxiously twiddled his fingers. He could not have been more than nine summers old. Born and raised into the Brotherhood, as they had been. The Master sensed he had another question. “What is it, child?” 

“Did the Dream Lord ever forgive them? Yeraz. They- they were led astray by their Mentor, their act wasn’t out of malice or hate or anger, just- they were not to blame.” The Master could see him trembling, hear the wobble in his voice. 

They patted the spot next to them and the young novice sat down, staring pointedly into the flames, almost afraid to meet the Master’s eyes. He mumbled to the ashes, “Whether they lived or died in the end, he must have known Yeraz would have made another choice, if they could have. He must have known they were wiser, less arrogant… Right? So… did he ever forgive them?”

The Master sighed, their insides churning. They had told this story several times in the last few months, and no one had asked this before. For once, they did not have a ready answer, no wise words to impart. 

“I do not know,” they murmured into the fire, soft and slow, carefully measuring their words. “From what I do know…” They sighed, a heavy rattle of air that showed the weariness that hung heavily about their shoulders. “The lives and memories of the Endless are long. The Dream Lord was known to be quite cruel when he wanted; he definitely made sure Yeraz was sorry they ever came within a thousand leagues of his realm. Even if he forgave them, I’m sure he never forgot.” 

“They didn’t deserve what he did to them,” he muttered, almost too soft for the Master to hear. A lump stuck in their throat. He continued, “I would have shown mercy, just sent them back.” He paused, frowning slightly. “The shame and dishonor of failure and being spared by their target would have been enough.”

The lump in their throat grew bigger, burning, almost choking them. They gave the boy a hesitant but encouraging pat on the shoulder and cleared their throat. “Now then, it’s late, and you should be in bed. Go on, I’ll bank the fire.” The novice stood, but made no move to go inside. He fumbled nervously with his fingers as the Master banked the fire, the flames dying down to glowing embers. 

“Master,” he choked softly, his voice high and trembling, thick with shame. “Um- would you mind walking up with me?” The words tripped and tumbled out of his mouth, trying to justify his request. “I-it’s dark and I can’t see very well, I- I don’t want to get lost or fall.” 

A tiny smile touched the Master’s face, even though they knew the boy probably would not see it. “Of course,” they replied gently, hearing the thinly disguised terror in their voice. “Take my hand.” 

The moon and stars gave off just enough light for the novice to see a human shaped form that was a slightly different shade of black and navy reach out to him. He took their hand, their callused fingers wrapping snugly around his. As they walked up the path to the fortress, the Master murmured softly, “I know what it is to fear the dark. And sometimes that fear is justified.” They paused, the only sounds around them the chirring of bugs and the scuffing of their feet on the dirt path. 

“Remember this, my boy: fear not the darkness, but welcome its embrace. My Mentor gave me these words, and now, I give them to you.” The large lanterns that marked the gateway to the fortress flickered into view. They were almost at the top of the path, and the Master could feel the novice’s relief. He repeated the words under his breath, his voice still trembling slightly. 

The novice let go of their hand when they reached the safety of the fortress’ entrance hall, dimly lit by a dozen lanterns and candles. He turned to a doorway on the left, presumably leading to the novices’ quarters. The Master kept walking forward toward the grand staircase; their own guest rooms would be on the next floor.   

The novice paused at the doorway and bowed at the waist. “Goodnight Master, thank you for the story and your guidance.” 

A tiny smile touched their face. “Goodnight child, sleep well.”