#The bat's aren't any better.

[apiptosis]

Part 2 while I try to figure out tumbler.

The second one to meet Danny was one Cassandra Cain.

Cass ran into the thermos guy about five weeks after the incident with Tim. Unknowing this would Kickstart quite the changes in her life.

It was chaos for a while after Tim's 6 day long coma. For the first time in a very long time her brother was completely awake and refreshed. His completion returned to the healthy shade it's supposed to be and the bags under his eyes disappeared completely for a while.

The cause of Tim's coma was a caffeine overdose well that and an untreated concussion. According to Dr Leslie the last lingering traces of the larzarus pits managed to bring him back from the edge and now everyone in her family was religiously monitoring his caffeine intake. His time at the bat computer. How long he was allowed to be at WE. Etc.

Her brother was a saint for how long he lasted but eventually he got so fed up with everyone that he started a fight with Jason and Damian at the same time and after a brutal fight she, Alfred and Bruce had to break up Tim stormed off to buy the first apartment he could find that was reasonable enough.

So there she was in the early morning hours breaking into the old aparrment, room no. 404 was supposedly haunted, to give him the dented thermos she stole back from Bruce and Alfred as an apology. She even went to the Coffee shop at the corner of her studio that Tim liked and refilled it. No masks needed.

Cass was barely into the unfamiliar room when a frighteningly familiar voice appeared behind her accompanied by the singing of an unsheathed sword. "Truly Daughter, that you have allowed-"

An abnoxiously loud slurp interrupted her mother and in retaliation she stabbed the source. Said source had barely managed to turn one of the desk lamps on before he released a grunt of pain as Shiva stabbed him in the gut and he dropped his coffee mug to shatter on the floor.

A normal sized man would have recieved a mortal wound but the guy was atleast seven feet tall and struck his now vacant meaty paw out to grab Shiva by the forearm hard enough that she had to let the blade go.

The moment she let go he hefted her in the air by her arm uncaring of her kicks and merely chastised her with the barest hints of a Midwestern accent. "That was incredibly rude and since you stabbed me with it this saber is now mine." With a clean motion he tossed her out through the open window.

The whole scenario threw her off kilter and the few seconds it took her to realign herself he had already defenestrated Shiva.

With a grunt he pulled out the blade and set the bloodied thing on his sink with his ruined shirt before pulling out two chairs. 'Why would he do that? Everyone knows you don't just pull out something sticking into you, that was a sure way to bleed out.'

"I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you miss but that was rather unpleasant, you have my sympathies if that was truly your mother. So why dont we start over while I make us a cup of coffee."

"Names Danny and you are welcome to the Astral Apartments room 304." The man, Danny, said as he busied himself with the coffee machine.

"304?" For the first time Cass' rattled mind found it's voice that night. Danny immediately ought onto her confusion and radiating concern asked. "Yep 304. What room were you looking for?"

"404. Brother. My name is... Cass."

"The new guy? Moved in 5 days ago? Yeah, he left about an hour ago. If the pattern repeats he should be back in about four to five hours. It's nice to formally meet you Cass."

That was not good.

"Here," Danny said as he placed the a carton of milk and some sugar cubes down on the table next to the - yeah no that was not a cup of coffee - while it may look like an odd cup that was definitely a rather large steaming mug of coffee.

As Danny moved to take a seat Cass could find no trace of hostility from him. Her skills with spoken and written language might not be the best, it has gotten better though, her skills with the language of the body and emotion however was. Danny gave her no hostility or even dislike. Just pure concern, a lot of warmth, and comfort and a little bit of curiosity and some interest. Definitely a sense of protectiveness.

Her own worries and concern faded to curiosity and interest as she saw the wound much smaller than it was before.

"You can stay here till your brother gets back. He's usually here by the time I have to leave for Gotham U."

Slowly Cass sat down and prepared her coffee the way she liked it. Tradings one basic facts like her being a ballerina and prodding about here and there with the occasional prompt she soon found him rambling.

About his classes, how studying at Gotham U was going and how different they were from his schools in Illinois. He was studying to become an aerospace engineer. Random tidbits of space. It was kind of cute in a way how this behemoth of a man with a smile a little too toothy and bright or ears a bit too sharp rambled about his interests, eyes shining lie stars.

Eventually she had to leave when Tim arrived no matrer her own reluctance. That he was shirtless and easy on the eyes was a bonus and not one of the reasons she stayed.

As she left she concidered her options. This man with stars in his eyes would no doubt attract attention from the rogues. If she patrolled here as Orphan no one would really care all to much. It's just her way of lightening Tim's burden and keeping an eye out for Shiva.

She can come visit as Cass as well, perhaps get him to eat something. His fridge was very empty when she saw him returning the milk.

Grabbing one of the sticky notes she always kept by her she wrote down her number for him alongside a mental note to look at the academy a little but.

A few seconds after Danny closed the door Danny again. "So that's where by thermos was! I could have sworn I looked there."

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Mud

Hello! I am back with the baby-AU! Lmao! @spotaus

I am excited about this one :3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Lets just get right into it shall we? :3

*-------------------*

Nightmare should probably be paying attention.

But the truth is it has already been a long day and he just doesn't feel like it.

Instead he just keeps holding Cross's hand as he eats his chocolate bar.

Nightmare is actually standing on the ground today, which is nice for a chance. It is mostly because he just spend the last two hours or so sitting still for some doctors and healers. For his monthly check up.

Which is new to him! Since when does he have a monthly check up?!

Nightmare huffs as he keeps eating his candy bar. It is sweet and he likes that. much like the light rain that is around them. He also likes the rain.

Cross shoots him an apologetic look "I know Nightmare. We will go home soon."

Nightmare hums and leans against Cross's side. He wants to go home already. The town is nice but busy today. Something to do with it being near halloween Crop had explained.

Nightmare looks up and sees that Killer is also very done with the conversation, even if he still has a smile on his face. Cross is better with acting interested. Gerson is talking to them so Nightmare can understand why they are still humouring this whole thing.

Nightmare finishes his snack and looks aorund, searching for a garbage can. He easily spots one and goes to let go of the hand.

Cross tightens his hold and looks down at him anxious "NIghtmare? Are you okay?" he gives Gerson an apologetic smile.

Nightmare rolls his eye lights and shows the obvious wrapper "Going to throw it away." duh.

Cross looks around and spots the same garbage can "I mean... okay... fast..." he slowly lets go of the hand as Gerson pulls him back to the conversation. Social guidelines nad rules keeping him captured.

Nightmare grins and walks over to the garbage can. He is careful to not slip on the wet and muddy ground. He is getting close when he spots a large mud pool and frowns at it. Annoying as he already starts to feel his spine acting up.

Seems like being carried and letting his spine relax a bit mad ehim less used to the pain... or is it because he is small now? Nightmare really doesn't know...

Still go carefully makes his way around the mud, he is wearing his new favourite sweater, the one Dust got him when they first got here, and he doesn't want to risk it getting dirty. He is already unhappy wiht it getting wet.

He gets to the garbage can and throws away the wrapper. Mission accomplished. Now to go back to Cross and Killer.

He turns around and bums into someone. Nightmare quickly takes a few steps back and slips only slightly before regaining his balance. He looks up and sees two boys.

Nightmare mutters "sorry..." he glances around and sees that Killer is already side eyeing him and his situation and he feels a bit calmer. He is fine. Killer is here.

One of the two boys huffs "How dare you! You dirtied my shoe!"

Nightmare blinks and feels confused. What does he mean? Nightmare bummed into him yeah but he didn't hit his shoe right? He looks down and sees that the shoes are covered with mud.

Nightmare frowns and rubs his arm "Sorry?" he isn't sure but also does not want trouble "Maybe it can be washed off?" he isn't sure. Some stuff is still hard to remember.

The boy huffs "Well that doesnt make it better!"

The other boy laughs "You know what would make it better?"

Nightmare realises soemthing is wrong right away and looks for an escape but one of them grabs his arm and the next thing he knows gravity pulls him down right into the mud he had been avoiding.

It hurts so bad.

His eye sockets sting both with tears and the mud. he looks down at himself and is absolutely covered. The other two laugh but it is already becoming a background noise.

His sweater is dirty...

He had tried to be careful with it and... and...

Two arms grab him and he is suddenly held close in a hug. "nightmare?! Are you okay? Is your spine okay? Are you hurt?" Cross speaks gently as he carefully removes some of the mud from Nightmare's face.

Nightmare can't explain. it is already hard to keep in the tears and now he is also ruining Cross's clothes and his body hurts and-

He sobs. He can't keep it in. He ruined his sweater. he ruined Cross's stuff. everything hurts. it is cold. he wants to go home.

Cross just pulls him closer and rubs his shoulders gently "Oh it is okay. Don't worry okay? We will get home and get all cleaned up and we will check your injuries."

Cross's voice helps him focus. Helps him breath and get passed the sobs and tears. his face is still all wet and muddy and he is dirty and his sweater. it had been a gift! He should know better than think he is allowed to have nice things.

Someone screeches "What do you think you are doing to my dareling boys?!"

Nightmare flinches and pushes closer to Cross. he dares to glance up and sees Killer growling and glaring at the two boys. He is holding one arm of one of the boys, the one Ngihtmare run into, behind his back and Nightmare knows that angle is painful.

Killer glances at the lady before looking back at the boy near tears "Teaching your child manners about how he shouldn't bully or harm a young child." Killer's voice is compeltely calm. Giving nothing away. Nightmare knows it means he is beyond furious.

The lady glares "It are just boys! Boys will be boys!" she huffs "What did they even do?" she notices him and huffs again "It is just mud! It is harmless!"

Killer looks at her before grinning. He lets go of the child and steps back. He moves quickly and Nightmare isn't even sure how he does it but next thing there is a wave of mud which covers all three.

Killer crosses his arms and waits.

The lady screeches again "How dare you?! This is real fur!"

Killer raies a brow "What? I thought you just told me. It. Is. Just. Mud." he stares her down "All you will have to do? Clean it. Which is much easier for you. As you have one of those handie bodies to keep it out of your system. Unlike wiht us skeletons that can cause quite a bit of different injuries. All caused by dirt getting stuck in joints. You know, like mud. And between joints, that this babybones has."

The lady shakes slightly as she looks around before looking back at Killer.

Killer stares at her "I will make this clear. YOu are going to walk away with those two brats of yours. You are not going to cause us anymore issues. understood?"

The lady nods and grabs her two boys and leaves.

Killer huffs before looking back at him. cold and emotionless look gone as he looks at him "tiny boss?"

Nightmare knows he is still crying as he pulls on his sweater a tiny bit. it sticks to his body, it rubs and hurts everything... but his sweater. He looks at Killer and isnt sure how to explain "my sweater..." he knows he is still crying "Dusty got this for me...." it was so expensive and special and Nightmare tried to be careful with it but he wanted the warm hug of the sweater at his appointment because it was Dust's relax day but now it is dirty and ruined and and and.

He can't explain adn just sobs.

Cross seems to understand as he pulls him closer "oh baby it is okay. We are going home. get you all cleaned up and clean up your sweater too. You will be wearing it again before you know it!"

Nightmare just sobs again.

Cross nuzzles him gently and that makes him feel a bit better.

"Hey tiny boss! Look!"

Nightmar eblinks and looks over at Killer. Killer sees him look and he grins widely. Before kicking his own feet out from under him and faceplanting right into the mud that Nightmare fell into.

Cross gasps "Killer!"

Killer pulls his face out and grins widely. The mud and tears mix and it is messy and he is covered in mud but it falls in almost slowmotion and-

Nightmare can't stop the giggle leaving him.

Killer grins and gets up. Each step makes a weird slurp and slosh. Nightmare snorts and laughs more.

Killer gets to them and grins at him.

Cross looks amused himself "You are a mess." he still nuzzles nightmare.

Killer grins and winks at Nightmare "Just means tiny boss and I will both need a bath." He then stands straight and shows his outfit "And look! More clothes that need washing! We will just wash our stuff together!"

Nightmare giggles and nods before starting to reach for Killer. He still pulls his hand back again. It feels... needy...

Killer grins as he sloshes over and nuzzles his face all over.

Cross sighs "Killer you are getting your goop all over him."

Killer grins at Cross "It is fine crossy! When we get home it is bathtime anyway!"

Nightmare feels himself relax a bit more as Killer rubs the tears away and Nightmare leans back against Cross. They are going home and wash up together.

He really hopes the sweater will turn out to be okay but the others probably know how to wash it out carefully.

*-------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[diluc33rpm]

the romance/relationship system in bg3 is genuinely some of the worst designed shit i've ever seen in any game with that feature but at least the memes we get out of it are funny. once saw someone comment something along the lines of 'patch note: waving at gale will no longer cause him to buy a house for the two of you to retire in' and i've never recovered since

[untildarknesscomes]

I don't ship satosugu, but the way people will bury their heads so deep into the sand to deny its canon implications is so wild to me.

Pointing at that relationship chart on twitter as a gotcha, like, okay?.. If anything, the fact that Suguru is considered the “best friend” while the others are referred to as “students”, “classmate”, “teacher” is the biggest indication that Suguru was the only person Satoru actually and genuinely cared about. If they weren't boyfriends, there could at least be unrequited feelings type of thing going on from Satoru's side.

“He would only date older rich women” y'all ever heard of bisexuality? It's been a thing for centuries, fyi. I personally always hc'd him as a bisexual homoromantic (or in this case, sugurumantic) due to that one time when Gege said Satoru couldn't open up to a woman, and now I think Gege pretty much confirmed that.

At the end of the day, it's all fiction and we can hc anything and everything we want, but bullying the shippers and outright rejecting Satoru's feelings when there's literally NO OTHER REASON to why they censored his last words towards Suguru other then the obvious outrage it would stir up within the fans is... a poor choice. If you want to be illiterate, fine. You hate the ship, cool. But stop acting like that small part of the fandom are the insane ones and they're ruining the series for wanting two Ken dolls to kiss.

[cooltuna69]

Rant in tags

[rosenecklaces]

the rage invading my body every time i remember the illyria we got... SJM really left her racist ass and white feminism rampant on this people like woah

[cluescorner]

There's no feeling stranger than knowing that something is bad but liking it anyways. Not in a 'it's so bad it's good' way. Because that implies that it has become good. I'm talking like this thing is just kinda bad in the normal ways things are bad, but i like it anyways.

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny Has Bat-wings

Part 2

Clockwork would regret the day he taught Danny shapeshifting. The ancient time ghost thought it was wise to educate the prince/apprentice to change his appearance at will to better blend in when he traveled across universes.

Add that to the fact Clockwork has been very lenient with the prince and let him cross as amny universes as he desired.

Danny had learned how to make small alterations so far. He started by making himself taller than clockwork but after struggling to cope with low ceilings he stopped. He resorted to using tails and ears of many kinds. He usually took the time to study any animals he wanted to copy and use their traits after figuring out how they worked. He is still years away from a full transformation as this mentor said but he was determined to master at least one.

Danny's greatest discovery so far are wings. He made a full set of wings, bones and all. Although he hasn't figured out feathers (look they are more complex than patches of fur!) so he has bat wings.

Danny was more than proud to show them off to clockwork, practically bouncing off the walls as he darted back and forth.

"Very good Daniel." Clockwork said putting a hand on Danny's head and stopping the boy from moving. "Perhaps you can focus on learning to use your extra limbs now.."

Danny rolled his eyes. He already knew how to fly. He was literally doing it now. Is it really that hard to flap your wings?

Danny took it back, flying is hard.

He had found the rooftops of Bludhaven a good place to practice. Danny understood now why birds pushed their chicks out of the nest as he had to jump off roofs to get enough air to fly. Well, he wasn't flying, yet it was more flapping wildly until he could soften his landing.

Bat wings aren't really made to sit on your back comfortably so Danny had to wrap his wings around his body like a weighted blanket.

Danny learned quickly that dropping down alleyways and having his wings covering him caused people to panic and run. He didn't even get a chance to say sorry. Other times they attacked him calling him "The Bat" or "Batman", which is first off rude, and second, they could have at least called him a vampire or something.

News traveled quickly in Bludhaven right to Detective Grayson that Batman was in town. Which was weird because Bruce should be on a case right now. So it was Nightwing's job to see what was going on.

This "Batman" was clearly not Bruce. Any Gothemite worth their salt could tell that but the people of Bludhaven aren't familiar enough with bats. Speaking of bats, the "Batman" was more of a bat boy. Had ManBat had a kid, probably not.

The kid darted around and jumped from roof to roof with ease. After a few hours of practice, he'd wrap his wings around him and take a quick nap.

Usually, Bruce would demand a file be made on the kid and give him the 3rd degree on why he's here but this was Nightwing's territory. And he thought the kid was harmless if not a bit goofy.

Dick decided to stay quiet on this and letting Bludhaven have its own little Bat Boy. What's more entertaining to watch the kid learn to fly and failing when he tried to land.

[stick2vamp]

sebastian with a touchy reader who can't seem to take their hands off him ? :3

𝜗 ˖ ❝ poke, poke! ᵕ ♡

— in which you get too handsy for your own good. ✧

↷　 sfw 𓈒 no warnings 𓈒 well bitch sebastian warning 𓈒 tried to make this as in character as possible but honestly may be more ooc 𓈒

UNESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP ☆★ — under the assumption you aren't dating yet.

SEBASTIAN doesn't honestly care that much when you touch him, he just likes to pretend like he does to see your reaction. Whether you freeze up and stop your actions, or continue to do them out of defiance: either amuses him. He does have his limits, though.

You're fine to touch his tail. Many Expendables do it on accident when buying things anyway, so he has gotten used to it. He won't bat an eye when you lightly touch his tail. Sebastian will, though, tease you and push you. It's not a fair trade that you get to just play with his tail like that. Don't you think he deserves some compensation? Of course, he isn't being too serious, but if you end up coughing up some research... well, he'll gladly take it off your hands.

But Sebastian will only let you do that. It's better than nothing, isn't it? Oh, how generous he is. You're not allowed to touch his hands, fins, or 'lure'. Yeah, no, you aren't getting your grubby little hands on him like that. Well, maybe if you paid for it. How does 1,000 research per second of touch sound?

Sebastian does not enjoy physical touch, nor does he see a need for it. Perhaps, in the past, he would've yearned for it. But now, he is quite literally different.

But let's say you're a loyal customer, a frequent visitor whom Sebastian has come to actually pay attention to. Sebastian, being the oh-so-sweet shopkeeper he is, might let you hang around and touch him a bit more. If you promise to keep buying from him, that is.

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP ☆★ — under the assumption you are dating.

SEBASTIAN still has no need for physical touch, but he understands that you do. And being the best boyfriend there is, he'll of course give it to you.

Except, you still need to return the favor. Expect a lot of physical attention from Sebastian, you reciprocating, then Sebastian flipping it onto you as if you were the one initiating it just to get you to do something for him. What do you need to do for me? Why, you just need to cut him some slack. See, not so hard, is it? How kind of him to give you such an easy task.

That aside, as his lover, you get to touch more of him. His tail is not the only thing up for grabs anymore. Feel free to touch him wherever. While he can't guarantee a position reaction, he won't stop you from petting wherever you want.

His fins? In your hands. His light? In your hands? His cheeks? In your hands? Go ahead and squeeze to your heart's content. The two of you have all the time in the world down here, after all.

Rarely, Sebastian will initiate affection with you without any ulterior motives. When you question his antics, he just laughs into your shoulder. Really, do you expect him to be mean all the time? These moments become more and more frequent as time goes on. Free of charge, too. You're the only one he'll give a 100% off discount to. The things he does for you.

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[adreamfromnevermore]

Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.

No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.

Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.

They're the most infuriating bitches around.

They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.

They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.

You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.

In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.

[ms-dead-inside]

Okay, but hear me out:

Murder baby Damian, but for whatever reason, his first attempt at Tim's life is put on pause, so they never have that interaction. Instead, before Damian can come up with a new plan, Tim (who's kinda excited he now isn't the baby of the family) offers to train him in detective work for when Damian finally gets the mantle of 'Robin' as a way to bond with him.

"Why train your enemy, Drake?"

"We're brothers, not enemies. Besides, Robin has always been a mantle to pass down. I'm certainly not going to keep it in my twenties or thirties. And other than Bruce, I'm the best detective in the family."

"Very well, Drake, I shall accept your tutelage for the time being."

Damian accepts, of course. Not only can he study Drake for his weaknesses, he will also improve his own skill set. It's worth the wait for Robin. By the time Damian's done, there will be no doubt that he is the superior bat.

Unfortunately, he actually grows fond of Timothy. While he will inevitably get close with Richard, just like in canon, Timothy is a breath of fresh air for when Richard is being too overbearing, especially when it comes to things like 'socializing,' and 'making friends.'

When his father dies, and Timothy declared him actually lost to time, Richard doesn't believe him, can't believe him, because the hope is too painful. Timothy still gives Damian Robin, because, "I'm barely holding on as Batman as it is. I can't handle Robin being gone for potentially months at a time, halfway around the world."

During his partnership with Richard, truly becoming his brother-son, Richard introduces the ideas of pets to him. Damian loves animals, and having and taking care of a creature that could potentially survive on its own, but will have a much better quality of life under his care, speaks to him. He has Alfred and Titus and about half a dozen other stray animals that usually stay for about a week while he nurses them to health at any given moment, but he feels like he should officially have another pet.

Que the whole thing with his grandfather, and Timothy getting kicked out of the top of a skyscraper. He comes home with proof, and the Justice League brings his father home. And as Dick basically refuses to let anyone leave the mansion for the foreseeable future, Damian realizes several facts:

1.) Timothy is a human, and humans are animals.

2.) While Timothy has somehow survived until now, he wouldn't recognize self-care if it slapped him in the face.

3.) Timothy's quality of life will improve if someone is taking care of him because he cannot be trusted to do it for himself. (Is it a coincidence that he loses organs when he is away from the family? Damian thinks not.)

4.) Damian has gotten good at taking care of animals.

Ergo, Timothy is now Damian's pet. Tim doesn't know what to do and simply humors him. Besides, it's nice when someone actually bothers to give him a plate of foods that he likes when he gets hyper focused on work and forgets to eat. That, and while he is exasperated every time Damian tranqs him, those are still the best sleeps of his life.

Jason finds it hilarious. Damian doesn't understand Richard or his father's reactions.

"Damian, Tim can take care of himself."

"Barely. Father, now that I am in charge of his sleep schedule, there aren't as many dark circles under his eyes. Even Alfred has commented that Timothy consumes less caffeine."

"Damian, he can't be your pet."

"Why not?"

"Tim's your brother; he's family."

"So are you saying that Alfred and Titus aren't family?"

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Facade of You

I wanted to write him off putting and cocky at the same time, but that sure is a fine line. Reader is a bit of a spitfire when they probably should keep their mouth shut. (And I love that) ~2.3k words

When the Arkham Knight wants something, he gets it. Driven. Focused. Torrent in his mission and desires. You knew it from the moment you met him. Knew it the second you swung the aluminum baseball bat at his head, and he stopped your swing without even a flinch.

This was going to be a problem. Well, more of a problem than it already was.

Most of Gotham had evacuated because of whatever insane plan Scarecrow had crafted. Most, but not all. You had shored yourself up in your apartment, ready to ride out whatever happens from the comfort of your own home.

Was it the smartest decision? Maybe not. But you had survived blizzards in July, streets lined with living plants, and some guy who liked to run around hosting tea parties while wearing a top hat. So, you think you could be forgiven if you thought you could handle some threats of fear gas and anarchy.

And honestly, you probably could have. If not for the figure wearing armor worth more than your whole apartment breaking through your window.

On any other day, you probably would have screamed at the sight of the stranger standing in your living room. But tonight, there's no neighbors to call the cops, no vigilantes with time to spare patrolling the streets to hear you cry for help.

So you swung. Swung your bat right for his weird, glowing helmet with all your strength.

His fingers caught and curled around the metal before you even registered him moving. Everything seemed to go still, your instincts practically screaming at you to flee. You didn't need to see his face to know that he's smirking at you, head tilting like what you did was interesting, but pointless.

The silence stretches as you try to tug the bat from his hold, but the man doesn't even seem to move. No, he only starts to laugh at you, laughs like this is the last he expected, like the entire situation is ridiculous.

It draws a scowl to your face. So what if he's covered head to toe in armor and weapons? He broke into your apartment to what? Revel in your misery? Make fun of you? And you're just supposed to take that?

You open your mouth to confront him, to demand answers, when he laughs again, low and still full of disbelief, "Of course, of course you're still in this damned city. I shouldn't be surprised. Always in places you shouldn't be, aren't you."

He punctuates his words with a low, long drawl of your name, the letters falling off his tongue and through the modulator of his helmet as if he's said them a million times.

He drops his hold on the bat, but it hardly matters when your own grip starts to slack at the sound of your name, "Who are you," You demand, every hair on edge as the stranger starts to pace your apartment, almost as if he's looking for something to occupy himself with.

"You aren't supposed to be here, you know," he murmurs, picking up a framed photo, "It's not part of the plan. But I suppose I'm to blame for not expecting this of you."

You step forward, anger clouding your better judgment at the sight of him picking over your things like they're his own, "Put that down."

He turns his head towards you, lifting the photo to your field of vision, "This? It's hardly important."

You grit your teeth at the sight. It is important. More than he could possibly understand. Yours and Jason's smiling face shines from the picture behind the glass, your figures illuminated by the rare summer sun Gotham gets. It's one of the only pictures you have of him, some of the only evidence he was ever in your life.

You lunge forward without warning, dropping your bat in a bid to grab the frame. He easily side steps your desperate attempts. Something seems to shift in the air as he practically purrs, "whoops," and drops the photo from between his fingers.

The breath leaves your lungs as the glass shatters, leaving the photo in a pile of shards and broken wood. Your gaze snaps back to him, outraged, "Who do you think you are? How dare–"

"You can call me The Arkham Knight," he cuts in simply, stepping on the shards– on the photo of Jason– like it's less than nothing.

"What do you want," You hiss, biting back insults over how insane you think he sounds. You match his step forward with your own backward motion, keeping space between you.

"To make Batman pay," he drawls, honest and never slowing his steps towards you, even as you rapidly run out of space between you and the wall.

You shift your free hand to your pocket, trying to fumble for your phone without him noticing, "Then why are you here? I'm not Batman."

He finally stops stalking your every step as your back hits the wall, lingering only an arms length away from you, "No," he relents, "You're not Batman. But he does feel responsible for you."

"He feels responsible for everyone," You protest, fingers tapping blindly across your phone. Your voice shakes, even as you try to hide it. But it's hard not to be intimidated by the man towering over you, by the unblinking whites of his mask shining on your face.

He sighs, like whatever game he's playing suddenly went dull, "It's a shame you were here. Really. It would have been better if you'd left the city."

You press send on your phone. At least, you hope the (ideally) coherent message you're trying to get to Babs without seeing is sending, "Are you going to kill me?"

He recoils like the idea repulses him. It's the first bit of proof you've gotten that he even has feelings outside of whatever front he's been putting up. But he settles back into that lazy, uncaring pose, nodding towards your pocket, "Go ahead, sweet thing. Call Barabra. Call Dick. Call Bruce, even. They won't help you. Even if it wasn't such a busy night, you've never been their priority."

You tense, frozen under his unwavering gaze and the revelation of his words. His jabs don't bother you. He's clearly trying to get under your skin. But, he– The Arkham Knight– knows. Your mind races as your breathing shallows. He knows about Batman– everyone. But how much does he know? How much could he know? Their identities, that secret, it always felt untouchable.

It nearly makes you tremble. Is that why he's here? To get back at them somehow through you? It hardly makes sense if it's true. Jason's the one that cared about you– that wanted you to be okay.

His words feel like a trap. The idea that he wants you to call for help is just another game he's letting you play. But you pull out your phone anyway, your eyes never really leaving him even as you dial a number with trembling fingers.

The line rings. And rings. Then, "Hi, it's Barbara–"

"Babs, I need–" You start, only to be cut off by the continued message.

"I can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the tone, and I'll be sure to get back to you!"

Your heart drops, and you don't get the chance to consider your options before the Arkham Knight is plucking your phone out of your hands to end the call. He tosses your only hope of getting help towards your couch.

His voice is mocking, when he speaks again, "See? They can't even save themselves. How could you think they'd bother with you?"

"Why are you here," You ask instead, desperate to ignore the growing pit in your stomach, the fear creeping up your spine.

He hums, and reaches up to grab your chin, turning your face this way and that to study you. "A lapse in judgment. Curiosity. A weakness for the past. It hardly matters," he mutters, more for himself than you, "What matters is what to do with you."

"You could leave me here," you suggest quickly, grabbing at his wrist to keep him still, "Pretend you never saw me. I won't get in the way. I'm– I'm no vigilante. I won't be any trouble."

He scoffs, dropping his hand from your face, "This city would eat you alive. You can't handle what's coming."

"And what's it to you," You snarl, sounding braver that you feel and driven by the annoyance course through your veins. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. (Just not necessarily against military trained rouges)

That seems to snap him to attention, and you regret your words immediately. You've essentially given him a reminder that you mean as much to him as the photo he left broken on the floor. And if he wanted to send a message to Batman, it would be easy to start with you.

"It's nothing to me," he hisses back, but even the modulator in his helmet doesn't hide the tightness– the near lie– of his voice, "You're in over your head, doll. If anything, you should be grateful I'm showing you the truth."

Your blood runs cold, your tone sharpens, and your eyes narrow. He doesn't have the right. Jason's the only one that's ever nicknamed you doll. His eyes always seemed to shine when he said it. "Don't call me that," You warn, words dripping with malice.

He honestly snorts at you, unimpressed by your threat, "What's wrong, doll? Hit a sore spot?"

You throw yourself at him, aiming a fist for his dumb helmet as your heart pounds in your ears. If he's going to make an example of you, use you against Batman, you're not going to lay back and just let him pick at your wounds.

He catches you like he expected it, hauling you into the air as you scream obscenities and curses, kicking and hitting your fists against his armor until he dumps you unceremoniously onto the couch. You scramble for your discarded phone, and he's quick to pin you down, his knee braced to your stomach to keep you from moving as he knocks your phone out of reach.

He huffs as if this is just a minor setback, reaching down to fix the wrinkles forming in your clothes every time you struggle, "And here I thought you liked being called doll."

"Not by you," You practically spit, all rationally thrown out the window as you continue to squirm. You bring your nails up to his arm, trying to dig into any weak spots in his armor for a chance to escape, to make him hurt.

"Only by me, sweet thing," he coos, and your world stills to a halt as he clicks the faceplate of his helmet back.

Jason Todd is grinning at you. It's not quite right. His eyes are wilder than you remember, his smile too forced, too tense. There's more scars across his skin than you recall there being. A stark white brand stands out on his cheek. But it's him. Undeniably him.

"Now where'd all your fight go," he questions, fingers trails up to rest on your throat, "no need to look all surprised, doll."

All you can offer is his name falling from your lips, eyes wide, and face shell-shocked.

He tuts, fingers flexing ever so slightly against your pulse, "Is that really all you have to say?"

"They told me you were dead," you choke out, unable to fight the tears threatening to well in your vision.

"They lied," he says simply, as if that answers anything. He lifts his hand from your throat to press his thumb against your lower eyelid, the light pressure forcing your tears to spill onto the fabric of his glove.

"Jason–" You try again, wanting answers, comfort, anything you can latch onto.

He only shushes you, "I don't blame you, sweet thing, for falling for it. That's just what they do. They lie. Change the narrative to fit their twisted perceptions. But I'll help you. I'll tell you everything you need to know. All you need to do, is come with me."

It's a bad idea. You feel it down to your bones. Jason, your Jason, isn't the one digging his knee into your stomach, isn't the one collecting your tears on his glove like they're a trophy. But he is Jason, and he's only ever done what's best for you. So going with him has to be right, has to be what you're supposed to do.

You nod. What else could you do? How could you even think to deny him when his face lights up in the shadow of how he used to smile at you?

He stands, and it takes every bit of strength you have not to surge forward and beg him not to when he clicks his helmet back shut. The Arkham Knight– Jason– offers you a hand, and you don't need a second thought to take it.

You shouldn't. You really shouldn't. He said it himself, he didn't plan for you to even be here. But his grip is steady in yours, and he keeps turning his head to check on you as he leads you across your apartment and to the window.

Relief clouds your mind, the idea that everything could be okay as long as he's back. So you follow him, don't ask questions even as he leads you down the fire escape and towards a suspiciously armored truck.

You don't press, even as he barks orders at the driver that's dressed more like a soldier than a chauffeur.

You let him tell you that you made the right choice. That he's going to fix all of this, that you being here will help in the end. You let him guide you through Gothams ruined streets, far away from your home, from where the memory of him is shattered on the floor.

And if you left your phone ringing over and over again on your couch in a frantic attempt to reach you, you're far too blinded by the echo of the boy you're chasing to care.

[redflagshipwriter]

Mama Bat pt3 progress Post

Part 3 Progress

Batcount: Stephanie, Dick

“Danny Fenton, parents declared him dead and claimed they buried him,” Dick said, spinning around in the batcomputer batchair. Anxious, unhappy, too much energy because there's nothing to fight here. “He has an older sister, I think she knows he's in Gotham and she's covering for him. She'll be coming to Gotham University next semester, despite having accepted a better offer from Harvard last year.” 

Steph let out a low, long whistle. “Whatever's going on at home must be bad,” she commented. “No other contacts?”

Dick pulled up a grainy class photo. “He's part of a small friend group, but neither of them have made any unusual moves. If Sam Manson or Tucker Foley get a plane ticket we'll know, but for now?” He shrugged, eyes distant. “Seems like he ran off alone. But probably for really good reasons.” He switched tabs back to the unhinged Fenton works website. He all but vibrated: wanna go, want to run, look, see.

Steph squinted for a few moments, reading. “...We’re going to go see what crimes against nature they're committing, aren't we?” She sounded resigned to it.

Dick shrugged. “It's not ideal,” he said unhappily. “The town is too small for how we normally do our night work. But face out is a big risk.” 

“Maybe we should lean on a friend?” Stephanie suggested. “Someone who has a public role that wouldn't be a problem?” 

“We’ll have to ask Mama Bat.” 

They both turned to look at Cass, who was sitting on a desk. She arched an eyebrow at them. “We ask Danny,” she said pointedly. “He knows best.” 

Stephanie made a face that said she disagreed. 

Cass huffed. “He knows,” she reiterated. He had lived there. He knew the people. “We could make a mess.” She mimed sweeping the stack of Bruce papers off the desk surface and then an expression of exaggerated batdad horror.

Stephanie untensed enough to laugh. 

Cass considered that good enough. She jumped down and patted Dick as she passed. He let out an exaggerated sigh but he powered down the computer and followed her up. “I'm excited to get to meet the little guy,” he said. The lights turned off. All three of them hit the stairs and jogged up. Dick chattered away, tweet tweet tweet. “It's so sweet that Dami latched onto him like this. When I asked what Danny would like as a welcome home gift, he told me that I was a cretin and should not corrupt the baby.” He laughed, high and joyous. It was contagious. Cass found herself laughing with him.

Stephanie squinted at the back of Dick's head as the oldest brother bounded up the stairs. “Damian… likes him?” She confirmed. 

Cass beamed. Of course he did. Danny was a good baby. He and Damian were out now walking dogs at the animal shelter while Alfie did the big weekly shop. 

Dick shrugged. “He gets to be the mentor,” he pointed out. “He’s not the Babiest Bat anymore.” 

“Danny is older than Damian,” Stephanie protested. Cass glared at her. 

“He's baby,” she said firmly. End of conversation. 

[rayroseu]

You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias 😭✨

I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)

Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,

so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.

Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.

And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanor😭 Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")

oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol

Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.

I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol

Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead 😭✨

Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).

If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff 😭✨)

[brucewaynehater101]

Batfam Suicide Squad AU:

Villainous versions of all of the Bats are shoved into one universe together. Up until this point in the AU, they do not know each other well. They've maybe seen each other on the field (which probably ended in fights and held grudges), but they aren't family. They are practically strangers.

Amanda Waller just wants to kill them. However, somehow, there's a force that's even worse than these fuckers. She needs a team to take that down, even if the participants are unwilling.

Bruce Wayne:

A cunning villain who can naturally lead teams. He primarily works alone but has proven to be efficient with any person he has to work with. He can bring out their better attributes, but he's ruthless, wary, and an asshole. He has contingency plans to take down anyone and everyone

Dick Grayson:

Practically immortal half-Talon assassin for hire. His rumored mentors are other Talons, Deathstroke, Superman, and various Titans. His skills in combat are fierce, his abilities are enhanced by his state, and his early childhood acrobatics do wonders for his abilities to escape and fight. These pale in comparison to his natural charisma and ability to turn enemies into allies.

Barbara Gordon:

The best hacker on this side of the galaxy. While she mainly stays off of the field due to her being paralyzed from the waist down, she is a formidable opponent. A significant number of politicians worldwide owe her favors, heroes and villains work for her, she knows top secret information, employs a number of traps to protect herself, and understands the nuances in social structures.

Jason Todd:

A brutal enforcer who utilizes fear, power, and death in his territory to demand obedience to his rules. Extremely skilled in various weapons, hand-to-hand combat, bomb making, and demonstrations of force. His senses, healing speed, and reflexes are uniquely enhanced by his exposure to Lazarus Pits. Despite his persona of being quick to anger, he's a masterful tactian and manipulator.

Cass Cain:

The only candidate who does not kill. Her combat prowess exceeds all other candidates and is rarely defeated in battle. Her eerie silence, ability to read others far more accurately than even psychics, and her stealthiness lead her existence to being more of a feared rumor than a confirmed sighting.

Tim Drake:

While he can defeat a range of opponents in combat, his strength lie in the plots he enacts anonymously. He is skilled in plucking strings and dominoes to create the outcomes he desires. Other abilities include hacking, combat, stealth, disguises, and manipulation. For any battle he prepares for, he rarely loses. Only a small handful of his crimes can be proven to be caused by him.

Steph Brown:

She is skilled in deflection, disguises, social circumstances, combat, and observations. Brown utilizes a variety of personas to distract her victims and lead them astray. She's deadly, but hides this aspect well.

Duke Thomas:

A daring and charismatic leader of a meta rights movement. His group has committed various crimes in their pursuits. He is the only born meta of the group, extremely skilled in utilizing his powers, decisive in outcomes, skilled in combat, and ruthless to prejudice. He can be charming and is extremely emotionally intelligent, which is a skill he uses to subtly influence others.

Damian Al Ghul:

Due to his high kill count, special permission has been given to allow the sixteen year old to be entered into the program. He's exceptionally skilled in all weapon combat but primarily uses swords and knives. He's astute and can utilize his age as a finely tuned weapon to infiltrate, distract, or disappear. He has experience with leading, murder for hire, and complex missions.

Alfred Pennyworth:

A formidable marksman and retired serviceman for MI6. His skills with all styles of guns, acting abilities, unflappable manner, medic training, vehicle maneuverabilites, and sharp tongue aid him in any supportive role. Although he is unlikely to assist on field, he will provide necessary background aid.

Tim and Barbara, in this AU, have both grudges and respect for each other. Tim does not match Barbara's computer skills, but he's a far better foe to her than most. Usually, Tim has a policy to bow out when Barbara is involved or find a way to hide his involvement from her.

Bruce doesn't know Damian is his biological son. Damian hopes to keep him in the dark. Dick, due to his training with blood scents, is the first to know about their relationship. This only occurs after Bruce and Damian get injured on separate missions and Dick makes the connection.

Jason and Damian both have tried to kill Tim. Because Tim seemingly can't die to their attacks, the two have made a game out of trying to kill Tim whenever they see him. Jason and Damian do not know the other also does this. Jason refers to Tim as a "cockroach-like bastard."

One of the batkids jokingly refers to Bruce as "Dad" and Alfred as "Gramps" due to their older age. This catches on with the rest of the batkids until it becomes a regular and fond nickname for the older men.

Bruce had a plan to escape with the help of Kate. After seeing Damian (he doesn't know that's his son), Bruce decides he can't leave a kid. Then he becomes fond of the rest of the group and delays his escape plan again until he can escape with them.

Which of the Bats know each other from encounters in the field? Who holds grudges against each other? What led each Bat to become a villain?

As far as background shit, idk.

I might update with a criminal dossier for each bat later

(In case it wasn't clear, this is a batfam meet late forced found family AU)

@hisaribi helped me with this ^^