#and damien would catch it

[fleurlumii]

just a random thought but imagine that out of the entire D.A.M.N Crew, Lasko & Dear would be the first ones to get married (even though they're the final couple to form in the group)

[torchstelechos]

Say what you will about the DC timeline but we all know the truth, Jason Todd uses AO3 and has an account despite not understanding these new fangle technological advancements (hes fucking with Tim he understands what cookies are, it pisses off Tim more than anything else Jason has done)

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

I read somewhere that Christian Kane called Eliot Spencer a serial killer and my brain was like; "What? No he is not!"

And then- I remember Damien Monreau.

[neptunesenceladus]

Another thought on Gotham War.

especially in the first issue (battle lines), it really feels like they’re preparing to retire Bruce and either Batman completely retire or have someone else pick up the mantle (#Cass for Batman 2024)

[boopjuice]

Lantern was the first to approach him once the child had fallen asleep. He seemed awkward, afraid to make a noise and wake them up. It wasn't likely to happen, he was so exhausted from screaming Batman was pretty sure the poor guy would sleep through gunfire.

"So... What is it we should be doing?" He was sure Lantern could see his raised brow from through his cowl as he stumbled over his words. "I mean, we know what we should be doing. Trying to find a way to get out without destabilizing the cave, wait for Cyborg and the others to show up, find a way to signal out exact location. It's just... How do we do that from in here?"

He'd been thinking on that himself, before it became clear that none here had ever held even a happy child, let alone a terrified one. He stayed silent, debating the best course of action. He could summon the batplane, have it land on top of their position, but would Cyborg know that's what it meant? Would he be able to use the comms, choppy as they were underground, to tell him? More importantly, would the plane landing destabilize the pocket they were in? It was a risk he couldn't take, especially not with the baby on his chest.

The little one shivered a little, clenching tiny fists against his shoulder, and he reached over his shoulder to wrap the baby in his cape as best as he could.

"There's not much we can do. I have a small beacon, but it won't do much good until Cyborg's a little over a mile away, thanks to all this," he gestured at the collapsed cave. "All we can really do is wait."

"How did you do that?" Batman pulled the beacon out of his utility belt. It really was small. He'd designed them for Dick when he'd become Robin, in case he got trapped out of sight. He'd made sure the League systems could pick up on them too, even though Dick was off on his own now. Tim had one, now, and so had Jason. He pushed the thought away as he picked a spot to place the beacon.

"Do what?" he finally responded.

"How'd you get the kid to stop screaming? You aren't exactly known for your cuddly nature." It was Flash who answered, not Lantern, but he suspected they'd been asking the same question he wanted to avoid. Too many memories were buried there. His children, heartbroken after failing to save someone, terrified after their first and second and twentieth near death encounter, hurt and scared and unable to do anything about it.

"Gotham has a high population of homeless. Including children." The cave felt like it was holding it's breath as he dodged the real reason in favor of one that hurt him a little less, kept him from remembering his own failures.

"Some people there have morals. Some don't. You need to be able to keep children calm and quiet to free them, sometimes. And you need them to know they're safe after, no matter what happened."

He let the team's eyes follow him as he began to walk the perimeter again, still rocking the baby boy with olive skin and the start of dark hair on his head. He didn't tell them about the fall of the Grayson's and how many times he'd comforted Dick. Didn't tell them about Tim facing his uncle, and how he'd shaken. Didn't tell them about Jason. About the child he failed.

He just kept the baby asleep, humming and talking and running over how he could get him home safe. How he could save this child.

Can someone write a fic where Bruce is on a JL mission and they somehow get a baby that they need to take care of until they find their parents. And all the JL members just cannot stop this baby from crying (this is before Clark has Jon so he’s pretty clueless with babies still) and eventually Bruce is like, “give them to me.”

And the JL is like “uhh, we don’t know if we should trust BATMAN with a baby, but at this point… fuck it.” And hand the baby over to him.

And Batman tucks the baby into his chest and softly bounces them, talking to them gently in a deep rumbly voice. “It’s okay sweetheart. Shhh, you’re safe.” And eventually, the baby doesn’t just stop crying, but falls asleep.

And the JL just stand there, gobsmacked. Because what the fuck??? Why is the Batman so good with babies??? And the rest of the mission Batman just has the baby because a) they don’t want them to wake up and start fussing again. And b) because Batman looks genuinely happy (as happy as Batman can be without deeply horrifying the JL).

[taco-rambles]

DC XDP prompt: Danny falls out of a portal literally into Batmans arms in a JL meeting.

Feel free to play with this. I probably will write more, but I'm STUCK and don't know how to write the JL or anyone else for that matter.

XXX

The Justice League meeting had gone very well. For once there were no major crisis from anyone attending, and all of the regular members of the league were in attendance. A few of the second row hero’s had begged off for one reason or another, but nothing that was a threat of any real kind.

Batman was wary, and on edge as the meeting wrapped up. It was never this simple, it just couldn’t be. There was always some kind of threat to keep an eye on, but the worst thing that had come up during the meeting were routine security updates.

No one else seemed to be on edge from the far too calm, routine meeting, and Bruce had just about convinced himself that it was really just one of those meetings where nothing outrageous would happen. It was ideal even…

Then the alarms went off, in the specific modulation that indicated a magical incursion.

Batman wasn’t the only one who’s hands went to weapons when the portal materialized above the meeting room table only a moment after the alarm went off. Swirling lazarus green had him ready for the fight even as the rest of the league went into defensive positions around the incursion.

“What���” Flash started to ask about a minute later when nothing had happened yet, the alarms still blaring.

That’s when something came flying out of the portal, at speed, back first.

Batman had a split second to decide to attack… or not. A split second to try to process the impressions and decide if this was an attack.

The portal closed as he cradled the small body that had crashed into his arms, the alarms silencing a moment later as the rest of the league tried to catch up, all of them wondering if this was some new threat.

Batman looked down at the child in his arms, a boy in his mid teens and small for his age, with white hair framing a frighteningly familiar looking face, gently pointed ears, and fangs in a mouth that gasped for breath against pain. The eyes were closed, twisted tight as the child clutched at his chest and belly, holding together severed flesh that leaked lazarus green blood from a clinical and too regular wound. Fingers tipped with small claws spasmed, tears coming from closed eyes.

“Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, Diana’s voice filled with concern as Bruce wrapped the child in his arms and stood up from where he had been knocked on his ass catching said child.

“Call down to medical. Severely wounded unknown,” he snapped, moving towards the door, only to stop as there was a flash of light in his arms, and the child suddenly gained a solid weight that was closer to human. The blood dripping from passed out hands was now brilliant red, fingertips blunt with chewed nails, the boy’s skin going from pale white to… a healthier tone.

Bruce consciously stopped cataloging his observations then, swiftly making his way to medical. Whatever this boy was, whether he intended to tug at Batman’s heart the way he was or not, was severely wounded and needed medical attention immediately.

He could process it all, and wonder why a child looking exactly like Damian Wayne had been thrown into his arms through a lazarus portal later.

XXXXX

An hour later, after a discreet call to his youngest just to be sure, Bruce watched the now sedated child in the medical cot, working on trying to face match the databases and find out if the child came from earth or not.

The searches primarily turned up Damian Wayne. Bruce knew for certain this child was not his son, but he was also running a DNA analysis because this Might be his son. It made a disheartening amount of sense for this boy to be another version of Damien, perhaps from another dimension, or some manner of clone, or perhaps Talia had simply hidden another child of his away… Bruce needed to narrow down the possibilities, to find the truth.

Of course, it was equally possible that this boy was some manner of mimic, taking on a form that would ensure his safety in unknown environment, a shape shifter intentionally injuring himself in order to infiltrate the Watchtower. Though that last theory didn’t make sense for a number of reasons. Most shape shifters would be secure enough in their abilities to simply try to mimic someone who already had access to the watch tower, to say nothing of the boy’s dramatic entrance.

Batman wasn’t thinking logically. Bruce couldn’t simply leave the boy here though. Not until he knew more, everything relevant by preference. The thought that this might be his son in any way was enough to keep him near, but he could already tell he was compromised.

He had already informed Diana and Clark, and both of them had agreed that he should stay nearby until they had the situation sorted out.

Bruce had been stuck in a circular though pattern for about fifteen minutes when a green form came into the room, J’onn looking at him calmly.

“Can you find anything out?” Batman asked without preamble, unable to bring himself to observe polite pleasantries when he was so unsettled.

“Nothing beyond surface thoughts. The boy’s mind is static and pain of the emotional kind,” J’onn stated after a moment.

Batman nodded, accepting the answer. J’onn’s abilities weren’t always the answer to everything, could indeed often be a crutch that led to the wrong answers. But they could also give the Justice League a starting point often enough.

“You should rest friend. It is unlikely that the boy will awaken soon…” J’onn cut himself off with a quiet look at the boy. “Or not. He’s coming around.”

Batman watched as the child’s eyes blinked open, drowsy expression turning to the two heros without much recognition. Bruce didn’t let himself react, kept himself in a calm pose even as his mind once more went into overdrive.

The boy had blue eyes, not green like Damian's.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Damien Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1

Headcanon: What if he become obsessed with Dick's girlfriend?

Notes: It's just a cute and funny headcanon and should not be taken seriously. Y/n obviously have no feeling for him and see him as a little brother. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You’ve been dating Dick for a while, and naturally, this means you’re in Wayne Manor a lot. It’s not that you mind, but being around the Batfamily is like trying to survive a sitcom where every character is armed.

And then there’s Damien.

Oh, sweet, little, stabby Damien.

At first, he’s a little terror. He’s always scowling at you, calling you things like “Richard’s latest concubine” or “another unnecessary attachment.”

It’s fine. You ignore him. He’s a kid. A weird kid with ninja skills and a superiority complex, but a kid nonetheless.

But then something shifts.

You don’t know when it started—maybe it was the first time you helped Damian with his homework (because, let's face it, the kid can’t count past ten without losing his temper), or maybe it was the first time you accidentally brushed his hair aside while he was brooding on the roof. Either way, the moment you paid him just a little bit of attention, you sealed your fate.

Now Damien was everywhere. Not in an obvious “he’s following you” way—no, he was stealthier than that. He would conveniently show up whenever you visited the Wayne Manor, leaning against a doorframe, pretending he hadn’t been waiting there for 45 minutes.

“Oh, it’s you again. Why are you always lurking like a feral cat, Damien?” you’d tease, and he’d scowl, muttering about how you wouldn’t understand his “intellectual pursuits.”

He starts showing up wherever you are, uninvited. Oh, you’re in the kitchen trying to make breakfast? Guess who just landed behind you, silently hovering like a tiny, murderous shadow? "I see you're using the wrong knife to cut that," he says, smugly eyeing the blade, “and you should be cutting it at a 45-degree angle. Let me handle it.”

You look over, blink a few times, and try to avoid an aneurysm. "Damian, what—"

"I’m simply trying to prevent you from making mistakes," he interrupts, already taking the knife from your hand with the confidence of someone who’s never been told ‘no’ in their entire life. Yes, he did just steal your kitchen knife.

He goes from glaring at you across the dinner table to…well, staring at you.

It’s subtle at first, but you notice. You’ll catch his eyes lingering a little too long when you’re laughing with Dick, or feel him trailing after you when you wander the manor.

You think it’s cute. Like a kid with a crush on their babysitter.

When he insists on showing you his katana skills? You humor him. “Wow, Damien, you’re so talented!” you gush. Dick thinks you’re being nice. Damien thinks you’re in love.

When he critiques your relationship with Dick? “Grayson isn’t good enough for you. He’s reckless, emotionally stunted, and too busy pretending to be a circus clown to prioritize your needs.”

You laugh it off. “I’ll keep that in mind, Damien.”

Mistake #1. He interprets this as you agreeing with him.

When he starts bringing you tea? Complimenting your outfit choices? Sitting way too close to you during movie night?

“Aww, he’s opening up to me!” you think.

Damien is so dramatic about it. Every time Dick kisses you, hugs you, or just breathes in your direction, Damien is in the background like a Shakespearean villain.

He walks into the room, sees you cuddling with Dick, and immediately storms out with a loud, "Tt. Disgusting."

Alfred offers him cookies to calm him down. Damien refuses because he’s too furious to snack.

Mistake #2. You’re feeding the monster.

Damien moves from “weirdly attached” to “what the hell is happening” alarmingly fast.

He wasn’t subtle. He decided to prove his superiority over Dick by painting your portrait. At midnight.

“Damien,” you said when you caught him, holding a brush like he was Da Vinci reincarnated, “why are you painting me?”

“Because no one else can capture your essence,” he replied, dead serious.

You left before he could explain that he was also building a shrine in his closet.

He doesn’t interrupt your date... at first, not directly. He doesn’t need to. Damian’s signature passive-aggressive commentary will follow you home, like a ghost. "I saw you let Dick drive. You know his driving skills are subpar at best, right? I wouldn’t trust him with a paper airplane." You’re not even sure how he knew you two were driving, but the comment lands, and it cuts like a knife.

You try to confront him. “Damian, stop following me around like a puppy! You’re a child. A literal child. Go play with toys or something.”

Damian’s face twists with a mix of indignation and disgust. “I do not play with toys, Y/N. I train. Unlike some people.”

And the best part? Damian doesn't even hide his feelings for you. One night, after you and Dick have spent a quiet evening watching movies, Damian barges in, wearing his usual scowl, and just points at you. "I’ve decided," he declares dramatically. "You’re mine now."

You almost choke on your popcorn. "Excuse me??"

"That’s right. You’ve been chosen." He’s so serious, like this is some ancient prophecy he’s about to fulfill.

He starts referring to you as his beloved in casual conversation.

“Father, inform Grayson he’s no longer allowed to monopolize my beloved’s time.”

“Your what?!” Dick is confused.

At first, you thought it was a joke. “That’s cute, Damien, but I’m pretty sure you learned that from a Victorian novel.”

But he wasn’t joking. He never joked. He’d say it with all the seriousness of someone discussing global diplomacy. “One day, you’ll understand why I call you that, Beloved.”

One day, you accidentally called him a kid in front of everyone. “Relax, kiddo.”

You’d barely finished the sentence before he stormed off, muttering about how ungrateful you were for his “protection.”

Later, Alfred informed you that Damien spent the evening sulking on the roof. “It’s not sulking, Pennyworth. It’s strategizing.”

The moment Damien saw how you look at Dick, something inside him snapped. Why does Grayson get everything? he thought bitterly, watching from the shadows like a gremlin.

From then on, he started… intervening.

He’d interrupt your dates by calling Dick with “emergencies.” (“Richard, Gotham is on fire. I require your assistance.”)

Or other ways.

Dick: “Sorry I’m late. My motorcycle suddenly lost all its tires.”

You: “Wow, weird coincidence. Damien’s been in the garage all day.”

Damien innocently: “You should’ve asked me for a ride, beloved.”

He’d conveniently sit between you on the couch during movie nights, arms crossed, glaring at the screen like he wanted to kill the romantic lead just for existing.

Once, when Dick brought you flowers, Damien helpfully reminded you that roses often carried pests. You gave him a side-eye but thanked him for the warning.

One time, you catch him trying to slip his number into your phone.

“Damien, what are you doing?”

“Ensuring you can contact someone competent in emergencies.”

“That’s what Dick is for?”

“Grayson couldn’t competently fold a bedsheet.”

It all comes to a head when you find Damien casually trying to poison Dick.

You walk into the kitchen and there he is, sprinkling something suspicious into a smoothie.

“Damien, what the hell?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “It’s non-lethal. He’ll just feel weak enough to stay in bed for a few days. That way, we can spend quality time together.”

“QUALITY TIME?!”

He tilts his head, genuinely confused. “Don’t you want that?”

One day, you accidentally brought up his height. “Wow, Damien, have you grown an inch?”

That was it. That was the moment he vowed to become taller than Dick at any cost. He spent weeks researching growth supplements, adjusting his diet, and hanging upside down from the training bars in the Batcave.

Mistake #3. You don’t run immediately.

He “accidentally” breaks the bracelet Dick gave you (oops, it was an inferior material anyway).

Your favorite coffee cup disappears, and suddenly Damien has one just like it. "Strange coincidence, isn’t it?"

Damien starts “correcting” everything Dick tells you, from battle tactics to what kind of wine pairs best with dinner.

He trains Titus to growl whenever Dick comes near you. "Good boy, Titus. Show him who’s unworthy."

He steals your phone to block Dick’s number. "We should eliminate distractions."

You once made the mistake of jokingly calling him "cute," and now he’s convinced you’re secretly in love with him.

Dick, bless his heart, is completely oblivious.

“I think it’s great how well you and Damien are getting along,” he says, grinning like a golden retriever. Meanwhile, Damien is plotting your future wedding.

"I’m humoring her for your sake," Damien lies through his teeth while handing you a handmade sword engraved with your initials.

Damien constantly tries to prove he’s a better option than Dick:

“Richard is reckless. I, however, would never put you in harm’s way.” (Meanwhile, Damien drags you into an actual rooftop stakeout just so he can show off.)

“He can’t even cook. Did you know I can make authentic Middle Eastern cuisine?”

“You deserve someone who values you.”

You find a locked box in your room one day. Inside is a collection of…disturbingly Damien things.

A pressed flower you don’t remember receiving.

A strand of your hair.

A list titled “Reasons Why I’m Better Than Richard” (it’s very thorough).

A draft of a love letter in calligraphy that starts with “Dearest light of my tortured soul…”

You finally sit him down for a talk.

“Damien, you’re like a little brother to me.”

His expression doesn’t change. “I’m not your brother. Nor will I ever be.”

“Damien, you’re sweet, but—”

“I’m not sweet.”

“Okay, you’re terrifying, but you’re also 13.”

He stared at you, eyes narrowing. “I’ll wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For you to realize that I’m the only one worthy of your affection.”

“Damien…”

“The age gap will be irrelevant in five years.”

“And when that day comes, I’ll be ready.”

When you reject him (because obviously), he tries to play it cool but fails miserably.

“Tt. I wasn’t serious anyway. Your taste is terrible.”

Proceeds to storm off, but not before stealing your scarf.

You find it later in his room draped over a practice dummy he definitely punched several times while muttering Dick’s name.

Bruce gets involved after Damien “accidentally” pushes Dick off a rooftop.

“You need therapy,” Bruce says bluntly.

“You’re just upset I succeeded where you failed,” Damien snaps back.

He does go to therapy but somehow convinces his therapist he’s completely normal. (Because of course he does.)

Alfred is the real MVP.

“Perhaps you’d like to consider not obsessing over your brother’s partner, Master Damien.”

“You don’t understand, Pennyworth. She needs to be protected.”

“From what, sir? A happy relationship?”

Everything become worse when Damien starts sparring with Dick for no reason other than to “test his worthiness.” You have to physically drag him away while Dick just stands there, confused and bleeding.

“He’s weak,” Damien hisses as you shove him into a chair.

“He’s your brother!”

“And yet, he’s undeserving.”

In the end, Damien doesn’t give up. He’s stubborn like that.

Part 2. Part 3.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[hello-eden]

Unexpected Hope

Damian has been disoriented all week. When he was told that stopping the ritual would have repercussions, he did not expect this. He had been dealing with the memories on his own but unfortunately he could not postpone this gala. 

He had been stopping a ritual that would end up summoning the being he now knows as Undergrowth. Damien does not regret that choice especially now that he has the context. Unfortunately it brought back his memories of Phantom.

He didn't quite understand they were memories for quite a while honestly he was a little bit concerned he got possessed. Thankfully after some compartmentalizing and a little bit of isolation, he figured out what was wrong. It did not help the confusion that comes with being a Midwestern teen and an assassin child put into one body but he has gotten the hang of it. 

Unfortunately Damian did not get long before he was forced back into the presence of his family. he had put off many public family events in the last few months so he was not able to get out of this event. he probably could have faked being sick but he'd much prefer to be able to pass off any of his symptoms from the memories as uncomfortableness being around strangers then be alone with his family. 

He's honestly very happy with his choice after he sees her. He doesn't recognize her at first with the dark auburn braided hair and the dress being something other than black but something made him turn around when he heard her rant.

She was giving a humanitarian speech to one of the investors. At first he got closer just to hear about it. It's always funny to see the faces of the imbeciles when people don't bow to their wishes.

Damien thought he finally found someone who was not a gold digger or a social climber. What made him really stop in his tracks was her body language. It was like a neon flashing sign opened up and said ‘hey this is Sam Mason’. 

Damien walked over with hope in his chest that he was not alone. she eventually seemed to get tired of the man or maybe he was able to scramble an excuse and walk away. he couldn't quite hear but by the time he walked over there it was only her.

 “you seem to be quite passionate,” Damian says, trying to start a conversation and figuring out how to ask the hard question.

 What is he exactly supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you my best friend for my last life or hey do you remember being on my ghost hero vigilante team that ended up with all of us being Undead royalty.’

The girl looks him over, probably trying to figure out what he wants. 

“Are you here to argue?” She says angrily, obviously ready for another fight.

“Your speech reminds me of someone, have you ever heard of Samantha Mason” Damien says trying to be nonchalant.

Her eyes seem to widen and look him over again.

“Where'd you hear that name.” She ordered.

“I've heard enough of her rants to be able to pick it out from a crowd.”

 “Danny,”  She said softly her grabbing his hands and squeezing as she looked around to make sure no one saw. “what how I thought it was the only one” Hope seemed to be filling her eyes. 

“Hi Sam” Damien Whispers just as softly just as glad he is not alone. 

Without another word Sam drags them to the stairway rushing up to the floor upstairs and trying to find a room that isn't being used. She eventually finds one two floors above the room they were using for the gala and pushes him into what looks like a break room.

 “How the hell did you get your memories” Sam demands 

“Why are you yelling at me? You have your memories too obviously if you are recognizing your name” Damian says shouting back at her. 

Sam always has a way of catching him off guard. She was happy just a minute ago. 

“yeah well I did something stupid which means I know you did something stupid” Sam said pointing her finger at him.

“ Well I may have accidentally stumbled upon a ritual for summoning an ancient and when I stopped it the backlash gave me my memories back. ” Damien stumbled over their words trying to justify themselves. "What stupid thing did you do?”

“The girls in my stupid Prep School in my grade went through a very witchy phase. there was a slumber party and they were stupid enough to actually find real magic. I had a cut on my hand earlier in the day and try to freak them out by adding a little bit of my blood. apparently my protection spell is literally stuck into my soul, so things went down” Sam says just as hesitantly as Damien

 “you have zero leg to stand on okay fine we were both stupid” 

They both sat there in silence for a while, mostly just basking in each other's presents realizing they weren't alone anymore.

“it's good to have you back," Damian says, giving her a weak smile and running his hands through his hair.

He'd been trained out of all of his nervous ticks but it probably makes her more comfortable to see him just as nervous as she is.

“it's good to see you too da- do you have the same name?” both of them don't seem to realize at the same time that they didn't get each other's names. 

“Damien” he says as he pulls his hand out of his hair and puts his hand out for a handshake. 

“Sarah” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a shake.

the two of them shake their hand for a moment before they look at each other's eyes and burst out giggling. 

Damien's really glad he decided to not pretend to be sick.

[nillial]

i finished ethersea

mentally preparing to finish ethersea

[eiralunaire]

Headcanons of Damian Wayne. Part Two.

12. His Confusion About Love (But He Feels It Intensely).

Damian never understood how others could talk about love so easily. In his world, love wasn't a priority: it had always been training, fighting, and controlling. But with his girlfriend, things were different. Sometimes, in the midst of his emotional intensity, he didn't know how to handle his feelings. While he remained stoic on the outside, inside his head kept spinning: *“Is this love? Is it normal to want to be with someone all the time? It shouldn't be so complicated...”* However, what he did know, for sure, was that he had never felt something so strong for another person.

13. The Typical, but Different.

Although Damian is a reserved guy and doesn't usually make the typical romantic gestures, when he's with her, he feels weird, but happy to try. For example, one day, without warning, he takes her to an art exhibition that he knows she's interested in, or invites her to a park to see the stars, even if to him it all sounds a bit cheesy. He does it because he knows she likes it, and if it's something that makes her smile, then it's a worthwhile effort. Sometimes he catches himself thinking that, somehow, those little moments can be more important than a fight or a mission.

14. The Warrior Prince's Insecurity.

Even though Damian never says it out loud, there are times when he feels like he's not enough for his girlfriend. It's not because she's done anything to provoke him, but because, deep down, he can't help but compare himself to the perfection of what he thinks he should be. The son of Batman. The leader of the League of Assassins. The best fighter. And yet, sometimes, he feels out of place when he's by her side, because she has that ability to be light, cheerful, and genuine. He, on the other hand, is so used to carrying the weight of the world that it's hard for him to open up completely. But as she accepts him for who he is, he begins to learn that he doesn't need to be perfect to be enough for her.

15. Simple Details (That He Would Never Forget).

Damien is great at noticing details, and it's not just because he learned it as part of his training. In the case of his girlfriend, he pays attention to the little things that, to her, might seem insignificant: the brand of her perfume, the way she strokes her hair when she's nervous, or how she always has a habit of putting her coffee cup in an exact position on the table. While he won't say it out loud, Damian likes to know that, in those moments, he has a kind of silent power. Not just because he protects her, but because he understands what makes her who she is.

16. Escaping the Darkness Together.

Deep down, Damian is aware of the shadows that haunt him. The darkness of his family, of his training, of everything that comes with being the son of Bruce Wayne and Ra’s al Ghul. But in his girlfriend, he finds something that has nothing to do with that. With her, he can just be Damian: a boy who is falling in love, a boy who feels… good, without having to be the assassin or the leader of the League of Assassins. He likes how she gives him space to be himself, how she is able to bring something as essential as fresh air to his life, even when everything he knows is shrouded in layers of gray and complexity. With her, he feels less trapped in his destiny.

17. Any Excuse is Good to Be Near.

Damian is not the type to go out of his way for texts or calls, but when he is on a mission or out, he always finds the perfect excuse to send a message, even if it is just to say *"I'm here, everything is okay."* It is hard for him to admit it, but he needs to know that she is okay, that she is not alone. If she ever mentions something that's bothering her, he'll think about it for hours, searching for a way to fix it, even if it's something as small as the fact that she's out of his favorite marshmallows.

18. "Don't Let Me Go"

Sometimes, when the situation gets more tense or they're on a mission, Damian has moments where he unintentionally shows a more vulnerable side. "Don't let me go alone," he tells her quietly. He doesn't do it to sound weak, but because he doesn't want to face danger without her nearby. The funny thing is that, despite his image of a strong man, those moments serve to remind him that he doesn't always have to carry all the weight of the world. With her, he has an ally, and that's more than he ever thought he could have.

20. His Way of Saying "I Love You".

Damian would never say those two words in a conventional way. For him, love is not expressed with phrases. It is expressed with actions. It may be that, at the end of a long day, he surprises her with a cup of her favorite tea, or that he defends her from anything that bothers her without her asking. And when he finally says it, if the time comes, it will be something like, "I don't care what happens, but I will never let you get hurt." Because, in a way, that is his way of being vulnerable, of saying what he feels without saying it directly.

21. Being Together Is The Only Thing That Matters.

In moments of calm, when they are at home, everything else disappears. It doesn't matter what happened during the day, or the battles that Damian has faced. The only thing that matters is being near her. Whether it's watching a movie, having a coffee in silence or just talking about any nonsense, he values ​​those moments of simplicity. And although he never says it, in his mind, those are the moments that really make it all worth it. Being with her is his way of escaping, and despite all the chaos that surrounds him, he knows that, finally, he has something that truly belongs to him.

[aimedis]

redacted asmr headcanons pt.2

-while angel loves no one more than david, no one infuriates them more than he does (could apply to all mates)

-darlin’ tries to trip david every time he walks in front of them

-lasko is so obsessed with dear, he trails after them like a lost puppy all day (even when they're at damn)

-gavin is 100% addicted to sugar (he’s always eating candy and desserts and drinking sweet drinks)

-darlin’ is insanely ticklish but the only one knows is sam because no one else would dare get that close to them (sam comes up behind them and pokes their sides while they’re not paying attention and they flinch hella hard) ((he also tickles them when they’re in bed together))

-as a teen, darlin’s parents would not let them do anything without david (because they would undoubtedly get into trouble otherwise)

-vincent acts incredibly corny ironically just because it annoys/embarrasses lovely every time

-darlin’ is a pretzel purist (obsessed with them)

-if gavin is arguing with freelancer, giving him a lollipop with make him shut up 99% of the time 

-gavin and freelancer look at each other in sync and judge other people

-asher and baabe argue once a year

-freelancer and gavin fought like one time in their first year of dating and it made freelancer cry like a lot especially to damien (he told gavin after they made up “never let me catch you making my best friend cry again, do you hear me?”) 

-david and darlin’ are 100% siblings coded

-every other week david, asher, milo, and darlin gather together somewhere and talk about their mates and other stuff (mainly their mates) ((sturniolo triplets style))

bonus +

asher: “we’re shifters, of course, our love language is biting the shit out of each other”

milo: “we’re shifters, of course, i'll fight you if you touch my lower back no matter who you are”

darlin’: “we’re shifters, just because i respect the pack hierarchy, doesn’t mean i respect the people in said hierarchy”

david: “we’re shifters, of course, as alpha, i’m legally allowed to beat the shit out of all of you for the sake of “keeping the pack in line””

[laxxarian]

Graves Are A Gateway

After everything the Amity Park went through, they all became more used to Danny Phantom as Danny Fenton.

Now they're all just accustomed and adapted to the ghost fights and even advised Danny how to fight without destruction in the town while Danny's parents would go around building some ghost repellent in others home in case an actual evil ghost would come and also built a training room for Danny to practice his powers without destroying anything.

They discovered and enhanced Danny's powers and one of them seemed to intrigue Sam.

A power to go to a far place by using Danny's grave as his teleporter and they could build at least three graves for him at max.

And Sam suggested to build one in Gotham since Sam usually visits Gotham because of charity and all that and also in Metropolis since the hero there could help Danny if anything went wrong.

Sam doesn't know about Batman since she's more focused on the gothic themes.

The third one would be at his parents backyard so that Danny could go home quickly.

And so, it was decided.

One in Gotham.

One in Metropolis.

And one in Fenton Works.

)-(

One day, Sam went to Gotham and invited Danny and Tucker to test out the grave she built a few months back and the trio plans to meet at Wayne Enterprises. Sadly, Tucker can't go with Danny, not because he was busy, but because the grave only works for the owner which is Danny. Graves are a personal thing.

So Tucker took a plane instead and Danny went to his grave. But as he came out of his grave, he saw two men who looked like a thief, and the two were tied up by the people who were in costumes.

)-(

Robin (Damien) was right behind Danny's grave and saw the whole thing.

A ghost coming out of his half-dugged grave.

)-(

Before Danny came, Batman, Nightwing and Robin were on patrol. Nightwing is there to catch up.

And the three just saw a grave digger so they went and easily apprehended the criminals.

Nightwing read the tombstone for whose grave that they were to dig up, it was Danny Fenton's and he died quite young. Close to Damien's age.

Nightwing was mad and questioned the criminals while Batman called for the police and stuff while Robin was just right behind the grave when he saw the ghost boy coming out.

[cosmicpoutine]

timbern headcanons (mostly bernard)

some are 18+

bernard named the specials at his restaurant stupid bilogy shit like "mitochondria"

janet used to hum when she was distracted, and tim does that too to calm himself down, and once bernard notices, he starts humming tim to sleep after a long night of patrol.

because of the pain cult, bernard's pain tolerance is stupidly hight so they like to experiment with bdsm, but tim always goes easy because he's scared of triggering bernard.

they tried shibari once, but tim, out of pure bat instinct, would free himself within 5 seconds, so it just wasn't as fun (i mean, he does this for a living come on)

bernard has a bellybutton piercing

when bernard comes over, he makes extra food to make sure tim has left over for a few days.

soon bernard notices steph comes over to steal left overs so he makes even more food, then cass and duke also come over and soon enough bernard is feeding the entire batfam like a bunch of pidgeons

damien is suspiciously approving of bernard, but he's the youngest sibling, so he acts nice around bernard specifically to piss off tim.

bernard thinks damian is the sweetest kid he's ever met

whenever someone asks tim about the B necklace, he just says it's for barbie girl as a joke. eventually, he starts calling bernard barbie.

bernard is an avid listener of ayesha erotica

bernard walks really silently, not enough to catch a bat by surprise, but enough for tim to only notice bernard when he's already in the same room. he learned this from sneaking away from his parents.

tim and bernard go skating together, but bernard prefers longboards

they have adopted the cover art cat, but never named her so they call her "calico"

they did not know calico cats are 99% of the time females, so they referred to calico with male pronouns for the longest time until damian reminded both of them how stupid they are.

when bernard comes off work late, he usually looks for robin so they can have late dinner together in an empty parking lot

most rogues know bernard is connected to robin, but they quickly learn hes crazier than the bats and leave him alone.

bernard still has no filter so he will say insane shit in front of the bats and they all go suspicious of him for at least a week

bernard listens to true crime podcasts

timbern uses their engagement rings as earrings, partially because bernard can't have rings in the kitchen and tim can't wear rings as robin.

tim also wears his parents' wedding rings in the B necklace

[rustedhearts]

happy xmas (70s!steve harrington x fem!reader)

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿˚

summary: steve can't find a present for his girlfriend, so he asks the only other girl he knows: you. but searching for the perfect present for nancy turns into steve's chance to find the perfect present for you.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿ ˚

❅ the most wonderful time of the year ❅ the only living boy in indiana

tags: ignore that I think I messed up my own timeline, I literally do not care, fluff, mutual pining.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿ ˚

recommended listening: silver joy, damien jurado

⊹₊ ˚ ₊⊹hawkins, indiana. december 23rd, 1975 ⊹₊ ˚ ₊⊹

Christmas break was a godsend this year. After your first semester in community college spent lugging textbooks from the library, and spending countless long evenings studying for exams, you needed the four blissful weeks at home. In silence. In bed.

Which is where you were, snuggled under a heavy pile of your warmest blankets pulled from the linen closet when the first snow fell—when the silence of your warm little home was interrupted by an incessant clanging. You shot up in bed, immediately craning to peer through your fogged-up bedroom window.

Your parents weren't due home until this evening. They still had to work, the poor bastards—but you had the whole place to yourself until then. And you planned on spending it alternating between your bed and the couch, where you'd spend an hour browsing through the TV guide for Christmas specials before deciding on one. Simply because you had absolutely nowhere to be and absolutely nothing to do.

Steve, on the other hand, did.

You huffed at the sight of him bounding down the front steps, kicking up tufts of snow as he went. He found the top of your head in the window and waved a gloved hand, beckoning you down. You groaned, fitfully kicking the covers to the end of your bed to march toward the window.

"Steve, I swear to God. I told you I'm having a day at home," you called down to him once the window was open.

The afternoon sun blared down on his wind-bitten cheeks, turned a rosy shade of pink. The wind billowed through his chestnut hair and pushed it off his forehead. God, he needed a new coat. New gloves, too. You spotted holes in both items, but knew well enough how much Steve cared about that wool-lined suede coat. Maybe your gift would be mending it for him. But lord knew how material Steve could be.

He cinched his brows together and cupped his hands over his eyes as he called up to you. "But I'm havin' a crisis! You have to help me."

Your fingers were catching cold curled over the windowsill, sitting in piles of icicles and last night's snow. In only the pajamas you went to bed in, you were in no place to stand in the open window and argue.

"Jesus," you huffed. "Just...come up, I gotta get changed."

You pulled back into your bedroom and shimmied the window shut with a rusty shriek. Steve grinned and jogged up the front steps toward the door. You scowled as you threw the covers over your rumpled bed, knowing you would not be enjoying the comfort and warmth of those clean sheets today like you'd hoped.

Instead, you discarded your pajamas and tugged on a pair of jeans and a sweater as Steve slammed the front door and headed upstairs.

"Okay, so—" Steve flung the door open and flopped on the end of your bed, boots discarded downstairs. "—I've been to like every store in town and I cannot find a present for Nancy."

You dropped the balled up socks in your hand and turned around, eyes narrowed at the boy hunched on your bed. "I am not going Christmas shopping for your girlfriend."

The pink returned to Steve's cheeks, eyes rounded like dough balls. "What? Come on, you're the only other girl I know!"

You scoffed, sitting on the carpet to roll your socks on. "That is not true."

He huffed, playing with the loose strings on his gloved fingers. "Well, no, but...you're the only one who can, like, help me. You and Nancy are really similar, you'll know what she likes!"

You adjusted the seam over your toes and glanced at Steve in your periphery. He truly did sound desperate. But that didn't change the fact that you'd have to spend the day you set aside to sleep and relax shopping for another girl. Steve's girlfriend, no less. The girl you weren't sure was right for your best friend anyway. Never mind the fact that she was a total priss, you were pretty sure she had feelings for another guy.

And Steve, with all his jealousy and possession issues, didn't seem to see it.

"We are not alike," you mumbled, plucking at the cotton of your socks.

"Whatever," Steve huffed. "Just...can you help me? It's gotta be something nice."

A deep breath ballooned in your chest. When you released it, it flung the hair out of your eyes. Steve watched you intently, socked foot bouncing on the floor. The wood beneath it squeaked in that spot, and the carpet muffled the sound to morph it into a groan.

You pushed off the floor and crossed your arms. "Fine. But you're buying me a pretzel at the mall. And a Pepsi."

Steve leapt to his feet, gloved hands outstretched to grab you by the shoulders. The grin on his face nuzzled into your cheek where he pressed a loud kiss.

"Yes, thank you. I'll buy you two! Okay, come on, come on."

He rushed the open door and hurried back downstairs for his boots. You sighed, pulling your discarded gloves and earmuffs from their place on your dresser.

"Come onnn!" Steve called from the bottom of the steps.

"Oh my god, I'm coming!"

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧ ︵‿₊୨୧₊‿˚

"You know, why did you wait until two days before Christmas to ask me to help you, Steve?"

The pretzel you made Steve buy you before you even stepped foot into a store was perfectly soft and buttery. The salt tingled on your tongue beautifully, and it was almost enough to help smooth the irritation this whole dilemma caused.

Except it was two days before Christmas and the mall was packed. You had to shuffle through hordes of people and you were already sweating through your layers. Someone nearly pushed you near the candy store and a little girl sneezed on your shoes.

The pretzel was simply not enough to save you from all that.

"I thought I could find somethin' by myself." Steve shrugged, taking a sip of the Pepsi.

He got a large so you could share, but he was hogging most of it.

"What, nothing said Nancy to you?"

The pair of you rounded the corner near Orange Julius, where blenders whirred over the jingle of Christmas music emitting from Sears. The fluorescent lights were warmed with giant globes of soft white light and the trees of multi-colored bulbs. They had tinsel and garland and ornaments everywhere, and if you weren't so upset with Steve, you might've found it wonderful. Sears was your happy place, after all.

So if Nancy really was like you, she'd find something worthy of Christmas there, too.

"Not really. She's very....particular."

"Mm," you hummed, ripping off another bite of your pretzel. "Do you think I'm particular then?"

Steve shot you a look, brow quirked. "No, you're picky. There's a big difference."

"I am not!" you gasped, shoving at his padded arm. "I just...like what I like."

"Yeah. You're high maintenance."

You scowled into your pretzel, reaching over to snatch the Pepsi cup from his hand. "Hey."

"No, it's okay. It's what makes you, you," he assured, looping his arm around your shoulders to give you a shake, tucked into his side.

You huffed, attaching your mouth to the chewed-up straw. Steve's anxious affliction came in the form of an oral fixation, usually attached to a cigarette between his lips.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you droned dryly.

Steve chuckled, giving you a squeeze with his arm. "Ah, you're alright."

In Sears, you let Steve hold the Pepsi again as you roamed the aisles. You steered clear of appliances entirely, knowing Nancy likely didn't use hot rollers and certainly didn't need a blender for Christmas. You headed to the clothing department first, knowing from the catalog that came a few weeks ago that they had a pretty good selection this year.

"So, what's your budget, Harrington?"

Steve leaned against a stand and shrugged. "Dunno, whatever."

You raised a brow, peering at him over the neck of an argyle cable knit. "Oh, fancy man with his big boy job, huh?"

Steve rolled his eyes, gnawing on the straw again. "Whatever."

You folded the sweater and placed it back on the table, pulling the gloves off your fingers with your teeth. You tucked them in your coat pocket and moved onto the next table, peering through the selection of fabrics and options. Steve followed quietly, glancing casually but absently. You pulled the Pepsi from his hands when the straw chewing became loud.

"What about this?" he asked, pulling a fuzzy pink sweater up like roadkill, plucked between two fingers. "You think she'd like this?"

You hid your smile behind a sip of Pepsi. "Um...I guess, yeah."

"Well...would you wear it?" Steve held it out by the shoulders, letting the sweater hang loose.

You looked it over, tipping your head. "Probably not. But I don't really wear pink, I think Nancy does."

"Oh, right."

Steve placed it back on the table in a rumpled ball. You huffed, shoving the cup against his chest.

"What are you, a heathen? Fold it, Harrington, Jesus."

He was quiet a moment, watching you fluff and fold an item you didn’t plan to buy.

"Are you sure you don't wear pink?"

"Have you seen me wear pink?"

Hearing his sharp intake of know-it-all breath, you whirled around and added an addendum. "After the age of seven?"

Steve closed his mouth. You plucked the cup from his hand and flashed a tight-lipped smile.

"Exactly. Come on, let's go over here."

He followed you across the snow-slicked tile, boots squeaking as he went. He watched you pause and tip your head at a brown coat in the men's section, only to turn back toward the women's. He eyed it as he followed you blindly.

"What about you?"

You felt the sleeve of a plum-colored cardigan. "What about me?"

"What do you like getting for Christmas?"

You tossed him a bewildered glance. "You know I love my Mrs. Harrington popcorn tin every year."

Steve chuckled, twisting the plastic straw of the Pepsi cup between two fingers. "Yeah, but...I don't know, what's one thing you've always really wanted, but never got?"

You watched him twist the straw, and hung the sweater back on the rack. "Um...I don't know."

"Oh, come on. Like...you know I've always wanted that one super rare press of The Stones'—"

"Yes, Steve, I know."

Steve ignored your eye roll, taking one large step forward toward the jewelry case you were peering into. “Well, so, what’s your rare press? The one thing you really want?”

You glanced at him through your lashes, head still angled toward the array of rings and bracelets. Your cheeks illuminated by the fluorescents, fingers collecting the glimmer of a strand of lit garland wrapped around the glass of the jewelry case—it all suddenly made Steve begin gnawing at the Pepsi straw again.

"Why are you asking me this?"

Steve huffed, leaning back against the warm case until you pushed him off. "Jesus, is it so hard for you to answer one question?"

You straightened up again and stepped away from the jewelry. Nancy seemed like a jewelry girl, but you were becoming increasingly more frustrated in your search—though at this point, your eyes were simply grazing items. Everything that piqued your interest didn't seem like something Nancy was worthy of. And the mere thought of your spite for the girl gave you pause.

So, how could Steve be so sweet in this moment when you were standing there plotting revenge on Nancy Wheeler through means of shitty Christmas gifts?

"Fine," you mumbled. "Um...you know that I always think it's the thought that counts—"

"God," Steve groaned, tipping his head back dramatically as he followed you into the next department. "Okay, Mother Teresa."

Your elbow jammed into his side and caused Steve to yelp. "I mean it! Sure, I might be particular—"

"Picky—"

"—but just the thought of someone thinking of me, or having me in mind when they find something...that's what makes a gift special. You know? Like when you went to that bookstore in Indianapolis and got me that journal. You didn't get it because you knew I wanted it, you got it because it made you think of me."

Steve swallowed, grinding his teeth over the flimsy plastic of the straw. You twirled a coat around on its hanger and inspected the back. As your hand swept over the tweed, Steve felt the bite of pretzel he took crawling its way back up.

"So..." He tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tasting the sweetness lining his cheeks. God, was he gonna be sick because of this?

And what was this? He knew it wasn't the normal, platonic ache all best friends of any gender felt. He knew it was abnormal, actually, to listen to you speak and suddenly feel so overcome with something that it made him want to flee. But what was that something?

It certainly couldn't be what he was thinking.

"Your rare press is...something thoughtful?"

You giggled, hanging the coat back up. The metal hanger shrieked over the rack. "No, I guess if I had to have a rare press, it'd be one of my grandma's handmade blankets. She made one for my mom and all her siblings when they went off to college or moved out, and...I don't know, I guess I'm still sad I'll never get my own now that she's gone."

When Steve only hummed, you turned to find him leaning against a tinsel-wrapped column near the aisle.

"I guess that's something thoughtful, too," you added.

Steve had the straw back in his mouth again, and he bobbed his head affirmatively. You turned away and scanned the store before you. You suddenly couldn't be here any longer, and when a bit of yellow caught your eye, you rushed for it.

It was a soft sweater, with embroidered flowers on the sleeves and tortoise shell buttons. You pulled one from the table and held it out to Steve, who had just caught up to you from across the store.

"What—"

"—here. Nancy looks nice in yellow. Something thoughtful, too."

Steve took the bundle of yellow in his grasp. You took the Pepsi cup, now mangled by his teeth and crushed by his hand, and took a sip through the gnawed opening.

"Come on, let's go pay. The lines are wrapped around already."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿ ˚

⊹₊ ˚ ₊⊹ christmas eve. ⊹₊ ˚ ₊⊹

You watched through the fog of your living room window as Steve's BMW pulled into his driveway. He wore his nicer coat that day, buttoned snugly against his throat. At the passenger side, he offered his hand to an equally-bundled Nancy, dark curls billowing in the afternoon breeze. Their breaths echoed whitely against the grey sky, noses and cheeks already wind-whipped pink.

You let the curtains fall back into place when they disappeared through his front door.

"Honey, want to help me hang the popcorn?" your mother asked, holding a strand of popcorn and cranberry garland between two hands.

You pressed your socked feet into the carpet and met her near the tree. "Sure, mom."

And every walk around the tree to fix an ornament or fluff a branch, or tread to the dining room for a cube of cheese from the platter your parents set out for their friends later, came with a glance through the window toward Steve's house.

So, when the cheese began to curdle in your stomach, and the sound of Christmas carols crackling through your father's record player was not enough to distract you from what was going on next door, you went into the living room and peeked around the corner.

"Hey, mom? I think I'm gonna go lie down. Wake me when everyone's here?"

Your mother looked up from the tin of ornaments she was rifling through, placed on the floor at her knees. She had on her nicest tweed dress and white blouse, hair twisted and pinned neatly at the back of her head. The Christmas party was your parents' favorite event of the year. You wouldn't miss it out of heartache—but your body was calling you to bed.

"Oh, okay, sweetheart. Are you feeling alright?"

You nodded, flashing your most convincing smile. "Yeah, just tired from all that shopping yesterday. I'll see you guys in a bit."

And you crawled into bed, even in your dress. Tight-clad feet wiggled near the edge of the bed, nestled beneath the pile of blankets you abandoned yesterday. Their warmth weighed down on you blissfully. The crackle of your father's record player and the choir of the Christmas carols faded in the distance. The howl of the wind grew quiet as the afternoon lulled. It only whispered, softly, through the bareness of the trees and the cracks in your window.

Before you shut your eyes, you looked off toward the glass. The center fogged with the kiss between radiator heat and the frozen world outside. Snow gathered around the edges like lace border. From this angle, you could see only the spindly edges of the tree branch tops. How snow sat like dollops of whipped cream on their ends.

The world was quiet, cold, and empty. And it was exactly what you needed.

⊹₊ ˚ ₊⊹

Steve came when you were fast asleep. He knocked on the front door with a gloved fist, keeping his sloppily-wrapped gift behind his back. The grin on his face slipped when the door opened to your mother, who winced with a finger to her lips.

"Hi, Steven."

"Hi, Sandra. Is she around?"

"She's sleeping," she whispered, giving another wince.

Steve nodded, smile absent now. "Oh, okay. Um...do you mind if I just put this outside her door?"

Your mother looked at the lumpy shape in Steve's hands, wrapped in shiny red paper and a golden bow. Her wincing ceased instantly and she perked up with a grin.

"Oh, how lovely, Steven. You're such a sweet boy, you know?"

Steve chuckled, cheeks burning.

"You sure you don't want to just wait, give it to her tomorrow?" she asked.

Steve placed both hands around the present, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he gazed down. "Um...no, that's okay. Kind of wanted her to have it tonight, and we're going to my grandparents' in a bit."

"Well, alright. Come on in, you can head up."

Steve thanked your mother and stepped inside. He shook his boots off on the mat and unlaced them quickly. He shook your father's hand, complimented the festivities of your home's first floor, and tiptoed toward the staircase.

The hallway darkened near your bedroom. He paused outside of the door, listening to the sounds of your home for a moment. Your parents conversing downstairs over the jazzy toot of a Christmas song. The heater rattling a little at the end of the hall. You gave no sign of life on the other side of the door.

So, Steve found himself opening it. Quietly, knowing it tended to whine on the hinges at a certain distance. He opened it just enough to slip through, and then found himself standing there. In the center of your bedroom, socked feet weighing down the carpet. You used to draw shapes in the fibers when you were younger, lying on your stomachs with your feet kicking behind you. You'd write each other messages in the pink, giggling when you guessed them exactly.

In your bed— cheek squished against a plaid pillow, hair fussed about, mouth open to breathe softly—you looked just like that little girl again. The one who called him Stevie. The one he spent afternoons that felt like years with.

It's strange how different time felt when you were children. How much more if it you had. How simple and unperverted it was, not yet burdened with the difficulties of life and that odd, aching feeling.

As Steve placed the lumpy present wrapped messily in red at the foot of your bed, he imagined that little girl opening it when she woke, and the smile on her face that he would never see.

It left him with an even bigger ache in his chest as he slipped back into the hallway and headed down for his boots.

But it would have pleased him to know that when you woke at four o'clock, and your bedroom was nearly dark with evening, you shuffled to sit and stared at that red present in wonder. You brought it to your lap and ran your finger over the scratchy glitter of the bright, gold bow.

There was a sticky note taped to the top, complete with what you instantly recognized as Steve's scraggly handwriting.

Your rare press.

— Steve

You chuckled softly, and tore the paper as carefully as you could. Before all of it had even been removed, goosebumps traveled beneath the sleeves of your dress. A gasp left your mouth, and you discarded the paper toward the other side of your bed to leave only your rare press in your hands.

Stripes of purple—an array of dark to light, boysenberry, violet, mauve, lavender—wove through gaps the size of tiny, feminine fingers. It was soft and heavy in your palms, exactly the weight of the one strewn over the couch in the living room. With the wavy edges of a Harrington afghan, seen in the many rooms touched by his grandmother.

Though yours was gone, Steve had one that loved to offer her magic hand.

You brought the blanket to your chest and hugged it close. Wonderfully, it smelled like Steve.

Leftover Winston, a warm amber musk, and the woodsy pine of a Christmas tree.

It was enough to make you get out of bed and lay the layers of blankets neatly. And folded just-so over the end of your mattress, you placed your purple present for all to see.

And it smelled wonderfully of Steve.

[red-phantom-0]

Damien Wayne x Tokyo Ghoul Reader

imagine!! : Damien Wayne is a complex character on his own , he has his own complex emotions and feelings that not many people can understand, que in a ghoul like sibling whom can comfort Damien in his hard times by reminiscing their own experience with them.

Edit : ty for the 48 likes!!!

part 2 , part 3

Damien knew from the beginning that he was difficult . He knew that if it wasn't for the fact that he was Bruce's only blood child and the fact that he's bloody good at handling a sword that no one would bat him a bloody eye.

It was no one's fault in the family, really. He couldn't blame them honestly. Not one of them fully grasp the concept of being a living breathing weapon . A tool only made to bring destruction and wrath to others . Simply a tool. They won't understand that his angry outbursts was just him trying to come to terms with the fact that he was human and humans don't result to anger for everything.

But grasping that concept is easier said than done . Not when he grew up not knowing the warmth of a mother's embrace or the loving scolding of a father when he ate cookies for breakfast . He grew up only knowing that he had to kill to live .Not everyone in this family can grasp that but one .

Y/n is an enigma . At first, he found them absolutely weird when he first met them . He always thought their one red eye was repulsive - absolutely monstrosity. He hated how quiet they were , the bloody fact that he was a trained assassin, and he couldn't hear nor detect them entering the same room as them absolutely pissed him off.

He hated the fact that they were way too good at offense and defense . He always recalled the first mission he went with them and observed how they had somehow skillfully unarmed ten of Joker's henchmen with a bloody rock. He hated them alot you could imagine until one faithful night.

It was after one of his many tantrums , honestly Bruce and bloody Dick were getting on his nerves by calling him a child, and it only escalated when Bruce threatened to send him board school . He was so pissed he just straight up left the mansion himself and sat out in the garden.

He hadn't expected them to follow him though and at first he wanted to bloody stab them - so he did , he threw a knife at them and instead of dodging or catching it , Y/n allowed to knife to pierce their shoulder.

They hadn't even wince just gave him a smile.

" I understood why you're mad, Damien." They voiced as they sat next to him.

Damien only scowl . " You understand me - that's hilarious " .

" I do, Damien . Do you think I wanted to be what I am ? I am only what I am because people want a weapon . They were far too weak and fragile to fight off their own problems for themselves so why not let an innocent child do it for them " they said as they ripped the knife out of their shoulder and threw it behind them.

Damien shared a knowing - an understanding look with them as he finally grasped what they meant . They were a weapon like himself. A shared silence consumed them .

" These twats don't get how - how angry I am " Damien finally muttered out.

Y/n shook her head in agreement .

" They don't understand the anger we carry is not just our own but the anger of an innocent child begging for their stolen youth back " y/n muttered back.

They turned to him and held his hand with a little squeeze . Damien looked at their intertwined hands with a little smile.

" Human contact feels nice," he muttered as he squeezed their hand back . Y/n only smiled back and from then on the two were inseparable.

Wherever Y/n lurked , Damien was right next to them and wherever Damien went , Y/n went with them. Whenever Dick took away Damien's swords , Y/n would always steal it back for him. Whenever Bruce was being a bit harsh on y/n for being blood thirsty , Damien would always stand up for them.

Thus the family was shocked to see Damien , a man of fury and blood lust bond with someone . Safe to say, many of the siblings were jealous of their strong bond .

So when Dick brought up the fact with Damien one day . " So you're allies with a weird ghoul who probably murders for fun -" he was met with a knife piercing his kneecap.

[ludwig-van-gaythoven]

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader)

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Underage smoking, underage drinking, implied ED

Parts

Part 1// Part2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

School trips were never really your thing. Sure it was good to be out of classes but to you it just seemed like an extension of school and honestly you’d rather be anywhere else.

One of the teachers thought it would be a bright idea to take you all out of school for a week to spend it in a forest ‘immersed in nature’. Possibly their tactic to get everyone to stop being at eachother a throats especially after the whole Cady incident a few months back.

It didn’t help that your best friends Janis and Damien both ended up getting sick at the last minute so couldn’t come with you , now you had to stay in your shared cabin alone. At least you didn’t have to room with a random person the whole trip, small mercies I guess.

The coach drive there was boring. You sat near the front, making sure to put your bag on the seat next to yours so nobody tried to sit with you. Of course Queen Regina and her minions took ownership of the back of the coach, that’s why you decided to sit upfront. Best to stay out of the firing line.

It’s not that you hated Regina, you understand why she’s the way she is. It’s a smart move to position yourself at the top of the food chain to avoid being mauled. Your tactic has always been to just steer clear of the food chain entirely which has worked so far.

The coach finally comes to a stop after a few hours and everyone shoves their way off and mills around in groups before a teacher starts to call out names and lodge numbers so people can go and unpack.

As soon as you turn the corner you hear Regina’s shriek of horror.

“Eww, what the fuck are these. I thought we were staying in chalets”

You roll you eyes. The cabins were clean, neat, maybe a little rustic. Of course Regina would still have to be dramatic about it.

“I’m sure forcing us to stay in one of these is some form of neglect.” She snarks at Mrs Norbury as she takes her hot pink suitcase over to her accommodation.

Luckily you get assigned one of the cabins at the edge of the forest, it’ll be quiet. Unfortunately it’s the next cabin over from the plastics. Not that they’ll even notice you there, I’m not sure any of them even know your name. It feels safe to be invisible, if not a bit lonely.

Once everyone is settled, a teacher comes round to each cabin explaining that tonight you can just get settled. No hiking or activities today, just a campfire and dinner later. That suits you perfectly. You sit on the creaky bed in your cabin, pull out your Switch console and start to get lost in a game. Hours pass before dinner call and you make your way, alone to the campfire.

You sit on your own, out of the way of all the different high school cliques. At this point you wish Janis and Damien were here. It feels vulnerable sitting alone.

To distract yourself you watch the other groups like a documentary maker. Noting the way they interact, the tension between them and the clique next to them. However nobody quite catches your eye like Regina.

She’s like a lioness. She has this invisible hold over everyone. They can all fuck about in their own groups but as soon as someone steps a foot out of place she roars and swishes her mane and everyone scampers back to obedience.

Currently she’s sitting at a bench with Gretchen and Karen, they’re talking enthusiastically about their plans for the trip; makeovers, cabin decoration, girly shit. Regina seems zoned out, she’s been pushing the same bit of food around her plate for a good 15 minutes. Every few minutes it’s like she’s trying to solve a puzzle, rearranging everything until teachers tell us to go back to our cabins and rest for the evening. You’re not sure you saw her eat a single thing, the food is probably not up to her standards.

Regina stands and suddenly seems snapped out of her trance, flashing a grin and summoning Karen and Gretchen back to the cabin with her.

You follow, a good distance behind. No point getting too close to danger, and slip back to your Cabin unnoticed.

There’s not much to do alone in a forest so you end up putting on a movie and start a new page in your sketchbook. Janis and Damien are the only ones to know you draw. That’s how you ended up speaking with Janis in the first place. If that news ever got back to Regina she’d probably have something to finally pick on you for, but so far you aren’t even on her radar.

You lose a lot of time sketching out some of the trees you can see out of the window, lots of tall, looming pines fill the page, you start to sketch a lion between the trees.

Eventually darkness creates a blanket around the forest. There’s a soft glow from many lamps outside of cabin doors, but past that, the forest seems endless in the dark. It’s 10:30pm. Teachers are fast asleep. Students definitely are not.

You hear snickering coming from the plastics cabin. Their lights are still on, not that you care at all.

Since all the teachers are asleep you decide that it’s probably safe to sneak out and have a cigarette. You stand down the side of the cabin so that your silhouette is obscured slightly by a bush and hunt through your pockets for a lighter. Finally you light the cigarette, trying to blow the smoke downwind, away from the teachers window.

“Karen! Fuck! Would you just stop puking, shut up!”

You watch from the shadow as Karen falls out of the door and begins to heave into the bush next to their window. Gretchen follows quickly, shaking Karen by the shoulders, desperately trying to get her to shut up so they don’t wake anyone. Regina steps out too, slightly loosing balance and nearly falling down the steps after them.

Clearly they’re all drunk. Someone must have snuck alcohol in.

Regina tries to keep a composed look but you see panic flash across her face briefly as her eyes scan around them, watching for any witnesses. You stay completely still against the cabin wall.

Karen finally stops for a second and they grab her by the arms to try and get her back inside. Their balance isn’t very good either and on the way in Regina’s foot connects briefly with a terracotta plant pot which wobbles for a second and then crashes to the ground, smashing over the front step. A sound that cuts through the night air.

The light to the teachers cabin flicks on.

You quickly drop the cigarette and stomp it out before silently scrambling back into your room, making sure the door closes soundlessly, watching intently through the window.

Mrs Norbury storms over to the plastics lodge, already suspecting they caused the noise.

You can’t make out exactly what’s being said. There’s a lot of shouting, from both parties. Then Mrs Norbury leaves, and the plastics light goes off too.

You quickly get into bed. It’s unlikely anyone will check in on you, but you decide it’s time to sleep anyway, it’s late, and drift off to the sound of the wind through trees. The wind sounds faintly like a roar.

In the morning you shower and begin to get changed when there’s a knock at your door.

“Regina will be rooming with you for the rest of the week, make sure she doesn’t try sneaking out.”