#c: batman: through the looking glass

[martyrbat]

her: you must be batman with a chicken on his head if you think we're fucking

me:

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, no, still born." -- DPXDC AU

Based off a comment I saw where Bruce knew about Talia's pregnancy in the earlier comivs, and was ecstatic to be a father. So much so that Talia feared he'd give up being Batman for it, so when she gave birth she put the baby (Damian) on a doorstep and (seemingly) told Bruce that the baby was stillborn.

Instead of Damian, that baby was Danny! Meet Daniel Brown, the 14 year old foster kid whose been living with the Fenton family for the last two years. He's about two years older than Damian.

His last name, "Brown", was a generic surname given to him because the note he came with didn't have one on it. It just had the name "Danyal" on it, but albeit 'Daniel' was the one that had been put into the system for, I'll be totally frank here, racism reasons.

(I looked it up to make sure, and it's generally not permissible for foster parents to change the names of their foster kids even if it's a permanent residency, and for that reason Danny doesn't have the last name "Fenton".)

Danny's got ✨~issues!~✨ He's been through a handful of homes growing up, most of them terrible for a variety of reasons. Which has, as a result, left lasting scars. He's generally a very sweet kid, just very distrustful and jumpy. He's got the signs of a kid suffering from PTSD, and a handful of other issues including attachment and insomnia. His inferiority complex could rival Damian's, and that's going to make for an interesting mutual hatred for when they finally meet.

(something I'll get into later)

He still has the blanket he was found in. It's made of a very high quality material and is a beautiful emerald green with little golden thread accents, it's high quality as a result has Danny clinging onto a desperate hope that his bio family might be out there, and the only reason they gave him up was because of some outside factor. It's been taken a few times in old foster homes, and he's flipped out each time.

While he still calls Jack and Maddie by their names, he likes them well enough. The bar isn't that high though, and while they're some of the better foster parents he's had, "better" doesn't equal "safest". Their laboratory malpractice. Basically, C- Fenton Parents. They're negligent by virtue of being engrossed in their work, but they do care equally about Jazz and Danny. So he doesn't hold it against them that much.

He kinda prefers it that way, their loud affection is overwhelming and Danny doesn't know what to do with their attention, even if he craves it. It's a bit of a complicated situation.

They took in Danny because they genuinely wanted another child, but didn't want a big age gap between them and Jazz. It was actually Jack's idea to foster, and they discussed it with Jazz beforehand. She was all for the idea. Thus, a handful of weeks later, a ton of paperwork, and inspection later, and Daniel Brown entered their household with a trash bag in one hand and eyes like shards of stained glass.

His relationship with Jazz is kinda strained, but that's by virtue of her constant psychoanalyzing and helicoptering. Like with the parents, Danny's overwhelmed by the attention and also just, straight up doesn't like the fact that she's telling him that there's something wrong with him. He knows that, thank you. He pushes her away when she does this.

Other than that though? When Jazz isn't smothering him and is acting like an actual sibling and not a third parent, they're pretty close, and Danny really likes her. They've hung out a few times on their own volition, and Jazz showed him how to take better care of his long hair.

His school situation,, pretty similar to canon with the bullying, albeit with a few more instances of him blowing a fuse and lashing out against his attackers. He's a rather angry kid, but it's quiet. It builds up, piles on top of itself, until eventually, like a volcano, it erupts and burns everyone within radius.

Danny's got a fire core, not an ice core. Phantom's hair is made of white magma; thick and heavy, setting itself on fire when his anger runs hot. When he gets angry, his skin begins to char and split open to reveal pulsating lava underneath, and he crackles and pops like a raging forest fire.

I haven't decided yet on how he meets the batfam -- i've got two ideas but they're both in opposition to each other, and drastically alter how the rest of the plot goes. But I do know that him and Damian hate each other in the beginning. And it has nothing to do with inheritance or "being the blood son" -- although their blood relation absolutely plays the major role in their disdain for each other.

Simply put, they're jealous of each other for the same thing: thinking that the other was wanted.

Damian hates Danny because, unlike Damian, Bruce knew about Danny since conception and wanted him from the moment he heard about him. He had a whole nursery set up, and still does. He never took it down -- just locked the door. Damian was thrust upon Bruce without warning, and he feels like he forced himself into the family. And while on some level Damian knows and understands that Bruce wants him and loves him as much as his other children, that doubt and feeling of inferiority still remains. He looks at Danny and sees him with what Damian always feels he needs reaffirmed.

Meanwhile, Danny hates Damian because he looks at him and sees him with everything Danny's ever wanted. He hates him because Damian grew up knowing both of their parents, with one of them for most of his life, and then moved over to the other. There was never a moment where Damian was (seemingly) left to doubt his place within the family. Damian was raised with the very same woman who left Danny on a doorstep, with no clue to his identity beyond a little green blanket and a note with only a first name. Damian was wanted everywhere, and Danny was wanted nowhere. Damian is Danny's replacement in his eyes.

(It's the little revelation that Damian grew up with their mother that elevates Danny from being quietly envious of Damian to downright despising him. What did Damian do, that Danny didn't? He could live with Damian living with Bruce -- Bruce didn't know Danny was even alive. But him living with their mom? Are you fucking kidding him?)

Damian never outright attacks Danny physically, but it's not like he hides that he didn't like Danny. Meanwhile, Danny, in all his repressive anger, quietly despised him from a distance until finally one wrong snide side-comment has him blowing up and it becomes a screaming match. They're both just enough similar to each other that when they look at each other they really just see a mirror.

They'll work it out together, eventually. But it'll be ugly and cruel and explosive, and they'll start mending the bridge to become brothers in more than just blood relation in the end.

But yeah, stillborn Danny has... a lot going for him.

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & THEM BEING YOUR ROOMMATES .

characters. xiao kaeya diluc childe itto alhaitham kaveh x reader genre. romantic fluff, can be seen as platonic too, suggestiveness in itto's part an. ueueue... ueueue... ueueue | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

disappears during the day, comes back at night. your first text to your friend (when you arrived at the apartment) was "this guys like a midday batman kinnie lol" but he also somehow leaves everything spotless?? xiao barely spends time at home but in the five minutes that he actually does, all the dishes are washed and everything packed up... you're starting to think that he's a mary poppins kinnie instead

kaeya

he's a mess.. also kind of a slut at home in the sense that he unbuttons his pants the minute he steps through the door but his shirt is always long so. so. yeah. tbh he's not a very messy roommate, he just ends up leaving too many glass bottles behind that you have to clean up #notaslay #pickupyourowntrash #savetheearth

diluc

very nice roommate, adelinde comes over to clean the apartment once a week and when she does you literally go puppy eyed because she brings her cooking for the both of you. the fridge is always stocked with mama adelinde's food and the floors are always shining with her hard work. diluc does some of the dishes though i guess that counts

childe

good roommate. with his numerous siblings, he knows how to get stains and stuff off surfaces so hes the handy manny and bob the builder in the apartment. need something fixed up? he's got you. lightbulb has to be changed? he's reaching for the toolbox. your clock broke? can he fix it? yes he can

itto

worst. roommate. ever. every day you come home to find out that either he's a) passed out on the couch b) broken something at home c) had a secret arataki gang meeting and now the place is trashed d) didn't do his work etc etc the list goes on. you're considering kicking him out at this point but his badonkahonkas are so nice to look at ykwim

alhaitham

uhhhhh takes care of finances and taxes and all that boring adult stuff you have to do but alhaitham graciously does for you. makes you a cute little keyring that matches his and kaveh's and he doesn't hide yours!! or take yours!! 10/10 roommate, laugh at kaveh's misery together #youwillwalkalone jk you love kaveh to bits

kaveh

being roommates with him and alhaitham is genuinely so entertaining bc its a free reality tv show. "kaveh what is this behaviour" "im sorry i kicked it by mistake" <- he did not. but you and kaveh also play pranks on alhaitham to i guess that makes up for it?? idk kaveh does the dishes makes the food hashtag malewife i think

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiy @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @lemonswriting @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @niiheng @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @ineshapanda @babypetuniaa (send ask to be added to taglist)

[lcriedlastnight]

Oscar has been planning on proposing to y/n for a couple of months by now, already bought the ring, tried multiple times to propose to her but every time he felt too scared/ anxious to do it. One time Y/n accidentally finds the ring somewhere in their shared apartment

this is so cute! thanks for the request! ilysmmm. mwah!

tw: fem!reader, swears, scaredy cat oscar, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 2.2k

the sunlight peered through your window, through the see-through blinds you insisted on buying for yours and oscar's shared room. the way the light hits your resting features makes your man sigh out in bliss. every single morning he has the exact same thoughts when he watched you sleep, 'i need to spend the rest of my life with her'.

it had almost been a eight months since he first had that thought. seven since he acted on it and asked your sister to come with him when he was shopping for a ring. a second opinion does not hurt.

the ring had sat in his drawer for a good few weeks, maybe even a month as oscar contemplated how exactly he wanted to go about proposing. this was one area he was completely clueless for. give him literally anything else and he would be able to rhyme off the answer quicker than he could answer for himself. your favourite food? those cookies with the chocolate inside. your favourite film? the lego batman movie. clothes size? you were a small but in most t-shirts you preferred them in a medium so they were a bit baggier on you. how you would like to be proposed to? no clue. oscar knew deep down that it didn't really matter where he proposed, or even how he did it. he was sure you would say yes in if he proposed halfway through taking a shit. it mattered a whole lot to oscar, he wanted it to be a memory you looked back on with fondness and love.

the first time oscar tried to propose, it was a super traditional and basic way. the boy had booked for you to both head on a cute getaway before the season started back up again in february. you had always talked about wanting to go to greece, so he had booked you both in for two weeks in santorini. oscar carried the ring in his pocket the whole holiday even though he had planned out when he wanted to ask you.

the restaurant you had both just eaten in was probably one of the most expensive buildings you had ever been in. you told oscar so. he laughed in response.

"i think the paddock costs much more than than, love." oscars arm was around your waist as you walked alongside him, you were basically leaning on him at this point too. you snort at his words.

"fine, the most expensive looking building i've ever been in." you reword your sentence. oscar laughs. he swears he has never laughed as much as he had in those two weeks with you. oscar had ended guiding you both up to the top of this hill, you barely even noticed, too busy talking his ear off from the glass of wine you had drank with dinner. you were on holiday, why not?

there was a cute little bench that had fairy lights wrapped around it sitting pretty at the top of the hill, over looking the city and the ocean next to it. oscar encourages you to sit. he knew he had made the right choice to propose here when, a few days after arriving you had told oscar that greece was probably your favourite place in the entire world now.

you sit with your head on your boyfriend's shoulder as you watch the tide from far above. oscar fiddles with the ring in his pocket, nerves beginning to eat away at him. you grow quiet as your eyes twinkle in the moonlight. jesus, you looked like something out of his wildest dreams, oscar was sure of it. your voice breaks the comfortable silence between you both.

"i know this holiday isn't finished yet but i really have had the best time with you osc. i appreciate you doing this for me. you do too much for me, i want to pay you back for it all one day." your voice is a whisper because talking at a normal volume just doesn't feel right in the moment.

oscar's nerves get the best of him as you bare your heart to him. here you were being vulnerable with him and he couldn't even build the courage to ask you to marry him. the driver was so unsure of where the nerves were coming from, he was completely sure you would say yes, he knew you loved him yet his hand slipped out his pocket to move towards your thigh to give it a squeeze. a sweet kiss is pressed to your hair before oscar is whispering back his reply.

"me too, sweet girl. wanna stay here with you, forever." a part of his brain tells him that if he just proposed like he was supposed to then you would be able to do this with him forever and it would be promised. he shakes the thoughts from his head as he tells himself that now wasn't the right time awayways.

you had come back from that holiday, still his girlfriend and your finger still void of a ring.

the second time almost caused him to have a panic attack. this time it was less traditional and more relaxed. it had been almost two months since your trip to greece and the sight of your ring finger being bare sent oscar into a spiral every time he caught a glimpse of where that diamond should be.

you finally had him to yourself after a gruelling triple header. those races had actually given oscar some of the best results of the season so far, but it had taken it's toll on your relationship as you had barely spoken to your emotional support boy. the time zones messing you up, plus the fact that you had way too much school work to finish causing you to be forced (by oscar, himself. it pained him to do it but he knew how important this degree was to you and he was not going to let you throw it away just because you missed him and wanted to watch him drive in circles for an hour and a half for three sundays straight) to stay at home.

oscar was sure you would be waiting for him on the couch in your shared living room, it's your routine at this point. when oscar gets back home, it is the late evening. maybe around dinner time. he hopes you haven't waited on him to eat.

as the australian boy unlocked the door, he looked around the apartment. three weeks without his home comforts (you) had taken its toll on him. it is sort of dark in the hallway leading to the living room, the door to the room laying wide open. oscar can see the back of the couch and the blaring light of the tv. it was bright.

the ring had stayed at the back of his bottom drawer in his bedside table. it was right next to you, right where you slept without him for twenty-one nights without him. oscar was desperate to get his hands on you.

as soon as the threshold was crossed and oscar was in the living room with you, your perfume hit him like a brick wall. the brown eyed boy almost started crying at the smell, he had just missed you that much.

your laying on the couch, asleep. this actually surprised oscar. you were never usually asleep, you were so good at controlling when and where you fell asleep, waking up however... that was a different story altogether.

oscar takes your legs and lifts them up softly to slide in underneath them. he was not going to lay down next to you because he knew for a fact as soon as he fell asleep there would be no waking him up until at least midday tomorrow. you were like that everyday.

oscar admires you for a bit before the urge to propose to you comes creeping back. the desperation of being yours for the rest of his life, reared its ugly head as his eyes follow the swoop of your lashes against your cheeks. he thinks about shaking you awake to do it.

the boy is too deep in thought to realise you've woken up. it's like you can tell when he is in mental distress and you come to save him from himself.

"you're home." you mumble into the air. it is left hanging, not responded to as you sleepily blink yourself awake to finally get a good look at him. he's lovely to look at. as lovely as ever.

"you okay?" you ask him after period of silence that is too loud to bring any comfort.

oscar doubts he is any good for you, so for the second time he chickens out and doesn't propose, although it does send his tired and self conscious mind into a spiral that almost brings on a panic attack. he's quick to assure you he's alright, "just tired after all that flying." is his excuse. you believe him and do not have to try very hard to coax him into bed.

once you both had done your night routines next to each other for the first time in three weeks and oscar was laying practically on top of you, he thought about the ring again. just sitting in his bedside table when it should be on your finger as you brag to everyone you see in the shops that you were getting married to the love of your life. it will happen and oscar will see it, he just has to build the courage, next time for sure.

that had been four months ago. the boy didn't even try to think about attempting to propose to you, it all bearing too heavy still. the longer he took the more he talked himself into the idea of you not wanting to marry him.

so when you find the ring on a tuesday lunch time, it is safe to say oscar is shitting himself. oscar had been laying on his side with his head on your lap on the couch watching some documentary on whether or not the remains some archaeologist had found was really an alien or not. you were listening in as you scrolled through your phone, carding your fingers through his hair. it had popped into the brunette's mind that he had forgotten to order his sisters birthday present, it was sitting in the basket, ready to checkout but you had distracted him by asking him what he would do if you chucked your glass of water in his face. so he asked you to log into his account and get it for him.

"it's asking for your card details, osc. where is it?" you ask, reading out what the phone in your hand was saying. oscar groans at the thought of you leaving him for even a second physically hurting him. "bottom drawer of my bedside, love." oscar mumbles, concentration falling back onto the tv. unknowing he had just told you the location to the item that had been plaguing his mind for the past eight months. the realisation doesn't kick in when he hears your gasp, or when he is rushing through to your room to check in and make sure you are okay. it only hits when he sees you sitting on the floor in front of the piece of furniture, turning around to face him with tears in your eyes and a ring in your hand.

"is this what i think it is?" you ask him, voice shaking. oscar really is dumb because he cannot work out his you are crying with happiness or out of sadness. although he is quick to sit beside you, hands reaching for the ring but you pull it back out of his grasp, waiting for the answer.

"yeah," oscar sighs. "i've tried to propose to you twice now but every time i get too scared and don't. i've been trying to for eight months". oscar gets even more worried than he originally was when he sees your frown. there was no way he had just fucked this up with you.

"i could've been engaged to you for eight months?" you ask, you seem genuinely disappointed by this fact and that is what snapped everything into place in his brain. you wanted to be engaged to him. oscar jumps forward to wrap you into a bone crushing hug that makes your heart skip beats.

"i will marry you oscar." you tell him.

"i'm so sorry i chickened out, i don't know what was wrong with me. i could've been almost married to the most perfect girl in the world. my most perfect girl." oscar murmurs his apology into your hair but you had already forgiven him. way back before he had even apologised.

the light still beams into the room, oscar thinks about buying black-out curtains until he sees the way the morning light hits your eyes just after you have just opened them. although they close again much too quickly for oscars liking.

it is like you can feel oscar's stare because you grab his arm, pulling him closer to you.

"love you osc." you mumble into the pillow. eyes drooping again as your face relaxes. oscar presses a kiss to the side of your head as he whispers "love you even more, pretty.".

[ilovetheriddler]

yandere riddler of your choice with a reader whos into the whole stalking thing? thank you and have a good one!

Thank you! Oh, this is an interesting idea! It took me a bit to decide which Riddler would work best with this.... but then I decided that Edward Nashton would be a fun choice since I haven't written for him yet! I hope this is what you wanted! 💚

Obsessions.

(2022 Batman) Edward Nashton/The Riddler x F!Reader.

(Declaimer: I don't condone or approve of the actions taken in this story. It is purely a work of fiction.)

Word Count: 682.

Contents: Stalking, Obsessive Behavior.

Edward could still perfectly recall in exact detail the first day he met you. It was a memory that had burned itself into his mind, and that made his very heart race whenever he thought of it. You had walked into KTMJ, looking for someone to help look over the accounting for your place of employment.

The moment his eyes landed on you, he nearly felt his heart stop. You were perfect, ethereal even, to him. The way your hair framed your face, the brilliant shine in your eyes, the sweet and caring smile you always had, all things he absolutely adored and obsessed over.

"Hello there! Um.. I'm looking for whoever I need to speak with... the place I work at needs someone to look over our finances and our profit records?"

He just simply stared at you silently for a few moments until it finally dawned on him that you were actually speaking to him. He nervously adjusted his glasses slightly.

"...Um... I C-could take a look at that... for you... if you wanted?"

"Thank you! I'd really appreciate it!"

You sat down near his desk. Over the next hour, he looked through the reports and informed you of any discrepancies that your place of employment should be aware of and concerned about. He kept stealing longing glances at you while he worked.

Soon enough, you thanked him for his assistance and left. He felt a mixture of things once you had left. Frustration, disappointment, and an overwhelming need to bask in the warm glow of your presence again.

So, of course, that's why he's currently following you home, staying a decent distance behind you so that you don't notice him, He wouldn't be able to handle it if you found out what he was doing and were disgusted with him, no. He just couldn't risk it. So he always took extra care to not be seen.

Unbeknownst to him, you were actually already aware of the fact that he has been following you home every day. You knew that you should have probably either reported him or confronted him about his behavior. But strangely enough, a part of you didn't really mind.

Maybe he was just shy? At least, that's what you told yourself to justify your bizarre comfort with the situation. You were kind of hoping that he'd eventually work up the nerve to just ask you out. You thought he was quite cute, and he seemed fairly nice, outside of the whole stalking you thing. So you wouldn't mind going out to eat with him or perhaps just seeing a movie even.

But it went further than just him following you home every day. Late at night, you could almost swear that you heard a clicking sound, like what a camera would make. It made your skin crawl slightly, but you kind of liked it for some reason that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

That same clicking was currently going on just outside your window, Edward knew that it was wrong and really creepy of him to be taking pictures of you, which, as far as he was aware, was without your consent. Even though you honestly didn't mind that much, however, he didn't know that. He truly believed that you were none the wiser of his stalking and photo taking.

Eventually, a few hours after you had gone to bed for the evening, Edward slowly made his way back to his apartment, he needed to get these photos printed off so he could put them in the album he had made that was just entirely pictures of you. He loved to stare at them whenever he wasn't able to follow you. They brought him such comfort and joy. There was finally something outside of his riddles that he found joy in within this city.

He printed the pictures out and put them nice and neatly in the album. Before changing and laying down in his bed, he cradled the photo album to his chest, hoping to dream of the one who had stolen his heart so effortlessly.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (IV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here and this is part four 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Our boy is recovering from Bad Stuff in the Watchtower (involuntarily). Danny gets a bandaid for a variety of wounds that definitely are not covered by a little adhesive bandaid, but hey! Bart’s trying.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Batman clicks on the projector screen. Everyone in the room has access to the slides and note-taking abilities on their tablets. The assembled heroes quietly select their app of choice, sit back in their chairs, and ready themselves for the meeting.

“Good afternoon. For everyone in alternate time zones, good morning or good evening as they apply. Before I begin the approved agenda for this meeting, there are developments on the base that everyone ought to be aware of.”

Click. The slide changes to a fuzzy image of an unusually dense collection of shadows in a typical medical-wing setup. The specific location isn’t clear, but the phenomenon itself is stark against the white walls and flooring. The static on the cameras is atypical for the quality of equipment used on the base.

“There is an extraterrestrial lifeform that has made Medical Wing C their territory. Yes, we know they are there. No, they cannot be moved at this time. Please do not try to take initiative in doing so. Please do not enter the aforementioned medical wing. If you see this entity outside of the medical wing, please leave, ignore them, or otherwise make your presence known. They are generally in search of isolation and seek to remain unseen. All known attempts at self-defense by this entity have been largely non-hostile so far, but we do not know how or if that behavior will change as they heal.”

Batman…takes a breath. Not sighs. The vigilante has more control than that.

“They are severely injured. The exact nature of their injuries are still unknown, based on their—unique physiology—“

Barry squints at the screen. Nope. The cloud still looks like a cloud.

“—But the identified fluids they secrete have been recognized as at least partially composed of red blood platelets and a modified plasma. Based on their aggressive self-defense, the persistent seclusion behavior, and their general lack of responsiveness, the injuries are considered deeply severe and require rest to treat. It is imperative that non-medical staff and on-base heroes maintain as little contact with the entity as possible. We are attempting both delicate medical treatment and non-verbal communication, which have both failed thus far. We have reason to believe that the extraterrestrial is sentient and capable of communication based on—“

Click. The next slide is an image of a nearly-obliterated craft of some kind—tinted glass, wings, debris everywhere, twisted shards of metal that look like they scrape like teeth. Charred black everywhere. Barely visible is a torn–through upholstered seat ten yards away.

A hiss breaks the silence in the back of the room. That’s nasty-looking wreck.

“—This craft. It is relatively rudimentary in its design, and would not have held up to prolonged space travel, but would have required complex intelligence to start and maintain transport. Basic testing has proven that its energy readings, while not precisely contiguous with the Speed Force, show that it has been in contact with extradimensional phenomena. A non-sentient life would not have been able to pilot it successfully enough to crash it—much less to avoid the farmhouse in its path. The result is that we have an extremely wounded entity with no shared form of communication. There have been worrying observations by their medical team, however.”

Click.

This slide is blank.

“We are now pursuing the possibility that the entity has been attacked or otherwise held captive by human organizations here on Earth. There are persistent triggers of aggression brought on by medical settings, adults, and more specifically, any present medical personnel and equipment.”

Batman pauses.

“Their medical team has informed me that their persistent fear has made treatment…difficult.”

There’s a snort from somewhere in the room.

“If you discover any evidence of possible extraterrestrial captivity or torture or experimentation among your usual cast of rogues, please forward everything you are able to base for further investigation. In this time period where the Lanterns are unavailable to return to Earth, Martian Manhunter has been notified of the need of his presence on the base, and will hopefully help settle this matter. In the meantime, as a reminder: do not enter Medical Wing C, do not engage with the entity in any way. Simply make your presence known, and they will flee.

“Now. Onto our agenda. First article: whoever has been taking the toilet paper from the supply closet, stop it. The league is not here to fund your lifestyle habit of two-ply toilet paper.”

*

There’s more food available more often.

It just appears at the foot of his bed. Like magic. Or, like…like a really, really fast human child.

Some of the packaged foods Danny can’t eat without swallowing them whole, wrapper and all. They’re just too fiddly to get with his claws—the solution is to just swallow it and let the whole thing dissolve in whatever weird ecto-acid is churning in his stomach at the moment.

The rest is fresh from the bakery—or, well the base, anyway, however this moon base gets their fresh foods. Muffins and croissants and sausage rolls and other things he would expect to see on a coffee tray or something.

…Danny prods his stomach.

He’s been too sore to notice, but this half-state of being a somewhat-physical half-ghost is super, super weird. He can eat, but it’s not processed like food is in his living body. Everything he can digest just gets incorporated. Everything he can’t just gets…

He looks down at the slowly growing puddle in his bed.

…Maybe ‘spit out’ is too generous a phrase. Expelled? Excreted?

Ew. Okay that thought is kind of gross and he doesn’t want to think about that while he can’t move away maybe.

He knows, instinctually, that he’s wounded, but this half-and-half state stops him from feeling the specifics. Knowing how, exactly, he’s hurt. Experiencing the majority of the pain and distress.

He curls up on his bed.

Danny hates it here. Not because it’s bad (it is) but because he wants to be home. He selfishly, desperately wants to be home. He wants his rocket sheets. He wants his room with its glow in the dark stars.

…He wants his dad to heat up soup and sit with him, like when he was little and had nightmares. He wants Jazz to sit on the edge of his bed and read to him.

Danny wants Mom.

 …There is some other company here, though.

Sometimes, if Danny is mostly sated and kind of sleepy, the quick human buzzes in with a few of its age-mates. The two don’t get as close as the buzzing human can, because Danny can at least read the Excited!! or Nervous!! or Booored! energy on the human, which makes him more comfortable with letting it in close. Its friends seem to respect his space, though. They don’t go past his curtain, even if it’s open. They talk, but they don’t yell.

Danny thinks he’s getting the soft little bones back in one of his ears, but he can’t fully tell. He can hear that they’re chattering and he can hear which sounds they’re making, but he can’t understand any of them.

Auuuuughhhhh. He pushes the pillow more underneath himself. Does he have brain damage?? Is he…is he missing pieces of his brain??

There won’t be a concrete way to tell until he solidifies again. Gross. He doesn’t want to do that yet.

Or soon.

…Or at all, maybe.

Mom was so mad at him. Maybe he’ll be safe and he can come home if she…if he can’t be touched…?

…No. He remembers. Mom makes things for ghosts.

??Concern?Con??cern?

Danny looks up. Oh. He made the human vibrate all nervously. Danny’s fine. Well—he’s not fine but he’s not hurting more than usual or hungry.

The human is careful not to touch him when he doesn’t want to be touched, but Danny’s feeling generous. When the human puts its hands on the bed, Danny willingly brushes his knuckles up against it.

No claws. A peace offering.

The human goes suuuuper still.

…Uh. Did he break it?

And then it zoooooooms away faster than Danny can comprehend (he jolts) and sprints back with a whole lot of stuff in its hands, and a few things thumpthumpthump ono his bed. And.

Well. None of it smells like food? When he bites it, it doesn’t taste like food either. In fact the texture is…

Danny frowns. Turns over the object so he can see it better. (It doesn’t help.) Is that plastic?

Wait. Danny twists it in half. His wrists ache but the pieces rotate.

…It’s a rubric’s cube.

…Huh.

There are other puzzles too—things that taste like plastic and one that tastes like wood, which he might have dented with his teeth by accident. Whoops. Danny puts that one farthest away, in the hopes that he doesn’t accidentally damage it a second time.

…Huh. That’s. That’s nice.

Danny surprises himself and the surprised!surprised! human with a purr.

It’s not a lot. Not even monetarily is this little offering a lot.

But it’s more than Danny’s had in a long time.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

-

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

-

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

-

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

-

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

-

[theodorecanaryhood]

The coffee shop guy

Red Hood x Male! Reader (Arkhamverse)

Jason goes to a coffee shop after a long night of patrol, which is where he keeps running into a handsome stranger.

Seemed only yesterday that Jason was determined to get revenge on the big, bad Batman. Seemed only yesterday he failed miserably, regretting his choices and making a decision to help Bruce.

Jason hadn’t slept decently for a good few years as nightmares always crept up, 2am or 3am and then that was it, he’d be awake the rest of the night.

Jason couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to start pulling all nighters, patrolling the streets until the sun came up.

Of course, Jason knew he couldn’t go in like this forever, he knew exhaustion would win. Until then, Jason would power through.

It was around 7am and Jason needed a pick me up for the drive home, he didn’t exactly want to fall asleep at the wheel.

‘Clover coffee? Seems cute’ Jason mumbled to himself, he walked inside trying his hardest to look as awake as possible.

He stared at the menu in the wall for a good minute or so, settling for his usual choice.

Jason always found it funny about how when people order the same thing, they go to a coffee shop or a restaurant and look at the menu, only to order the same thing again.

‘Hi, what can I get you?’ The young girl behind the counter asked with a smile, Jason smiled as best he could, his tired face not being able to show much expression.

‘Hey, can I just get a black Americano please?’ He asked, not paying attention to his surroundings as the girl took his order.

‘Can I take the name please?’ She asked in return.

‘Jason’

A few minutes of standing waiting for his order, Jason heard his name called out.

Sit inside or walk to the car? Well, Jason could’ve still fallen asleep at the wheel if he hadn’t allowed the caffeine to hit yet.

Jason settled for sitting inside, only till he got more than halfway, then he’d head home.

Still not paying any attention to his surroundings Jason didn’t even take in that there was other people inside, Jason looked around a bit. That’s when he noticed him, you.

Your h/c hair slightly messy as if you’d been ruffling it, your black framed glasses sitting perfectly on your face. Not dressed to stand out, but at the same time, dressed to be noticed in some form.

Jason couldn’t understand why all of a sudden he was so engrossed with the male figure sitting opposite him.

You stared at the screen of your laptop as you slightly smiled at something on the screen. Fiddling the pen in your hand.

Jason kicked himself for not having the courage to at least try and get your attention, but then he wasn’t in a state to chat some cute guy up, Jason looked as tired as he felt.

What Jason really needed was a day and night in bed, sleep, rest. It took Jason a good 48 hours to somewhat recover, sleeping so many hours he’d lost track of if it was day, night, morning, Wednesday. Jason really had no idea.

Jason didn’t patrol for about a week by this point, he couldn’t keep forcing himself to stay awake.

Some more time went by and Jason was allowing himself to sleep more, get more comfortable with staying still and allowing himself nights off.

He went out with Roy after so long of not seeing his best friend, Jason even started to look like he was dead…again.

Jason had actually forgotten about the cute guy in the coffee shop, until he went back again to get another dose of caffeine. This time not from staying up all day and night for weeks on end, but from simply having to wake up early.

Like most people, Jason couldn’t face getting up at shits o’clock so needed a hit of caffeine.

‘Americano for Jason’ the male barista called out, Jason took his coffee with a smile and a small thank you.

Sitting down in the same spot he sat last time, noticing you again.

It was like you didn’t move from the last time he was here, except you had, because you were wearing a different outfit, but still.

Jason tried to see what your name was on your cup, but he couldn’t spot it. Jason thought he might come off creepy if he sits and stares at you, but then you weren’t looking near his direction.

‘He’s not into you Jason, he’s probably straight, or married’ Jason whispered to himself quietly.

Luckily no one was close enough to hear Jason arguing with himself. They might lock him up in Arkham for thinking he’s crazy.

Still there was no denying, Jason was into you and couldn’t help but to look at you. He watched as you took a sip of your coffee, adjusting yourself in your seat a little.

‘No wedding ring, ok good start’ Jason thought to himself as he saw your left hand.

You pushed your glasses up your face as you typed something, Jason sat and wondered what your job was. A reporter? A journalist? An author?

Either way, Jason found himself creepy right now, staring at this man who for all he knew was really just minding his own business.

Days went by and Jason kept coming back, the same coffee shop, the same seat. Checking out the same guy.

By this time Jason was trying to see what name fits you more. Were you a Blake? A Jordan? A Cameron? No, none of those names fit you.

Maybe a more sophisticated male like Nicholas? Tristan? Sebastian?

Jason was also thinking about how soft your skin is, what it would be like to touch, how it would be to kiss you. Ok, now Jason really felt he had to stop. Even he was finding this super creepy now.

Jason threw himself into a good book to distract himself, in the back of his head thinking wouldn’t it be hilarious if after all this time of checking you out, you had the same name as him.

‘Stop Todd’ Jason thought to himself, losing his page.

Today was different, Jason was at his usual coffee shop in his usual spot. But, his eye candy wasn’t there today.

Jason was going to bring a book anyway as a distraction. But now he really has no choice, he couldn’t sit and look up at his coffee shop crush every now and then.

Just as Jason got halfway down his coffee he saw you walk in, he smiled a little to himself. Watching as you walked over to the counter.

There was only one other person in the whole coffee shop today, as it is a weekday and most people are on the school run or heading to work already.

‘I need sugar’ Jason said out loud in case anyone thought he was just being weird.

The stand with all the sugar and stuff was next to the counter where you order, this seemed a perfect opportunity for Jason to catch the first glimpse into your life, your name.

‘Hey, can I get an Almond latte please?’ You said, your voice soft yet had a gravelly tone too.

Heavenly, was all Jason could think as he heard you speak for the first time.

‘What size would you like?’ The barista asked.

‘Medium please’ you replied, Jason thought it was cute how polite you were.

‘The name in the order?’ The barista asked again.

‘Y/n’

Jason grabbed a fistful of sugar sachets as he smiled to himself, he finally knew your name. And it was very fitting.

‘Oh, sorry’ you said as you nearly walked into Jason, looking him in the eyes.

‘No problem, I should watch where I’m walking’ Jason chuckled, he was caught off a little by your eyes.

They were the most beautiful e/c eyes he’d ever seen, and your smile was even more amazing.

Jason tried to catch his breath a little as he walked back to his table, watching slyly as you walked to your usual spot.

Driving home with a little smile on his face as he finally knew, as sad as it seemed to admit to people. He finally knew his crushes name, what he sounded like.

Jason never went everyday but went regular as not to look desperate. But by this point, Jason was getting a little eager to know more about you.

Jason was here before you again as he’d come a little earlier today, simply coming for needing the caffeine hit. Jason had a rough night, last night he’d taken out Black Mask, and it was brutal.

Jason hadn’t slept much for the first time in a while, Jason was a little grumpy and not in the mood for people.

Jason saw you walk in but this time was different as you came in with someone, you were both laughing as you walked in.

Jason smiled as he heard your laugh for the first time, it was magical.

Though, Jason couldn’t help the little tug at his heart as you came in with a woman. The two of you stood at the counter while you both spoke.

‘Fuck’ Jason mumbled to himself, feeling like an idiot as he watched his months long crush with someone else.

Jason dove himself back into his book as he sipped his coffee, not noticing the figure coming towards him.

‘Hey, sorry to bother you, is it ok if I borrow this chair?’ You asked Jason, hand on the backrest of the seat.

Jason nodded, smiling a little as not to seem rude, you smiled as you took the chair and placed it opposite yourself, your usual place of course.

Jason cursed to himself again as he mentally kicked and punched, thinking he was a total loser. Once again, not noticing you coming over.

‘Hey, sorry to bother you, again. I always see you here alone. Was just wondering if you’d like some company?’ You asked, really out of the blue which caught Jason off guard.

‘Sure’ Jason kind of hesitated with the answer, walking over to your table with you.

‘Got you an iced latte, as it’s getting warmer now’ your friend said, she spotted Jason, who was seated next to you.

‘Hi, I’m Terri’ she said, Jason smiled and waved a little.

‘She’s a work friend’ you said, Jason then mentally apologised to himself for all the mean things he’d called himself.

‘Awesome, I’m Jason’ Jason livened up all of a sudden.

‘Y/n’ you finished.

The three of you sat for a good hour as you spoke, Terri suddenly looking at her phone screen.

‘Shoot, I got a run. You boys stay and enjoy the chat’ Terri rose to her feet, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and shaking Jason’s hand again. Heading for the door.

Now is your moment Jason, don’t be an asshole, you’ve had a crush on this guy for months. Talk to him. Jason mentally challenged himself to jump in a ask you out.

‘So, you’re here a lot’ Jason cringed at his words as soon as they came out.

You laughed heartily as you sipped on your coffee, pushing your glasses up your nose. Placing your hand close to Jason’s.

‘Yeah, it’s my favourite place to just come and forget about the outside. You’re also here a lot’ you pointed out.

Jason smiled, thinking back to the first time he came here. What kept him coming here straight after.

‘Yeah, truth be told I came in the first time because I was extremely and unhealthily tired, but I kept coming after because of, a different reason’ Jason explained, you raised an eyebrow. Nodding your head slightly.

‘Mhm, and I’ll guess the reason isn’t the $7 coffee?’ You chuckled, smiling so bright Jason’s day just lit up more.

‘My coffee shop crush’ Jason blurted without thinking, he covered his mouth as he realised he’d said it out loud. Though, you laughed.

‘I figured, I saw you checking me out’ you admitted, Jason instantly regretting the long distracting thoughts while staring directly at you for weeks on end.

‘You did’

‘Yeah, but it’s cool, I checked you out too’ you admitted once again, Jason blushing.

‘What?’ Jason looked genuinely shocked, as he didn’t think you’d be interested in him. Jason Todd of all the guys in Gotham, what made him special.

‘What can I say? I like them mysterious’ you chuckled, brushing Jason’s hand.

Another question answered as Jason discovered your skin really was soft. As soft as anything.

He still had two more things to find out, one being your job and the other what it felt like to kiss you.

After a bit more talking you looked at your watch, standing up.

‘Well, time is getting away, I have a thing but this really should happen more often’ you said, Jason smiled.

‘Yeah, it really should’

‘I finish work at 4’ you smiled as you wrote your number down on a napkin for Jason.

‘What do you work as?’ Jason asked you as you winked.

‘School teacher’

Another question answered as Jason walked with you outside, feeling the softness of your hands once again as you touched his as you said goodbye.

Jason was humming to himself in the shower as he was really, for the first time in a while, happy and excited about something.

Jason put on his best shirt and pants as he sprayed some nice cologne, putting on his signature leather jacket and heading for his apartment door.

It was his first date with you tonight, for the first time Jason didn’t have to sit and imagine what it was like to do something with you, he could just do it.

A bar for a few drinks, then dinner, then a nice walk through the city as you both talked about life, childhood, family, funny stories. Jason could listen to you talk for hours. In fact, he could listen to you talk all night.

The final part of the date was approaching really fast, now Jason started to panic.

‘So, what’s a big No for you on a first date?’ You asked curiously, Jason thinking for a bit.

‘I guess I don’t have limits, maybe just be nice to me’ Jason answered, wondering if he should hold your hand or not.

‘Mine is about to break’

Jason looked at you confused, turning to you fully as he saw you looking into his eyes. Jason finally got the answer to his final question.

The kiss was amazing, it started as a light peck as you teased a little. Then you pulled Jason in fully and stayed there. Your lips were soft, the softest Jason had ever been blessed to kiss.

You took Jason’s hand as you both continued walking. Jason not talking much as he finally got to know what it was like, kissing you was the best feeling.

However, Jason had a bonus question. What would it be like to have you in his bed, sleeping next to him.

Ok, now Jason was going insane because all he wanted was to have every inch of you. Clothed or not.

Jason couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun, well that’s a lie, he can it was with Roy a few nights ago in a bar. But, date wise, Jason could not remember.

It has been a few dates by now and Jason was getting quite impatient, he wanted to have you in his bed. Of course, he would never rush or force you. Yet, he was still itching for you.

‘This is the man magnet’ you chuckled as you walked into Jason’s apartment.

It was definitely a bachelor pad and had probably seen some action. Truth be told, Jason lived on one nights, he never let himself get attached.

Yet since meeting you, properly anyway, he never had interest for other men. When he saw you the first few times, Jason pictured your face when he was with other men, or alone and needed a release.

‘Not for a while’ Jason remarked, you gave a face enough to reply without speaking.

‘Ok hot stuff’ you responded sarcastically, Jason grabbing your arm as he pulled you in for a kiss.

The small kisses turned into making out, which turned into you tugging at Jason’s shirt, as he did the same to yours.

Jason’s bonus question got answered as he finally got to know, the feeling of you in his bed. The sounds you make, the way your body moves, his name being called, your body, your smell, your lips on various parts of his body, and his on yours, the noise you make when you’ve reached the ultimate level of pleasure.

Jason was in a dream as he lay on his back in his bed, you fast asleep on his chest.

How lucky that Jason didn’t sleep for so long, how lucky he stumbled on a random coffee shop. How lucky, Jason had the most precious thing in his arms.

[multi-esme]

Leaving her baby son tucked in and sleeping for the night, Selina had decided to leave the mansion for her nightly activities she had missed doing.

Stretching in her catwoman suit, she rolled her head from side to side as she got ready to head off into the center of Gotham. Reviving the engine to her motorcycle, she smiled missing riding it through the night.

.

"There you are," She purred through the ceiling windows of one Gotham's finest jewelry stores. Once she arrived, she made quick work of getting to the roof where she would access through a window she would cut through. "I really hope big daddy doesn't wake up and come get me before I'm done," She snickers to herself as she attaches her safety line to the hook she had secured in order to descend down into the jewelry store.

Lowering herself down slowly, avoiding the red lines of lasers that could trigger at any small movement. She gets out her tools to cut through more glass that stored the precious jewels she had been eyeing for a while. "My how sparkly you are," She purrs with a smirk as she could already feel the smooth surface of the diamond necklace that laid securely in the glass container.

.

"You think she's in here?"

"She's definitely in there," Joker says as he waited in his expensive vehicle, his eyes staring at the store where Catwoman was currently inside. "If I know anything about her sister, I know that this one can't avoid new sparkly diamonds."

.

"Fuck," Selina whispered as she dropped one of her tools. Going to lower herself more in order to grab it, she felt a strong tug on her line. "What the-" the tugging began to feel stronger, lifting her up as her eyes widened. "Bat, wait- I didn't-" once she was lifted up and out of the store, her face falls as it wasn't Batman that she had expected.

"Hello, señorita," Bane says through his mask. "Were you expecting the Batman?" He asks as he throws her across rooftops until her body slams against the side of an industrial a/c.

Groaning from the powerful through of Bane, Selina rolls to her side. "Why did I leave my phone at home..." She says with a groan.

"You just couldn't die, could you?" Walking over, Talia glared down at Selina. Giving a harsh kick to her stomach, she bends down to her level. "Do you know how much work it was to seduce him? To get his money without him knowing." Giving a punch to Selina's face, she hears a crack of a bone which has her crying in pain. "But he just had to fall in love with you. A poor thief who had no one." Beating up Selina that had been tangled in her grappling gun's line she had used, Talia felt joy that she had her where she wanted.

"I hope your son won't recognize you after this." She spits in her face, grabbing her and throwing her off the rooftop and onto a car down below that was parked.

Breathing in pain as she felt her ribs crack, Selina rolled off of the vehicle. Blood covers her face and suit as she tried to crawl away. "Bat..." She coughed. "Bat..." painfully getting to her feet, she hears the loud roar of a car speeding down the street. With one eye half opened, the other swollen. She sees the maniacal look of Joker behind the wheel.

Getting run over and thrown over the car, her body rolls down on the gravel. Hearing a ringing in her ears and the loud laugh of Joker driving off. Selina laid facing towards the gloomy sky of Gotham, breathing becoming more painful as she felt her entire body giving up.

"Hey! Are you okay?" A voice that she could barely hear, a blurry face coming into her view. "Miss? Hey, please don't close your eyes!" Panicking, Juyeon, an alpha werewolf undercover that was walking around Gotham in search of a fast food joint being open. Stumbled upon the scent of someone that made his wolf howl in pain and the noise of someone getting hurt. Picking up the battered body of Selina, he hurries to his apartment in hopes of helping her out as he could hear her heart slow down.

"Please don't die, please don't die..." He kept saying as he got to his apartment and hurried to clean and fix Catwoman up. "I finally found you," Juyeon whines as he got his medical supplies. "Shit-" Seeing how her mid section looked, he took her hand in his as his veins began to turn black. Taking away the pain she had, Juyeon groaned at how she could've gone through such a fight.

Hearing a painful gasp from Selina, Juyeon's feline eyes opened wide as he could hear her breathe again. "Thank the moon," he breathed, working again to get her cleaned up. Seeing as the mask that covered up Selina's face, he hoped she wouldn't mind as he carefully took it off. His heart squeezing in pain as he saw more cuts and bruises on her face as she falls unconscious again.

✿ smol little update : @badbf-cb 《 chanyeol & wonho ♡☆ 》 | @kavengers-assemble 《 xiaojun & top ♡♡ 》 | @dc-heroes-cb 《 daniel ♡ 》 | @monsterhigh-cb | @folklore-cb 《 jeno ♡ 》 | @livealittleoc-cb 《 emilia ♡ 》 | @uridealbf-cb 《 ☆ 》 | @yanderegroup 《 nana ☆ 》 | @storybook-nct 《 minhyung ♡ 》 | @raiden-oc | @fantasyaespa | @urbtsboys | @league-of-assassins

[ficforyourart]

superman x batman // gala nights

Based on this art by Umikochanart on Instagram.

I'm back again! Please click the link above as Umikochanart does not allow reposting of her art.

SUMMARY: Clark is more than happy to help Bruce out at the fundraiser and woo donors. One problem, though. Clark doesn't know how to ballroom dance.

READ ON AO3.

Chapter 1 - One, two, three

There's nothing like the Daily Planet. The soft clacking of keys as brilliant minds put words to page, the gentle ringing of one of the world's last remaining landlines and of course, Lois' soft sighs of frustration make him feel right at home. He purposely straightens, stretching his arms over his head—a secret signal for his mentor and friend.

“Smallville,” Lois clips from the other side of the cubicle.

“No c's, just k's. It was a branding choice, remember?”

“Gotcha,” she hums, and her agreement is followed by the tapping of keys. “What would I do without you, Clark?”

A single-wrapped cookie makes it over the paneled wall that separates them and hits him on the head.

“Ow?”

Lois pokes her head up, frowning at him. “Really? Every time? How do you not expect that?”

There was a time where Clark was sure she was training him Pavlovian-style to be her personal spell-checker. He'd been inspired by her work ethic, intimidated by her determination and when he found out that the great Lois Lane still needed help spelling tomorrow, well, he was in love. She doesn't need to reward him. It's an honour to help. Plus, he pays attention.

Clark looks up at her from beneath his unstylish glasses and pushes them higher onto the bridge of his nose. A gentle flush colours his cheeks. “Well, I… was focused, you see.”

“Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Thank you.” Lois adds with the deepest sincerity before disappearing back into her vortex of productivity. Clark is one of the few friends she's made at the Planet; it's almost like ‘How to Lose Friends and Alienate People' was made for her. Might as well keep the one that sticks around.

At times, when Clark lets his mind drift, he can even catch the faint flickering sound of a phone screen lighting up—one that's been silenced—and calling out for his owner. He'd turned his downwards, if only to stay focused. He's got a pile of condominium by-laws to sort through to find inconsistencies.

One of the icons lights up at the bottom of his screen, and a notification box slides up the corner. Bruce Wayne says ‘Kent'.

Hm.

The last time Bruce messaged him at work, they'd wasted time which was Bruce's intention—he wanted a distraction from the meeting he was in. The deadline for this article is fast approaching and he figures if it was urgent, Bruce would call. Clark looks back down at his papers.

‘Wow, really? You're going to leave me on read?' reads the next pop-up box, and he can't help the way his eyes flicker to it anyway.

Clark hadn't even opened the chat. He looks around, confused. There's no way Bruce is here. The chatter would have reached him easily. He squints at the cameras in the office, then directly at the one on his monitor.

That's ridiculous, he tells himself. Bruce wouldn't… would he?

Clark rolls his eyes. Yeah, he absolutely would.

The papers are pushed aside as Clark pulls his keyboard closer. He clicks open the chat.

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

How can I help you, Mr. Wayne?

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

Are you coming to the fundraiser?

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

I wasn't invited. Perry's going on behalf of the Planet. Lois too.

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

You weren't invited on behalf of the planet. You should've gotten a personal invite like all the V.I.P.s.

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

Ha! Me? V.I.P.? I don't have that kind of money.

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

Exactly. Very Important Peasant.

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

… hey, why can't I block you?

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

Huh, strange 🙂

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

I've been staying with Ma the past two weeks. Barn needs to be repaired. I'm helping with chores until it's done. I'll pass by my apartment tonight for the mail.

… was there a reason you wanted me to come?

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

Do I need a reason to invite my friend to my party?

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

Fundraisers are not parties. They're work. I distinctly remember you saying that.

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

Fine, then I was hoping to have my partner in crime to help little old me win over some donations. I'll play bad cop and you can play good cop.

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

Uh, okay, sure. What do I need to do?

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

Chat people up.

Invite sweet old ladies to dance and win them over with that classic Midwestern charm of yours.

Throw in a couple ‘ope's and you're golden.

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

I don't say ‘ope' that much. Small problem, though.

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

I already bought you a tux. It'll be sent to you in time for the event.

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

No! I have a suit!!!!!!

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

I said tuxedo, not suit.

They're different.

What's the problem?

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

It's about the dancing.

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

What? You can't dance?

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

Not unless you want me to start a line dance.

‘Achy breaky heart' is an underrated ‘banger'.

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

You can't dance.

CLARK KENT - Daily Planet - Metropolis, NY

I will not tolerate line dancing slander. I'm telling Ma.

BRUCE WAYNE - Wayne Enterprises - Gotham City, NJ

Unbelievable. I can't take you anywhere.

***

“One, two—ouch.”

“Ope,” Clark flushes, and tucks his chin into his chest, sheepish.

Bruce gives him a look, and it only worsens the blush on Clark's face.

“Don't say it.”

“I don't have to, you already proved my point. Now, pay attention. All you have to do is count to three to the rhythm of the music and make a square pattern with your steps. Easy.”

Bruce rambles on about the different shapes on the floor, and its a wonder he doesn't break down the exact angle at which Clark needs to tilt his body while leading to guide his partner into the most perfect Fibonacci sequence.

When Bruce said he'd help Clark, he didn't think it would be this… hands on.

Clark looks down at Bruce, tipping his head to watch the way Bruce's brow furrows slightly and the gentle dip at the corner of his lips when he's unsatisfied with his explanation. He barely hides his smile.

He's so focused.

It's not unlike the way they train together. Bruce instructs, then they practice. He's gotten Clark to the approximate level of a brown belt in jiujitsu because, and Clark, quotes, ‘you can't always punch your way through everything'. (Spoiler alert: he can.) Clark accepted to roll with him anyway because it was fun and there's nothing like the little expressions Bruce makes when he's teaching.

He's cute.

“Again,” Bruce grunts, keeping his eyes downcast for his own safety. It's bad manners, as he instructed, but all his other dance partners couldn't shatter his toes on accident for being distracted.

Clark straightens. All of Bruce's advice is locked into his mind, yes siree. Just a square, anyone can do a square.

“One, two, three. One, two, three.”

The dance starts slow and when Bruce deems Clark's technique suitable, he picks up the pace ever so slightly.

Aside from training, they've never been this close before. In training, Clark can't admire Bruce's pretty lashes, especially when he's looking down at their feet, or the pout of his lip when he's unsatisfied with a move Clark's making. He doesn't get to drink in the little imperfections like that one strand off hair that escapes the rest of his perfectly styled hair, errant over his forehead making him seem younger than his years.

(He won't say how many years, Bruce will know. He always knows.)

Bruce has honed himself to be the perfect human weapon—a ninja, an olympian, a dashing rogue and an acrobat—and yet Clark still catches the way his breathing ticks up when they've been practicing long enough.

It's so soft.

Both Bruce's lips and his breath distract him. Clark's mind begins to wander. The only other time Bruce looks so delicate is when he sleeps, but even then, the only times Bruce has ever allowed Clark to see was against his will or out of necessity when he's battered, bruised and exhausted.

“One, two, three. One, two, three.”

One of Clark's hand's rests at the small of Bruce's back, his arm providing a rest for Bruce's, and the other clasps his hand with all the care in the world. He's long stopped worrying about hurting Bruce—or anyone—with his strength. It's the moment that's fragile, easily shattered with one wrong step. (Okay, okay, several but he has to be close to the limit, right?) He likes supporting Bruce. He likes touching him in such an innocent way. They're just dancing and Clark feels like he's flying.

Does Bruce feel it too?

“You're too fast.”

He probably doesn't. Bruce is a man who leaps off the highest building in Gotham without thinking twice. He is a man who catches himself. What's a little dancing to him?

“Clark—”

Clark wonders how Bruce feels when he takes him up into the skies and blankets him in clouds. Does his heart feel light like this?

“Don't step there. Hey—”

Goosebumps skitter from the tips of Clark's toes up to toy with the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Bruce has been by his side for years, and he swears—he swears he has never seen him like this. The suit, though still needing to be tailored for the gala, fits perfectly on Bruce's smaller, more lithe frame.

The dance stops, abrubtly.

“Is there something on my face?” Bruce looks up at Clark, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Huh?” No? He would've noticed if there was anything wrong with Bruce's face. The more important issue is how everything is right with his face. Wait, that doesn't make sense.

There's an unshakeable silliness hanging of Clark's heart, nagging at him like popcorn in his teeth. He wants to pick at it until it goes away because he's so distracted and Bruce is being very kind in helping him learn how to dance on time for the Gala. He wants to bury his face into his hands and groan until he's expelled all the silliness out of him—until he can focus on what's being asked of him.

“You've been staring at my face,” Bruce pauses, deadpan. “For fifteen minutes straight.”

“Have I?” Clark asks, very intelligently. “Haha,” he adds, as if that helps his situation any. He didn't even notice how long he'd been staring. “Time sure flies when you're having fun!”

The look Bruce gives him is not a good one. He finds no fun in puns or familiar adages. It's a Batman look. The look of a hater who cannot truly appreciate Clark's craft.

“Again.”

“Mhm,” Clark hums and straightens his back. The dancing resumes.

He could fit in my pocket.

It's a thought that occupies Clark's mind more often than not. On some days, he'd like to tuck Bruce against his breast for his own safety and on others, he wishes he could tote Bruce around and show him all the things that make him happy. Bruce would love the Kansas State Fair. There's a tour of the Strataca Salt Mines. It seems right up Bruce's alley—wait, no, right up his cave.

Clark grins to himself, proud of his own word games.

“Clark,” Bruce reprimands.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Clark knows what's being asked of him, and he's really not in the mood to be interrogated. It's not nearly as fun as it sounds and many would argue it doesn't sound fun at all.

He bites his lip, worrying at it while staring at Bruce, which only makes it worse.

“I'm not going to ask you ag—”

“Has anyone told you how pretty you are?”

“Huh?”

“Like really pretty? Like, the kind of pretty that's distracting and it stays on your mind a couple days after you've noticed.” The words spill from Clark's mouth, honest and earnest all at once. Tons of people have told Bruce he's handsome, Clark knows that. He doesn't mean it in the same way the others do. At least, he hopes it doesn't come off as… that.

“I—What?”

Clark tips Bruce's chin up delicately, still holding hands with his other, and cups the sharp line of his jaw. He says, very softly and directly: “I think you're really pretty, Bruce.”

The battle that takes place in Bruce's mind translates onto his expression through a ticked jaw and a furrowed bow. He glares at Clark like he's committed the greatest faux pas on the dancefloor and maybe their friendship—

Clark releases him and backs off. “I mean! Your parents did a great job!” He holds his hands out.

“My parents did a great job?” Bruce recites back at him.

“Ope, you've got a phone call coming in!”

Before Bruce can reprimand Clark for the (weird) compliment or for trying to dodge the subject, his Bat-phone vibrates. After a couple of grunts, he excuses himself to go on patrol.

Clark doesn't know why he does that; they always end up together anyway.

***

The Batman glowers.

Gotham's lights reflect on his face, illuminating the sudden emergence of stubble and the frown lines around his uncovered mouth. Whoa, how many times is that now? How many times has Clark's gaze sneakily drifted down to those cute frowny—

Focus, Superman.

A cursory glance around the city shows that their perps haven't moved from their meeting spot inside the warehouse, and he listens into see if they're ever coming to the tail end of their negotations. (They are not.)

He tips his head into Batman's line of sight, trying to follow his gaze. Clark tries to track it and by his guesstimation, the Batman is glaring at the… ground? The arms folded across means that whatever he's thinking about is Very Serious™ too. He doesn't dare look beneath the cowl—that's rude—but he thinks he catches the sight of a faint, faint blush on his cheeks.

Clark hums softly to himself, steps back and beams brightly into the night.

Thinking Bats are best not disturbed.

[lily-drake]

[Bio!dad Dick] when Dick had amnesia and became 'Ric Grayson' He hooked up with a traveling Sabine. He later discovers when looking into his old things when he was Ric he had been contacted by Sabine who told him he has a daughter named Marinette (maybe 5 years old now?idk), during his time as Batman (with Bruce 'dead', Tim missing, and Damian being well Damian) Dick makes the hard choice to stay out of his daughter's life to keep her safe from the world he lives in, but watches from a distance when he can. Before he knows it more years pass and he wants nothing more than to meet her but feels like it's to late. However everything changes when he goes down for patrol and finds one of his brothers at the batcom with a file of Marinette open, and the words 'Master Fu, ex-guardian' 'Mutlimouse, Known' 'New Guardian?'. And files on a Ladybug hero who bares a striking resemblance of his daughter.

Ric Rolled

Note, Ric/Dick is 21 at the beginning of the story while Sabine is 23.

Ric Grayson liked his job as a taxi driver.  He learned a lot about the people in his city and even people from outside of it.  But he always felt like he could be doing, or rather was meant for something more.  Ever since he had left the hospital once the bullet wound was healed, he felt like he was missing something important from his life.  It was his 21st birthday, and he decided to celebrate it at one of the nicer bars in his city.  

“Hello, is this seat taken?”

A gentle voice spoke from beside him.  Ric slowly turned his head and saw a beautiful woman with charcoal black hair, silver eyes, her makeup was done naturally, and her dress was a beautiful red and gold knee length qipao.  

“No, you can sit here.”

He replied, gesturing toward the seat on his right side.  

“My name is Sabine.”

She spoke as she gestured for the bartender.  He didn’t respond, just took a sip from his glass.

“So what’s brought you here tonight?”

Sabine asked in a honeyed voice.  Ric thought about whether or not he should answer that question, his already addled brain found nothing wrong with it though.

“It’s my birthday.”

“I see.  You celebrating with anyone else?”

“Afraid not ma’am.”

“I see.”

Her voice was like that of a siren.  Enchanting and full of life.

“Let me buy you a drink, whatever you want.”

Ric smiled at the lady and nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.  No one should spend their birthday by themselves.”

One drink led to another, which led to another, which led to a night that Ric hadn’t imagined he would have.  When he awoke, he was alone, only a note.

Thanks for last night.  Hope we can meet again one day, Ric.

~Sabine

Ric let out a groan, his head pounding up a storm.  He wasn’t going to be able to work today.

_________

3 years later

Dick Grayson stared at the screen in front of him in shock.  He remembered bits and pieces of his time as Ric Grayson, but he liked to pretend that those three years of his life never existed.  But as he stared at the information in front of him, he wasn’t so sure he could ignore it for much longer.  Turns out he had a daughter, and it had to be his because “Ric Grayson” was listed as the father on the copy of the birth certificate that he had been sent and the girl–his daughter– was just barely 2 years old.  

Sabine had sent him a letter, but he had never seen it before as he had moved on from being Ric by that time.  It was pure luck he even stumbled upon the letter in the first place when he was cleaning up the rundown apartment that he had stayed in.  The overwhelming feeling of need that he felt at the thought of meeting the little girl, Marinette, was so overwhelming he couldn't think of anything else.  Even breathing felt like a chore.  He imagined being a real father, teaching her to read, watching her color, listening to her stories, he could even teach her gymnastics.  It was a wonderful fantasy.  But that was it, a fantasy.  One that came crashing down with the sound of a katana slicing through a training dummy.  

He shook his head as reality came crashing in around him.  Bruce was dead, Tim was missing and probably hated him, Jason left the city, and he needed to make sure that Damian was being taken care of, he needed to be Batman and protect Gotham.  He took a single minute to mourn what could have been before he stole himself and closed the files.  She would be safer and happier without him.  From what he saw Sabine was in a relationship with another man in Paris.  He could watch after her from a distance, but it would be better if he was as far away from her as possible.  It seemed everyone he loved got hurt in some way, and he would make sure that nothing would happen to her by keeping his distance.

_________

8 years later

Dick stared at his phone.  There was a picture of a young girl at a sewing machine with the brightest smile.  She had hair as black as Sabine’s and his eyes.  She was growing up so fast and now that everything was working out he desperately wanted to meet her.  But it has already been so long, it was probably too late now.  She had Tom as her dad now.  He had another daughter now, he and Kori had finally tied the knot, and now they had little Mari’.  It wasn’t intentional, in fact it was Starfire that had named her that.  It made his heart hurt when he thought of his other daughter.  He often wondered if his girls would get along with each other if they ever met.  

He sighed as he set down his phone and looked around the cave.  He was in Gotham for the weekend just visiting his family—which was finally happy (well, as happy as they could be) together— with his wife and daughter.  Star would be down soon, she was just putting Mari’ to bed.  Star knew about Marinette and often encouraged him to reach out, and though he was thankful for her support, he was still too scared to approach her.  

He could hear the fast click clacking of the Batcomputer’s keyboard, and as Bruce was upstairs he knew that it had to be Tim.  Slowly he walked down the stairs to make sure that his brother hadn’t been down here for a consecutive 56 hours again.  He had been getting a bit better at taking care of himself, but he knew Tim and which meant that if Tim found something overly important all of Tim’s own needs would be put aside until he was sure that he had finished everything.  

“Tim, how long have you been down here?”

He asked as he carefully approached his baby brother from behind.  Tim didn’t answer, he just kept clicking and moving things around on the screen.  There was strike one, Tim may not always answer, but his shoulders would often either scrunch up or relax.  And as neither of those reactions happened he may not have heard him showing how tired he was as Tim was one of the most aware and attentive one out of all of them.

Dick got closer to the screen and looked up to see what was so important to Tim.  There files upon files of absolute chaos and destruction filling the screen.  It looked horrifying and Dick couldn’t believe that it was real as if this was anywhere on Earth or even in space they would have heard about it by now.  On the top and bottom right monitors there were files of three different people open at the moment.  On the top there was an image of a girl with strikingly familiar blue eyes, dark raven hair, and a face he was staring at only a few minutes before.

Marinette Lenoire Dupain-Cheng

Identity (Known): Multi-Mouse (First)

New Guardian?

Pupil of ex-Grand Guardian: Wang Fu

Age: 11

Ethnicity: Asian-American

Location: Paris, France

Mother: Sabine Cheng

Birth Father: Ric Grayson

Step-father: Tom Dupain

Dick gulped as he read through the data.  He hadn’t told his family about Marinette, but now they would know.  He had told Starfire before they had gotten Married, and he was so relieved when she still accepted him, still loved him despite his mistake and cowardness.  But he kept reading.  He would have to process that his daughter was a hero, a hero at the same age he was.  That his efforts to keep her out of this type of life were all in vain and that it didn’t matter now.  That he was a failure.  He started reading again.  

Wang Fu

Identity (Known): Ex-Grand Guardian

Belonged to “The Order of the Guardians”1

Age: Unknown

Ethnicity: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Needs to be further investigated

Then there was the final one.

Ladybug

Identity: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Origin: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Relatives: Unknown

Source of power: Earrings

Power: Creation and restoration

Danger level, high.  Need more data.

Tim studied the girl before him.  He didn’t like what he saw.  He looked at the picture of Ladybug, then the picture of his daughter, then the picture of his daughter in a mouse themed suit, then back to Ladybug.  Dick was going to be sick, he was going to pass out, he was going to have a panic attack.  He should have just been part of her life.  Maybe if he had been in it she wouldn’t have had to become a hero.  Maybe it was because he stayed out of her life that she unintentionally followed in his footsteps.  He was a terrible father, how would he tell them, how would he tell her?  What was he going to do now?  

“Dick!  Dick, you need to breathe!  Come on Dick, please breathe with me.”

There was a distant voice talking to him, but it was so hard to hear over the raging voices in his head.  What was he supposed to do now?  It was too late for him to just insert himself in her life.

“No it’s not Dick.  It’ll be okay.  I won’t tell anyone, it’s your news to share.”

That was a nice thought, but there was no way that the others wouldn’t figure it out now.

“That may be true, but they’ll respect your boundaries and wait until you feel comfortable enough to talk about it.”

The voice said.  Dick tried to breathe, he could feel his hand against something hard yet soft, and he clutched onto it.  He could feel a gentle beating against his hand and slowly he began to even out his breathing all while the voice seemed to rattle on, saying things that he couldn’t seem to process as he focussed all of his efforts into simply breathing.  How pathetic, he couldn’t even breathe right.

“You’re doing so go.  That’s right, deep breath in, then a slow long breath out.”

Dick leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Tim’s shoulder, silent tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling leaking onto the boy's shirt.  He could feel Tim’s arms slowly wrap around him as they both sat on the floor, silent except for the chittering of the bats and the light drip of water from the ceiling.  

“What am I supposed to do?  It’s too late to meet her, and now she’s in danger, she’s like us.  I stayed away to keep her away from this life and it was all useless.  It didn’t matter, I could have been in her life all this time but I didn’t and now-”

Dick let out a shuddering sob, unable to finish the sentence.  Tim was frozen; he didn't know what to do.  He could count on one hand how many times he had actually seen Dick cry.  It was always so strange and foreign and he never really knew what to do.  So he held Dick even tighter, rubbing his older brother’s back as he cried.  He could feel someone’s gaze on them from above and slowly looked up to see Jason and Bruce, eyes wide in shock at the scene.  Bruce snapped out of it first, racing down the stairs until he was at Dick’s side only a few moments later.

“Report.”

He barked panickedly, unsure of exactly what to do to help his oldest son.

“Dick found something out and he’s in distress.  I’m not allowed to say what about as it’s his business to tell.”

Tim replied automatically, but he never let go of his brother though he glanced over to the Batcomputer.

Bruce looked over the data on the screen and nearly short circuited when he stumbled across the name of the father for Marinette/Multi-Mouse before he glanced down at his son.  He understood the distress of his son when he had just discovered that he in fact had a child.  Not knowing about Damian until he was ten because Talia had hidden his existence from him had been heartbreaking.  He could only imagine what it felt like for Dick who loved those he was close with and trusted with all of his being.

Slowly Bruce bent down glancing at Tim who slowly nodded and backed away a little, but Dick only held on tighter with a slight whimper.  Tim looked like he was in pain himself.

“It’s okay Dick, Bruce wants to give you a hug too.”

But Dick didn’t let go of his little brother.  The little brother he nearly lost to Ra’s, to The Widower, to Lady Shiva, to the Joker, to so many people.  He clung onto the boy even tighter, he didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay here with you.”

Tim whispered softly, pulling Dick closer.

“You’re going to have to pick both of us up B, he’s not letting go, and I think bad things will happen if I try to move away again.”

Bruce grunted in his ‘I understand and I’m really worried’ way and carefully picked up both of his sons, moving them towards the upstairs family den.  Jason had already left to get Alfred, worried about his big brother, but unwilling to admit it.

“We’ll figure everything out, you’ll get to meet her.  I think that she’d love to meet you.  You could just take Star with you, we could watch Mari’ for you.  I’m sure everything will work out, don’t give up.  It’s never too late Dick.”

Dick didn’t know how much he believed those words, but Tim was right.  He needed to go visit her, he needed to make things right.  But until then, he would hold onto the family he had now, because they loved him and he loved them.  He loved the daughter that probably didn’t even know existed, and he protected the people he loved.  So he would need to protect her, and in order to do that, he would need to finally meet her.  He would never give her up, he would never let her down, and never again would he desert her.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninjabird @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123 @iloontjeboontje @heartsong18 @raeuberprinzessin @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jennifer-rose123 @moon5608 @corporeal-terrestrial @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @saltysugarysembei @phantom120 @kking13 @depressed-bitchy-demon @a-slytherinish-gryffindor

[martyrbat]

batman: through the looking glass

[ID: Batman in the Batcave and in front of the computer. He's slouched in his chair and is holding a hand to his head as he grimaces in pain. Alfred asks, “Headache, sir? Get you something?” Bruce requests, “New head, maybe?” END ID]

[dairy-farmer]

Hey i hope you’ve had a good week so far!

What if we have Bruce sabotaging tim’s relationship or potential relationships consciously or unconsciously, and once tim figures it out later (either after they’ve got together, or for before they get together, tim going for people his age then people older than him thats around bruce’s age to kind of like give bruce the hint that he’s interested) ig in this scenario its tim initiating the relationship??we need more of tim doing this tbh, thanks💗💗

-C

!!!!!!!!!!! i've been watching that scary 'hey arnold' episode for some early halloween spirit and bruce would absolutely channel the energies of helga g. pataki.

there are times in the comics where bruce absolutely behaves like a jealous little girl toward tim: the one that comes to mind is when he was on a date with zoanne wilkins at a fancy restaurant and then everyone inside GASPED because batman was outside the windows, perched on a gargoyle!!!! he looked back and shot a look at tim which is what caused tim to like spill food on himself and then go to the bathroom where he opened a window and was like 'uuhhh can i FUCKING help you????'

and bruce was like 'jitter is on the loose, cut your date short, come fight crime with me'

tim was rightfully like wtf??? no???? i'm on a DATE and jitter is literally a D grade villain you can handle him on your own goodbye.

tim returns to his date and literally 5 minutes later bruce and jitter fall through the glass cieling of the restaurant and land RIGHT on tim's table.

afterward tim confronts him like 'that was a really shitty move of you. i told you NO. i know you could've taken jitter on your own, you could've moved the fight somewhere else but you don't respect my word enough to believe me when i tell you 'no' to something'

like tim was getting really pissed at him because they took down jitter in like 30 seconds flat after he suited up and you have to admit it did look incrdibly suspicious.

but then bruce was like tim...🥺🥺🥺 that's not true 🥺🥺🥺🥺 i DID try but things just got a little out of hand🥺🥺🥺 you know i'd never purposefully ruin something like this for you 🥺🥺🥺

and tim just like '*sighs* fine...i believe you bruce. i'm sorry for accusing you like that. i guess i was just upset my date got wrecked'

like that man was so full of shit!!!!!

i remember reading that and thinking that was such a petty and jealous thing for bruce to do. like it's possible it really wasn't on purpose but i think that he did it in the moment, not even thinking about it because he was hurt tim told him to eff essentially over a girl. maybe afterwards it hit him and he felt guilty when tim confronted him but rather than admit it he doubled down because otherwise he'd look like a bad guy and it would put unnecessary tension and strain in his and tim's relationship.

THAT'S how i think bruce would go about sabotaging tim's relationships. like he'd just get so...unecpectedly emotional and jealous about it. he'd do it in the heat of the moment without thinking of the consequences.

like tim and his boyfriend are having a picnic on the lawn of the manor?? they're on a blanket to protect them from bugs and the grass and then just lean in and start kissing each other.

and bruce who's been watching from the windows the entire time just...turns on the sprinklers.

and once he sees their shock and immediate sprinting away from the water it hits what he's done.

and he feels guilty but 100% doesn't own up to it. he tells himself he needs to stop sabotaging tim's relationships because it's making tim sad. but he can't help it.

and it gets worse when tim turns 18 and his tastes grow a bit...older.

when bruce is stuck tensely making conversation at the door with a boy he hasn't seen since highschool while tim finishes getting ready for his date, that's when the gloves come off.

he's petty and he's jealous and does things like canceling dinner reservations, and hiding the chocolates and flowers tim gets sent- just stuffing them all into an unused closet.

and tim is just...so sad??? he's been having such bad luck in teh dating department and doesn't know why.

and bruce feels so guilty when tim comes to him for comfort (not enough to stop). but then he and tim keep spending time together because tim comes to him every time something doesn't work out.

they start spending more time together, outside of tim looking for comfort.

and then...tim makes a move and bruce accepts.

and he's so worried the same will happen. that karma will kick in or he'll start unconsciously sabotaging himself.

but it doesn't.

one month passes, two, then three, then four.

bruce is tim's longest-running relationship and bruce is so careful to do everything right. hand-delivering gifts, candies, and flowers to tim. taking him out to nice places.

bruce is content and happy. he doesn't even think of all the things that he's done, all the sabotage he did that led to this.

he never even thinks of that abandoned hall closet with all the dried up flowers and expired chocolates that he never emptied out.

he doesn't think about how a few weeks before he and tim got together, alfred was spring cleaning and asked for tim's help.

he doesn't consider that tim may have been in that wing of the manor and stumbled across the sight along with mountains of ripped up cards addressed to him from various relationships that never panned out.

he doesn't think about how tim is as much of a detective as he is.

[gotham-academy-study-chat]

Pretty

(Hi. I own nothing DC owns. This is inspired by a conversation from the Gotham Academy discord about Kyle possibly having scars from when Olive accidentally burned him. Thanks @mistymooffin ! Warning for: burns and scars. Enjoy!)

Kyle used to get called pretty a lot growing up. He got that even more once he started Gotham Academy.

He doesn’t hear it that often anymore.

Kyle doesn’t know what’s happening. 

He didn’t even like it when people flirted with him, but now...

It’s just really confusing. He doesn’t know who he can talk to.

Whenever Olive looks at him, looks at his scars, she gets that sad look in her eyes that he can’t make worse.

Pomeline and Colton could be going through their own things. 

He can’t do that to Maps. 

The stares slow down as time passes—but they never really stop. Neither do the whispers.

“I heard he got caught in a Firefly attack” “Maybe a different team attacked him.” “I bet he did it to himself.”

Kyle’s face isn’t fully burned—only a bit on the bottom on his face. His arms, chest, and stomach were burned. Nurse Sam said he’s lucky it has no lasting effects other than pain sometimes.

Most of the time, the whispers don’t affect him. He considers those good days. Some of the days, they do. Those are called bad days.

Kyle knows why he can’t tell anyone. What’s he supposed to say, “Hey. I was actually burned by Olive, who was possessed by her ancestor! This is after I punched Two Face…in the face!” Not only would that put Olive in danger, but nobody would believe that.

He sits alone in his dorm after class on a bad day.

Laughter and whispers followed him the whole day.

He sat alone until a knock sounded through the door.

Kyle sighed and picked himself off the bed, walked to the door, and opened it. He expected to see Mia or a Professor.

Colton stared back at him.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” Kyle asked, moving to let Colton in. The other boy came in.

“Everything with me is fine.”

Kyle paused. “Is it someone else.”

Did something happen? Where’s Maps? Did Batman show up again? Did Amy? C—

“No. This is about you.” Colton said looking at him.

Kyle paused once more. It was silent for a few moments before Kyle spoke, “What? What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“Kyle, man, you’re not. I know that people can suck. I’m not here to force you to talk. I figured we could just eat snacks and talk about anything.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course.” Colton answered immediately. Then, looked embarrassed. “I mean, I’m your friend.”

Kyle smiled. Then he frowned.

“Do you…stupid question, do you think I’m pretty?”

Colton examined him, then he took off his glasses.

Kyle was always amazed to see Colton’s green eyes. His black eye looked to be healing well.

“That is a stupid question.” Colton agreed. “Of course I think you’re pretty.”

Kyle snorted. “Of course? That’s the thing: it isn’t that easy? None of our classmates would agree with you.”

“Since when do I—or you for that matter—care about what our classmates say?”

“I don’t know.” Kyle admitted.

“Exactly.” Colton said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.

“What kind of snacks did you bring?” Kyle asked.

Colton smiled and Kyle smiled back.

[the-firebird69]

I'm going to get to work on making a prototype and use the same molds and we have some vents to put in and I have a channel say duct it's not really that hard you just put the duck on it I need to get to work on it and really there's a way to make the cage fast we know how to do that and I designed the invader so this should be not too hard and to make it a drop on and I'd like to get the keep the interior of the Corvette it makes so much damn work taking all that picky **** out putting picky **** back in and you said you can change the seat covers or you put a have new ones you put over it and they lace up in the back i'm going to do that because we'll have our own and I want to try and get the name and if you can't he says you'll have to name it something else

We're talking above and he lost the thing because these idiots are screwing with it and saying there's too many characters in small and we made smaller and smaller and they wouldn't let it work. We don't know why there are a bunch of jerks and they don't understand it and really they're **** and it's it's not even John Cena is willing to let the car go kind of and we can't seem to get anything done at all we have to have BG do it and he comes up with tricks and in a method of doing it we want to try and do this it might even become a Corvette there's a class card that it is and it will compete with the Pontiac Banshee and I went through some of the politics and then people don't wanna work with Cena or have the name and people don't wanna work with Biden of ours and it's too impossible and BG is starting to be grumpy with us we'd be on our own but we need the car for certain things I was too slow get spotted we do have tack for the shield and cloak in the metal doesn't cast off the shield too good so yeah we can make it out of a cadmium all so yeah we can make it out of a cadmium alloy it's a good idea and he says the sound is reduced with the air intake and that's interesting and the trough gives you control and it's for flight and that's more interesting it runs in a straight line so you don't turn into a blender and that's nice to know and fun he also said that you start off with a kit car and it's fast enough and the change of window so it opens like Batman but it looks like it does now and you simply make the front of it part of the fuselage it's rear engine and you don't need a trunk hood that big and you make the rear part of the fuselage in the top and it looks like glass it's like spandrel like the black rear wheel well I followed it too and he says it in advance in the rear it'll be very fast especially made out of a special metal alloy and also we can make it with a standard VA and you're making a drop on like the Vader and if we made this car it would be for us in their kit car mostly us to go after Tommy F and that's why we cant get it done

terry c

You see how it is we wnat ot use it for the car and as a ki car. and it is fast and really really fast. and earlier stingry, about 2017 well they started earlier so the first ones are fast and well built too. we change some items and have. rear rins an tires and front are larger. suspension then. and add in hydrolic air yes. speed shop stuff. and into a kit. theyi order it no. we supply it. and new body but same design and same dimensions so our bud can have one lol he will be too tall hahah yikes fun ok all want one. vent out th eback. i agree. the ocode is right. we use it now damn ok damn and him in one too i see it ok wow. fun

john r

we do see it. he says it wow and thats why. and money ok we see. it.

terry c

we work on it now

dan

and right now

john r

and they will ok

Olympus

.

[redhoodedangel]

Girl in the Bubble (Arkham Knight!Jason Todd X Reader)

So, I've had this idea from my mind for a while, but I couldn't decide between a Titans!Jason Todd X Reader or an Arkham!Jason Todd X Reader. And yes... Reader has memory powers like Namine from Kingdom Hearts.

I'm still working on 'Scars that Last', it's just taking a while for me due to school, work and the holidays. Hence why I did this oneshot.

Here's Y/N's Outfit:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason had one mission and one mission only…

Kill Batman…

That was his sole calling when he emerged from Arkham Asylum. That was the only reason he had survived that gunshot the Joker shot him out with. Even though the Clown Prince of Crime, his tormentor, was dead, it still didn’t satisfy his need for salvation… for vengeance… for purpose…

It didn’t chase away the bastard’s laughter…

It didn’t chase away the nightmares…

It only made the scars on his body burn…

He needed that clarity… that relief… and killing the Bat was the way to do it… at least for him…

However, there was one little snag that he didn’t expect…

He wasn’t expecting Scarecrow to bring in precious cargo in the form of a woman in white…

Aka, you…

You were encased in a large metal box, almost the size of one of the stores in the mall they were stationed in. The front of it was mostly composed of bullet-resistant glass. From what he could see, the room looked like an average bedroom, except everything was one single hue of white. A bed with a nightstand and lamp in the back right corner. A wooden walk-in wardrobe in the back left corner. A desk with an easel and art supplies near the right of the window. A bookshelf and beanbag near the left hand side of the glass. The only strange thing in the room was the pod-like contraption in the center that looked like the bud of a flower.

You, however, were an anomaly that he had never seen before. You were dressed in white, much like the room. You sat at the desk in front of the glass, drawing in a sketchbook with colored pencils. You looked like an angel, trapped in a bird cage. You looked really lonely... and afraid... like he was back with Joker in Arkham all those years ago.

"Curious, Knight?" Scarecrow's raspy voice came up from behind him. He hadn't even realized that he was staring at you... until he saw you looking back at him with awestruck eyes through the glass.

“Curiosity isn’t exactly the word I would use.” Jason hissed slightly, his masked gaze still looking at your own. You almost relaxed under his gaze, despite his helmet showing no sign of anything friendly.

“Fascination, then? No need to be ashamed in admitting you have one. She’s quite the unique specimen. Being born with the power to manipulate and see another’s memories is bound to turn a few heads,” the doctor stated, walking up to the chamber.

The Arkham Knight noticed that your demeanor suddenly changed. Your brows were furrowed in anger and your body was tense. He could tell that you were trying your best not to snap the pencil in your balled-up hand. The most glaring detail was that your eyes had turned the color of molten gold upon staring at Scarecrow. It honestly made Jason wonder what might happen if someone pissed you off just enough…

Nothing pretty, he’d imagine…

“You said memory manipulation?” Jason asked, trying to sound uninterested as to not raise suspicion from the criminal doctor.

“Yes. She can alter one’s memory, rearranging it to her liking and even erasing certain memories and putting false ones in their places. She can even amplify the emotionally charged energy of them.”

Jason looked back at you, just as you turned your glance back to him. The gold in your irises slowly faded as you calmed down, returning to their original (e/c). But, he could tell that you weren’t very fond of Scarecrow.

“So, why is she in that box to begin with?” Jason had many questions. But, he still pretended that he wasn’t interested in why you were here… in a soon-to-be war zone. With no warning or notification…

“I simply want to see what kind of emotions can strengthen her power. But, she’s resilient and stubborn. Refusing to show any sign of progress.” The doctor seemed a little amused by your seemingly tough attitude… and not in the good way from what Jason noted.

“Does ‘she’ have a name?” Jason feel like it was dehumanizing to not call someone, especially one who held significance to one of the Gotham supervillains, by their given name. You were still a human being, not a lab rat. Even if Scarecrow currently saw you as the latter.

“(Y/N). She has no surname or known birth certificate. Nothing to match her to a family, other than her blood.”

With that, Scarecrow walked off to God knows where and what. You and Jason continued to be fixated on each other, your hand subconsciously drawing on the paper of your sketchbook. Jason was able to deduce that your artwork and powers were interconnected. As if your sketchbook was a conduit or talisman of sorts to help you better control them. He didn’t know what you were drawing, but he didn’t really have to know.

He had a mission to fulfill...

He had to kill Batman…

With that, he walked off, leaving you with a disturbing image on your canvas…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days had passed since Jason’s first encounter with you. Scarecrow had asked the Knight to deliver some food to you. For what reason in asking him, he didn’t know. All Crane had told him was that you didn’t trust the other villains or any of the soldiers, which was understandable. But it still sounded like a half-assed excuse, coming from the doctor.

Punching in the access code on the door’s keypad, he was able to enter your room. Upon coming in, he saw that you were nowhere to be seen in the room. You weren't in bed, at your desk or sitting in the beanbag near the bookshelf.

He then heard a sudden thud coming from the closet near the door, indicating that you were probably inside, getting changed. He then placed the food on the dining table near the viewing window. He continued to survey the homily cell as the pure white aesthetic made it feel all too surreal. Especially with the strange flowerbud-shaped machine in the center of it.

Jason's eyes then flicked over the wall to the right of your desk, noticing an array of sketches and drawings, taped to the wall. A few of them seemed innocent and child-like at most. However, the most recent ones that were front and center were much darker… and familiar…

Squinting a bit, he realized that the pictures were all his memories. Specifically, his memories of the year he spent, imprisoned by the Joker in Arkham Asylum. All the torture, all the pain he experienced… laid out on multiple canvas…

At this point, Jason didn’t know whether to be angry or confused. Did you draw his memories subconsciously? Is that why you were staring at him when you both first locked eyes? Did you smile because you saw all the good that came before the Joker took him? Or at least, the good moments he thought were happy at the time…

You were definitely a complex case, he had to give you that… but, he wondered… would your powers allow you to access the memories of those in his? Of course, he wasn’t going to make you do anything to Batman or his partners… that was his job. Plus, he knew better than to take advantage of someone who was already being abused… much less, mess with something or someone he didn’t understand…

He learned that lesson the hard way, thanks to the Joker…

An audible gasp sounded from behind him, causing him to whip out one of his pistols and aim it behind the pod. Only for him to realize that the source of the sudden gasp was you…

You were now wearing a white knitted, oversized cardigan over your signature attire, possibly to keep warm. Your (h/c) hair was faintly damp, meaning you have showered hours before he arrived. You were hiding behind the pod in fear as your eyes landed on him with his gun trained at you. He then lowered his gun and put it back in its holster.

“I-I wasn’t expecting you to be here…” you said in a panic, partially hidden behind the door.

“Should've announced myself, then." He apologized, which was very unlike him and he caught himself doing it. He didn't know why, but he felt more human around you... like he wasn't a broken husk of a man...

"You're probably wondering how some of your memories ended up on paper, aren't you?" You slowly came out from the pod, revealing your whole form.

"I am, actually. Cause, to be honest, I don't get how you do it." Jason leaned himself against your desk, arms crossed over his armored chest. You couldn't help but eye him up and down briefly without him noticing. I mean, any woman would if they saw this man walking around in his military uniform.

"I have to look at someone for a certain period of time, in order to see their memories. But, it's only the ones that are most... defining in someone's life. It's kinda a subconscious thing and I can't really control it when it happens. Unfortunately, yours were your time in Arkham Asylum with the Joker..." you tried to speak your words very carefully in hopes of not upsetting or angering him.

“I see. And the drawings?” The Arkham Knight asked, turning to the artwork once more.

“I mainly use it to create a better image of the memory I’m looking at because all I really see are flashes or small glimpses. It also helps when I’m trying to rearrange or rebuild someone’s memory chain. Hell, even delete or remake them. Not that I’ve ever really done that intentionally. I’m actually against it…”

Jason cocked his head in wonder, trying to understand what you meant by that. Who, in their right mind, would make you erase a person’s entire history of their own benefit? ‘No one’, was the answer that he got from the nagging voice of the back of his mind.

“Listen, I… I know you probably don’t want pity or anything like that. Believe me, I’m not pitying you, but…” Before Jason could get a word out, tears were already welling up and falling from your eyes. Your eyes were tinted that golden color from before. The color switch must be triggered by you feeling a strong negative emotion.

“Hey, hey, hey…” The militia leader got up from his position to walk to you and place his hands on your hands. It was an attempt to calm you down, which was odd. Why was he so vulnerable and protective of you suddenly? Maybe, it was because your situation reminded him of his own back in the asylum. Sure, you weren’t being beaten and physically tortured, but he imagined being a prisoner and test subject to Scarecrow was equally horrific.

“I’m sorry, but… you were just a kid. You were only doing what you thought was right. You were trying to help the innocent and those who couldn’t defend themselves, but then… that bastard…” Your eyes were now completely gold and puffy from tears. You were so empathetic… how is it you’ve managed to keep that after all of Scarecrow’s experiments and being locked in a cage.

“Hey, it’s over now. I’m out of that damn place and I’m never going back.”

“I know, but the scars still remain, don’t they?”

He knew that you were right. He was definitely wounded, both inside and outside, physically and mentally. Hell, he felt repulsive with himself, standing next to your perfect form. His heart broken, his soul tainted and wary and his mind in a dark place. Sure, you were no different. No doubt you had seen horrors he could probably see in a horror movie.

But, he has a mission that would mend all the damage to him as Robin…

But, after the plan is accomplished, he planned on freeing you from your shackles…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Needless to say, Jason didn't get his revenge on Batman like he had intended. Within the last moment, he no longer had the desire to kill the man who he believed had left him to die. He realized that all the Joker told him was lies and misinformation, just to get him to do what he wanted in case he died, which he did. It still didn't make him feel better, but he didn't have time for that.

The militia was now under Crane and the other criminals' command. This meant that you were, no doubt, in danger or were more at the mercy of Scarecrow than ever. He knew what he had to do next... he just hoped he wasn't too late...

As he made his way to your containment chamber, he saw an unconscious soldier outside the open door. He began to assume the worst and darted into the room, dodging over unresponsive bodies as he did. Once he was inside, he couldn't find you anywhere. However, upon looking at the soldiers on the ground, he noticed that their eyes were wide open and their mouths agape. As if they were in some kind of catatonic shock...

A soft sobbing came from the pod in the center of the cell. Unfortunately, it was closed and he didn’t know how to get into it. There was no padlock or control panel that could unlock it. So, he went to the next best thing… he knocked a few times on the outer walls of the pod…

A hissing sound came from the machine as two pieces of the shell came down slowly like doors. A white mist came seeping through the opening walls. Jason had to move out of the way to avoid getting hurt or squished. Once the shell is accessible, he saw you curled up in a fetal position, crying. Your head was bowed as your shoulder shook and jumped.

Jason reached out to touch your wrist, being ever so careful as he did. However, you immediately started to freak out, going, “No, stop please!! Please!”

“(Y/N), it’s me!” The familiar, modulated voice was enough to snap you out of it and realized that you weren’t in danger. Instead, you were in the safety of the Arkham Knight, or Red Hood. The grip he had on your wrists suddenly felt less threatening than before and more comforting.

“Knight?”

“It’s actually Red Hood now. But, you can call me Jason. Just not when I’m wearing the mask.” He said, keeping his voice down as to not scare you again. He then lifted you up to your feet, where he noticed that you had a backpack on. Meaning you were planning to make a run for it before he or any of the militia came.

“Got it… Jason…” you smiled ever so slightly, despite your damp cheeks and misty eyes.

“What happened here? Why are these men like this?”

“My powers… they sometimes react, depending on my emotions. When the militia came in by Scarecrow’s order, I got so scared that I froze their minds,” you looked down at one of the mind-bent militia on the ground in shame.

“Why are you upset about this? It was self defense. You were protecting yourself!” Jason asked, slightly aggravated that you were feeling bad for a bunch of corrupt soldiers.

“Because the last time this happened, the person I was protecting myself from lost their memories! I literally gave them permanent amnesia without having to move a finger! Do you even know how sick and messed up that is?!” You yelled, raising your voice for the first time since he met you.

Under the mask, Jason’s eyes widened with disbelief. He knew your powers were capable of erasing memories one by one. But, wiping a person’s memories within a split second out of defense? That was a form of fight-or-flight he had never seen before, nor did he want to feel the unforgiving wrath of firsthand.

“Before Scarecrow, I was an orphan in Gotham’s foster care system. My mother had died after childbirth and my father walked out on us before I was born. I used to get bullied a lot at school by many of the spoiled and rich kids. No one wanted to be my friend or sit next to me at lunch,, either. Having no family or money tends to do that to you. It was only made worse by the fact that no families wanted to take me home with them. According to them, I had this 'quality' about me that made me seem otherworldly to them. I didn't know what they meant by that until later on." Jason could only guess what happened next by the crestfallen look on your face.

"One day at school, I was cornered in the girls' bathroom by the dubbed 'Mean Girls' of the school. They kept picking on me, saying no one wanted me because I was a freak and a nobody. They then started getting more physical, pulling my hair, kicking me, beating me with their bookbags. It got so bad that I can't take it anymore... I screamed the loudest I ever have in my entire life..." You took a shaky deep breath as tears filled your eyes.

"When I opened my eyes, the girls were like these soldiers. Catatonic, wide-eyed, unresponsive... I ran away and never looked back. News about what happened to those girls spread and, apparently, they suffered from permanent memory loss, despite no brain damage being found or seen... Now those girls may have tormented me, but if there's one thing that I would never wish upon, other than Death, it would be being stripped of their identity and life..." You were suddenly filled with rage as you turned to look at Jason, eyes glowing amber. You walked up to him with the intent to set him straight, if he wasn't already. He then backed up in fear, firmly believing that you had snapped.

"You know what that's like, don't you, Jason Todd? The Joker twisted every good memory that Bruce Wayne, the fucking Batman, ever gave you... A home, a family that wasn't dysfunctional and addicted to drugs, a purpose... Until you couldn't even remember why you were so happy to be his sidekick- no, not just his sidekick- his goddamn son anymore! And yet, you don't even give the man the chance to explain himself to you? Why he couldn't find you and bring you home! Maybe you would have learned that Tim Drake, your supposed 'replacement', wanted to be Robin and Bruce had no other choice because he needed more help in finding you! Or maybe that the Joker and Harley had molded you into a failsafe, in case he didn't live long enough to kill Batman himself! So that, even in death, he still gets what he wants! Is that what you wanted, Jason?! To fulfill the wishes of a dead man's darkest and sickest desire?!"

"I didn't kill Bruce, (Y/N)!" Your eyes widened in shock as they reverted back to their original color. After taking a breath to calm down, you choose your next words very methodically and thoughtfully.

"Then, why are you here, wasting your time with me, a girl in a bubble? When you could be out there, saving the day and stopping the reign of the very people you want to destroy? I'm not worth any of your time..." Jason took his time with his answer, trying not to lose his cool again. When the words that he thought up began to fail him, he, once again, did the next best thing…

He pressed the button that releases the front of his helmet...

You had seen his face before in his and the other supervillains' memories. From his time with Bruce and as Robin to his imprisonment and torture at the Joker's hand. However, seeing his scarred face in person was like meeting an intimidated person in a public place.

"Because I don't want you to end up like how I am now... not with Scarecrow" With that, he leaned down and pressed his lips on yours. His right arm holding you up, nearly lifting you off the ground as you fought to keep yourself from collapsing from confusion and bliss. This was your first kiss and the person was someone you feel a strong connection with...

With someone who was promising to set you free from your cage...

With someone who was once trapped in a cage of his own...

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