#cass au fanfiction

[tworoadsandapenny]

It's Snot Funny

~*~*~*~*~*~

It came out of nowhere.

A slight itch, followed by a tickle, and suddenly—

“AAAAAACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The sheer volume echoed throughout Draxum’s lair with such intensity, it felt as though the walls might collapse in on themselves. Everything shook and swayed, taking several moments to settle as the sound slowly disappeared into the air.

Donnie poked his head around Raph’s shell. His copyright tech kept his ears protected and unbothered, but he noted the terror on his brother’s face. “You okay?”

“Raph’s sorry!” The larger turtle squeaked in hushed tones, clearly embarrassed by the ruckus he’d just caused. “I… I forgot that I could do that.”

Donnie smiled coyly, unwilling to admit aloud how much fun it was watching his brother rediscover his physical body. “Was it satisfying?”

Raph took a moment to think. “Yes.”

“Well good—”

“WHAT WAS THAT!?” A disheveled Draxum appeared in the room, his eyes wide and worried as he searched for the source of the near-earthquake he’d felt shake his home like a shivering mammal.  

Raph rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, that was me.”

“What did you do!? Did you blow up my lab!?” He shouted, directing the last half of his ire at Donnie, who only scoffed at the implication.

Raph shrugged. “I sneezed.”

There was a full beat of silence as Draxum digested the reply, turning it over in his head a few times, silently panicking at the destructive potential this mutant possessed.

“Okay then.” He said cooly, his even-tempered demeanour returning immediately so as not to betray his inner turmoil.  

“Sorry, Raph won��t do it again. I… I think…”

“If you say so.” Draxum turned to leave, still silently calculating how one being—even one as large as Raphael—could create such immense sound, when he paused to call over his shoulder.  “Oh, you may want to check on your child.” He pointed just behind Raph’s shell. “I think you may have broken him.”

Both turtles turned to see Casey Jr on the floor, eyes wide and ears almost visibly ringing, his tongue hanging slightly over his lip, and muscles entirely limp.

He’d been sneaking up on his uncle to trap him in a hug when the sneeze assaulted his senses with such intensity, his entire body was still stunned and dazed.

Raph scooped up his small human and held him gently. “Casey! I'm so sorry! Are you okay!?”

Casey nodded slowly, the ringing in his ears finally dying down as he pulled a rag from his pocket and held it aloft with shaking hands.

“Bless you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Look, LOOK. Yes, it's rushed. Yes, it's dumb. And yes, it's my first sad attempt at writing for the Rise fandom. But I couldn't help myself. Reading through the non-robot Raph updates in @somerandomdudelmao's apocolypse AU, I had to add my own idea.

Given this post:

There's no way Raph rediscovers sneezing without some hilarious collateral damage.

My words can never be as good as Cass's drawings, but we mere mortals must accept our limitations, so here we are.

Anyway.

End of Line.

-TRAaP

[tworoadsandapenny]

I've been told by several people that this is what I'm supposed to be doing on tumblr when I like something. I don't fully understand, but I love this comic, this creator, and this story enough to give it a try, @somerandomdudelmao is a brilliant storyteller, and I'm so appreciative that they're willing to share their talents with us. Now I get to go catch up on all the updates that happened while i was away. Excuse me while I grab some tissues, I assume I'm in for some angst. ((Also, I wrote a VERy short little ficlet to go along with this update before i left. If you're interested.))

Part 11!

Idk what to say here. My brain is melting. Words aren’t wording

Part 1 Next

[smilesheartshugs]

Platonic soulmate au:

There are more than one kind of soulmate bond. The color of a persons mark and location represents what kind of bond it is. Each bond will have a unique shape. Parent child bonds are blue and located on the shoulders. Once the bonds on the sholder fill out they will start forming on the person’s torso. This is what happened then people have 15+ children and multiple parent bonds. (I’m looking at you Bruce and all your adopted children) sibling bonds are green and located on the forearm. After that’s filled bonds will travel up the arm. Friendship bonds are yellow and located on someone’s shins. Romantic bonds are red and located over someone’s heart. It is this location that leads people to believe that this is the most important kind of bond. There is another kind of bond that’s pink and located on your inner thigh. No one talks about this kind of bond. The adults just say that you’ll understand when you’re older but like that’s not helpful!!! Black bonds located on the bottom of your foot is reserved for mortal enemies. Purple bonds on your back are for those who bonds form in battle. For the ones you trust the most.

Bonds only appear once the pair has touched each other, and the more the touch the stronger the bond and the more visible it is. Some bonds get so strong they practically glow!

People can have more than one bond with the same person. Like romantic and platonic (red and yellow) or sibling and friend bonds. Or so many other combinations. Trust bonds can only be forged in people who’ve known each-other for a good long time.

If one of your bonded ones die before you do your bond mark will fade into a transparent grey with a heavy outline. The darker the outline the stronger the bond was.

So I’ve been thinking how this could all apply to the batfamily, should I make a post on that?

Edit : made an update

[proneterror204]

Vampire Cass, DC vs Vampires

Cass had to keep going, she had to keep running(Thirsty). Her family was turned or fighting, Gotham was dark, and Batman(dad) was dead. She knew his contingency plans. Every undead apocalypse had the same plan, coordinates in Illinois.

For some reason when Damien and her were (Betrayed,Thirsty) bitten they didn't lose themselves in the vampiric transformation. She was running to the coordinates now, full vampire speed the whole way. She didn't tire but she was...(Thirsty). The thought distracted her long enough to run face first into someone's chest. Even with her enhanced speed and strength the figure didn't budge. She looked up seeing a beautiful, Ethereal (Tasty) boy with white hair and green, Lazarus eyes. He was saying something, shes lost herself, shes so thirsty, she opens her mouth with vampire fangs, and bites right onto the boys mouth.

Her mind snaps back as the bloody tongue enters her mouth. Shes surprises, shes ashamed, and shes confused. Is blood supposed to be green? should she be enjoying this? why did this feel so right? She pulls back finally noticing the boys arm around her waist and that they are floating in the air on the outside of a town. She hears something then. She looks behind her and sees them on the dark horizon. A horde of vampires, turned gothamites, had been chasing her, and she lead them right to an innocent town.

Before she can sign, before she can pry herself from the boys grip a black crown ignited by green fire appears on the boys head. The crown seems to burn brighter and ignites like a lazarus solar flare that burns the horde in green fire and reduces all vampires to ash. The boy raises his other hand and Cass notices a ring. A ring that reminds her of the Red lanterns, but instead of the burning rage there is a Winter's cold wrath.

She realizes shes here at the cordinates and the boy who holds her is Batman's contingency against all undead, The Ghost King. She found him. Shes so tired now, so she puts her head on his shoulder and falls asleep.

(people really seemed tp like the last one so i wrote more)

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | january 2, prompt: fire | word count: 1.575 featuring older ceo regulus black and younger intern james potter

“A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries? What does that even fucking mean?!” James shouts into the receiver as he winds through the busy masses of bodies crossing the roads, the traffic light across blinking for him to hurry. “Can’t I pick up something for him from Burger King or something? You know, like a normal human being?” 

On the other end of the line, Barty snorts a derisive sound. “Yeah, you try feeding him cheap chain franchise slob and see how that plays out for you. The fucker thinks Versace is a low-class brand, James. He probably doesn’t even know what the inside of a Burger King looks like. Besides, that place is fire. They have good shit.”

Groaning, James picks up the speed and sets out for a sprint, having missed the bus to Howick and resorted to the most reliable way of transport—his two sets of healthy, always moderately trained legs. 

“Are you running? You better not be fucking running, Potter. You’re going to come back all sweaty and with creases in your cheap-ass button-up and then I’m going to be the one getting shit for not driving you and ruining the image of Regulus Black’s executive assistant—”

“Suck a dick, Barty,” James bites back after barely evading a car, its tires screeching at him in warning. He throws the driver an apologetic smile.

“I’m serious. You meal-prepped, Potter! Asked where the fucking office microwave is, are you out of your mind? Lunch is on company credit, for fuck’s sake. You’ve got an image to uphold now you’re working for Black Enterprises!”

“The cafeteria is too rich for my taste. Besides, I like meal-prepping. It’s calming.”

“Your fucking tuna stinks up the place.”

“Maybe that’s just your big bullshitting mouth.”

“Listen here, you piece of—”

“Oops, entering a tunnel, hear that?” James cups a hand over the receiver and makes a low, grating sound—mimicking the static rasp of a bad cellular connection. “See you!”

He tucks away the phone before entering Beauxbatons, the restaurant Barty had told him to go to because Regulus was craving his guilty snack, which, to James, sounded like an item right off a witch’s menu. Then again, he was a poor twenty-three-year-old who had just had a gap year fresh out of university, lived in a run-down apartment tucked in Southern London, and knew nothing of the expensive tastes a man like Regulus Black possessed. Thirty-something years old and not a single skin blemish. Must be all the fucking truffle and caviar and whatever Boiron guava puree he eats.

“Welcome,” one of the employees asks. Of course, all of the staff are also wearing pristine clothes and have perfectly sleeked-back hair.

“Hi,” James answers, now all too conscious of the developing sweat marks below his armpits and the dampness cooling on his back. “I’m, uh, here to pick up lunch? Sorry, I forgot my order so let me have a peek at my messages…”

The employee blinks like James has grown a second head. “Take-away? Sir, this is a dine-in restaurant.”

Good thing James has come prepared. He shuffles through the contents of his bag, phone in the other hand and tip of his tongue peeking out in full concentration. “Oh, that’s alright. I brought something to carry it with me. I also got some Tupperware if you don’t mind rinsing it beforehand.”

“No, sir, it’s not a matter of containers,” the employee starts, her lips pursed into a tight line. “We don’t do takeaways.”

James stops and frowns, bag half slung over his shoulder. “Isn’t this Beauxbatons?”

“It is.”

“My boss sometimes has people pick up his lunch here.”

“You must be mistaken… We do not lend any type of service like that.”

James sighs. Great. Amazing. Just what he needed. “Right. Do you mind if I make a call? I’m sorry, there must have been a mistake then.”

The employee, undoubtedly taking pity on him and his disorderly state that suggests he’s been running the past ten minutes, nods. “Of course.”

Heaving a sigh, James scrolls through his contact list and taps on ‘Regulus’, never mind that he has been firmly instructed to only call him during emergencies. But considering the sort of day he’s been having, he considers this one.

Regulus picks up after the third ring. “Potter?”

It’s been two weeks and he still won’t fucking call him by his name, going off on tangents about formal office conduct and etiquette. Potter this, Potter that, bridling when he’s called by his first name for a change in an environment that would kiss the soles of his feet if he’d ask. “Hi, I’m at the place you sent me the address of but they don’t do takeaways so I wanted to know what you want to eat. You cool with Wagamama?”

There’s a pregnant pause—all too telling of how Regulus is probably taking a deep breath and doing the thing where he either pinches the bridge of his nose or rubs his eyebrows. “Have you mentioned the takeaway is for me?”

“No, I haven’t.” What difference would it make, James wants to ask. But in a world where Regulus Black is pretty much revered, he is confident it would make a little difference at least.

“Do that, Potter.”

James rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the employee. “He wants you to know his name is Regulus, by the way.”

Her eyes widen. “Reg—Do you mean Mr. Black?”

James clicks his tongue. “That the one.” The employee doesn’t look convinced and James holds up his hand just above his chest. “About this tall? Curly black hair? Probably in one of today’s morning tabloids, not hard to miss. I could put him on speaker if you’d like?”

There’s the frantic wave of her hands, head shaking vigorously. “Oh! You should have told me from the start, Sir. Please, what would Mr. Black like to eat for lunch? I—I’m sorry. We are very exclusive in our service and are most honored Mr. Black has once again chosen our humble establishment—”

“Just,” James sighs, skimming over the menu laminated standing on an easel by the entrance, not possessing the energy to listen to someone go off on tangents about his boss again. Not like he does so internally at night, anyway. Absolutely not. “A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries.”

“Not fries, a salad—” Regulus reminds him over the phone, but James has decided that he will just about eat whatever James decides on.

“Potter—” Regulus tries again and James flat-out hushes him. To his surprise, Regulus actually shuts up.

The employee nods, over-excited. “Oh, of course, an excellent choice. How would Mr. Black like it to be cooked?”

James shrugs. “I don’t know, on a grill?”

There’s a faint garbled noise coming from Regulus that James will definitely tuck away in his memory.

But the employee is too thrilled to be serving someone as pompous as Regulus to notice the lack of culinary terminology James possesses. “Oh, I meant the cook of the meat!”

“The cook of the meat?” James repeats. “I don’t know, whoever is on shift? Regulus, who do you want to cook your burger?”

The employee makes a high-pitched sound at the same Regulus sighs in a very exaggerated, exhausted manner. “Just tell them medium rare.”

“Medium? What is this, a video game difficulty?”

“Medium rare!” the employee chirps, her smile wry. Strands of hair stick out of the previously perfectly pulled-back bun like the situation has created plenty of static to dishevel her updo. “One medium rare wagyu—”

“Don’t forget the fries,” James adds, unable to fight off the grin cleaving his face. This, he loves most—fucking with rich people. ‘Who do you want to cook your meat?’ he’s a genius for that one, an absolute innovative mastermind. Make him head of corporate next at this rate.

“You had to call me for this?” Regulus asks him as James watches the poor girl scurry off to the back, undoubtedly to ring in the order and gush about the perfect, rich, hot-looking Regulus Black on the phone by the restaurant’s hallway.

“It was an emergency. I get you the wrong order and you, I dunno, bite off my head like Miranda Priestly.”

“I don’t know a Miranda Priestly.”

“No? Shame. Would’ve loved her, a real feisty woman that one. She works in the fashion industry, though.”

“Potter.”

James tries not to bark out a laugh. He can’t help it, Regulus is just too easy. “Yeah, I’ll get you your overtly expensive A3-grade cut of meat that could pay for my weekly rent. Didn’t take you for the type of man to get burgers, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m asking employees of a lower tax bracket to pick them up for me.”

Okay, that’s kind of funny. Regulus Black can be fucking funny if he wants to, he just rarely chooses to. James barely masks his snort at it. “Got me there, boss.”

“Get a cab back to the office. And stop calling me boss.”

“My bad, Sir,” James drawls, knowing that Regulus reacts particularly well to this specific formality. 

A second of silence that stretches on for a little too long. James clears his throat, wondering if the line cut off. “Regu—”

“See you soon, Potter,” Regulus speaks, faster than usual, almost like he’s flustered, and with a strange pitch to his words before he hangs up.

[dickgraysonmybeloved]

OUT NOW: CHAPTER 5 of the tim drake/ red robin makes a tiktok aka done a million times fic is out - BARBARA IS IN CHARGE

link as its being a bastard

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62322436/chapters/160610905

There was what sounded like a body hitting a street sign at 70 kilometres an hour, followed by the dark blob that might have been Nightwing falling over with a cackle.

Or

Tim made a TikTok account

------- It may have been done a million times, but I'm having fun so fuck off, also TikTok is not banned in DC in my fanfic, also marked as complete but will update randomly.

most tiktoks are based off incorrect quotes from this tumblr account but also ones that I couldn't/wouldn't post

[ragingphantom666]

Batgirl x Spoiler

This is Cass and Stephanie in DC Dimensions. They will be featured characters in Birds of Prey.

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (Princess Era): I Would Be Your Only Dream

a/n: knight!john x princess!cass au is here my loves! i hope you all enjoy this little glimpse because i think there are so many beautiful possibilities for scenes in this universe. i will write more if you guys think you would want to read it! this is their first meeting in this universe and i hope you fall in love with this version of them just like you have in canon and in the modern au. let me know all your thoughts (dirty or otherwise) xoxo

John was barely paying attention as Gale was walking him through the center of the village, pointing out the stalls where he could find the best fruit or vegetables or trinkets to send back to his family if they were curious about his new life at the castle. 

“Princess Cassandra is not allowed in the village anymore after the last incident.” The mention of the Princess got his attention. 

“Incident?” 

“The head of the watch found her attempting to sneak into…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “a house of the night.”

“Most would call it a brothel, Gale. The Princess isn’t allowed to explore herself?” He was positive that the exploits of her older brothers, on and off the field of battle, were legendary across the realms. 

“Not when her betrothed is coming to retrieve her at the end of the next moon cycle.” John rolled his eyes. He had learned quite a few valuable and useful things about himself during his encounters at a brothel or two. Who was a knight of the realm to begrudge the Princess the same opportunity? Especially if she had a loveless marriage ahead of her. 

“Good thing protecting the Princess is your calling and not mine. I’m merely here to win some coin in the tourney and be on my way.” 

“You’ve been a nomad for too long, my friend. Why not try resting your head here for a little while?”

“Staying still invites trouble. I’m not in the business of trouble anymore.” When he and Gale had first met, offering their swords for the glory of the King many years ago, they had both been bloodthirsty young men. Gale had outgrown that desire, met a nice girl on his travels and fallen in love and married her. John had taken his sword on the road, offering it in service of whoever paid the most and for whatever purpose they deemed fit. He was known for being the best and that was exactly why Gale had written him and asked for him to participate in the upcoming tournament. The prize was substantial, the possibility of land and titles, and he knew his friend could only benefit from the stability something like that could offer. 

“Trouble still always has a way of finding you, my friend. Whether you are looking for it or not.” As if to illustrate his exact point, the sound of a child crying reached their ears. Both men stepped towards the child at the ready to offer their services when a green cloak appeared out of nowhere and crouched down to the height of the child.

“Hello there, little one. There is no need for tears.” John watched as her delicate hands reached to touch the child’s face, his tears dissipating at the caress of her fingertips. 

“I’m going to grab a watchmen. I’ll be right back,” Gale offered with a clap to John’s shoulder. He jogged off in a separate direction and John took a few steps closer to the woman and child.

“Would you like me to help you locate your mother?” she asked, presenting the young boy with her hand. He nodded and placed his smaller hand within hers. 

“A lady such as yourself certainly should not be wandering the village without a sword to accompany her.” The woman turned to face him quickly, the hood of her cloak falling from her head to reveal a scarf covering all but a few tendrils of her hair. All his confidence dissipated as her eyes rested on his. There was a tightness to his chest he would never be able to explain and his heart was racing at a sheer glimpse of her beauty. 

“And who are you?” she asked in her own breathless voice. She couldn’t look away from the blue of his eyes. As if the spring sky itself was nestled in the orbs. 

“A man offering you his sword as you seek to reunite this child with its mother.” Cass assumed he must be new here. Otherwise, he would have dragged her off to face the wrath of her father or, worse yet, her mother for breaking the rules and sneaking beyond the castle walls again. This man, this indescribably handsome man, was offering anonymity for a little bit of time. And with that came freedom. 

“Very well. We will start at the bottom of the hill where his cottage is.” She held the hand of the little boy and was off in the direction he was pointing, John following after them dutifully. He watched with a smile as she conversed with the young creature and nodded along with all of his musing and remarked with appropriate ease as he recounted the tale of losing his mother. They reached the bottom of the hill and turned towards the row of stone houses and thatched roofs.

“Does he belong to the crying woman?” John pointed in her direction, the little one dragging the cloaked beauty in her direction. She threw him a smile over her shoulder and he smiled back despite his best intentions.

“Oh, my child!” The woman welcomed the boy into her arms as he called to her with glee. “How can I ever repay you?” Cass shook her head.

“The unbridled joy in reuniting you both is enough to fulfill me. Nothing further is necessary.” The mother looked to john.

“I only accompanied to ensure they reached you in one piece, ma’am.” Up close, the cloak of the enchanting young woman was made of velvet. If he was going to shae anything loose from anyone, it was going to be her.

“You must at least take some food for your troubles.” The woman disappeared for a few moments before appearing with two braided pastries and handing them one each. 

“Thank you, ma’am. Now I best be going. Keep an eye on that one,” he  nodded towards the little boy, “seems to enjoy finding trouble.” He meant it from one troublemaker to the other. Speaking of which, John thinks he recognized a bit of a kindred spirit in the beautiful girl as well. 

“I appreciate your offer but now your services are not needed, Sir…”

“No title. Just John. Humbled to serve at your pleasure, my lady.” She offered her hand when he reached for, his lips softer than her goose feather pillows in the castle. He rose and she offered him her pastry.

“I don’t eat anything given to me by a stranger. Just a precaution.” Her sister had been poisoned while walking the market of her husband’s kingdom just last year. Ever since then, she had been under strict orders to only eat things tested by the King’s Guard but even without the order, her own paranoia would have created that rule herself. 

“You must have not gone hungry during the famine of our childhood.” Velvet cloak and no food insecurity paired with her clear attempt to hide her hair and inability to hide a face that he had swears looked carved from marble. Who was this woman?

“I did not. I was very lucky.” Nothing about her life in the castle had changed even as famine rang throughout the realm. Her father has always ensured she and her siblings wanted for nothing no matter the circumstances and no matter the price. 

“My lady, I insist you let me accompany you home. At this hour, you should not be alone in the town center.” The sun was setting it’s last few rays and the local people were boarding up for the night. Only those with unsavory thoughts would remain.

“Oh, but that is exactly when this place comes to life. When one can truly explore and learn and expand the capacity of their mind.” She spun with glee as they began the trek back up the hill. “Is this your first visit to our land?”

“Nay. I have stopped here briefly before but my friend is a member of the King’s Guard. Asked if I would participate in the tourney and I accepted.” She hummed her acknowledgement and thought through all the Knight’s and who might have a friend as handsome as this.

“Is your friend Sir Gale?” 

“It is.”

“In my mind you two would make such a pair,” she teased as she gathered her skirts in her hands and began to increase her pace. “I hear the princess will be in attendance tomorrow. Plans to give her favor to a deserving knight.” Something about the way she said it piqued his interest. He couldn’t put his finger on it but knew there was something akin to a riddle in her tone.

“Is the princess not often in attendance?” He was walking slower to keep pace with her, the setting sun casting her face in an ethereally golden glow.

“Not since her betrothal was announced, no.” She grew sullen at the topic and he wished to put her smile back on her face. 

“The princess’ beauty is legendary throughout the realms. I am anxious to see if she could even hold a candle to you, my lady.” Cass blushed and smiled just as he had intended.

“You’re quite charming, John.”

“Not charming enough to have earned your name it seems.” She opened her mouth, poised to offer it to him and accept whatever consequences came with it, when she recognized Sir Gale walking the cobblestones towards them with a squadron of watchmen right behind him. “You’re a little late, Gale. We’ve already managed to save the day without you.” John smiled but it slowly fell from his face as his friend and the other knights stopped in front of them, dropping into bows. 

“Your Highness,” Gale spoke, “we must escort you home.” Cass held her breath as she felt John’s eyes burn holes into the side of her face. It had only been a couple hours of knowing him. Had only been in his presence for a short amount of time but she knew she wanted more of it. Knew that wandering the village with him had been more freeing and more inviting and felt more like she could do it forever than anything else ever had. 

“That’s why you wouldn’t tell me your name,” he whispered. There were tears behind her eyes as their gazes locked. A fleeting moment of something raw and pure flitted between them. Something that if nurtured, could light the entire world on fire.

“Please, John, do not hold this against me.” 

“Your Highness,” Gale urged. 

“I hope you enjoy the spectacle of the tournament, Princess.” John bowed his head to her respectfully before he was off in the opposite direction of the imposing castle in the distance. Desperate to be away from her and the intoxicating way she seemed to take up all the air. 

Cass pulled her cloak around her body tightly and began to trudge in the direction of her home. Alone and cold and a sense of emptiness swirling within her. A gilded cage awaited her. Meant to keep her inside, beautiful and stoic and pristine. Meant to keep anyone out who wasn’t deemed the same status of her or her family. She knew in her heart that someone like John was meant to be kept out. She knew in her heart she was meant to be kept in. she knew in her heart that one afternoon with him was not going to be enough. 

Cass knew some walls were meant to be crumbled. Some traditions meant to have fire set to them. And she had plenty of fire in her soul to go around.

[blorbologist]

Architects of our Demise | Chapter 17

[ Age of Arcanum AU | Perc'ahlia | M | Updates every 2 weeks]

[ Vax is the Warden of Ravens, Vex is his Champion, Percival is the creator of aeormatons, and FCG is ~vibing~ ]

[ Chapter 17: Time to play high-stakes Zone of Truth you guys! ]

--

As expected, Pike’s greater restoration caught nothing; now it was Percival’s turn to avoid Cassandra’s gaze as Vex’ahlia revealed that they knew she was lying. 

“We don’t want to hurt you, Cassandra,” Vex says firmly when Grog has finally grappled the panicked young woman.

Grog grunts as she kicks him, squeezing tighter. Ghostly magic wafts from her hands. “Want being the - the uh - the -” “Operative?” “- yeah! Thanks Percy. Want is the that word. But if we gotta -”

“No,” Percival says firmly, then waits for Cassandra to go limp - it takes less time than he expects. Helplessness looks so at home on her he feels a little sick. “We’re going to have a discussion about this. An honest one - because you are my sister. Understood?”

She remains silent. 

“And if she won’t?” Pike stretches to scratch Trinket behind the ears. “What do we do then?”

They are all silent.

Vex’ahlia claps her hands. “Alright then! Let’s get on with it - and I will know if you resist the spell, darling.”

Her whispers seem to wrap themselves around Percival’s throat - the gentle touch of fingers feeling every swallow, every word, every pulse. The sensation narrows to a thin thread, a delicate noose, before vanishing. He coughs experimentally - nothing.

“Is it working?” Grog asks. “Feels kinda tingly.”

“Percy!” His head whips around of its own accord - Vex’ahlia is smiling deviously as she strikes an exaggerated, flirtatious pose. “Do you like my tits?”

“Your-!” He politely chokes on his tongue. 

(“I do,” Grog offers. “We know, Grog,” Pike cackles as he continues, “They’re great.”  “We know, Grog.”)

“I, well.” I never noticed, he wants to say, but his throat bobs uselessly. A lie. “Ah.” Cassandra’s gaze burrows into him, incredulous and far too amused given the context. Percy groans. “They are. quite. lovely. please stop.”

Vex grins, cat that caught the canary. “That’s perfect! So it’s working.” That sharp delight darts to Cassandra, who is hiding a giggle as best she can in Grog’s grip. “How about we start with a simple one: you are Cassandra de Rolo, right? Percival’s sister?”

“Yes - yes I am.” She schools herself, but there’s still a levity that was not present before. Clever - even if Percy personally disagrees vehemently with Vex’s methods. His entire face feels hot.

“Great. Now, do you still want to kill Percy?” Vex’ahlia tilts her head. “I don’t think you do.”

[Prologue] [Keep reading on AO3!]

[popcornrya]

A little Bonus frame <3 Previous

Okay so this is going to make VERY little sense if you haven't read the "cass apocalyptic series"

Cass apocalyptic series Masterpost

^ here ^

I couldn't help myself! the AU is too good! i just had to play with it XD Either way this is Fanfiction of fanfiction soo things might get messy but hey, it'll be what it'll be :3

hope you enjoy :D

[truths33k3r4]

I'm a big fan of somerandomdudelmao's story of the future turtles and Casey's story. :) This is my fanart of his story. ( I traced over their art and then colored and added my own effects. :) ) I love how they called back to when Tello was showing Casey "rain" for the first time. SUCH A GOOD STORY! Enjoy!

~ Melissa

[cartoonhostage]

I was falling asleep earlier so I drew some assorted entries in the Mutant Casey Multiverse to keep myself awake

Fics/authors under the cut

ITBOTB: In The Bottom of the Bottle (I See Your Reflection) by @beeceit

ATIME: A Tear jn mt Eye (And a Shell on my Back) by me

CAS: Cass Apocalyptic Series by @somerandomdudelmao

LMLY: Like Me, Like You by @etheralisi

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kaleidoscope

Masterlist

You stood on the roof with Commissioner Gordon. You held the files to your chest and were a mess of nerves. You could feel the tension brewing inside your bones but Jim stood casually, dragging puff after puff from his never-ending cigarette. 

"Commissioner-" A deep voice startled you and you yelped, hiding behind Gordon 

"Calm down, will you?" Jim chastised Batman, "She's still new-"

"The reports," Your shaky hand extended towards the sword-wielding Robin 

He snatched it from your hands, and you shrank back behind Jim. He flipped through the pages and made a sound. 

"This one isn't incompetent, Gordon," Robin commented, "Decent job, Doctor," He looked at you

"T-Thank you-" You swallowed 

"Red Robin would like some details on this case-" Batman handed you a USB

"Yes, sir-" You said shakily 

"Go back down, kid-" Jim told you and you didn't need to be told twice 

It didn't matter that you'd met the Batman before. He still scared the crap out of you.  "Nice to meet you," You nodded and quickly left 

"Are you crazy?" Jim stared at Bruce, "She's been in this city for five months- You can't have her running intel!" 

"She's competent," Robin added as he went through the file, "She'll run intel because she's qualified," 

"Just-" Jim's voice dropped as he stared at Batman, "Don't let her get hurt, okay?" 

"I never intend to," He answered in a low, gravelly voice.

Continues on AO3

[antebunny]

Only Children

Barbara has been the last Bat in Gotham for two weeks when her surveillance finds Jason. It is a long-forgotten but somehow still operating security camera in a grainy corner of Gotham that tips her off. Settling in for another long day in, ironically, the Jason Wayne Gotham Public Library, founded almost ten years ago, Barbara immediately receives a notification that one of her searches found a match.

Usually she keeps her day work separate from her night work, for both security and personal mental health reasons. Lately she’s been slipping. For the past two weeks, her mind has slowly been consumed by a burning call to find them find them find them bring them home.

“Please be real,” Barbara says to anyone, any higher power listening. Her laptop itches in her lap as she abandons her desk in the library and heads to a back room, where she can conducts her investigations with more secrecy. 

The stale air of the back room greets her with a swirl of dust as the door slams shut behind her. Barbara wheels herself to the low desk and boots up the desktop. If this notification is a trap from someone who knows or suspects her identity, she wants her personal laptop safe. From the desktop, she opens the surveillance footage that tipped off one of her automatic searches. 

Last night, 4:34 am. West Murray Road. A southbound van (white, no license plate) pulls to the curb. People dressed in all-black clothing spill out of the east-facing doors. There are no distinct features amongst any of them, save for one. He is wearing a white workout shirt, stained deep brownish red in too many places to count, and ripped jeans. The footage is incredibly blurry and grainy due to the time of night and the quality of the camera, but the man’s arms are behind his back in an awkward position which indicates that they are being forcibly kept there. Two of the people wearing black press close to his sides, adding credence to this theory. 

Over his head is a black bag. 

Barbara isn’t one for fits of emotion, but the past few months are driving her to extremes. She pauses the video. Breathes in. “Please be real,” she repeats. “Please.”

A mantra that reveals her worst fears: if she’s hoping that this kidnapped, endangered individual is one of the Bats, what’s the worst-case scenario? 

4:35 am. The hooded man suddenly drops to the ground and rolls backward. His arms flash to the sky. They contort out of something bright and silver. Dislocated joint, Barbara thinks while the horrible, fearful hope mounts. His hands slide around his neck until they find something. A moment later, the bag is off his head. His feet are carrying him backwards. 

But the people in black are coming. And the man’s blind, backwards flight has carried him into a brick wall on the opposite side of West Murray Road. His head scans the street. His eyes find the camera, which the people in black missed, and for one dreadful moment Barbara’s surveillance footage has a perfect 480p view of his face. This is the moment that flagged the searches currently running on every camera that Barbara has access to. 

Jason’s mouth makes the very distinct shape of the letter O. The people in black pile on him like wolves on a wounded deer. He goes down fighting. 

4:54 am. The people wearing black drag him across the street and disappear into a building on the east side. 

“Oh God. Oh my God.” Barbara pauses the footage and allows herself twenty-three seconds of resting her face in her hands and just breathing. Then she gets to work. 

The basic problem is as follows: Barbara has no idea who has Jason. 

The building on West Murray Road is an abandoned liquor store; Barbara can find no sign of legal use since 2019. She can, however, find a long history of mysterious white vans dropping off mysterious customers at that very spot, for at least a year. Clearly, it’s an organized crime group that has Jason. But most Rouges of Gotham are leaders of organized crime groups, including Jason. Red Hood’s band of merry men are slowly falling apart with the sudden disappearance of their leader, but that’s the least of Barbara’s worries. Hell, even the Bats fall under the category of “organized crime.” 

The underlying problem is that Barbara has absolutely no support. She is the last Bat left in Gotham since Jason disappeared. Before that, it was Barbara, Steph and Jason. Steph disappeared on an ill-fated solo rescue mission to save Cass. Right now the best Barbara can hope for is that she’s still alive. 

If Barbara runs a rescue operation now, it’ll be blind, alone and chair-bound. If she fails, she will be exposing the last remaining hidden member of Gotham’s Bats–Oracle–to the criminal world. To date no one has come looking for Oracle, which means none of the Bats have given her up. 

She doesn’t know who has Jason, what state Jason is in, or what obstacles she can expect to face. These are the exact reasons why she and Jason told Steph not to rescue Cass just yet. Now the situation is even worse: Barbara is the last one left free, the last one still in Gotham. 

But what other choice does Barbara have? 

--

Izzy stumbles upon the package on a dismal Sunday afternoon. It’s a black box large enough to hold a pair of shoes, resting in a suspiciously-colored puddle on the side of the street. The surface is shiny, and when Izzy pokes it, she can’t tell what the material is. Izzy turns the box over, ignoring the suspicious liquid running down the sides. It’s not poisonous. Probably. There’s a button built into the bottom side of the box. Immediately, Izzy is suspicious; nothing this nice sticks around the Bowery for very long. 

Against her better instincts, Izzy presses the button. She leans back as the lines appear along the sides of the box and it hisses open. Inside the box is mostly empty, save for a small pile of cash in $20 bills, and a tiny metal something.

“I have a job offer for you,” says a mechanized voice.

Izzy grabs the cash and kicks the box away. Heart pounding, she stands up, backs up, and watches in morbid fascination as the box bumps harmlessly against the curb. That’s good, right? There’s no person, just a voice and an empty box which is far enough from Izzy that she could probably run away if gas starts coming out of it or something. She turns over the wad of USD in her hand. Maybe it’s coated in a poisonous substance. Anything could happen in Gotham, and Batman hasn’t been seen in months. The villains are getting bolder and bolder. 

“It’s just cash,” says the mechanized voice. Whatever filter that voice is using makes it clear that the voice belongs to real person, but also obscures any identifying features. 

Izzy’s head jerks up from the cash. She narrows her eyes at the box. “Are you watching me?”

“Yes,” says the voice, refreshingly honestly. “It’s just upfront cash. If you take the job, there’s a lot more on the other side.”

The thing is. Just because Izzy knows better doesn’t mean that she doesn’t need money. 

“What’s the job?”

“Let’s take this inside,” requests the voice.

Izzy glances up and down the street. On one side is an abandoned dock house where Izzy spends too much of her time. On the other side are a couple of run-down buildings which may have real stores or may have fronts for less-than-legal businesses. Who’s to say. 

“What’s the job?” Izzy repeats. She approaches the box again, lying innocuously open on a cracked Gotham curb. Gingerly, she reaches into the box and picks out the tiny metal thing. When she puts it in her ear, the mechanized voice speaks up again.

“Delivery,” says the voice succinctly. It is much quieter in her ear. Izzy supposes this is one way of making sure no one is eavesdropping. 

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s dangerous,” the voice says promptly, continuing the trend of suspicious honesty. Izzy sincerely hopes that this honesty is not a cover-up for a worse truth. “Both the handling and the drop-off.”

“How much you offering?”

“Ten thousand grand.”

$10,000 just for an errand. Izzy thinks she might be sick. Surely this is too good to be true. Really, she just needs some medical bills covered. The problem is that she doesn’t yet know how much money she’ll need. If she tells this mystery person, maybe she can get all her expenses covered rather than get $10,000 in cash. On the other hand, that’ll hand her identity over to this person. Who has already admitted to watching her. Ah, screw it.

Izzy picks up the empty box. She brushes her hair in front of her shoulders, so that it covers the earpiece. “Can you cover medical bills or does it have to be in cash?” 

Familiar Gotham sewage smells follow Izzy onto the next street. She hears the very faint sound of typing from the earpiece. So there really is someone on the other end.

“I can get someone to lend a hand.” 

Izzy squeezes her eyes shut and pictures it. Every inch of stress that’s been weighing her down, every worry, down the drain, wiped away. It’s ridiculous. This is Gotham. Even it it wasn’t, it’s too good to be true. Izzy knows better than this. She had her dumb teenage years but this would be the stupidest thing she’s ever done. 

It is an unusually warm November day, but Izzy pulls her fuschia sweater in tight. “What do you need me to do?”

--

Brian doesn’t believe in second chances or coincidences. Nevertheless, he’s taking this thankless, illegal guard duty grunt work because he’s fully out of options. They say his employer doesn’t give second chances. It’s also awfully coincidental that this off-the-books guard duty has him loitering outside some run-down storefront off West Murray Road. He used to live on this street, though much further north. 

“What d’ya think we’re guardin?’” Asks Rocky, Brian’s fellow guard who named himself after the movie. 

“None of our business.” Brian throws some sort of pebble at Rocky, who only looks at him in some mixture of boredom and disgust. 

“Heard someone screamin’ last night,” Rocky continues. 

“Shut the fuck up and don’t ask questions if you wanna live,” says Brian, keenly aware of how Rocky’s voice echoes through the abandoned street. West Murray Road doesn’t get much love from Gothamites, and even less at night. The most entertainment Brian has seen all this time is two rats fighting. 

“Alright, calm your tits, I’m just bored as hell, man,” Rocky defends. “Nothing interesting ever happens–”

“Hey.”

Both Brian and Rocky jerk out of their distracted, half-asleep slouches. There’s a woman with a purple(? Pink? Red?) sweater standing right in front of the door they’re supposed to be guarding. She’s wearing a mask, but that’s pretty normal. It’s Covid-19 season, after all. They fail to look down and see the small package at her feet. Their attention instead falls to the black box in her hands. 

“I have a delivery?” The woman motions with the box in her hands. 

Rocky and Brian both jerk back, hands fumbling for weapons while they attempt to get a clearer picture in the near total darkness. 

“This some kinda joke?” Brian snaps. 

“Uh.” The woman backs up a step. Maybe Rocky took out his gun. “Listen, I–”

BANG.

A horrible, indescribable scent slams into Brian’s nose so hard it shoots all the way into his skull and rattles his brain around. Vaguely, his eyes observe the woman adjusting another mask, a gas mask, under her K95 mask as he collapses to the sidewalk. Then he blacks out. 

Barbara is moving her drones before the two guards hit the ground. 

[priceseyes]

SUPER SOFT OVER PRE-WAR AU!Lucy/Charlie/Cooper rn OH MY GODDDDDDDD. just the three of them being domestic and just being the most soft and tender couple EVER. Just imagine them relaxing out by the yard, both their girls Cass and Janey being so cute and playing with each other while the family dog is out and about with them as well. Lucy comes out with drinks and some little foodies to much on, probably some sandwiches or something. She embraces both Charlie and Cooper with such loving affection and Cooper is all "I love my girls sooo much" GAHHH and the girls are all "We love you too, Coop!" like....IT'S SO DOMESTIC!!!!