#holy floor plan batman!

[thedevilundercover]

I have so many rooms already planned out for the floor plan of Wayne manor but I need so much more. Why do rich people have so much niche rooms? They need to fill up the space somehow.

I also keep forgetting to add in all of the characters who need rooms into my big ass list so if someone could make a list of every bat clan member who would have a room I will love you till the end of the world

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Part 1/2

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader

(Part 2) Word Count: 15079

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl

Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.

A/N: I got a request for Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader with enemies to lovers and I fucking JUMPED at this one, I did not mean to write this much, holy shit. I didn't really have a plan going into this one, so when I started writing, I was going from top to bottom, so whatever happened happened and I clearly went OFF! While writing this, I kinda had comic-book!Scarecrow in my brain for reasons I couldn't explain, but ya know... it's the same dude so yeah. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚

-

"I'll need you to be on watch in the Narrows tonight," Bruce instructed Y/n as he fastened his suit, his tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.

"Any you want me to keep an eye one in particular?" Y/n asked, adjusting her own suit in preparation.

"Many, but the Scarecrow’s been more active recently, I want you to look out for him, I have the Joker to deal with." Bruce replied, his gaze distant as he mentally prepared for the night's challenges.

It had been a a few months since Y/n first became the Batgirl. Y/n often found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps it was the right place at the right time, depending on how one looked at it. As a bystander in Gotham City, she frequently stumbled upon scenes of crime and chaos, unwittingly becoming entangled in the city's never-ending struggle for order.

On one occasion, while walking home from work, Y/n witnessed a mugging in progress. Without hesitation, she sprang into action, using her self-defense skills to fend off the assailant and protect the victim. Little did she know, Batman had been monitoring the situation from the shadows, impressed by her bravery and resourcefulness.

This became a regular occurrence for Y/n after that, seeking out injustice in the city and protecting those in need. With each encounter, Y/n found herself drawn further into Batman's world, her actions catching his attention time and time again, forging an unexpected bond between herself and the Dark Knight.

Under Batman's guidance, Y/n evolved from a mere bystander into Batgirl, a symbol of hope and strength for the citizens of Gotham. With her skills and determination, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Caped Crusader, ready to confront the darkness that threatened to consume their city.

The two of them went their separate ways, Y/n finding herself in the Narrows, poached on a building. And as if on cue, she heard screams coming from an alley. Immediately jumping into action, Y/n dropped down and rushed to the scene, and just as she expect, the man with a burlap mask stood over a helpless person, screaming and scratching on the floor.

"Refining your toxins, Scarecrow?" Y/n's voice echoed down the dimly lit alley, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

"Alone in the shadows, Batgirl?" Scarecrow's distorted voice floated back, his eerie presence sending shivers down Y/n's spine.

Without hesitation, Y/n surged forward, her determination driving her towards the looming figure of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's agility was surprising, a testament to his cunning and prowess.

Despite his speed, Y/n's athletic skills allowed her to gain ground. With a swift motion, she held out a Batarang, sending it spinning towards Scarecrow's feet. The makeshift trap worked like a charm, causing him to stumble and crash to the ground.

"Lost your footing?" Y/n taunted, her voice laced with determination.

"Lost your vision?" Scarecrow retorted, his words accompanied by a sudden burst of suspicious powder that engulfed Y/n's senses.

Coughing and disoriented, she struggled to maintain her balance as her surroundings blurred into a hazy fog.

In the midst of the chaos, Scarecrow seized the opportunity to strike, delivering a well-aimed kick that sent Y/n tumbling to the ground. With a pained groan, she collided with the unforgiving pavement, the impact jarring her senses and rattling her confidence.

As Scarecrow's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the distant echoes of the Narrows, Y/n cursed her carelessness. Still reeling from the encounter, she struggled to regain her bearings, her vision still clouded and her body aching from the fall. 

"This better not be permanent," Y/n muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice as she struggled to regain her footing amidst the haze of her blurry vision.

With the aid of the wall for support, Y/n navigated her way out of the Narrows, determination guiding her steps despite her impaired sight. Fumbling for her walkie-talkie, she summoned Batman, her admission tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Hey, uh... Could you bring the Batmobile? I can't see," Y/n confessed, her tone a clear indication of her frustration.

"On my way," Batman's reassuring voice crackled through the device.

As she waited at the end of the alleyway, the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine signaled Batman's arrival. He lifted the roof of the vehicle, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of Y/n's uncertainty.

"You getting in?" Batman's usual impatience brought a hint of levity to the situation, his words a welcome distraction from Y/n's predicament.

"Yeah, could you help me? I can't see properly," Y/n admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's all just a black blob."

Without hesitation, Batman leaped out of the car, his strong hand reaching out to guide Y/n safely into the vehicle. As they embarked on their journey through the city's shadowy streets, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the steadfast ally by her side.

"Rough night?" Batman's gravelly voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension that hung in the air.

"You could say that," Y/n replied, her tone heavy with disappointment as she settled into the seat beside him. "Will my vision be like this permanently?" Y/n asked, the question bugging her for the last 10 minutes.

"Hard to tell with the Scarecrow, but you should be okay. It's a surprise he didn't use his fear toxin on you," Batman remarked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

Y/n let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the seat. In the darkness of the Batmobile, surrounded by the faint hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the city outside, she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But even in her moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the presence of the silent guardian beside her, a reminder that she was never truly alone in the shadows of Gotham.

-

Fortunately for Y/n, her vision returned within an hour, relieving her of the temporary blindness. Despite Bruce's insistence that she call it a night and rest up, Y/n's determination to uncover more about their adversary remained unyielding. In the depths of the Batcave, she was immersed in her research, combing through databases and news articles in search of a lead.

"Thought you'd be down here, Master Bruce holding you back?" Alfred's familiar voice echoed through the cavernous space as he descended into the Batcave.

"No, I was supposed to head home an hour ago," Y/n admitted, her attention still fixed on the glowing screen before her.

"Well, shall I fetch you some supper then?" Alfred offered, ever the attentive caretaker.

"It's alright, Alfred. Thank you," Y/n replied, offering a grateful smile in his direction.

As Alfred approached, he cast a glance at the screen, taking note of Y/n's diligent research and the meticulous notes scattered around her workspace.

"My, you've certainly done quite the thorough job. It's no wonder you landed that internship," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with pride.

"You and I both know I only got that internship at Arkham because of Bruce's influence," Y/n laughed.

"You ought to give yourself more credit, Miss L/n," Alfred's voice held a gentle admonishment as he glanced over Y/n's work. "When is your first day, anyway?"

Glancing at the clock, Y/n realized it was already 1 AM. "Tomorrow," she answered.

"I beg of you to go home, Miss L/n. Your sleep schedule is bad enough as it is," Alfred urged, concern etched in his voice.

Y/n let out a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to leave the Scarecrow for another time."

Y/n and Alfred made their way back up to Wayne Manor, Y/n gathering her belongings in preparation to depart. Despite her reluctance to leave her research behind, she knew that rest was necessary if she wanted to be at her best for the challenges that lay ahead. With one last glance at the Batcomputer, Y/n bid farewell to the Batcave, her mind already turning towards the mysteries that awaited her on her first day at Arkham.

-

Y/n's first day at Arkham Asylum began with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The towering, foreboding structure of the institution loomed against the gray skies of Gotham, its reputation preceding it.

Working at Arkham Asylum had always been a dream for Y/n, fueled by a deep fascination with the psychology of criminals. And there was no better place than Arkham. She was aware that Bruce had played a pivotal role in securing this internship for her, primarily to make it easier to access the criminals and their files. Yet, this knowledge did little to dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, she saw it as practical to use her role for the greater good, combining her academic interests with her goal to protect Gotham.

As she stepped through the heavy, security-laden doors, she was greeted by Dr. Penelope Young, one of Arkham's leading psychiatrists and her supervisor for the duration of the internship.

"Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss L/n. I'm Dr. Young. I'll be showing you around today and discussing what you can expect during your time here," Dr. Young said, offering a firm handshake that Y/n returned.

Their tour began in the more benign corridors of the asylum, where Dr. Young outlined the history of Arkham, its purpose, and its challenges. She spoke with a passion that contrasted the grim surroundings, her belief in rehabilitation and understanding of the human psyche evident in her every word.

"As you'll soon learn, Arkham is more than just a holding facility for Gotham's criminally insane. It's a place of complexity, where psychology and security intersect in ways you won't see anywhere else," Dr. Young explained as they navigated through secure checkpoints.

The tour included visits to various departments, including the high-security wards where Gotham's most notorious villains were held. Dr. Young's explanations were thorough, covering the protocols for dealing with dangerous inmates, the importance of mental health assessments, and the ongoing research aimed at better understanding and treating profound psychological disorders.

"Your role here, Miss L/n, will involve assisting with patient assessments, participating in therapy sessions, and contributing to our research projects. It's crucial work that not only helps us understand the minds of those we're treating but also aids in ensuring the safety of Gotham City," Dr. Young said, her tone serious yet encouraging.

As they concluded the tour in the library, filled with texts on psychology, criminology, and the history of Arkham itself, Dr. Young offered some final advice.

"Always remember, the work we do here is challenging and often thankless. But it's also incredibly important. You're going to see and experience things that will test you, but I believe you have the potential to make a real difference."

Y/n left the tour feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. The weight of her responsibilities at Arkham Asylum was now fully realized, but so too was her determination to meet the challenges head-on. As she prepared for her first assignment, she couldn't help but feel that her journey into the heart of Gotham's darkness was only just beginning.

-

Patrolling the rooftops alongside Batman had become a familiar part of Y/n's night life, yet that particular night, her performance was far from her usual standard. Missteps, a lack of balance, and a series of other minor blunders affected her efforts. Aware of Bruce's patience, she nonetheless couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more of a liability than an asset to Batman during their late-night surveillance.

"Fuck, sorry," Y/n muttered, hastily picking herself up after her foot caught on an uneven crack on a rooftop in the Narrows.

Batman halted his advance, turning to face her with a concern that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cowl. "You should head home, you need rest," he suggested.

Y/n's gaze dropped, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She knew he was right, yet admitting it felt like conceding to a weakness she couldn't afford.

"You're exhausted. It's been a long day," Batman tried to reassure her, recognizing the toll the day's events had taken on her.

"I know, but I feel like I need to be here," Y/n insisted, her voice a mix of determination and frustration.

"Is this about the Scarecrow again?" Batman's question cut through the tension, his insight honing in on the heart of her persistence.

"...Yeah," Y/n admitted, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her voice.

Her obsession with stopping Scarecrow had pushed her to her limits, yet she felt an unyielding need to confront the fear he spread across Gotham. In that moment, beneath the expanse of the night sky, her dedication to their cause was as clear as the weariness she fought against.

The Scarecrow was Y/n's first real challenge with one of Gotham's notorious Rogue's. Until now, her experiences had primarily involved run-ins with lesser-known criminals. Unmasking the Scarecrow, whose identity remained a mystery to all of Gotham, would be a monumental achievement for her.

"Why don't you hang back a bit? You can stay on the scene, but I'd rather you not engage in anything major," Batman suggested, his voice carrying a note of protective caution.

Y/n nodded in agreement. She decided to approach the situation with caution, opting for observation over direct confrontation. From her vantage point on a nearby rooftop, she kept a vigilant eye on the Narrows, tracking Batman's movements as he patrolled the shadowy labyrinth below. That's when she spotted him.

Quickly, she grabbed her radio to alert Batman. "Scarecrow spotted near the north apartments!" she reported, urgency lacing her voice.

As Batman sprang into action, heading towards the reported location, Y/n felt a surge of determination. She knew she couldn't just stand by. Moving with purpose, she leaped across rooftops, her movements a blend of precision and grace, as she closed in on the two. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead yet driven by a deep-seated resolve to make a difference.

His pursuit was relentless, a testament to years of honing his skills for moments just like this. The Scarecrow, a master of terror and manipulation, darted ahead, his movements erratic and desperate, aware that the Dark Knight was closing in on him.

The Scarecrow, realizing the inevitability of his capture, turned to face Batman, a sinister smile playing across his lips, hidden beneath the grotesque mask that had become his signature.

In a swift movement, Scarecrow pulled from his tattered coat a small canister, unleashing a cloud of his fear toxin directly at Batman. The gas, a potent concoction of Scarecrow's own design, filled the air, a visible miasma of terror.

Batman, caught off-guard by the sudden assault, attempted to evade the cloud but inhaled a breath of the toxic fumes. The world around him twisted horrifyingly, his vision blurring as the gas took hold, plunging him into a nightmarish landscape of his own fears. Towering figures of his past adversaries loomed over him, their taunts echoing in his ears, while the loss of his parents replayed in agonizing detail, a never-ending cycle of pain and guilt.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Batman collapsing, overcome by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Without hesitation, she reached out to Alfred through her radio.

"It's urgent. Batman's been incapacitated by Scarecrow's fear gas. You need to get him immediately," she relayed with urgency.

Without waiting for Alfred's confirmation, she sprung into action, her body moving almost on instinct. She descended from her vantage point into the alleyway below, her cape billowing behind her as she set her sights on the retreating figure of the Scarecrow.

"You just can't let it go, can you?" Scarecrow taunted, turning to hurl a canister of his sinister concoction in her direction.

The moment the toxin enveloped her, Y/n's reality twisted into a nightmarish tableau. She fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips as the shadows around her seemed to swell with judgment and scorn. But this was different, alongside the overwhelming fear, a heavy drowsiness dragged at her consciousness.

This was no ordinary fear toxin, she realized with a struggle to maintain her awareness. Her breaths came in labored gasps, each one a battle against the encroaching darkness. Her strength ebbed away, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley. Her vision blurred, yet she could make out the Scarecrow's figure looming over her, his mask a grotesque visage that pulsated in her dimming sight.

As her field of view narrowed to a point, she saw Scarecrow bend down beside her, his hands reaching out to grasp her. Then, as if a curtain had fallen over her world, everything succumbed to darkness.

-

The throbbing in her head was the first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo through her entire being. Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Y/n reached up, her fingers pressing into her temples in a futile attempt to sooth the pain. With her eyes still firmly shut, she sat up from the surface beneath her.

As she became more aware, her palm registered the unmistakable chill of metal against her skin. Hesitantly, she allowed her eyelids to part, squinting against the dim light that filled her unfamiliar surroundings. This place, cold, sterile, and decidedly unwelcoming, was far from the familiar confines of her home or the Batcave. Panic fluttered in her chest as the realization set in.

She found herself lying on a stark, metallic table, the centerpiece of what appeared to be a neglected laboratory. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay, a testament to the room's dubious purposes. With a growing sense of dread, Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her movements halting as another alarming detail dawned on her, her mask was missing.

She took a sharp intake of breath as she frantically searched her surroundings, her heart racing. Though still clad in the protective gear of Batgirl, minus her utility belt, the absence of her mask left her exposed, vulnerable. 

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She became tense, preparing for who might come through that door, her mind racing through possibilities and plans of escape.

As the door swung open, the Scarecrow stepped through, his presence immediately filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. His iconic, scratchy burlap mask seemed to leer at her, the tattered edges of his suit fluttering slightly with his movements. Y/n's heart sank, deep down, she'd known he would be her captor.

The realization of her vulnerability flashed through her mind, sparking a defiant glare, even as she attempted to shield her identity by casting her gaze downward.

"You needn't bother trying to hide now," Scarecrow's voice cut through the tense air, a smirk audible in his tone as he closed the distance between them. "I've seen all I need to see."

Acknowledging that hiding was no longer an option, Y/n understood that resistance might still sway the balance in her favor. With a burst of energy, she attempted to launch herself off the table, only to crumble to the ground, her legs betraying her strength.

"Easy, you've only just regained consciousness," Scarecrow taunted, his steps hastening towards her prone form.

In her struggle to stand back up, Scarecrow's hands suddenly steadied her, pulling her up with a firm grip on her arm. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Y/n's resolve didn't falter. Her hand darted out, seizing a scalpel from a nearby table, and she held it towards Scarecrow, who instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The air between them crackled with tension, each poised for the other's next move.

Scarecrow's voice was calm, yet firm. "You're hardly in a position to resist effectively. Let me help you back onto the table before you injure yourself further. The scalpel isn't necessary," he advised, his tone bordering on reasonable.

Y/n couldn’t help but notice how professionally he spoke. 

"So you can subject me to more of your experiments? Yeah nah," she laughed, sarcastically.

Scarecrow, unfazed by her resistance, replied with a hint of a threat, "Whether you agree or not, you're in no condition to stand. It's only a matter of time before you collapse again."

She knew he was right. She could barely feel her legs, and the bits of sensation she did have was undeniable pain. With a reluctant sigh, Y/n let the scalpel clatter back onto the table.

Seeing her give in, Scarecrow lowered his hands and gently supported her around her waist, guiding her with a care that contrasted with his usual menace. He lifted her effortlessly, placing her back on the medical table with a carefulness that seemed out of character. Her legs dangled off the side, the height of the table leaving her feet dangling in the air, a subtle reminder of her current vulnerability.

"Why am I here?" Y/n demanded.

"Had I not intervened, you would be dead," Scarecrow replied.

"So, you hit me with your gas for shits and giggles? Or am I just another subject for your midnight experiments?" Y/n's tone was laced with anger.

"I never intended to expose you to the gas," Scarecrow clarified, moving to grab an item from a nearby table.

"And what? Your hand just slipped?" Y/n retaliated with sarcasm.

"I thought you were the Batman," Scarecrow confessed as he returned to her side.

"And how does that change anything?" Y/n challenged.

Ignoring her, he held a cup, what appeared to be cloudy water. Scarecrow pressed the cup into her hand. 

"What's this?" Y/n asked, raising her brow.

"For your headache and numbed legs," Scarecrow responded.

Y/n eyed the cup warily, her skepticism evident. Scarecrow sighed, his voice distorted by his mask.

"If I intended harm, it would have been done already," he assured her.

"Then answer my question," Y/n pressed.

"What question?" Scarecrow responded quickly, playing the fool.

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter that you gassed me if I work with Batman?"

Scarecrow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. She returned his stare, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, an aspect she'd never noticed before, having never been this close to him without a fight.

"Why don’t you want to hurt me?" Y/n rephrased her question.

"Because I don’t want to," he replied simply.

Y/n's shoulders sagged in defeat as she took a sip from the cup, relieved to find it tasted just like water.

"What's your name?" Scarecrow's question caught her off guard.

Y/n shot him a judging glance. "Seriously? Are you dumb? Or do you think I am?"

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound crackled by his mask. "Your face isn't much of a secret now," he remarked.

"True, but a name would give away too much, wouldn't it? Besides, I doubt you'd share yours even if I asked," Y/n countered.

"Fair enough. Batgirl it remains," Scarecrow said.

Concern creased Y/n's brow as she broached the subject weighing on her mind. "So, what's your plan for me now?"

"You're not in any shape to leave just yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Okay, but when I am?" Y/n pressed.

Scarecrow hesitated. "I can't say for certain when that'll be," he admitted.

"You're the reason I'm drugged up…it was your toxin," Y/n pointed out.

"I didn't anticipate having to save anyone after using the gas," Scarecrow replied, his gaze drifting away.

Y/n sensed there was more to his reluctance than he let on. "Why won't you let me go?" she demanded.

"I told you—" Scarecrow began, but Y/n interjected firmly, "I want the real reason."

Scarecrow settled into a chair at a nearby desk.

"Aw, is the Scarecrow feeling lonely?" Y/n teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air.

Though she couldn't discern his expression behind the mask, she could practically feel the weight of his glare.

"Hey, if you keep up with that attitude, I might just have to pay you a visit in the Narrows," Y/n teased further, her words laden with playful defiance.

Y/n couldn't shake the uncertainty creeping into her mind. Was she really entertaining him with her banter?

"I suppose I'll have to hold you to that," Scarecrow retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he actually want her to visit?

"...Batman must be worried about me," Y/n spoke aloud.

"You'd be correct. He's been searching the Narrows looking for you," Scarecrow confirmed.

She's now aware of their whereabouts. Somewhere in the Narrows, not entirely helpful, but better than nothing.

Relief washed over Y/n. "So he's okay then?" she asked anxiously.

"I only administered a small dose. He's perfectly fine," Scarecrow reassured her.

"Can I leave in about 10 minutes?" Y/n requested.

Scarecrow sighed. "Yes, but let me perform one final check first," he insisted.

He approached her. "Can you stand?"

Y/n noticed a tingling sensation in her legs, a welcome sign of returning strength. She gingerly hopped off the metal table, feeling Scarecrow's supportive grip immediately. Taking a moment to steady herself with his assistance, she eventually managed to push him away gently.

"Considering how quickly Batman bounced back, I'm sure he'll be able to assist you if you encounter any further issues," Scarecrow remarked.

"So, can I go?" Y/n inquired.

"Yes, but you'll be blindfolded," Scarecrow detailed.

Y/n watched as Scarecrow grabbed an unexpected item from his coat, her mask which she had completely forgotten about. She accepted it, placing it securely back on her face. Following this, he produced a blindfold, carefully tying it around her eyes.

"What about my utility belt?" she questioned.

"It's been left in the alley. I expect Batman has already located it with the tracker," Scarecrow informed her.

It made sense, had the belt been here, Batman would have pinpointed her location instantly due to its tracking device.

"Give me your hand," Scarecrow said.

Y/n reached out, feeling Scarecrow's grip. His hand was bare, contrasting with her gloved one, allowing her to feel the unique texture of his skin. Together, they navigated towards what Y/n presumed was the exit.

"Mind your step," Scarecrow instructed.

With extra caution, Y/n raised her foot higher than usual, stepping over what she imagined was the door frame. The sound of metal underfoot suggested they had transitioned onto a metallic grate.

"Coming up to some stairs," Scarecrow said.

As Scarecrow slightly descended, he guided Y/n to the first step. Clutching Scarecrow's hand for support, her free hand found a handrail. They carefully descended the staircase together.

"Last step," Scarecrow informed her.

Her feet found solid concrete below. They continued their journey outside, Y/n blind to their surroundings. After about ten minutes wandering the Narrows in silence, Scarecrow halted.

"I'm going to spin you so you won't know which direction we came from," Scarecrow explained.

Y/n snorted, "Feels like a weird game," she joked.

Gently, Scarecrow placed his hands on her shoulders and started to spin her. Y/n laughed, her steps becoming unsteady as she spun. Once she was sufficiently dizzy, Scarecrow ceased the spinning.

"Can I take off the blindfold now?" Y/n asked.

Scarecrow loosened the knot, freeing her from the blindfold. Blinking against the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her balance off from the spinning.

"I have no idea where I am," she admitted, scanning the area.

"That was the point," Scarecrow replied.

A small smile formed on her lips. "Hey, thanks for not killing me," she uttered, a phrase she never imagined saying.

"I apoligize for using the gas on you," Scarecrow said.

"I appreciate the apology...So! See you around?" Y/n tilted her head, looking at him.

Scarecrow seemed taken aback. "You aren't planning to tackling me to the ground for Batman?" 

She shook her head.

"Then, yes... until next time, Batgirl," Scarecrow affirmed.

With that, Y/n walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the alley. Glancing back one last time, she found he had vanished into the shadows.

As Y/n made her way towards the mouth of the alley, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows with a swift, purposeful stride. The figure's imposing silhouette was unmistakable against the dimly lit street. Batman, cloaked in his iconic cape, his gaze fixed intently ahead.

He approached Y/n, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Where have you been?" Batman's voice, deep and grave.

Although aggressive, she knew it was his way of showing his concern.

Y/n sighed. "I'm fine, thanks! But I wouldn’t have been if not for an unexpected turn of events," she responded, her voice a mix of relief and bewilderment.

Batman surveyed the surroundings with a beading eye, then returned his attention to Y/n. "Scarecrow?" he asked, already piecing together the encounter from the clues left behind.

"Yep," Y/n confirmed.

Batman summoned the Batmobile with a press of a button, and it swiftly glided around the corner, halting with precision in front of them. "We'll discuss it on the way," Batman suggested, sliding into the driver's seat of the Batmobile.

Y/n quickly followed, hopping into the passenger seat. The top sealed shut with a soft hiss, and they set off toward the Batcave, the engine's low rumble filling the air.

"As soon as you were hit with the toxin, I ran after Scarecrow. I know you said not to but I couldn't just stand by," Y/n recounted. "He hit me with some kind of super version of his toxin... I blacked out and later woke up in his lab... He had saved my life," she reflected, still piecing together the surreal events.

"Scarecrow...saved you...after he was the one to endanger you..." Batman's voice betrayed a hint of skepticism.

"Exactly... He said he mistook me for you and used a more lethal toxin," Y/n clarified.

Batman mulled over the information, "This must be part of some elaborate scheme."

"...When I was unconscious, he took off my mask," Y/n added quietly, the weight of her vulnerability in that moment hanging between them.

"We can't change what's happened," Batman responded with an unexpected calm. "For now, you need to stay at the batcave."

Y/n understood the protective gesture, Batman was ensuring her safety. This meant her encounters with Scarecrow would be on hold, a disappointing, yet perhaps for the best, turn of events.

-

Upon their arrival at the Batcave, Bruce insisted on conducting his own check up of Y/n to ensure her well-being. As he meticulously checked her condition, Y/n found her thoughts drifting back to Scarecrow.

The lanky figure behind the coarse, burlap mask now intrigued her more than ever. Despite her efforts to thwart his plans and her alliance with Batman, Scarecrow had spared her life. His actions defied the logic that he should have seen her as a direct threat, deserving of his lethal wrath.

Throughout their encounters, Scarecrow had consistently avoided using his fear toxin on her, opting for less harmful methods. And on the one occasion he did administer it, he promptly provided an antidote and went as far as looking after her back at his lab.

What puzzled her further was his reluctance, or perhaps refusal, to let her leave. There seemed to be an underlying reason he didn't want her to go, adding layers to his already complex persona. This unexpected mercy and the mystery shrouding his true intentions only deepened Y/n's curiosity about the man beneath the mask.

-

Y/n's second week interning at Arkham was unfolding better than she'd anticipated. Tasked with interacting with the less dangerous patients, she found them peculiar yet unexpectedly sweet, a stark contrast to her initial assumptions. Each person, in their own right, contributed to the unique tapestry of Arkham's inhabitants.

Walking through the asylum's corridors on her way to Dr. Young's office with a stack of files in hand, Y/n was absorbed in her thoughts, hardly aware of her surroundings. This lack of attention led to a collision with a passerby, resulting in her files scattering across the floor.

"Shit, sorry," she blurted out, immediately kneeling to gather the scattered documents.

The individual she bumped into stood frozen, offering no assistance or reaction. Once she collected her files and stood up to face him, she found herself looking at a tall, slender man adorned with rectangular, wire-framed glasses, his expression one of bafflement.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, hoping to break the ice.

Yet, the man remained silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open, offering nothing but a fixed stare. With an awkward smile, Y/n excused herself, moving past him to continue on her way.

"Sorry, again... Have a good day," she added, before turning her focus forward and spotting Dr. Young near her office.

"Met Dr. Crane, have you?" Dr. Young asked, observing the scene.

Glancing back, Y/n saw the man, now identified as Dr. Crane, retreating hastily down the hallway.

"Apparently. He a quiet one?" Y/n asked, intrigued by the unusual man.

"Not at all," Dr. Young confided with a hint of amusement. "He's known for being quite outspoken and, frankly, a bit abrasive. But let's keep that between us."

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, appreciating the candid insight. Together, they proceeded into Dr. Young's office. As they delved into their tasks and discussions, the brief encounter with Dr. Crane swiftly faded from Y/n's mind.

-

Barely two hours had passed, with Y/n engrossed in her task of organizing files, when Dr. Young re-entered the office, fresh from her break.

"It seems you've caught the attention of Dr. Crane," Dr. Young remarked as she stepped inside.

Y/n glanced up, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Young, settling into her chair with a chuckle. "Well, in the cafeteria, Dr. Crane cam up to me out of the blue to ask about you. Considering he never engages in conversation unless it's strictly necessary, that was quite the surprise!"

Curiosity piqued, Y/n continued, "What exactly did he ask about?"

"Just your name and your role here," Dr. Young replied with a smile.

The thought of garnering anyone's interest, let alone Dr. Crane's, hadn't crossed Y/n's mind. Yet, she brushed it off, doubting it would have any significant impact on her internship.

-

Back at her home, Y/n found herself sprawled on her bed, engulfed in the unfamiliar territory of idleness. With Bruce sidelining her from night patrols, the once exhilarating darkness of Gotham's nights now stretched endlessly before her, filled with nothing but the quiet.

Letting out a sigh, she flung her book aside, a tangible sign of her growing restlessness. Reluctantly, she rose and drifted towards her computer, where the glow of her screen illuminated tabs of research left untouched since yesterday. Though the news articles of Scarecrow she had found offered little in the way of breakthroughs, she held onto the hope they might yet yield something of value.

It was then that a sudden thud against her window broke the silence, startling her. Turning to look, she expected to find nothing more unusual than a disoriented bird that flew into it. However, the repeated thudding suggested this was no ordinary accident.

With a sigh, Y/n approached the window to investigate. A crow was the culprit, determinedly striking the glass over and over. Attempting to shoo it away with a tap against the window proved futile, the bird was either stubborn or really dumb. About to turn away in defeat, Y/n noticed something clutched in the crow's beak, she naturally had to investigate.

Concerned it might be choking, she opened the window to offer assistance. The crow, uninvited, hopped boldly into her room and onto her bed.

"Hey! You’re gonna get my shit all dirty!" Y/n protested, trying to usher it off.

Yet the crow remained unbothered, stationed firmly on her bed. With a curious tilt of its head, it released its hold, letting the object, a piece of paper, fall onto her duvet.

Realizing the crow was unharmed, Y/n let out a sigh. "Okay, you can leave now," she suggested, gesturing towards the open window.

However, the crow remained stationary, its gaze fixed on her as if it had more to say. They stared at one another awkwardly, the air between them thick with uncertainty. The crow nudged the piece of paper with its beak, then lifted its eyes to hers, prompting her attention.

Reluctantly, Y/n shifted her focus to the paper, curiosity getting the better of her. The paper was torn and foled. She unfolded the ripped fragment to reveal a message that sent a jolt of shock through her.

'Found you.'

The simplicity of the message belied its ominous intent, transforming her initial confusion into a wave of dread. "Holy fuck," she muttered, her pulse quickening.

As if its mission was accomplished, the crow took its leave, soaring out the window. Y/n raced to the window, a futile attempt to keep it from leaving. "Oi!"

But her plea vanished into the night, leaving her to face the silence of her room. The solitude that had once been merely boring now felt ominously oppressive.

How had Scarecrow found her? The question echoed in her mind, a reminder that her sense of security was more fragile than she had ever imagined.

Y/n wasted no time in dialing Bruce's number, her fingers trembling with anxiety as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, she didn't bother with pleasantries.

"He found me," she blurted out in a tense whisper.

"Y/n? What are you talk-?" Bruce paused. “How?”

"I don't know how he did it, Bruce. There's no way he could have tracked me from that night," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable. “He sent his fucking pet crow, or something to my window with a little note saying he found me.”

"I think it would be safest for you to stay at my place for a while," Bruce suggested, his tone urgent.

"Yeah, but what if he figures out… you know?" Y/n's worry crept into her voice.

"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Bruce asked, his concern evident.

Y/n's mind raced, but she couldn't think of any safe alternatives. "Not really," she admitted reluctantly.

"Okay, just stay safe. I'll be checking up on you," Bruce instructed firmly.

"I'll do my best," Y/n sighed, feeling a sense of dread settle over her as the call ended.

She dropped her phone on her bed along with herself. Sitting on her bed, she ran her hand down her face groaning. She just prayed he was as nice as he was the night before.

-

The next day, Y/n felt a sense of unease as she walked through the corridors of Arkham towards Dr. Young's office. Upon entering, she was met not only by Dr. Young, but also by the presence of Dr. Crane.

"Good morning, Y/n. I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Crane by now," Dr. Young gestured towards the man in the room.

Y/n nodded awkwardly, turning her attention to Dr. Crane. "Hello, Dr. Crane," she greeted, extending her hand for a shake.

"Miss L/n," he replied, his voice crisp and professional as he took her hand.

There was something strangely familiar about his touch, though Y/n couldn't quite place it. Brushing it off as mere coincidence, she focused on the conversation at hand.

"Well, we've decided to switch things up a bit and provide you with more opportunities around the asylum. Today, Dr. Crane has kindly offered to mentor you instead of me," Dr. Young explained.

Y/n nodded, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh... cool," she replied, though her uncertainty lingered beneath the surface.

"My work primarily focuses on the higher-risk patients, so today I'll be showing you around those areas of the asylum," Dr. Crane explained, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Alright, shall we get started?" Y/n asked, eager to begin.

"Certainly," Dr. Crane replied, opening the door for Y/n to exit first. She thanked him and stepped into the hallway, where Dr. Crane joined her.

"So, Miss L/n, what led you to Arkham?" Dr. Crane inquired, initiating conversation.

"Well, I studied at Gotham University for five years and managed to get an internship here. It's an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Y/n replied.

Dr. Crane nodded, showing interest. "You're interested in psychology, I assume?"

"Naturally," Y/n confirmed.

"And outside of Arkham, how do you spend your time?" Dr. Crane asked, delving deeper.

Y/n wasn't prepared for such a personal question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer. In truth, much of her time was split between intensive research and her activities as a vigilante. "Uh... research mostly," she replied, keeping her answer vague.

"Any specific areas of focus?" Dr. Crane probed further.

"Primarily psychology-related topics, and occasionally delving into articles about various personalities in Gotham," Y/n answered, trying to keep her response casual.

"Ah, the Gotham Rogues, I presume? Have any in particular piqued your interest?" Dr. Crane inquired, his gaze lingering on her as they made their way towards the elevator.

Y/n had been informed by Dr. Young that small talk was rarely on Dr. Crane's agenda, suggesting his continuous questions might stem from a lack of social que. Yet, as a psychiatrist, his understanding of social dynamics should be adept, making his approach puzzling.

"Ah, well... each of them are interesting in their own way, to say the least," Y/n replied, deflecting deflecting to keep the conversation neutral.

Acknowledging her response with a nod, Dr. Crane diverted his eyes ahead, the silence momentarily enveloping them as they approached and entered the elevator. With a practiced motion, he swiped his keycard and selected their destination floor.

The elevator began its descent in silence, the hum of its mechanism filling the small space. Dr. Crane stood with a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back, while Y/n could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts swirling between them.

After a moment, Dr. Crane broke the silence. "The study of fear is particularly fascinating, don't you think?" he started, his tone measured, eyes fixed on the elevator doors as if addressing the question to himself. "It's primal, yet so complex. A fundamental emotion that can be both a hindrance and a survival mechanism."

Y/n, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's quite a paradox. It shapes so much of human behavior, yet we understand so little about its underpinnings."

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the high-risk patient floor. As the doors slid open, Dr. Crane stepped out, gesturing for Y/n to follow. "Indeed. And it's within these walls that fear becomes a canvas, each patient painting their own portrait of terror."

The topic of their conversation enveloped Y/n in a sense of unease. While it was natural for a psychiatrist to delve into subjects like fear, given her recent unsettling situation, discussing it now stirred an unwelcome and deep-seated discomfort within her.

They walked through a secured door after Dr. Crane keyed in a code, entering a corridor lined with reinforced glass cells. The patients inside varied in their reactions to the newcomers, some pressed close to observe them, others retreated into shadows, and a few remained indifferent, lost in their own worlds.

"As you'll see today, our approach to treatment varies greatly, tailored to each patient's specific needs and... inclinations," Dr. Crane continued, leading Y/n past the cells. "Observation and understanding is key. Fear can be both a lock and a key in our field."

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, not just from the atmosphere of the high-risk ward but from Dr. Crane's words. They echoed with a depth of knowledge and an intensity that felt almost too personal, as if fear itself was a familiar friend to him.

As they continued their tour, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Crane was studying her just as much as he was explaining the procedures and philosophies of Arkham Asylum. There was a calculated curiosity in his gaze, a probing quality that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her. 

Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked through the corridor, eventually halting in front of a door. 

"This," he announced, ushering the door open with a gentle push, "is my office."

Crossing into the new space, Y/n found herself standing somewhat awkwardly, uncertain of what was to come next.

"I have a few patient appointments scheduled today. You'll have the opportunity to observe. But first, there are some reports I need to deal with. I imagine you have tasks of your own to do in the meantime?" he suggested.

With a nod from Y/n, he settled into his chair behind the desk, drawing out several files and a pen. As he began to write, Y/n couldn't help but observe him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. There was an inexplicable familiarity in his presence that she couldn't quite identify.

Catching her gaze, he looked up, peering over his glasses. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. She wasn't sure if she should bring up her recent encounter with the Scarecrow, especially given Dr. Crane's interest in fear and psychology. But something about his demeanor encouraged her to speak up. She cracked it down to the fact that he was around higher risk patients at arkham so he should understand.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to alarm Dr. Crane or reveal too much about her involvement with Gotham's underworld.

"Well, actually..." she began, her voice measured. "I recently had a rather unusual encounter with someone who... operates outside the norms, let's say."

Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"There's this... guy," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Who put me in a rather diffucult situation. But instead of leaving me in trouble, this guy… helped me. He claimed that his actions were never intended to inconvenience me, but rather someone else entirely. It's all rather confusing to me."

As she spoke, Dr. Crane listened attentively, his analytical gaze fixed on her. There was a calculating intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed past it, determined to convey the essence of her experience without divulging too much.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Why do you think he wouldn’t have helped you?” he asked.

“Well this... guy... well, he’s not exactly known for his generosity,” Y/n said, choosing her words carefully.

"I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "It seems you've had quite the... encounter."

Y/n nodded, relieved that she had managed to convey the situation without revealing too many details. 

“Well... what about the situation confuses you?” he asked.

“The fact that he helped me, I just don’t understand it,” Y/n said.

“Had you encountered this individual prior to that?” Dr. Crane inquired.

“Yes, and he wasn’t particularly pleasant,” Y/n replied.

“Perhaps he had a change of heart, felt remorse... or maybe you interested him in some way,” Dr. Crane suggested.

Y/n recognized that Dr. Crane might not offer much assistance, especially since her account was far from the complete truth, but she valued his perspective.

“Yeah... maybe,” she said, considering his viewpoint.

-

The two appointments proceeded smoothly. The first patient was a paranoid individual, tormented by incessant fears of lurking threats in the shadows. As for the second patient was a woman struggling with intense anxiety and recurring nightmares. Dr. Crane navigated through their sessions with his calmness and precision, offering insightful observations and gentle guidance.

As the day progressed, Y/n found herself drawn into the complexities of the patients' minds, witnessing firsthand the challenges they faced and the therapeutic approaches employed by Dr. Crane. 

By the end of the day, Y/n felt a newfound respect for Dr. Crane's expertise and a deeper curiosity about the human psyche. 

Leaving Arkham, they boarded the Akrham train heading to the city center. "I trust today has been insightful for you," Dr. Crane remarked as they found their seats.

The clatter of the train tracks provided a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation as they settled into their seats. Y/n nodded, reflecting on the day's events. "Definitely," she replied. "It's given me a lot to think about."

Dr. Crane inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Understanding the human mind is a continuous journey, filled with both challenges and revelations," he remarked. "But it's a journey worth undertaking."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing his words. As the train rumbled on, she noticed that her stop was nearing.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane. You've been a really amazing mentor today," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Dr. Crane nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. "You're welcome, Y/n. If you ever need any guidance or have any questions in the future, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone surprisingly warm.

As the train slowed to a stop at Y/n's station, she gathered her belongings and stood up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again," she said, offering a polite smile before stepping off the train.

"Have a safe walk home," Dr. Crane bid farewell as the train doors slid shut.

As she walked away from the station, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity about Dr. Crane. There was something intriguing about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rest of her day ahead.

Alone in the dark, a wave of fear washed over her. Her home was just a ten-minute walk from the station, but after receiving that ominous message yesterday, she felt more uneasy than usual.

The usual nightly weirdos on the street didn't bother her much, no, it was the thought of encountering Scarecrow that sent shivers down her spine.

As she walked, a group of guys stepped out from a dark alley, eyeing her with leering grins. "Hey, sweetheart, looking for some company?" one of them called out, his tone dripping with sleaze.

Y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed by their attempts to intimidate her. "Sorry, boys, not interested," she replied, quickening her pace.

As they closed in, Y/n sprang into action with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, she lunged towards the nearest assailant, her hands moving with precision. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground with a metallic clang.

Before the others could react, Y/n hit him with calculated strikes, each one finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. With each opponent she incapacitated, the threat diminished, until finally, all that remained was a pile of defeated adversaries at her feet.

Just as she thought the situation was under control, a familiar chill ran down her spine. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows as Scarecrow emerged from the darkness, his silhouette looming ominously. Y/n's heart raced, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as Scarecrow's gaze swept over the scene. She braced herself as the Scarecrow raised his hand, expecting the worst. Shielding her face, she awaited the inevitable assault, but instead, she heard screams erupting behind her. 

Reluctantly lowering her arms, she turned to witness a man writhing on the ground, his cries echoing through the deserted street beside a discarded firearm. Her gaze snapped back to the Scarecrow, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"One missed," he remarked coolly.

“Scarecrow…” she uttered, caught between greeting him and still processing the situation.

“Y/n,” he acknowledged.

“So...you know my name now,” she remarked, her tone barely masking her worry.

“Would you prefer I call you Batgirl still?” he asked, sarcastically.

“I suppose there’s no point,” Y/n shrugged, conceding to the truth.

Observing him in the dimly lit street, she couldn't help but notice his eerie yet intriguing presence. “Nice suit,” she commented, attempting to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he replied courteously, his mask concealing any expression.

Despite his seemingly benign demeanor, she couldn't shake off her unease about his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she probed cautiously.

“Making sure you got home safely,” he responded matter-of-factly.

“You’re following me?” she questioned, her suspicion growing palpable.

“Looks that way,” he confirmed, his voice protraying no hint of emotion.

“...I’ll be off then,” she stated, turning to head back home.

His footsteps echoed behind her, prompting her to halt and face him. “You’re still here?”

"You don’t think I was just going to leave,” he remarked.

“Then can you at least not stalk behind me?” Y/n requested, her tone surprisingly composed despite her lingering unease.

Closing the distance between them, he fell into step beside her. “You know Batman might find you,” she warned.

“Not tonight, I saw him off chasing the Penguin,” he assured her.

Y/n looked ahead, contemplating their unusual companionship. “So… are you going to hurt me?” she questioned, her voice hinting her vulnerability.

“I didn’t hurt you before, why would I now?” he countered.

“Well, why else are you here?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

“It was you that said you’d ‘see me around’,” Scarecrow reminded her.

She recalled their earlier exchange, surprised that he remembered. “I didn’t think you’d remember… or care,” she admitted.

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Y/n broke it. “How did you find me?” she asked the question that was weighing on her mind since she got the note.

“It was coincidence,” Scarecrow replied cryptically.

“Seriously! That's all?” Y/n protested.

“I saw you... and gaining access to you was a simple matter after that,” he explained.

Y/n paused, contemplating the implications of his words.

“Wait, so you mean to say... Did I see you around?” Y/n's curiosity peaked.

Scarecrow's silence spoke volumes, confirming her suspicions. Y/n's mind raced, attempting to pinpoint any instance where she could have crossed paths with Scarecrow during the day, but nothing came to mind.

"You're annoying, you know that? Why can't you just tell me who you are?" Y/n pressed, frustration lacing her words.

"And give you the chance to share with your caped crusader? I think not," Scarecrow retorted with a hint of amusement in his distorted voice.

Y/n scowled, "This is bullshit. What kind of friend are you?"

"Friend?" Scarecrow echoed, a note of mock surprise in his tone.

Realizing she had referred to him as a friend, Y/n hesitated, "Well… I don’t know."

"Considering me a friend? That's rather... optimistic of you," Scarecrow jested.

"You know what? Fuck you," Y/n snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.

Scarecrow's laughter, distorted and chilling, filled the air.

"About that crow yesterday..." Y/n shifted the topic.

"Ah, yes, Craw," Scarecrow interjected.

"Craw... you named your bird after the sound it makes? What are you, five?" Y/n couldn't help but mock his choice.

"Feeling particularly bitey today, aren't we?" Scarecrow remarked with a hint of amusement.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious. You could have called him anything and you settled on 'Craw'? It's like naming a cat 'Meow' or a dog ‘Woof’," Y/n countered.

"I doubt your question was solely to critique my naming choices," Scarecrow deflected, steering the conversation forward.

"So, you have a trained crow... cool," Y/n conceded.

With a snap of his fingers, Scarecrow summoned the crow, which gracefully swooped down to perch on his shoulder.

"Fuck, that’s impressive," Y/n admitted, genuinely taken aback.

"He's a good companion," Scarecrow acknowledged, affectionately caressing the crow's feathered chest.

"And yet, when I mention friendship, I'm desperate?" Y/n teased with a scoff.

"I'm merely taken aback... You haven't even tried to call Batman on me yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Well, if he can have his criminal friend, I don't see why I shouldn't either," Y/n reasoned, thinking about Bruces weird thing with Catwomen.

"It only seems fair," Scarecrow conceded with a nod.

As they approached her apartment complex, Y/n paused and faced Scarecrow.

"I guess this is where I leave you," she remarked, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she gestured towards the looming building of her apartment complex.

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "Seems so. You'll be safe here, I presume?"

Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the question, considering who it was coming from. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for helping me back there," she quipped, offering him a small, genuine smile.

Scarecrow nodded once, sharply, as if dismissing any need for gratitude. "Take care, Y/n."

With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came, leaving Y/n to stare after him for a long moment. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it from the surreal encounter, she turned and headed towards her apartment, her mind swirling with thoughts about the night's events and the enigmatic figure that had just left her side.

-

The anticipation for her next encounter with Scarecrow had always been tinged with impatience, but now, there was a distinct shift in her desires. Gone was the sole focus on capturing him, instead, she found herself wanting to talk, even hang out with the guy.

Wandering the corridors of Arkham, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an exasperated shout not far from her location. “Damn bird!” echoed off the sterile walls.

Curious, Y/n turned on her heel to investigate. A large bird flying through the hallway, causing a commotion. But this was no ordinary crow, as it swooped closer, she recognized it instantly. Craw, Scarecrow's supposed good companion.

As the crow landed gracefully before her, Y/n crouched down, gently scooping him up. The security guard, panting from the chase, approached with a look of annoyance plastered across his face.

“Stupid bird,” he muttered, reaching out to snatch Craw away.

Y/n, cradling the crow protectively, assured him, “It's fine, I've got this. I'll make sure he's put outside.”

The guard, too worn out to argue further, simply shrugged and departed. Alone now, Y/n shifted her focus to Craw, who seemed quite content in her grasp.

Noticing a piece of paper held in his beak, she gently grabbed it, speaking softly to the crow, “Hey there, pretty. How did you manage to find me here?”

Placing Craw on her shoulder, she unfolded the note.

‘I’ll see you tonight.’

A smile unknowingly crept across her face as she read the message. Shortly after, Craw took flight from her shoulder, darting down the corridor.

“No! Craw, I need to take you outside!” she called after him, her plea falling on deaf ears.

With a resigned sigh, she watched him disappear deeper into the Asylum. “Well, he's someone else's problem now.”

Despite the mild chaos, the note clutched in her hand warmed her heart, igniting a flutter of excitement for what the evening might bring.

-

The walk home felt different for Y/n this evening. Each shadow cast by the dim streetlights seemed to promise the appearance of Scarecrow, echoing his note that said they would meet again. With every step, her anticipation grew, turning each corner with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, expecting to find him waiting in the familiar alley where their paths often crossed. But tonight, the alley remained empty.

The silence of the alleyway, usually filled with the tension of their encounters, now hung heavy with disappointment. She lingered for a moment, scanning the shadows and empty spaces where he might have stood, half-hoping for the rustle of his coat or the soft click of his approach. But there was nothing. Just the quiet of the night and the distant hum of the city.

As she continued her walk home, the excitement that had quickened her steps faded into a dull ache of letdown. Thoughts raced through her mind, pondering why he hadn't appeared. Had something happened to him? Had Batman managed to intervene?

Reaching her apartment, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of solitude that enveloped her. Inside, the quiet of her home only amplified her disappointment. With a heavy sigh, Y/n resigned herself to the evening's solitude, dropping onto her bed.

As she lay in the quiet of her room, Y/n found herself wrestling with thoughts that mocked her for entertaining the idea of a friendship with someone as complex and dangerous as Scarecrow. How could she, grounded in her own principles and duties, truly expect to build a connection with a figure who thrived in the shadows, a master of fear? 

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thump against her window. Startled, she glanced up, only to find the familiar silhouette of a crow striking the glass. Hurrying over, she opened the window, allowing Craw to flutter into the room. Peering out the window, her pulse quickened at the sight below.

Scarecrow stood on the ground, gazing up at her with his usual get-up.

"May I come up?" his voice floated up to her.

Without hesitation, she swung onto the fire escape, releasing the ladder for him. As he ascended, a mixture of surprise and anticipation filled her.

"Why are you here?" she inquired, as he stepped through the window into her room.

"I said I'd see you tonight," he replied.

"I thought you’d just walk me home," she admitted, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"Indeed, I intended to, but I was held up," Scarecrow said, his voice carrying a touch of regret.

Inside her room, with the city's night as their backdrop, she couldn't help but jest, "So, the man behind the mask has a life?"

Scarecrow chuckled below the mask, “That I do.”

Now settled in her room, Y/n found a comfortable spot on her bed, her back resting gently against the headboard.

With a curious tilt of her head, she ventured, "Could I possibly hear more about the man beneath the mask?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I was caught up at work, actual work, something that required my immediate attention."

This prompted Y/n to recall her little interaction with his crow eariler. "Speaking of work, how did you manage to send Craw into Arkham?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's just say he found his way through a window," he replied,criptically.

Scarecrow chose a spot at the foot of her bed, directly opposite her, and gracefully seated himself. Craw saw it as an opportunity to hopped onto his thigh, finding comfort in his familiar presence.

As they sat in Y/n's room, the silence between them was palpable. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Curiosity, apprehension, and a strange sense of comfort in Scarecrow's presence. She studied him closely, trying to decipher the man, but his expression remained hidden.

"So, what really brings you here tonight?" Y/n finally broke the silence, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Scarecrow glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to check on you," he replied simply.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions. "Check on me?" she echoed, searching his face for any hint of deception.

"Yes," Scarecrow affirmed, his tone unwavering. "After our encounter the other night, I thought I should make sure you're okay."

Y/n's initial skepticism softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Despite their strange relationship, Scarecrow's concern for her well-being was unexpected.

"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, offering a small smile. "But why go through the trouble? You're not exactly known for your kindness."

Scarecrow's lips quirked into a faint smile, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Perhaps I'm not as one-dimensional as you think," he remarked.

Y/n's curiosity piqued at his response, but before she could delve further, there was a sudden knock on her apartment door.

“Y/n? I called you but you didn’t answer,” it was Bruce.

The sudden interruption sent Y/n's heart racing, a surge of panic flooding her as she heard Bruce's voice through the door. She momentarily froze, realizing the difficult situation she was in. Glancing frantically at Scarecrow, she leaped into action, her movements swift and desperate.

"Under the bed, now!" she hissed, urgency lacing her whisper as she practically shoved Scarecrow towards the hiding spot.

Without hesitation, Scarecrow complied, slipping under the bed. No sooner had he vanished from sight than Y/n dashed to the apartment's entrance, her mind racing with excuses.

"Hey, Bruce, sorry about that. My phone's been on silent, what’s up?" she managed to say with a feigned nonchalance as she swung the door open, greeting him with a practiced casualness.

"I said I'd swing by to check on you. Everything's been okay lately?" Bruce asked, stepping past the threshold with a concerned glance.

"Yep, all good here," Y/n replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Y/n found herself desperately seeking a solution that wouldn't raise Bruce's suspicions, yet every moment he lingered increased the risk of Scarecrow's presence unmasking Bruce's own secret identity. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, she was at a loss, her mind racing for a strategy that seemed increasingly elusive.

Then, an ominous thump from her bedroom shattered the tense silence, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.

"What was that?" Bruce's voice sharpened with alertness, his instinctive concern prompting him to move toward the source of the sound.

Y/n's anxiety reached it’s limits until, unexpectedly, a voice came from her bedroom. "Y/n? Who's at the door?" It was unmistakably Scarecrow, yet his voice was stripped of its usual menacing distortion, sounding disarmingly normal.

Panic painted Y/n's face with a stark shade of horror, a silent scream at the realization of her rapidly unraveling situation. However, Bruce's reaction took a turn Y/n hadn't anticipated. His expression, initially furrowed with concern, smoothly transitioned into an amused smirk.

"I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave you to your...guest," he said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lightness.

In that moment, Y/n's dread shifted to a baffling sense of relief to mild embarrassment. The flush of embarrassment that crept up Y/n's cheeks. The implication in Bruce's assumption that her "guest" was there for reasons more intimate was mortifying, yet it was a far more palatable scenario than him suspecting the presence of a notorious criminal in her bedroom.

"U-uh, yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice a mix of awkwardness and gratitude as she escorted Bruce to the door.

Pausing at the threshold, Bruce turned back to her, his expression lightly amused. "Have a good night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of jest before he delivered a playful wink and departed.

As Y/n closed the door behind him, a wave of relief washed over her, tinged with a lingering embarrassment. As Y/n reentered her bedroom, her gaze fell upon Craw, who had perched on the shelf by her door. 

"Are you still hiding under my bed?" she asked, her knees pressing against the cool floor as she peered under the bed.

There he was, Scarecrow, his frame stretched out beneath her bed, an unexpected sight that was oddly endearing. "Yeah," came his muffled reply.

"It's safe to come out now," she assured him, her voice lifting with a mix of relief and warmth.

As Scarecrow emerged, his presence seemed to fill the room. "What was that thumping sound?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Craw decided the door looked interesting," Scarecrow quipped, a hint of affection for the mischief-maker in his tone.

Y/n's eyes darted to Craw, her expression one of mock frustration. "You bloody bird!" she growled, though the crow seemed preoccupied with scratching his wing with his beak.

"And thank you, by the way. My heart nearly stopped when he headed towards my room," she admitted, her hands finding their way to her hips.

"Who was that, if I may ask?" Scarecrow's curiosity was evident, his head tilted.

"A friend," she answered simply.

"Just a friend?" he probed further, an edge of something playful in his voice.

"Jealous?" Y/n teased, a light chuckle escaping her.

"Should I be?" he parried, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/n's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "Bruce is just a friend. Though now he probably thinks I've got a secret lover stashed in here," she said, the humor in her situation not lost on her.

"Bruce? As in-" Scarecrow started, only for Y/n to jump in.

"Bruce Wayne? Yes," she confirmed, closing the loop on his thought.

"I would've expected the Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he mused, his voice carrying a note of mock disappointment.

"Batman wouldn’t bother with the front door, that’s for sure," Y/n laughed. 

Y/n chuckled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her bedspread. "So, did you... you know, take off the mask when you called out?" she asked.

Scarecrow's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, yeah. I don’t know if you can tell, but my voice isn’t naturally distorted," he pointed out.

Y/n's playful pout betrayed her teasing tone. "That's not fair! My room got to see your face before I did!" she exclaimed, feigning offense.

"Your room is quite the lucky spectator," he remarked, his tone filled with amusement.

"I bet you won’t show me cause you’re insecure," Y/n teased with a playful glint in her eye.

Scarecrow tilted his head. "Or perhaps I prefer the mystery. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fabric covering his features.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "Interesting for you, maybe. I'm just sitting here guessing if you're secretly a model or if you've got a face only a mother could love."

"Guess you'll just have to keep wondering," he replied.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft rustling of Craw shifting on his perch. Y/n found herself studying Scarecrow, trying to glean any hint of the man behind the mask from his posture, his movements, even the way he spoke. There was an undeniable curiosity bubbling within her, a desire to know more about the mysterious figure who'd become an unexpected constant in her life.

As the night wore on, their conversation flowed, ranging from trivial banter to more serious discussions about their contrasting views of the city they both operated in. Despite their differences, Y/n felt a strange sense of kinship with Scarecrow, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Eventually, Y/n yawned, the lateness of the hour catching up to her. Scarecrow noticed, standing up from where he had been sitting. "I should go," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.

Y/n nodded, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. "Yeah, I guess it's getting late."

As Scarecrow moved toward the window, Y/n called out, "Will I see you again?"

He paused at the window, turning slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you will," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

And with that, he slipped out into the night with Craw flying after him, leaving Y/n with a mix of emotions and the lingering thrill of their conversation. 

-

After two calm weeks, Bruce finally agreed to Y/n resuming her nightly endeavors alongside him. Although he harbored lingering doubts about Scarecrow, Y/n managed to clam his concerns, assuring him that Scarecrow would not pose a threat.

As Y/n and Batman moved stealthily through the Narrows, the dense fog seemed to cloak their presence further, blending them into the night. This part of Gotham, with its tight alleys and towering buildings, felt like a world entirely its own.

"Keep your guard up," Batman whispered, his voice barely carrying over the mist. "The Narrows are unpredictable."

Y/n nodded, her senses on high alert. The Narrows always had a way of keeping you on your toes, its residents too used to the shadows. But tonight, there was an odd stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.

Suddenly, Batman stiffened, his head tilting slightly, the universal sign that he was receiving a communication through the cowl's integrated comms. Y/n watched him, waiting for instructions, knowing that whatever had just come through could very well dictate their next move.

After a moment, Batman turned to her, the glow from the city behind him casting a shadow over his face. "Riddler's causing trouble downtown. I need to go now."

"I'll stay here. Keep an eye on things," she offered, already mentally preparing to handle the Narrows alone.

Batman nodded, a silent message of trust and confidence in her abilities. "Be careful," he said before grappling away, disappearing into the night sky.

Alone now, Y/n felt the weight of the silence around her. The Narrows, with its whispering shadows and secrets, suddenly seemed even more foreboding. She took a deep breath, centering herself. This was her domain too, her responsibility.

"Thought he’d never leave," came a voice below her, drawing her attention downward.

As Y/n leaned over the edge of the rooftop. To her surprise, Scarecrow stood on the balcony below, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights.

"You've been here the whole time?" Y/n exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance.

"I've been waiting inside. The place was abandoned," Scarecrow replied calmly, gesturing towards the building behind him.

Y/n hopped down from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the balcony beside him.

"Wow, Batman and I need to step up our game," she remarked, impressed by Scarecrow's stealth.

"Haven’t seen you as Batgirl in a while," Scarecrow noted, his gaze lingering on her.

"Yeah, thanks to you. I was sidelined. Batman thought you were gonna go after me," Y/n explained, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Keeping you safe. Wise man," Scarecrow replied cryptically, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "More like overprotective," she whined.

Y/n could hear Scarecrow smirk behind the mask. "He has reason to be. You're not exactly easy to replace."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased.

"Where's Craw?" Y/n asked, looking around.

"Is my presence not enough for you?" Scarecrow teased.

Y/n side-eyed him, and Scarecrow chuckled. "He's back at my lab."

Scarecrow leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze scanning the darkened streets below. "So, what's the plan now? Are you patrolling solo?"

Y/n nodded. "Looks like it. Batman got called away to deal with Riddler downtown."

Scarecrow hummed in response. "Well then, I guess it's just you and me tonight."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You planning on causing any trouble?"

Scarecrow chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

They fell into an easy silence, the sounds of the city filling the air around them. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Scarecrow, an unexpected ally in the night.

Y/n cast a sidelong glance at Scarecrow, noting the unusual cleanliness of his attire. "Not the usual tattered suit?" she pointed out.

Scarecrow glanced down at his suit. "Well, one has to look clean to impress," he replied, glazing at her.

"I'm sure Batman doesn't mind how you look," Y/n quipped, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/n leaned her back against the balcony railing, her gaze meeting Scarecrow's with a hint of mischief.

"Although, I must admit, the rugged look suits you," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a spark of amusement. "Is that so? Perhaps I should stick to the tattered aesthetic then," he countered, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

Y/n's laughter rang out across the night sky, the sound mixing with the distant hum of the city below. "You do you, Scarecrow. Just don't expect me to swoon over every torn thread," she replied, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.

Scarecrow leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Ah, but what if I told you I have a whole wardrobe of tattered suits just waiting to impress you?"

Y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the playful tone in Scarecrow's voice. "Just for me? Scandalous.” 

"Well, if torn threads won't do the trick, I'll have to find another way to catch your eye." Scarecrow added.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? And what approach are you planning to take?"

He leaned in even closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I suppose I'll have to rely on my charming wit and irresistible charm," he replied, his tone filled with playful confidence.

Y/n chuckled, the sound light and melodious in the night air. "Smooth talker, are we?" she teased, her own playful demeanor matching his.

Scarecrow's grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Only when I'm in good company," he admitted, his voice softening slightly as he held her gaze.

Y/n's cheeks flushed at his words, her gaze lingering on his captivating eyes. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl," she teased, unable to suppress the flutter of excitement building within her.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through Y/n. "Only because you make it so easy," he murmured, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

"If I weren't on duty, I might have been tempted to steal a kiss from you right here," she teased, her fingers playfully tugging at his noose.

With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the abandoned apartment, leaving Scarecrow to ponder her words.

"You never know, the night is young," he remarked, his voice laced with playful innuendo.

"Oh, but I could never kiss a man whose face I've never seen," Y/n remarked.

"Oh, but the mystery adds to the allure, don't you think?" Scarecrow countered.

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. "Who says you haven't seen it before?"

Y/n halted in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned back to face him.

"So, I have actually seen you before?" she asked eagerly.

Scarecrow nodded, a hint of amusement in his demeanor. "Yes, indeed," he confirmed.

Her excitement grew, and she leaned in closer. "Did we talk?" she pressed.

"We did," he replied, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Her disbelief turned into sheer astonishment. "Oh my god! Seriously? Can you tell me more?" she exclaimed.

"We had quite a conversation, and we crossed paths a few times afterward," Scarecrow disclosed.

Y/n racked her brain, trying to recall any details, but she was drawing a blank. Feeling frustrated and a little foolish for not making the connection, she sighed. Despite now knowing what he sounded like without the mask, she still couldn't piece it together.

"Holy fuck! That's incredible!" Y/n exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from within her. "Can you give me just a tiny hint about what you look like?" Y/n pleaded.

"Sorry, but that would spoil the fun," Scarecrow replied.

Y/n persisted, "Well, do you at least know if I find you attractive?"

"Why do you want to know that?" Scarecrow questioned.

"Because it might have to kiss you after all," Y/n teased.

Scarecrow considered her words before responding, "...I don’t know. You didn't seem particularly impressed when you saw me, you were just a bit awkward at first. But to be fair, so was I."

There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, though Y/n couldn't be sure. "Perhaps my awkwardness was due to the fact I was starstruck?" she offered playfully.

Scarecrow sounded unconvinced. "Unlikely," he countered gently.

"Or… could it be because my attention was already captivated by someone else? Maybe a certain Scarecrow?" Y/n teased, aiming to lighten his spirits.

Scarecrow's demeanor shifted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "Why the sudden interest, Batgirl? You've never shown any feelings towards me before. What's changed?" he asked.

Y/n found herself confused by the unfolding situation. When had she begun to flirt with Scarecrow, and why was she so invested in making him believe she was romantically interested? Whenever this change occurred, she didn’t mind it.

"Woah. You started this, and don't act as if you weren't flirting with me too," Y/n retorted.

Scarecrow's tone never softened, his eyes narrowing as he studied Y/n's face. "And if I was? What are your intentions, Y/n?" he asked.

"I don’t know! I was just bantering, playing along… what were your intentions then? How do I know you're not just leading me on so you can gas me again?" Y/n retorted, turning the tables on him.

This clearly offended Scarecrow. "You know it was an accident."

"Do I?" Y/n challenged.

Scarecrow's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. "I know," she replied softly. 

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Eventually, Y/n spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Look, I didn't mean to upset you," Y/n said, her tone sincere.

Scarecrow took a deep breath, visible even through his attire. "And I apologize if I seemed defensive. It wasn't my intention."

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Both were treading uncharted waters, neither sure of where the current would take them but willing to navigate it together.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Y/n began, again with the playfulness in her voice, "do you wear contacts?"

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, "Prescription ones, yes."

"But not colored?" she probed further.

"No, why do you ask?" Scarecrow's response carried a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/n's tone softened, warmth seeping into her words, "It's just that... you have really pretty eyes."

"Again with the flattery?" Scarecrow teased.

"It's just the truth," Y/n replied with a grin.

"And here I was thinking I might get a kiss," Scarecrow joked.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "I told you, I’m not going to kiss a man I don’t know."

Scarecrow shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "That’s a shame."

The distant wail of sirens interrupted their banter.

"I should probably leave now," Scarecrow remarked.

"Yeah… see you later?" Y/n said, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Count on it. Until then... See you at Arkham," Scarecrow said, disappearing into the night.

Y/n's mind raced to piece together the puzzle he had inadvertently presented her. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, her heart skipped a beat. 

"Wait a minute!" she called out, but it was futile, Scarecrow was already gone.

Her mind buzzed with newfound clarity. Tall, lanky, formal speech, glasses, and now, a connection to Arkham. It all clicked into place with a sudden jolt of realization. How had she not seen it before?

"Holy fuck," Y/n breathed, her pulse quickening.

The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Scarecrow... was someone from Arkham. And in that moment, a single name echoed in her mind with chilling clarity.

The conversations they'd shared, the topics they'd discussed, all pointed to one undeniable truth. His fascination with fear, his strange approach to their encounters, it was all too familiar now.

The memory of their first meeting flooded back, and suddenly, it made perfect sense. The shock on his face, the careful choice of words. It was Dr. Crane, right before her eyes.

Y/n couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. How had she missed the signs? How had she not recognized the man behind the mask all along?

Now faced with this newfound knowledge, Y/n was at a crossroads. Should she maintain the facade of ignorance, carrying on as if nothing had changed? Or should she confront Dr. Crane, acknowledging the truth that lay between them? And what about the promise she'd made, the playful banter about kissing him. Was it all just a game, or did it hold deeper significance now?

One thing was certain, she couldn't risk revealing her discovery to Bruce. As she grappled with these thoughts, Y/n resolved to tread carefully, to navigate this delicate situation with caution. The truth had been revealed, but its aftermath remained to be seen.

-

Throughout the morning, Y/n felt restless as she awaited her encounter with Dr. Crane. Stuck in Dr. Young's office sorting files, she impatiently waited for the opportunity to find him. 

As soon as she finished with the files, Y/n swiftly stored them away and left the office, determined to seek out Dr. Crane in the secure section of Arkham.

As Y/n made her way through the corridors of Arkham, her mind raced with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, hoping to confront Dr. Crane. Suddenly, she spotted him in the distance, his figure unmistakable amidst the gloom. Their eyes locked, and she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knew she was coming.

Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of determination, Y/n hastened her steps, closing the gap between them with purpose. As she reached Dr. Crane, she grabbed his arm firmly, surprising him with her sudden boldness. His smirk widened slightly, betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity at her actions.

Without uttering a word, Y/n tugged him along, leading him towards his office. Dr. Crane offered little resistance, seemingly taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness. As they entered the office, Y/n swiftly closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.

"You sly motherfucker," Y/n breathed out.

Entwining her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer, her lips crashing against his in a fiery embrace. The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions, fueled by pent-up desire and the thrill of discovery.

Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden boldness, Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the intoxicating allure of her kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped them both.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private universe of passion and longing. But as the kiss deepened, an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment, reminding them of their surroundings.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Y/n and Dr. Crane gazed into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise and desire reflected in their expressions.

"I... I didn't expect..." Dr. Crane began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n's heart raced as she searched his eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation. But instead, she found a spark of something else, a glimmer of longing and vulnerability that mirrored her own.

"I'm sorry," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I just couldn't resist."

She noticed a blush creeping up Dr. Crane’s cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.

"Am I fogging up your glasses?" Y/n teased.

Dr. Crane chuckled nervously. "Not disappointed, I see," he replied, his tone unable to hide his embarrassment.

Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, I could never be disappointed in my Scarecrow," she said, her words filled with warmth.

Dr. Crane's blush deepened at the endearing nickname, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I hope you don't go around kissing all your superiors," he joked, attempting to deflect the attention.

Y/n grinned mischievously. "Just you, Dr. Crane," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Dr. Crane's lips curled into a soft smile at her response. "Seeing as circumstances change, you can call me Jonathan," he offered, his voice tinged with newfound intimacy.

"Well, Jonathan… I'm glad to finally know the man behind the mask," Y/n said with a smile.

"You better not go off telling your bat friend about this," Jonathan warned playfully.

"And lose my nighttime companion? No way," Y/n retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Jonathan chuckled at her response. Y/n’s eyes drifted to the closed office door.

“We should probably be getting back to work now," Y/n said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"We should, yes..." Jonathan began, his gaze lingering on her. "But I've never been one to follow the rules too closely," he added, drawing her closer into his embrace.

Y/n chuckled softly, realizing she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon. With a smile on her lips and a newfound connection in her heart, Y/n embraced the unpredictable journey ahead, knowing that whatever was between them was going to be complicated. But as Jonathan's lips met hers once more, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, realizing that wouldn’t want it any other way.

-

A/N: Thank you so much for the request 💚 I really did enjoy writing this fic, enemies hit differently when it's in superhero fics and I love it. Even with the fic being 15k long, I wasn't sure how to make them 'lovers', so I ended up just making them playfully flirt and just turn it into real attraction cause...slay. So yeah, it's a bit fast paced but I am still happy with what I've written and I hope yous are too :) It took me quite a while to write as I've just been so busy with Uni and work lately, finding time between has been difficult. Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed 💚

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Here's Where You'll Stay

"As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling. "

When Phantom comes down with Core Sickness it's up to John Constantine to save the ghost from fading.

This was originally based on a prompt from @nerdpoe but the story got so far from the original premise that I only ended up using dialogue. I put it under its own post instead of clogging up the notes for the prompt.

The title was taken from Today Has Been Okay by Sleeping at Last.

AO3 link

 

      As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! Plans to hole himself up in the House of Mystery with a bottle of scotch as he wallows in misery but still, plans!

   He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling. 

   The little ghost had imprinted on them like a stray cat. He had just sorta… wandered (phased) in one day when the door (the wall) was open (he phased his head through the fucking wall!!!) and space is cold! No one was just going to kick him back out the door! They aren’t monsters! Next thing you know the cat is eating your food and hovering over you in the medbay and then suddenly the Justice League is having the collective realization that they may have unconsciously adopted a ghost kid. 

   They already had two aliens, an Amazon, a king, the fastest man alive, a Robin Hood wannabe, a traumatized furry, and an entire department dedicated to magic and the occult. What was a protection spirit added to the mix? Besides, they were already attached. 

   So the Justice League was understandably distressed when the kid suddenly collapsed, claws leaving long scratches in the floor as he yelped in pain. Phantom was transferred to one of his favored rooms with Martian Manhunter remaining to babysit the ghost. The other leaguers on-site wasted no time in calling a meeting.

   If John had rushed a little faster to the Watchtower then that was between He, Him, and Himself. 

    Having sat silently through an hour of yapping, John was beginning to get frustrated. Figures that the idiots would call up the occult specialists and then not let the only two people who may have any idea as to what was going on get a word in edgewise. Usually, John preferred that they left him to his own devices, but if you were going to call up a consultant then you should probably fucking consult them! Regardless, he could say with a solid ninety-nine percent confidence he knew what was wrong with their resident spirit.

  “It’s core sickness.”

   “It’s what?”

   “Core sickness. Do none of you listen?” he tried his best to blow his cigarette smoke directly into Superman’s face. Clark squinted at him, scrunching his nose in distaste.

   Diana, ever the model of patience, merely waved the foul scent away. She folded her hands on the table, fingers interlocking. “I don’t believe I’ve heard the term.”

    John leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the table with two thunks. He grunted around his cigarette, waving at Batman to explain while he took another inhale. 

   Batman quietly glared at John’s feet as if he could shove them off the table by willpower alone. When the bat remained silent, John gestured at him again in a wordless 'go ahead'.

   "I am…" Batman gritted his teeth as if what he was about to say was physically painful, "unfamiliar with the term as well.

   "Holy shit, did Spooky just admit to not knowing something? Am I dreaming? Quick, Barry, pinch me!" Hal yelped, rubbing his arm. Barry settled back into his chair so quickly it was as if he had never moved, the only evidence being the red mark on the Green Lantern's skin.

   "Seriously bats? Isn't one of your boys undead? Shouldn't you know this?"

    Batman's glare sharpened. "That's none of your concern."

   "Wow. No wonder your revenant is so bloody pissed all the time. You can't even be bothered to learn about his medical needs. I wouldn't be holding out for Father of the Year if I were you."

   "Now now, boys. You're both pretty." Zatanna clapped, breaking the practically solid tension in the room. John huffed and chewed the stub of paper in his mouth, leaving Zatanna to explain. 

   "All ghosts and most undead have a core. It's… hard to describe." Zatanna hummed, tapping her finger to her chin for a moment, "Imagine if you only had one organ. It functions as your brain your heart and your digestive system all in one, but it's also the essence of your very soul. Core sickness is when the core is injured and fails to build itself back up. Kind of like breaking your leg but instead of healing the break just continues to grind together. It might still be usable for a bit, but then the bone keeps grinding and the edges start to crumble. It just keeps getting worse and worse until eventually your whole leg is shattered."

    There's a sharp inhale of breath as the league processes the information.

    "So what happens once the bone shatters?" Arthur eventually asks.

   "The core is exactly what it sounds like, it's the very core of a ghost. Ghosts are nearly indestructible, but their core..." Zatanna trails off. 

   "If the core shatters, so does the ghost." Batman nods, looking none too pleased. 

    "Well, we can't just let the kid shatter! How do we help set the break?"

    Zatanna shrugs, "I'm not sure… Constantine?"

    "Do I look like a ghost doctor?"

   "You're the most knowledgeable among us on supernatural beings," Batman growled out. The usually stoic shadow almost seemed panicked, or at least as panicked as they had ever seen him.

   John sighed and flicked ash from his fingers, "Pretty sure you gotta fix whatever shite caused the core sickness in the first place. Problem is we dunno what caused it."

   "So why don't we ask? Surely Phantom would know the cause of such an extreme ailment." Arthur drummed his fingers nervously on the armrest of his chair.

    Zatanna grimaced, “Ghosts can be…”

   “Aggressive?" John interrupted, "Destructive? More likely to rip your sorry face off than give you answers?”

   “I was going to say touchy.”

   John snorted, “That’s certainly a word for it.”

   Zatanna ignores him. "Whatever caused the core sickness is likely something personal. Asking certain questions of a ghost is considered taboo and often met with hostility."

   "Casper just might flay you like a fish."

   "So if we ask him we might get the snot beaten out of us, but if we don't Phantom dies? Or… dies again?"

   "Fades." John nods to Hal. 

   “Constantine should ask.”

   “I should what? ” John straightens in his chair, staring wide-eyed at Batman, “I know I was being a tosser earlier but I don’t think it constitutes murder. Are ya bloody mad?” 

   “Phantom likes you the most. He may be less inclined to fight you than a different leaguer, and in the event that it becomes a fight, you’re better equipped to handle it.”

    And that’s how John Constantine ended up on the other side of the door from an ill ghost, cursing up a storm as he prepared himself to poke a bear with a stick. A sick bear, but a bear nonetheless.  He has half a mind to portal straight out of the watch tower but much like the others, the kid has grown on him. Like a tumor. Or mold.

  A hissed sound of pain is enough to push John into the room. He raps gently on the door as he opens it. The kid is curled in J’onn’s lap, tail phased halfway through the floor as he shakes. The Martian is humming something as he runs a hand through Phantom’s hair. 

   John comes to a crouch at Phantom’s side, nodding J’onn towards the door as he gently disentangles the ghost's hands from the Martian’s cape. A single hazy green eye opens to a thin slit. 

   “Hey, kid.” 

    Phantom makes a strangled, warbling chirp but allows himself to be transferred over to John as the Martian leaves the room. The ghost’s claws poke through his shirt to prickle his skin as he clutches onto the fabric.

    “Not feeling too hot are ya, Casper?”

    Another shiver runs through Phantom’s body.

   “Listen, kid, I know you might not wanna talk about it, but it’s important. I need to know what brought this mess on.”

   Phantom growled. John could feel the threatening scrape of fanged teeth against his hand. Sucking in a breath, John prepared himself for a nasty bite. Only it never came. He should probably just stop while he was ahead, but Constantine was never known to stop pushing. 

  “I know, kid, but we can’t fix this if we don’t know the cause. Gotta know what we need to fix before we can fix it, and none of us wanna see ya fade, yeah?”

    Silence from the ghost, and then a nod.

   John let out a sigh of relief, “Alright, Casper. You’ve walked in on me drunk off my arse with a belt around my head. I reckon we’re close enough that you can tell me your issues.”

    Silence. 

   “How about this?  I’ll start listing some ideas off and you tap my hand. One tap for yes, Two taps for no. Sound easier?”

   One tap.

   “Alright. Did your core sustain any direct physical damage?” With John’s luck he might as well assume the worst.

   Two taps. Thank Christ.

   “Did you lose your haunt?”

   Two taps.

   “Unable to fulfill your obsession?”

   Two taps. 

   “Was your grave disrupted?”

   Nothing. Phantom’s finger hesitated, hovering over John’s palm. It started to lower as if he were about to tap but retreated once more. Another shiver of pain wracked through the ghost.

   John ran his fingers through Phantom’s hair like J’onn had been doing when he walked in.

   “Am I close, Casper?”

  One tap.

   “Did you…” John hesitated. He didn’t want to say it. Didn’t even want to even think about it. Not with the implications that the idea held, especially not with a kid, “Do you have a grave?”

    Two taps. 

   Constantine makes a strangled sound. Bollocks. Fucking hell. Is Phantom a murder victim? He’s just going to compartmentalize that for now. He’ll drink about it later. For now, he’s got a kid to help. A potentially murdered kid, Christ…

   “Is that what’s causing the core sickness?” Compartmentalise it, you plonker.

   One tap. 

   Great. So now John has to track down a murdered kid’s body and make him a grave. Wonderful.

    “Alright, kid. Here’s what's gonna happen. I’m going to make you the best damn grave you’ve ever seen. I’ll put it wherever ya want. ”

    Phantom’s eye opens again in interest, “Wherever?”

   “Wherever. Hell, I’ll put it on the bloody moon if that’s where ya want it!”

   “It doesn’t have to be on the moon but… I’d like to see the stars?”

   “I’ll make sure you can see the stars all the damn time, but first we gotta do the hard part. You know where your body is, kid?”

    Phantom gives a weak chuckle and mutters something into John’s shirt

   “Gonna have to speak up a bit, Casper.”

    When Phantom turns to look at John once more the haze is gone, but so is that tiny glimmer of hope and enthusiasm. The eyes that meet John’s own are dead. They look clouded over and sunken, empty of that natural ectoplasmic glow. They look like the eyes of a carcass. The fanged grin that stretches across his face is stiff and just as dead as his eyes.

   “I said if you want to find my body, you’re going to have to redefine your definition of a corpse.”

   Ah. Alright. What the fuck is that supposed to mean. 

   Phantom drops his grin, eyes closing as he hisses in pain again. “You don’t need to worry about that part. An empty grave is better than none.”

   No, actually, John feels like he does need to worry about that. He’s not entirely sure that he has a choice in the matter after that horrifying statement. He’ll compartmentalize it and get drunk about that later too. Right now he’s got a grave to make and a ghost to save.

____🥀____

   To be fair, John’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. All he knows is that he has to make a damn good grave for a damn good kid if he doesn’t want said kid to painfully fade from existence. He doesn’t know the first thing about headstones but he will bloody learn and pick the best- Granite? Marble? Whatever.- there is!

   He already has a spot picked out, he just needs to get a headstone. But for some reason, this feels way more stressful than it needs to be! He’s tempted to ignore the no smoking sign, fingers fidgeting with the cigarette box in his pocket. This is the fourth place he’s looked, and it’s hard to find anyone willing to make a headstone on such short notice. The backlog of orders has been surprisingly long.

   John doesn’t have the time to wait. Phantom doesn’t have the time. 

   So far it's all been the same boring, drab, grey rock with intermittent white marble. None of it is good enough. None of it fits the kid. It has to be perfect. He’s about to move on to the next place when- oh. Oh, that will do nicely!

____🥀____

   Constantine swings open the door without warning. Oliver startles out of his story with a yelp. Phantom giggles, fangs flashing. He covers his mouth with a hand and feigns innocence when Oliver glares at him good-naturedly. Oliver, a dad himself, is no match for the sick-child-murder victim-ghost energy the kid is wielding. His glare quickly crumbles, replaced with a fond expression and gentle hair ruffle. 

   Even with weakness weighing his limbs down, Phantom still tries to bat the hand away with a playful growl. He seemed a tad more lively than when John had last seen him. The updates he had been receiving from the league were mainly neutral. The League, or the Rotating Cycle of Babysitters as John liked to call them, had not noticed any further deterioration but had yet to report any improvement either. It was a pleasant surprise to see the ghost this active. 

   John allowed his mouth to tick up just a smidge, “Ready to go, kid?”

   “Already?” Phantom attention shifted to John, “It hasn’t been that long… has it?”

   “Nah. Only ‘bout two days or so.”

   “That was fast.” Phantom grunted as Oliver picked him up. Oliver whispered a quiet sorry to him as he carried Phantom to pass over to John.

    “I’ve been running myself ragged to get it all set up. Haven’t had a drink in hours.” 

   It really shouldn’t surprise John how light the kid was. He’d bet the ghost wouldn’t even weigh ten pounds soaking wet. Before the ghost could protest, he was slipping a blindfold over his eyes.

   “I may have done some bribery here and there to move things along.”

   “Constantine, you didn’t…” Oliver sounded disappointed but not surprised.

   John didn’t deign him with a response, instead shifting to hold Phantom with one arm and open a portal with the other. Stepping through to the surprisingly large backyard of the House of Mystery, he quickly closed it behind them before off-brand Robin Hood got any ideas and began the short trek to the gravesite. 

   "Can I take this off now?" His hand raised shakily without waiting for an answer.

   John gently slapped his wrist back down, "Quit messing with the blindfold. I just put the damn thing on!"

   Phantom groaned, his head dramatically falling back over John's arm, "Oh come on! What's a dying ghost gotta do around here to get his last wish fulfilled?"

    "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're already dead. And 'sides, I'm not letting you fade after all those goddamn hours I've put into teaching you portals. You're going to be haunting the Justice League for a while yet." If John held him a little tighter no one needed to know.

   "Whoever said that you could rest when you're dead lied ."

   "You've been a right thorn in my side between stealing my booze and hiding my cigs. I figure it's about time that I make myself your problem. It's called karma, Casper."

   Phantom snorted, leaning his head to rest against John's shoulder. The rest of the walk continued in silence aside from the occasional whimper of pain from Phantom and John's attempts at comforting platitudes. 

   It wasn't long before John finally made it up the small hill, grinning as he approached the grave marker. The stone slab sat on the highest point of his lot, as close to the stars as possible. He had been so meticulous about its placement that he was almost certain he had every inch of the garden memorized until his eyesight blurred, surprisingly without the aid of alcohol.

   "Alright, Phantom. Remember to take it easy," John lifted the blindfold.

   Phantom's chest hitched in the mimicry of a gasp, stilling in the older's hold.

   The headstone was made of black granite with golden flecks. The man at the shop had called it Galaxy Granite. It was a rather fitting name. The headstone looked like it had been cut from the night sky itself, the stars sparkling even under sunlight. An etching of Ursa Minor sat above the inscription, Polaris bigger than the rest of the constellation. Dainty white letters ran across the stone. Phantom floated over as if in a trance to run his fingers over it.

In Loving Memory Of

Danny Fenton

12 February 1989

12 February 2003

Beloved Son, Brother, Hero

   Phantom leaned his head against the stone. John left him to have his moment, retreating into the House of Mystery to grab the final touch. The bouquet was sort of garish. The colors of the forget-me-nots, beardtongue, zinnias, star grass, poppies, and lewisias clashed together, but the aesthetic appeal wasn’t why he had chosen these particular flowers. He remerged with purpose, gently carrying the bouquet to ensure the flowers remained intact. Phantom hadn’t moved. 

   John crouched next to the kid, gently laying the flowers down against the headstone, “You oka-”

   John made a noise of surprise as he was tugged forward. The momentum caused him to collapse from his heels onto his knees. The ghost burrowed underneath his chin, keeping him from falling forward anymore. Phantom’s arms tightened around him.

   “Thank you.” His voice already sounded stronger than it had the day before. 

   “Yeah,” John snaked an arm around the ghost’s shoulders, holding him close even as his shirt dampened, “Don’t mention it, kid.”

[dcficrecs]

I'm a Good Pretender

By on shipNslash on AO3

I just finished the first chapter of this, so my apologies if the rest of the fic isn't as good, but the last line of the first chapter was actually so genius I had to share. Minor spoilers for how Dick finds out Bruce is Batman, I guess. Although everyone knows that he does find out eventually, so the only spoiler is how. In this scene, Batman is interrogating Tony Zucco's old cellmate. He refuses to talk and Batman just knocks him out.

The whimpering tapers off until it's just blubbering and then nothing but unconscious breathing. Batman drops him with a sigh, stopping only to zip tie his hands to his apartment radiator.

What a waste of his time-

Creak.

Batman freezes, melting into the shadows out of instinct more than any sort of training. He peeks around the corner, ready for- for…

For anything but that.

Crawling in through the seventh story apartment window is a young Richard Grayson, dark jeans and black hoodie the only thing separating him from the glittering Gotham backdrop of flickering street lamps and red and blue sirens. He pads across the creaky floor on silent feet and stops only when he sees the unconscious resident.

The boy mutters something in an unfamiliar language but it's clearly a swear.

Bruce, never one to waste a dramatic entrance, steps forward a foot. "It's a little late to be out of bed, Richard Grayson," he whispers, voice still as loud as a gunshot in the silence.

"Câcat!" To his credit, when the kid jumps three feet in the air, he lands without a sound. Even more impressively, he doesn't have any other reaction besides for dropping a hand almost imperceptibly into his pocket- a weapon? "Holy fuck. You're Batman."

He cocks his head to the side, trying to get a clearer shot with his contacts. "Yes. How’d you scale seven flights of an exposed building?”

"I’m good at climbing,” the boy says dismissively. “You know my name. Why?" Chin tilted back, eyes a bright splash of anger in the dark- Richard is more confident in this moment than Bruce Wayne has ever been in his entire life.

Instead of answering, Batman nudges the man between them with his boot. "I know it's not a coincidence that you're here. What was your plan?" He's burning with curiosity.

"I- I was going to make him tell me where Tony Zucco is. I know he killed my parents and the last person he associated with was this piece of shit." Richard sounds angry. Fascinating. "What'd you do? He’s not dead, is he?"

"I don't kill people, Richard."

"Stop saying my fucking name unless you tell me how you know it."

Bold.

"Your face has been in the news a lot lately. I've been trying to solve your case."

The kid seems to crumple. "...why? The police obviously don't give a shit."

"That's not true. It's not exactly police procedure to discuss the details of a double homicide with the couple’s orphaned eleven year old." Bruce almost winces -that wasn't good socializing- but Batman doesn't care about those types of things so, for now, neither does Bruce.

Richard doesn't seem to care either. "First I'm going to catch him and then I'm going to kill him. And if you think anything is going to stop me, you're not as smart as they say," he spits out.

Bruce almost laughs, if only in disbelief. Who is this kid?

Instead, he pages Gordon with the address. There's usually an officer patrolling this block. "Listen, kid-"

"Dick."

"Excuse me?"

"My name." God, Bruce feels like he's looking in a mirror. For all that the boy doesn't look anything like an eleven year old Bruce Wayne, that burning rage is achingly familiar. "Nobody in this stupid fucking city might care about me, but I have a name and it's not Richard," he spits like a swear. "It's Dick. Dick Grayson."

Okay, now you know how he met Batman. Here's how he met Bruce (The second time, anyway. The first is at the circus, after his parents' murders). And for context, Miss Lopez is Dick's social worker. More context is that Alfred met with Dick at the orphanage and said that Bruce offered to buy Dick's parents' trailer and all their belongings and give it to Dick whenever he was ready.

Carefully pulling on a more refined accent (Mama loves southern France, she thinks their dialect is ‘fancy’), he jerks to his feet and gasps. “Mister Pennyworth! You came!”

“I told you I would,” the old man says simply, pushing the door all the way open.

And behind him stands-

“Do you remember Mister Wayne, Richard?”

Dick almost collapses under the weight of-

Strong arms, wrestling him to the ground. “Don’t look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just don’t look.”

So, yeah, maybe he’s off his game a little, but the first thing that pops out of Dick’s mouth is, “you don’t look like a billionaire.”

Mister Pennyworth laughs in a distinctly British way while said billionaire makes a face that Dick would hazard to describe as a pout. “It’s early,” he mumbles, shoving his pale hands into the pouch of his hoodie.

Aw hell, Dick thinks and suddenly feels guilty. Even though he really shouldn't because it’s true. He’s dressed like a homeless person, layers of old clothes and mismatched aesthetics, and he even has a ratty backpack over his shoulders. Shouldn’t a billionaire have someone to carry his stuff for him?

They’re saved from the awkwardness by Miss Lopez, who sweeps into the room in her usual chaotic way, her stupidly big bag overflowing with all the stuff she never seems to need.

She doesn’t even acknowledge the two men already in the room. “Really, Richard? Again?” She asks, sounding so tired.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whimpers. (He’s not). “I won’t do it again, Miss Lopez, I swear!” (He will.)

He watches her deflate. “Oh, Richard. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Can’t I just go back to-”

“Please don’t bring up the circus again-”

“But it’s where I belong-”

Mister Wayne interrupts, his voice painfully quiet. (Mama says enunciation makes the difference between talking and speaking.) “I'll take him.”

…what?

Dick and Miss Lopez both freeze. She just now seems to realize that they’re not alone and Dick can pinpoint the exact moment she recognizes who’s standing in front of her.

“Oh my god. You’re- Oh my god. Hello, Mister Wayne!” She gushes, the hand not holding up her stupidly big bag reaching up to swipe at her hair.

Mister Wayne doesn’t exactly look like the type of person to judge someone for a bad hair day but even Dick feels the urge to fidget under the weirdly intense stare. He knows better, though, and keeps himself perfectly still while Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth start talking about things like state certified foster homes and mandatory wait periods and generous donations.

He follows along with that side of the conversation with perfect ease. People with enough money can do whatever they want and Mister Wayne has ‘more money than God’ according to the cop who brought him in. The only thing he doesn’t understand is…

“Why?” He asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

Intense eyes lock onto him. “Hm?”

“Why are you offering to help me?” Dick asks. He knows he’s blowing his act. The optimistic orphan would never look a gift horse in the mouth. But he just doesn’t get it. “You don’t even know me.”

Mister Wayne shifts so that he’s facing Dick head on instead of Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth, who are looking over a thick legal document. “You don’t have to. I’ll still help in any way I can. If you'd rather try a different foster home, I'll pay for a lawyer,” he murmurs and Dick gets the impression that this is more talking than Mister Wayne has done in a long time.

To be fair, he seems harmless. Dick doubts he’s a pervert or something. There are plenty of less famous orphans he could have snatched up if all he wants is to cop a feel. And he definitely isn’t a good actor, so this has to be at least a little genuine.

When Dick doesn’t answer, Mister Wayne sighs and crouches so that they’re almost eye level. He’s very tall and Dick is very not tall, okay? And he doesn’t say any stupid shit either, like ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘how are you doing?’ that everyone else seems so insistent on. Instead, he pulls an envelope out of his backpack and offers it to Dick wordlessly..

“Um. Thanks.” Dick takes it, checking to make sure that Miss Lopez isn’t watching before opening it-

Holy fucking shit.

Mama and Papa’s faces smile back at him, a chubby cheeked Dick balancing on their shoulders in front of the Eiffel Tower.

This time, the tears in his eyes are real. “Mister Wayne…”

“I want to help, Dick,” he whispers.

There’s a long list of thoughts running through Dick’s head right now.

He’d somehow forgotten that Mister Wayne has his parent’s trailer. He wants to kiss the picture of his family, safely sealed inside of a little plastic bag. He knows that he’s going to juvie. He knows that Mister Wayne is his best chance at getting out of juvie. He knows it’ll be way easier to sneak out of some big mansion than it will be to break out of a detention center. He knows that Tony Zucco is still alive and roaming free.

But all he can think about is the fact that he’s only told one person in this god forsaken city his real name and it was Batman. So why did Bruce fucking Wayne just call him Dick?

Literally holy shit. I love obscure details that the reader can miss, sometimes is supposed to miss, becoming important later on. I sure as hell missed it.

This fic is good so far, but one thing I know I don't like is the tags saying that Dick's parents were slightly abusive. That's just too out of character for them for me. But I am really into any 'Dick Grayson becoming Robin' fics right now, so I'm trying not to be picky. If this fic does end up being good despite that, I'll probably post more excerpts here.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

Weird thing, but I miss Alfred.

It's shaping up to be one of the longest "deaths" of a famous, legacy secondary character, at least in modern DC history. And in that way, it served the narrative pretty well, subverting the usual problems with death in comics. Sure, it was all over an ego trip some bad former Editor in Chief decided to have on a whim; King didn't really plan to kill off Alfred so nonchalantly and it wasn't meant to stick. People know that, it's well documented and they even had foreshadowing that he was Clayface being a part of the plan. So the fact that it sticks should be lauded, right? This is, after all, how death works.

And, sure, it made some characters grow. Bruce, specifically, moving to a brownstone and taking care of his son all by himself is a genuinely cool idea and I'm enjoying seeing him bond with Damian in ways he never bonded with the others. Dick as a billionaire philanthropist dedicating his newfound fortune to Alfred, his late sponsor, is a genuine stroke of genius. Actual change and progress in comic books, holy shit. A feast Spider-Man fans don't even remember how it tastes!

Yet it sometimes feels like you're reading a Batman book in an empty house, because Alfred is gone, and it was over nothing. An unplanned death that took him suddenly with no real gravitas or preparation. Not exactly the same -- okay, not the same by a wide margin, -- but it kinda reminds me of how Buffy fans reacted to The Body.

The character was here, and now they're not, and it genuinely feels empty and real in a way you're not really expecting popcorn media to feel. There's no power fantasy or melodrama or anything. Someone broke his neck and threw his body on the floor, and that's the end of Alfred Pennyworth.

And like, yeah, man, people obviously write stories about other versions that are alive and flashbacks. Nobody is literally gone from comics, things don't move forward *exclusively*, Alfred is a brand unto himself and will never be truly gone. It's the same reason why aging up Jon Kent isn't that big a deal; Super Sons will release as long as someone gets the approval, it's just going to be a flashback. It's fine. But to see the world having to move forward without him has been quite something, you know? People have had big personal moments that he's not there for.

Dick and Barbara got back together, Jason moved to the Hill, Tim got a boyfriend -- it's the kind of stuff these kids could rely on Alfred to talk about, or to help out with, or to simply Be There as a zealous figure for them, and he's just. Not. And the story moves on all the same, yet now it feels like there's a panel missing, somewhere.

Albeit they had like two or three individual times when the actual fucking ghost of Alfred Pennyworth came to say goodbye and peace out to Bruce, I still think it's a pretty solid guess that he'll come back before the end of the decade. The nature of comics means sometimes you need a back from the dead story to keep things fresh, and those can be done extremely well -- Resurrection of Magneto might be the best thing released in the Krakoa era, as far as fully realized minis go. But...

Shit, Alfred missed Damian going to school, you know? That's really sad. I miss Alfred. In a way I'll never miss Uncle Ben or the Wayne couple, I really miss opening a monthly and reading the latest wit out of Alfred's mouth at his silly son and his funny crusade. The nature of comic books being infinite until they're cancelled means this sort of relationship just doesn't get cut like this very often, and I can't recall the last time I *cared* when they tried cutting it.

It will be an awkward day when he comes back and it's back to normal business again, honestly. There's now an understanding of what Batman is without Alfred that I feel they don't have a great way of addressing. Don't really envy the writer who gets the job.

[xbadgerbearx]

chapter 2: taxi

word count: 2.8k

Sonata in Darkness: [1] ... [3]

“Anni? Baby!?”

Selina marched through the apartment and quickly left you to search the rooms. The entire apartment was destroyed: furniture was flipped over, glass littered the floor, and the cats swarmed you as you entered. Unbelievable. Your friend’s muffled voice was calling out for her lover and growing ever more desperate. Staring ahead in mute shock, you pet the nearest cat numbly as Batman shuffled through some papers. 

“Jesus, what’re they gonna do to her? She didn’t do nothin’.” Selina sighed as she took her place beside you. “Shit, they took my phone…”

“-the killer posted the following message on social media. We should warn you, the video is very disturbing.” Focusing your attention to the TV that was left on, it cut to a self recorded video with heavy breathing.

“Hello, people of Gotham,” the video started. “This is the Riddler speaking. On Halloween night, I killed your mayor because he was not who he pretended to be.” Batman was transfixed. “But I am not done… heeeree is another-” The camera flipped around to reveal a bound, naked man with a rat-cage contraption imprisoning his head. “-who will soon be losing face. I will kill again, and again, and again… until our Day of Judgment, when the truth of our city will FINALLY be unmasked.” The Riddler gleefully said goodbye as the news reporters started talking again. “Commissioner Savage served a distinguished 30 year career-“

“Holy shit, I seen that guy too,” Selina shakily said.

“Yeah,” you noted, “At the club.”

“The Iceberg Lounge?”

“44 Below,” you corrected Batman.

“What’s that?”

Selina rolled her eyes. “The club within the club—the real club… It’s a mob hangout.”

“Is that where you work?” Batman inquired.

She paused for a brief moment. “No, I just work the bar upstairs so I see ‘em come in, but she,” gesturing to you, “works below.” 

The man glanced at you before prodding Selina. “Who?”

“Everybody. Lotta guys who shouldn’t be there, I can tell you that. Your basic, upstanding citizen types.”

“You’re going to help me on this,” he demanded, glancing back and forth between the two of you. “For your friend.” You and Selina shared a look. 

“You got a lot of cats,” commented the man after your lack of replies. 

“I have a thing about strays,” your feline roommate confessed.

Batman turned to leave, “You’re not safe here,” he concluded, giving you one last look before stepping out of the broken door.

Selina called after him, “We can take care of ourselves.”

“Can we?” you whispered.

“Of course. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“-with two public figures now dead in just the last two nights, and only days before the election, police and city officials are left searching for a killer, and hoping to find him before he kills again…”

————————————————————————————————

“Ow—I don’t know about these things.”

“I need to see in there, this hunting ground,” Batman mumbled to Selina, too engrossed in setting up his equipment in an abandoned diner. Putting in the contacts he had given wasn’t much of a challenge, nor too painful. Squeezing your eyes tight, you made sure that they slid comfortably into position. 

Selina looked bothered as she picked lint at her trench coat. You both were wearing your typical club uniforms, although you had on a full length faux mink coat over yours. “Why am I starting to feel like a fish on a hook? I’m just looking for Annika-“

“That’s why you’re staying upstairs,” Batman interrupted, only sparing a glance in her direction, “and she’s going down.” He pointed at you but didn’t take his eyes off his surveillance equipment.

“It’ll be just like a normal night, Cat,” you reassured. “Can’t be too different from what we already do. You remember the plan?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off. “I stay upstairs and look out for trouble while you go downstairs and scurry around like a rat. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome here will, uh, do whatever it is he’s gonna do.”

Done setting up his tech, Batman turned around with his attention directed to Selina. “Look at me,” he ordered. She faced him and he inspected the lenses very closely, checking for any imperfections. He nodded his head slightly. “Looks good.” He took a step in your direction, “Now you. Look at me.” Facing him, you looked into his eyes, trying to find anything. His hand cupped your jaw as he scanned them, although judging by the length of time it took compared to Selina’s, something had to have been wrong. 

“Everything okay?” you wondered. 

He tilted your head side to side before answering, “Perfect.” He took a few more seconds before finally looking away and reached into his pocket. Earpieces. You and Selina each took one and made your way to the building. 

“He better find Annika,” Selina growled. 

“I’m sure we’ll find her,” you replied. “We just have to get through this tonight.”

She sighed, “ Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Making your way into the club, you both strutted in silence until Selina broke it in the dressing room. “Rat?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe, please,” she muttered, taking a hold of your hand and squeezing it. “I can’t lose both of you.”

“Oh, Selin—of course I’ll try. Stay safe too,” you soothed before taking a turn to the 44 Below entrance, leaving Selina. 

The bouncer, Kenzie, smiled at you, “Long time no see, baby, how’sit goin’?”

“That’s one of the guys I got into it with the other night.”

Hearing Batman’s voice in your ear made you jump a little, you forgot he was there.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Looks like I broke his nose.”

You played it off with a short laugh, “It’s alright, I was just spacing out. I’m here for my shift.”

“Kenzie, Williams. He’s an off duty cop.”    

“Yeah, I figured,” he smiled politely. “Have a good night tonight. Drain those men of their tips, am I right?” Sharing a laugh, he let you into the elevator that takes you underground. The doors shut.

“Friend of yours?”

“No. He works here most nights so I see him often.”

“Hm.”

The doors opened up to reveal the party; it had a relaxing vibe with the techno music and dim lights. Unfortunately, you had to pass by a valley of men who sized you up like meat.

“Don’t look away,” Batman ordered when your gaze lowered. “I need time to make I.D.s—“

“Great,” you huffed. Lifting your head, you walked slowly and smoothly while trying to analyze all their faces.

“These guys have a little trouble with eye contact, don’t they?” You noted the irritation in his voice. 

“What? You don’t like men lookin’ at you like candy?” He said nothing back. You strolled around the area a bit, not picking much up, before heading to a more secluded part. It was lined with booth tables and small lamps. 

Pausing to lean on a wall for a break, a man nearby called out, “Excuse me?” Following the sound led you to a tall, average man with glasses that sat at a booth. You’ve only seen him a couple times before–a quiet type–but you strolled on over. “I was, uh, wondering where the bathrooms were?” He played with his hands nervously; he looked as if this was his first time talking to a girl before. It was a little cute. 

“Parker, Patrick. A nobody. Leave him”

Ignoring the man in your ear, you smiled sweetly. It was literally your job, after all. “Of course, sugar, it’s down that hallway, second door on the left.”

He bashfully looked away, “Do you mind showing me? I went that way earlier but couldn’t find it.”

You gave it a quick thought. I mean, he didn’t look like a drop head—why not?  “Sure thing,” you volunteered. He rose from his seat and waited to follow you patiently. Hooking arms with him, you led him away. His face went a deep red.

The man pulled out $10 and tried handing it to you, but you gave him a weird look. “Oh, am I not supposed to tip you?”

“For showing you the bathroom?”

“Er, yeah?”

You laughed, genuinely. Poor baby must not get out much. “No, hon, you don’t need to do that. Keep your money.”

The man’s smile faltered before his awkward demeanor came back. Playing with his hands, he asked, “Would you mind keeping me company for a while? I don’t really know anyone.”

You entertained the idea before Batman intervened, “He’s wasting your time. Leave him now.” 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll make sure to look for you throughout the night, though,” you apologized. He was already starting to grow on you.

His face went a bit pink before responding, “O-oh, that’s alright. I’ll keep an eye out as well. Have a goodnight.” He slipped behind the door and into the bathroom before you could say anything else. Sighing, you made your way back towards the booths and perused the aisle, continuing to I.D. people. A man, mid-drop, looked at you starstruck so you quickly avoided eye contact.

“Wait. Who was that—?” 

“I got plenty a good look—“

“—Look back—“

“If I do that, It’s not gonna—

“I need to see his face—“

Sighing with an eye roll, you stop in your tracks and peered over your shoulder. The man took it as an invitation to stumble over. 

“That’s the D.A.… Gil Colson.”

“God, happy? He’s comin’ over.”

“Talk to him.”

“Hey, how you doin’? I’m Gil,” Colson said with a dopey grin.

Throwing on a plastic smile, you fawned, “Oh my— aren’t you the D.A.?”

“Yeah—!”

“—wow! I’ve seen you on TV!” 

“Is that right? I’ve seen you work here a couple times when I come in. It’s nice to see a familiar face ‘cause people are a little on edge.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I live on the edge.”

“That so? I like that,” he chuckled. “Do you want to come over?”

“Sure,” you purred. He led you to a group sitting at the table and offered a seat.

“This is Travis, Ritchie, Glen,” he started. 

“That’s half the D.A.'s office.”

“And you know Carla here, right? That’s Cheri—don’t mind her, she’s taking a break.” She had drops in her hand. “We’re just here to drown our sorrow,” he concluded before offering you some drugs.

“Oh, no thank you—but don’t mind me, sweetie, you go ahead and enjoy.”

“Thanks. I got a lot on my shoulders with that psycho running around.”

“He’s wasted.”

“No shit,” you blurted out in response. 

Gil Colson looked at you for a second before chuckling, “I like this girl.” He thought you were responding to him. You giggled. “I mean, this Riddler, he’s—he’s going after the most powerful people in the city. He knows so much—“

“He doesn’t know shit, man,” his buddy hissed.

“What’re you talking about? Yeah he does! What about that rat—“

“Hey, hey, Gil, come on. Think you maybe had a little too much. Slow down,” a different buddy chimed in.

“The rat. Ask him about the rat.”

Looking through your lashes, you placed a hand on his thigh and caressed it with your thumb. “Hey, you got a vermin problem? What’s goin’ on, honey,” you said, voice sultry.

He dragged a hand down his face before taking a deep breath, “I mean, there was a rat. We had an informant—we had big time information on Salvatore Maroni. That’s how we got him out of the drops business.”

“He’s talking about the Maroni case.”

“But if this guy knows, it’s gonna come out. And when it does, this whole city is gonna come apart.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear this,” a girl said beside Gil. “This is the kind of pillow talk that got that Russian girl disappeared.”

“Hey, what do you know about that,” you demanded, your demeanor changing instantly.

“Keep him talking.”

“Does anybody want a drink,” the girl asked as she stood to leave. You stood too, about to follow her, when—

“Stay put. I’m informing Selina right now.”

You seated yourself and smiled politely back at Gil. He took another drop; you started to feel uncomfortable. Just as you thought it wouldn’t end, a nerd in shining glasses appeared.

“It’s you again,” he exclaimed. He seemed less jumpy and a little more relaxed—confident, even. ‘Maybe he had a drink to calm his nerves?’

“Hi! Did you need somethin’, hon?”

“Uh, yeah, can you help me with something over here for a second?” He led you away from the D.A. and back to his original table. You both took a seat.

“What’d you need?”

“Oh, nothing,” he confessed. He went a bit pink again before continuing, “I was keeping an eye out and saw how uncomfortable he was making you.”

You gushed; how sweet was that? “Aww, honey, I appreciate that,” you thanked. “Been a while since someone decent showed up around here.”

Batman returned in your ear, “What happened? Where’s the D.A.?” He sounded frustrated, but something told you it had more to do with Selina than you leaving Gil.

“Men these days don’t know how to treat a lady right anymore,” the man in glasses sighed. He extended his arm in greeting, “I’m Eddie.” You accepted his hand. “I can’t wait ‘til this city finally undergoes real change.” 

“Oh, you talkin’ about Bella Reál?”

“Even bigger than that. I’m waiting for some real, powerful, and lasting change—something that’ll really open the water gate. All the powerful people in Gotham just lie and deceit people. Aren’t you tired of that?”

“You’re wasting time with this clown. Go ahead and leave.”

“No.”

“No? You like corruption?”

“What?” You realized that you had responded to Batman instead of Eddie. “No—I mean—Yes, the amount of criminals out here are crazy. There’s almost more in office than there is on the street,” you scoffed with a grin.

Eddie mirrored your grin, “Exactly! Man, is it refreshing to find someone so like-minded. Say, what did you say your name was?”

You didn’t give him your name earlier, and you were about to when—

“Times up. Leave or I’ll come get you myself.”

Huffing, you smiled back at Eddie. “I’m sorry, sugar, I’m gonna have to call it a night. My feet are killing me.”

“Oh, did you need help walking back to your-“

“No thank you! I got it. You enjoy the rest of your evening,” you excused yourself with a wink as you left the table. Halfway to the exit you see Oz and Falcone.

“Hiya, baby.”

“Hey, Oz.”

“Hey…” Falcone crooned. “Been a while since I’ve seen you, gorgeous. How’ve ya been?” He reached out and caressed your chin with his thumb.

“I’ve-I’ve been okay… I was just, um, I was just finishing my shift.”

Falcone smirked, “Well… don’t be a stranger.” You left for the bathrooms after he walked away.

“You know Carmine Falcone?”

“I work at the mob spot, of course I know him.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a relationship with him.” He sounded angry.

“I don’t have a relationship with him. Never did. What’s your problem?”

“Well, that’s not what it looked like.”

“You don’t believe me? You really gonna be an asshole about this?” Your reflection stared back at a very pissed off self. 

“Are you going to tell me the truth? You seeing another one of these mobsters? Some loser nobody?”

“Okay, I’ve had enough,” you hissed. “I’m risking my neck down here—I’ve done everything you’ve said, and now you're turning on me?” You pulled out the contact case and reached for your eyes. “What’s it matter to you if I’m seeing some ‘loser’ anyway?”

“Wait—what are you—?

“I’ve had enough of your bullshi—“ Batman’s camera immediately cut out as you took out the contact lenses. Taking a long, deep breath, you calmed yourself and pocketed the contact case. He could hear you mumbling curses, up until you remember you had the bud in your ear and took it out. Surprisingly, by the time you left the club you found Selina waiting and leaning against a wall.

“He piss you off too?”

“You could say that,” you mumbled. Linking arms with her, you set off to find a taxi. Before you could, the door behind you slammed open. It was the D.A.

“Hey! Lost you in there.”

“Yeah, I gotta go.”

“Oh. You—you need a ride? I’m right there,” Colson pointed to his car just off to the side.

“No, thank you, we’re good,” Selina barged. “Taxi!”

“Will I see you ‘round?” You glanced at him before rushing into the taxi cab that pulled over. The driver set off, leaving him in the dust.

Inside his car, however, was a very angry man in glasses. “You just don’t know how to treat a lady right, do you?”

================================================

[elvesandlanterns]

Reacting to the DC- Verse

DC-Verse Theater

A Theater appeared in front of more than a dozen heroes. They were seemingly teleported in the middle of the day, none of their phones worked past the camera and the bats were slowly starting to tear the building apart. All of the doors were locked and none of them could open them, even with kryptonian strength.

The most concerning part was that they were all dressed as civilians.

Everyone in the room; Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, GL Hal, Green Arrow, Flash Barry, Aquaman, Dick, Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cassandra, Damian, Duke, Barbra, Wally, Roy, Jon, Konner and Bart.

“Well we might as well raid the concession stand,” Wally could hear the other heroes eyes roll and can’t find it in him to care. Impulse beats him to the popcorn maker and screams as he opens the cabinet.

“Bart!” There on the floor hair tangled on the edge of door of the cabinet splayed out was a girl. She wasn’t breathing. “What the fuck what the absolute fuck.” Wally had seen plenty of horrible things in his job both of them but this entire situation unsettled him completely. “Barry I think you need to see this.”

The heroes knew better to crowed a body and allowed Barry and Batman to pass freely… they still stared tho. She looked short, half of her body still stuffed into the drawer making it hard to tell. Barry reached out and flipped her over. He need to check if maybe just maybe she was breathing. Flash stopped at his colleges intake of breath. Face up everyone could see a stained patch of her black hair was white.

Jason cussed up a storm.

Before Barry could begin touch her, the body arched up and gasped loudly.

“Holy shit back up man.”

Oh she was a live. That some how left the group with more questions.

She contorted, pulling her body out of the space. She looked …normal. Short, black hair, black eyes, tawny skin scarred. She stood up and stretched.

Clark blanched, “She’s breathing.” They got a few looks, “She definitely wasn’t breathing before.”

Jason couldn’t take it, “What are you?”

She stopped mid stretch, and shrugged, “I’m a chimera.” Her grin was all teeth.

“Well then let’s get this over with.”

“Get what over with, do you perhaps know why we are here miss -?” Journalist powers go!

“Well to watch the multiverse of course! Or at least that what I assume my boss wants me to do, can’t really think of another reason you lot would be here.”

“The multiverse? What’s that…” Clark asked.

The girl stopped and stared at him, “Tugh, you can all drop the act. I know who all of you are.”

“I don’t know-“

She pointed them out, “Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, yadda yadda yadda. Come on the faster we do this the faster you get sent home.”

The heroes started spewing outrage.

Diana spoke directly to her first tho, “Who are you? What is your bosses plan?”

The raven haired girl walked up to a seat and sat down, “Like I said I’m Chimera, and my boss probably wants me to show you guys the multiverse so you guys can I dunno learn a lesson or become stronger or some bull crap like that.”

Diana nodded, “And you have that ability? The ability to just see these things?”

“ I’d be a pretty bad Watcher if I didn’t!”

“Watcher?”

“Yup it’s like my title and rank, the infinite cosmos to watch and no one to share it with. “

Diana was growing concerned sure the girl knew things she shouldn’t but-

“So no worries about me spilling any secret identities, I’m entirely constrained to this dimension.” Her voice got softer annoyed, “Trust me I’ve tried.”

Diana really didn’t like the way that sounded.

“Oh and don’t worry about your world catching on fire without you it’s on pause till you get back.” The girl said flipping the screen on her phone, that presumably worked.

The heroes all looked around at each other, were they really doing this?

Roy was done, “As intriguing as this all is what if I don’t want to? Time being paused or not I have a baby at home to feed.”

She kept on scrolling, “Funny you say that as if we have a choice.���

“We?” Diana shared a look with Clark, she really wasn’t liking how this all sounded. Did they need to save this girl?

“Yup,” she made a popping sound on the ‘p’, “We, what part of this being my job do you not understand ?”

Diana didn’t have a response ready for that.

Jon floated over to the girl and sat down in the seat next to her, ignoring his dads whispers (and Damian’s yells) not to approach.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at our options.”

-

Note: Feel free to send me anything you’d like them to react to!!!

[originaltyphoonkryptonite]

Chapter 24: The Gala: Part 3: Holy Kisses Batman!

Damian pov

I followed the slimy reporter that bothered Duff and found him talking to Tiffany Tyler.

"So did you get anything on her?", Tyler asks.

"She really didn't answer but the way she dodged the questions makes me think this is a fake engagement."

"Goody! If we expose her as the gold-digger she is, Mr. Wayne would never allow Richard to marry her." she giggles.

"And I get paid the $2,000 we agreed on."

"I think not." I say as I appear beside them. "You will shred those notes and delete that recording you made from your hidden recorder."

"And why would I do that?", the reporter asks.

"Because Duff did not agree to that so called interview."

"We don't have to do anything." Tyler says with crossed arms.

"If you don't, I will make your life miserable."

"And how will you do that, little boy?", the reporter asks me.

"By making it where you will never write for a newspaper, magazine, or anything of that sort again."

"Listen here you little-", he says as he started to point his filthy finger at me.

"Is there a problem?", I hear Father ask while I just smirked.

"N-no not at all Mr. Wayne.", he said as he started to shake along with Tyler.

"Good. Now please do hand over that notebook and recorder."

The man does so and Father takes them.

"Mr Wayne, I only asked this man to do this to protect Richard. I only had his best interest at heart.", Tyler cried out.

"It didn't look like it.", father replies as he ripes the pages up and deletes the recording. "Alfred, please escort this man out of my home."

"Right away, sir.", Pennyworth says as he does that.

"Now Miss Tyler, you will leave Dick and Zella alone, am I clear?", father asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Crystal.", she replies as she storms away back to her family.

"A change of heart Father?", I ask as we head over to where Grayson was standing with Duff.

"Alfred may or may have not vouched for her."

"In other-words, you can't find anything wrong with her."

"Yes Damian. I can't find anything wrong with her."

I smirk as we made it and saw Grayson and Duff standing there, watching the dancing couples.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick pov

I had a plan, the problem was doing it. I wanted it to do it where people could see but also somewhere that Zell won't kill me at the same time. I figured it out as I watched people dancing. I head over to where the lady who is singing the music is and place a request. She agrees and even said that she won't start singing it until I hit the dance-floor. I saw Barbara looking over at me as I start to make my way back.

I did feel something for her at the time we were together but I really believe that I'm in love with Zell. When Barbara started to make her way over to me, I grab Zella's hand and drag her to the dance-floor. The song starts to be played so time to work my magic.....I hope this ends well.

"Dick, I can't dance!", she starts to panic as we made it to the floor.

"Don't worry.", I reply as I had one hand on her waist and took her other hand in mine. "I won't let you go. I promise.". She had the hand that I wasn't holding resting on the shoulder on that side. We start to dance to the song I requested. I just felt that it fits our lives at the moment, well at least for me.

We slowed dance to the music and I could feel Zell start to relax. I smile at her and she smiles back before she rests her head on my shoulder. We swayed back and forth to the music. I didn't want this moment to end as I held her close to me as the other couples danced around us.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfred pov

I was standing next to Master Bruce when a certain song was started to be sung. I made a mental note to send the security film to Gus. I am sure I could find something suitable from all the cameras we have in the Manor. Master Jason, Master Tim, and Master Damian stood next to us and seemed embarrassed by Master Dick's music choice.

"Really? Dick picked this song?", Master Jason asks as he takes a sip of water.

"It is Dick. We really should have expected this.", Master Tim responds.

"Tt. Grayson has no idea on how to woo a lady properly.", Master Damian says.

Master Bruce just shook his head with a fond smile at his oldest son.

"I think this is a wonderful choice for Master Dick and Miss Zella.", I say as I smiled at the dancing couple.

They all look at me then shrug at each other. I noticed that Miss Barbara was looking sadly at Master Dick. "Oh dear, I do hope Miss Barbara can find someone.", I whisper to Master Bruce.

"As do I Alfred."

Master Dick and Miss Zella looked quite lovely as they danced. I am glad the dance lessons I insisted Master Dick take as child are finally paying off.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zella pov

I have to admit that the song choice was a good one even if was cheesy. I felt so safe in Dick's arm as he held me as we danced. I lifted my head from his shoulder and smirked at him when the 'I see a girl who is learning to trust' line is sung. He gives me a sheepish smile in return. We had danced to the middle of the floor when Dick looks me right in the eyes. I blink at the way he was looking at me.

"What?", I asked as he twirled me.

"Nothing, you just look so beautiful tonight.", he responds as he put his hand back onto my waist.

I blush and bury my face into his chest while he just chuckles at me. I lifted my head back up as we continued to dance together. He even did that fan dance move with me at the climax of the song, and to my surprise Dick kisses me when he pulls me back into his arms.

It was better then I had ever dreamed of. So after a very short pause I quickly kiss him back. His lips just felt so right on my own as I move my arms to be around his neck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick pov

"Holy kisses Batman!", I think to myself as we kissed. Her lips were better then what I was hoping for. They were softer then I imagined. I was kinda scared that she would reject me when she didn't kiss back right away but I am so glad she did. I move my arms to around her waist and hold her closer to my body. When we broke apart, I couldn't see anyone else but her. I couldn't hear anything else but both of our breathing. I didn't noticed that the crowd of Gotham's elite were muttering and whispering to themselves but I really didn't care. What I cared about was the woman in my arms.

"Wow.....", I breathed while I watched her face becoming completely red. I kissed her temple as she hides her face yet again in my chest.

"I may have to do that a lot more if it means other guys won't be able to look at her pretty face.", I think to myself as we finished the dance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfred pov

"Now I really must send a copy of tonight to Gus.", I think to myself as Master Dick's brothers had different reactions to his little show.

"Wow.....didn't think Golden Boy had the guts to do that in front of this many people with how shy she can be.", Master Jason says as he scratches his head.

"I shouldn't be surprised but I kinda am.", Master Tim says.

"Tt, it is about time Grayson. You should have done that sooner.", was Master Damian's comment.

"Ah, young love is a wonderful thing, isn't it Master Bruce?", I asked.

"That it is Alfred.", he replies to me.

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 3

#3- Campus/Con Crud

*Saturday afternoon- Cosmic Con*

“How can we even be having this conversation? You go to a smart school.” MJ shook her head in disappointment. “And while I am not actually invested in your health one way or another, I would be remiss in my duties as a human being to not advise you that, if you put that or any other mask on, you are going to catch some funky disease and end up camped out on some random sketchy bathroom floor begging for death.”

Even as they stood amongst the throng of fans pressing against the table filled with 100% American made, guaranteed authentic unauthorized replica masks of every Batman villain in the DC Universe, Peter could not understand her point.

“You’re being paranoid, MJ. Look!” He dropped the much handled mask that was in his hand, and grabbed at one still packed in plastic from closer to the bottom of the pile before pulling it from its packaging. “I’ll even try on a fresh one, just to make you feel better.”

“I know what I said and I meant what I said. I am telling you, Peter. You’ll regret this decision one way or another.”

“But MJ! It’s Bane!” Peter offered up the odorous latex mask to her as though he were offering up a holy relic. “BANE!”

MJ simply took a step back, rolled her eyes, and threw her hands up in defeat. “Whatever, loser. It’s your funeral.”

 Peter glared at his newest friend before looking to Ned for support. “C’mon, Ned. Back me up!”

“What?” Ned startled as he looked up from the enamel pins displayed on the same table. “Oh, yeah, for sure,” he replied, having no clue what was going on. “You know I’ve always got you.”

“See!” Peter waved his arms about wildly as he got even more worked up, “Ned says I’ll be fine!”

MJ cast an unimpressed glance past Peter to Ned, once again focused on his own quarry. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what he said.”

Peter peeked over at Ned, realized it was a lost cause, then tossed the mask back at the table in frustration. “Fine! But when we start planning for Halloween and you’re dressed up as Catwoman and looking to for a villainous DC duo to team up with, remember this moment.”

MJ’s eyes narrowed as she stared down the boy. “I’m sorry?”

Peter gulped as he stared back. Had he failed to mention that she’d play a part in their ultimate DC villain trio—and maybe look way better than either of them while doing it?

Slowly, MJ placed her hands on her hips, her gaze more intense than ever.

Peter blinked, thought for a second, and paled. Yeah, he had definitely said the inside part out loud.

MJ crooked an eyebrow and smiled slyly, “Well then, we can’t risk having that happen, can we. By all means, Peter. Get the mask.”

Peter blinked in disbelief.

Hang on.

This felt like a trap. Was this a trap?

Finally, he had to ask, “Do you mean it?” He gulped and then continued, “You don’t think this will end up killing me or something?”

“Oh, Peter, far be it for me to get in the way of your villain origin story.” Her grin broadened as she stepped back a little further. “I’m gonna head over to Artist Alley while you and Ned finish up with this. Meet me there when you’re done.”

Peter nodded, then ignored the elbows and jostling from the other customers wanting at the table as he watched MJ walk away. “Yeah,” Peter inhaled deeply as he dragged his hand down his face. “I definitely think I’ll need to buy her an apology frozen lemonade for that.” Peter groaned as he absently grabbed at the Bane mask in front of him and focussed again on the table. “But at least our Halloween costumes are set! Hey, Ned, you said you wanted to get Two-Face, right?”

“What?” Ned came back to awareness as Peter grabbed at a still packaged mask to hand over to Ned. “Uh, duh! Thanks, man. It’s gonna be amazing!”

“I know, right?” Peter passed his cash to the vendor for his own mask while Ned gathered up his own extra purchases.

“Right!” Ned repeated, then his forehead scrunched in confusion as he scanned the area. “But hang on a sec? Where did MJ go?”

/-/-/

*The following Monday- Midtown School of Science and Technology*

Something was off. Peter was sure of it.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but his spider senses were pinging just enough that he felt physically uncomfortable— and he was literally only sitting in AP World History.

Mr. Johnson was droning on about something to do with the Mongol Empire with his back turned to the class so he could point something out on the map displayed on the interactive whiteboard so Peter took the risk and shifted quickly to do a quick check of the room from his seat.

But Peter saw nothing.

For a minute, Peter was almost able to convince himself that he was imagining it, but the sense persisted, so he did the only thing he could think to do.

Peter texted Mr. Stark.

After all, that had to be the explanation, right? It wouldn’t have been the first time something big was coming and Peter’s spidey-sense had acted as an early detection system. Iron Man and the other Avengers needed to know, and were going to need him! He was sure of it—

—At least until Mr. Stark replied back to Peter’s text, complaining that the only thing Peter could be sensing was that his mentor was actually dying of boredom in yet another drawn out board meeting that Pepper had forced him into when everyone knew he’d much rather be blowing crap up in his lab and—“wait a minute! get off your phone! you’re supposed to be paying attention!”

Peter scowled and tucked his phone away.

Paying attention to Mr. Johnson was infinitely harder to do when Peter was sure that the world could be ending.

The following class period moved along the same way, with Peter barely paying attention to Ms. Warren as she taught something physics related, he imagined.  His physical discomfort had increased so who could blame him for not being sure, right? Still, he observed the room as best he could, though it seemed that his senses weren’t sensing at all. The anxiety was simply developing into a headache to go along with the muscle and joint pain that had kicked in and Peter couldn’t help but wonder—was this what happened when his senses went repressed? Unacknowledged? He’d never really needed to ignore them before so...

Peter fanned himself with the booklet that had been placed on his desk at some point as he wondered. Someone must have messed with the thermostat in Ms. Warren’s room, on top of it all.

Peter clapped his hands over his ears as the bell sounded for class change, wishing for the millionth time that the school could find something a little less grating on Peter’s super-hearing, and then collected his books and bag to head over to Mr. Harrington’s class. At least he’d have Ned there with him, and if his Guy-in-the-Chair couldn’t help him figure out what was going on, then no one could.

/-/-/

Ned was already in his seat when Peter turned into the doorway and shuffled into class.

“Peter?” Ned looked concerned. “Dude? Are you okay? You look a little... ”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine... it’s just—“ Peter dropped into the desk seat beside Ned and looked suspiciously around the room. His stomach was a churning ball of nerves. “Something’s up and I need an extra set of eyes.”

Ned didn’t hesitate to put a hand to Peter’s forehead before his eyes widened, “I’ll say something’s up! You’ve got a fever!” Ned turned to the front of the classroom and threw his hand up into the air. “Mr. Harrington, Peter’s sick! Can I take him to the nurse?”

Peter blinked in confusion. “What?” Peter put his own head to his forehead, “I’m not sick. It’s my—”

“You’re talkin’ crazy, Peter.” Ned had hefted Peter’s backpack over his own shoulder and grabbed his books before Peter could protest. “Let’s get you out of here.” With that proclamation, Ned hefted Peter to standing by his elbow and ushered him out into the thankfully deserted hallway and closed the door behind them.

“Ned? I mean it! I’m not sick!” Peter tried to pull away but Ned kept a steady hold.

“Shhhh!” Ned double checked that they were alone. “Fine,” he whispered, “Tell me why you think you’re not sick.”

Peter wiped the sweat from his forehead as he straightened himself up. “My senses are telling me that something’s going to happen.”

“Okay?” Ned was listening. “And? Did you tell Mr. Stark about it?”

 “Yes, and he didn’t think it was anything to worry about.” Peter frowned at the recollection.

“Okay? But you’re still convinced. Why?”

“Because my senses are doing something weird!”

“Okay!” Ned pulled Peter further down the hall and away from the door. “Like what?”

“Well, my senses buzzed that something was gonna happen, but now I have a headache and my body is feeling sore and my stomach...” Peter clutched at his stomach and hunched over as it gave a gurgle of warning. “Oh, no.”

With no time to spare, Ned rushed Peter the thirty feet down the hall to the boy’s bathroom, shoved Peter through the stall door, helped to lower him to his knees and backed the hell outta there.

“Oh, f—” Peter couldn’t finish the word before his stomach clenched and forced every food that Peter was certain he’d ever eaten in his entire life out of his body and into the toilet bowl before him. “Please kill me,” he gasped as he flushed the toilet during a brief reprieve from the heaving.

“No can do, Peter, but I can call May for you?”

Ned took the next heave as approval and stepped out of the room.

It was a few minutes before Peter was convinced that his stomach had settled... for now, so he rested his head against his arm on the toilet seat and closed his eyes to catch his breath.

“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice called out as the bathroom door creaked open. “Betty sent me a text saying that you guys had rushed out of the room and I wanted to check in on you.”

Peter brightened, even as he waited to die. “You wanted to check that I was okay?” he croaked out from the stall.

“No, dumbass. I wanted to check that I was right... though kudos to our ridiculously thorough janitor, Mr. Blake, that you didn’t end up on an actual sketchy bathroom floor.” Her focus turned to Ned, who must have snuck in with her when she’d entered, “Tell me, Ned. Has he prayed for death?”

Ned without missing a beat, his cruel answer echoed, “Yup.”

“Awesome.” 

Could Peter hear a little laughter in her tone?

“Oh, and I’ve decided I’ll be going out as a mime for Halloween. It’s an underappreciated art form and deserves to be taken seriously... and because I’m a good person, I’ll email you a copy of the chemistry notes later on.”

“Oh. Thanks?”

“Whatever, nerd,” MJ replied, and exited the bathroom.

Peter was sure there was nothing left to do but wallow in his idiocy and bide his time until someone came to collect his sorry hiney, but then Ned interrupted the silence.

“Uh, Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Did I miss something there?”

Peter chuckled as he braced himself for the next wave. “Yeah, Ned, you absolutely did.”

[thedevilundercover]

Should I make my floor plan of Wayne manor accordingly to canon with a boring normal manor or have should I add courtyard and say fuck you to canon? Decisions decisions…

My beautiful amazing idea btw:

Ok now y’all will vote for it

[groovyfrog420]

HI SO I WROTE A MINI ESSAY FOR CLASS ON THIS TRILOGY so I read it very carefully and I have a bit to say that I didn't get to put in there (because I knew if I so much as mentioned Joker that essay would have doubled in lenght sjsjdj)

Warning for spoilers, tho I will try to be vague enough about the meat of the plot so that you can go read it too! :]

Okay so,

What's interesting, is that this is one of the few iterations of the Batman where the Joker wins. Not in the traditional sense, but in the sense that he gets Batman to play right into his plan.

He is the first human blood Batman tastes, he is the true first kill (the one that breaks Batman's most important rule), and he is the one that signifies the point of no return. The moment on this panel is so significant, because that's when Batman truly becomes a monster. Moments before we see him waltz into a church, walk around a forest of crosses spread out on the floor, and wipe off holy water with no effect, because, as he says, he's not the same vampire as others - he hasn't killed. His heart is (mostly) pure, free of the sin. But the moment he tastes Joker's blood, that changes. All of his previous immunities disappear, and last bit of resistance against killing is gone. What follows is a brutal streak of murders, previously trusted and revealed hero being driven by pure, unstoppable hunger for blood so far that he begs the people closest to him to kill him...

The comic is definitely a product of its time in some aspects (the portrayal of female characters is less than ideal.. though that's not unusual for the comic industry I guess) but it's a glorious story of a descent into madness, of a fight between humanity versus nature. Both the physical and mental transformation Batman undergoes are so well-crated and fascinating to observe as he gradually changes.

It does get gorey the deeper you go in though, so be prepare for some heads falling lol None the less, super fun read, I definitely HIGHLY recommend giving it a try! It's not super long and so so so worth it ^^

Ladies, gentlemen and themtlepeople (I’m sorry this is so bad lmfao), I present to you my favourite comic panel of all time. It’s from the Batman Bloodstorm comic and mega triple gay *cough* I mean it’s super violent and this has nothing to do with the borderline demonising homosexual depictions vampires were used for in stories throughout the past 300 years.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny learns bruce is his bio dad when wayne visits fentonworks. That night batman shows up to meet him and immediately shares his identity as bruce. Apparently b had danny pegged as a secret vigilante the moment he laid eyes on him, and identified him as phantom halfway through his introductions. Danny's smart enough to realize he just won the fucking superhero allegiance lottery. He's gonna milk this so hard, he's gonna THRIVE. Just point bats at all of his enemies and watch the world burn.

Oh man I’ve seen many variations of Danny’s reaction to being Bruce’s bio kid but it’s never been something like this.

Danny not going “yeah this is my town” and instead going “thank gOD now I can get some REST! Hey Damian, can you fight this guy who wants to take my skin so I can study?”

Batman goes and instantly creates dozens of contingency plans for all of the ghosts. Is a ghost harming Danny? Cool they’re getting captured in a Even Better ghost thermos that allows the ghost to still communicate even when captured and Batman terrifies them into not returning to Amity.

Both Batman and Danny fully accepting the situation, (there’s still some holy fuck I have another dad/son crisis but that doesn’t linger for too long).

Batman so glad that he has a son that’ll accept his fucking help whenever he’s asked and he doesn’t have to bully his kid into needing assistance.

Danny is so happy because he has a mentor figure that he knows is fully capable as a vigilante and doesn’t have to worry about them dying in a fight with his rogues gallery.

There’s so much angst with the debacle of “wait what the fuck I got another kid.” Sure, it’s a fun thing to write, but in doing this you can write about other conflicts:

Bruce or Danny patching the other up after a fight and chiding them for not blocking themselves more.

Bruce or Danny teaching the other how their tech works. One being the dozens of Bat gadgets, the other being Fenton gadgets. Could be a fun bonding moment talking about either technical stuff, Bruce being fucking baffled that Danny’s parents seem have their machines made out of mostly duct tape and prayer, discussions about how ectoplasm is used as a power source, or things of the sort! Don’t make Danny hide his tech! He goes “fuckin take these blueprints and help me make something that’s 100% effective” to the Batfam.

Bruce making Danny a new suit for better protection and Danny making Bruce a new suit so he can punch ghosts and be brought into the GZ.

Bringing the Batfam into the GZ to meet Frostbite, Fright Knight, or Clockwork! Have the strange father figure meet the other strange father figure and have them bond about worrying over this strange little halfa boy.

Worrying about if Jazz will accept being adopted too and Jazz going “it’s about time” and accepting far easier than they expected.

Jazz walking into the Batcave, sees Jason’s Robin suit on display, and goes “yeah that’s gonna have to be moved. Oh and Bruce, you’re meeting me in the third floor grand office closest to the stairs and we’re having a therapy session.”

Since Danny isn’t hiding from his family or anything, (well maybe but these guys are oblivious as hell. Let them just strangely accept that their kids have caught the attention of another billionaire and that they’re glad that Danny seems happier ever since he first met Mr. Wayne.) so he can have Tucker and Sam over to Wayne Manor. He can stay the night at Wayne Manor (Bruce tells them he uses a private helecopter, Danny just ghost zone portals himself over) and hang out with his new friends.

Anon you are fucking brilliant and I love this oh so much. This is a “Danny is Wayne’s Bio-kid” concept that NEEDS to be tapped into.

[sprog-writes]

Summary:

After getting accepted into the Justice League, Billy just had one thing to do. Getting over their fear of their heroes' rejection was the easy part.

Witnessing Batman's reaction was harder.

Finally publishing something!!

Fic under the cut

“Holy moly,” Billy couldn't believe what was happening. They were in the Watchtower! With the Justice League! That Batman just asked them to join! “This is a dream come true!” They turned to look at the big window made of the wall on his left, “I can't believe I'm in space! This is fantastic!” They couldn't help but start floating in place a bit, face close to the glass, unable to contain their enthusiasm.

“Welcome to the Watchtower, Captain,” Superman emerged from the room on Billy’s left –the kitchen, judging from what they could see of it– and floated his way towards the other hero, resting a hand on their shoulder, “you do a lot of good in Fawcett. I’m honored to have such a brilliant hero on our side,” he was smiling, infected by the Captain’s own.

“I won’t disappoint you, sir!” Billy mock-saluted Superman, making the man blush a little.

“No need for that. We’re colleagues,” they made their way back on the floor together, as Billy giggled for having flustered Superman, “also, between you and me, Batman is more the captain of this ship than I ever will be,” he stage-whispered, knowing the dark knight would no doubt hear his taunting, making Billy giggle even more.

There was something about the Captain that made Superman feel lighter. Like he didn't hold the weight of the world on his shoulder for the first time since – gosh he didn't even know when the last time he felt so… at ease was.

They made their way towards the kitchen where, as Billy discovered, some of the other Justice League members were preparing to eat dinner all together.

“Oh-” Billy felt their eyebrows raise and mouth fall slack, “I can come back tomorrow or something if you already have plans”

"Nonsense!" The Flash ran quickly – ‘of course he’s quick! He’s the Flash!’ Billy really couldn’t believe it was really happening– to their side, enveloping them in a side hug, “We were actually waiting for you to get to the Tower. We were hoping you’d join us?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Billy smiled as they side-eyed the enormous amount of food the team had laid on the big table at the center of the room, as well as the big cake on the counter near the fridge. Their restraint has always been strong, but the call of free food was too tempting to pass up. Self-restraint was not, unfortunately, part of their gods-given power set, “but if you insist, I won’t say no to free food,” Flash and they chuckled at their admission.

It was weird seeing all these superheroes in relatively normal clothing –sure the ones that like to hold their secret identity close to their chest were wearing masks or something of the same caliber, but there was no costume in sight– and Billy started feeling a bit self-conscious about their own, but they decided not to bring attention to it themself unless one of the others decided to point it out.

“So, Captain -can I call you ‘Captain’?,” Billy nodded, "Captain, I gotta say. It’s so refreshing to have another guy here that’s not as uptight as those other schmucks,” Flash sped up to them and sat down in front of them with a plate full of a little bit of every dish the leaguers offered.

Billy laughed, as they picked up knife and fork, hiding the bit of discomfort caused by Flash’s choice of words, “Thank you, I’m really excited to be here. This is… Well it’s sort of a dream come true, I guess,” they fidgeted with their food, feeling that the rest of the heroes were more interested in learning about their new teammate than they were in the food laid out in front of them, “I think many heroes would want to be in my place. Being part of the League means you all have my back, and it’s an honor to know that you put your trust in me to do the same,” they flashed a smile and got several in return.

“You’re a good man, Captain,” Batman spoke up for the first time since their arrival, “you earned your place in the team,” he leaned against one of the walls, arms crossed and ever-neutral expression fixed on his face.

Billy stopped mid-chew and promptly swallowed, setting down their utensils, “Not that I don’t appreciate the praise, Mr. Batman, but I’m… I’m not a man,” they smiled, fidgeting with their fingers under the table, slightly trying to avoid the other heroes’ eyes.

“...What,” the Flash broke the silence, receiving a kick under the table from Green Arrow, which didn’t go as unnoticed as the other hero hoped for it to be.

“Ah, well, I mean- I guess sometimes- I mean, I-” Billy’s cheeks started getting redder, their hands sweatier and mouth drier the longer they had to explain, to their heroes, someone they looked up to –‘this was much easier to tell Freddy’– “like a bandaid,” they whispered, “I think the word is genderfluid?”

“Oh,” Superman exclaimed calmly. The confusion in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by Billy, but they were glad he didn’t give in and start berating them with questions.

What Billy didn’t expect was to see Batman turn around and exit the room without a word.

“Oh…” though not the only one confused by the Bat’s reaction, the Flash was the only one to express his confusion vocally. Everyone looked at where Batman once stood, Superman had his eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s not like him,” he said.

“Hey, Cap, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation–” 

Billy interrupted the Green Lantern, “It’s fine– I mean, it’s not really fine, but I’ve had worst reactions,” they admitted, ‘though it does sting to have such a reaction from someone I look up to’.

Superman opened his mouth again, but he didn’t manage to get out what he wanted to say before Batman came back fully suited and with papers in his hands.

He walked up to Billy and posed something in front of their plate, “pronoun pins. Robin designed them, Nightwing helped him make them,” he said, not even looking up from his papers, “let me know if you need more,” the Bat finally looked up towards the heroes, “suit up everyone. We got an alert from Cyborg about some robot-controlling meta near Metropolis”

Billy scooped up Batman’s gift when Flash put his hand on their shoulder.

“I’m not tearing up!”

Flash chuckled, “Told you there was something else going on, Cap!”

“That was me, actually”

“Oh, c’mon GL–”

As the two argued, Billy picked the pin with ‘they/them’ written on it before putting it on and opening a small portal to stash the rest in his little personal pocket dimension.

They followed Batman toward the Zeta tubes, waiting for the other heroes to get ready, and got the knight’s attention, “Ehm, sir?”

“No need for that, Captain. Just Batman is fine,” he responded, “what is it?”

“I was wondering if Robin would like to make more of those pins– not for me! The ones you gave me are great!” Billy raised their hands in defense, “It’s just that– I spend quite some time helping the homeless population of Fawcett and I know some kids who would be very excited to receive something like this from someone like Robin,” they waited for a response, but Batman’s silence made them extremely nervous, “they tend to like younger heroes more and distrust –well any kind of adult actually. It took me quite a lot to earn their trust,” ‘at least as Captain. But to be fair, stroking my own ego as Billy helped,’ “it would really make their day,”

It was hard to figure out what the other man thought from behind his cawl –though Billy would bet Batman had the ability to keep a neutral expression in any and all situations. Completely unreadable– so they waited for his response with bathed breath.

“I’ll talk to Robin,” he said, finally, “but I can’t guarantee he’ll accept. He… tries, but he has trouble connecting with people his own age”

“Oh- that’s understandable!”

Their conversation was cut short as Superman arrived, adjusting the cape on his shoulders –and Billy maybe drooled just a bit. Though he was shamelessly staring in awe– and clapped his hands in front of them, “Let’s go, g- I mean, everyone,” Billy smiled at his correction, silently thanking him for his consideration, and followed suit.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (4)

I am sorry for not posting in a while. School is a total bitch. Here is part 4 of a fic that is not a fic.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)

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Tall Marinette.(I admit I might be projecting a little here.)

One day, she took out something from someplace high and the whole family realized that ‘holy shit when did you get so tall?’

Bonus if Jason comes back from a long mission and had a wtf moment because she was wearing 6-inch-heels and met his eyes with them on.

“Pixie?!”

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You know how Bruce has the identity of Matches Malone to infiltrate the Gotham Underground.

While Jason does the drug deals more street crime stuff, Maria uses an excuse of being the representative for Red Hood excuse to mingle with the rich people who does crime on the side (Penguin), she uses it to go to black market auctions and buy some of the lost miraculouses which got into the hands of black market dealers.

Jason knows about it and acts as her ‘bodyguard’ anytime he can or sends one of his henchmen to be one with a death threat if she gets a single scratch on her.

Bruce is unaware of this. Or is he?

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Mari helps with running WE since she is a little less busy with the vigilante side of things.

It started with Tim panicking about deadlines and Mari offering to help, to Bruce and Tim bullying the board to have her as co-CEO.

She has to be that and head of Afterlife. So she is very busy. Doesn’t know about what comes next….

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Somehow the class comes to Gotham for a trip. It has been 3 years since her death.

Mari has changed her appearance since the day she left Paris. She has highlights in her hair after a ‘sibling bonding day’ with Jason. Her hair is kept short for convenience and not in pigtails. Along with her tall height and more confident aura, she is almost unrecognizable.

She rides a motorcycle too.

The class waits in the lobby for the tour and in walks this badass woman with aviator sunglasses, leather jacket and designer clothes which was all MT brand, making a lot of people swoon.

She takes off her glasses and walks past the class. Checking stuff on her phone and sipping coffee in her other hand.

She seems familiar but they couldn’t figure out why. (All except Chloe, Alix and Felix who are snickering in the background.)

Lila sees her and comments on how she must be a criminal with the way she dresses. (Lila internally freaks out because were her eyes messing with her? Because she looked a little like Marinette. Also jealous of the new arrival for stealing all the attention.) Alya takes the bait and calls security to ‘arrest’ her.

They just laugh. The class doesn’t understand, speaking in confused French.

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“I am Maria Todd-Wayne, also known as designer MT. CEO of Afterlife and co-CEO of the very company you are in. I am allowed in here. Don’t judge a book by its cover.” she said in perfect French.

“But Lila told us you can’t speak French.”

“Who?”

“Lila Rossi, your friend. She told us that you and MT were dating.”

“Me dating myself. Okay I love myself because self-love is a thing but that is a whole other level. MT are my initials. Anyone who has a brain could have figured that out or at the very least do a Google search. I am not sure where your friend got that notion.”

“Hey, Bean, come on. We have a long day ahead of us.” Tim reminded her.

“Goodbye but cease the rumours or you would be escorted off the premises.”

As they rode up the elevator, “Tim, why are they here?”

“They are the lucky winners of the Wayne Enterprise Young Prodigies Contest. Why, Maria?”

“Lucky, huh.” She muttered under her breath. She might as well tell him. They are the Bats and they will find out anyway. “They are from my old class, the one you know…”

“Oh. Want me to send them back? I can do that if they are making you uncomfortable.”

“Nah. Too much to deal with. And it is unfair to send them back over a petty grudge. Besides, I could have some fun.”

“Anything that Bruce and I should be worried about?”

“I swear no killing. Just because Jason came back from the dead, hell-bent on killing. Doesn’t mean I am too.”

“Cool, just don’t do any property damage or traumatize our employees.”

“I might need you to erase some footage later and tell Bruce about this.”

“Some brownies, my favourite coffee cake, the ‘special’ brew and you have yourself a deal.”

-----

So basically she just showed up around where the class was ‘by coincidence’.

Talk to a few people and take them out of earshot of the rest of the class.

End the conversation by saying a few things only they and her would know. Insides jokes and secrets. (I pick her old childhood friends like, Nino, Kim and maybe Sabrina)

Uses Trixx to turn into a walking dead version of her 15-year old self and disappears as they freak out about how she knew that secret/story.

Freaks them out further by appearing again in front of the whole class and pretending not to know their previous conversation.

Mari manages to get Lila alone.

I should also say that Lila thought that her curse was making her see MT as Marinette.

It terrifies Lila when she finds out that MT is actually Marinette, not dead but alive after all this time and apparently living the high life she wanted. This fact made the Italian swell up with jealousy.

“I hope you are not lying about me again, Lila Rossi. Like you always do.”

“What do you want with me? I swear I didn’t say anything else about you.”

“Aw, Lila. Don’t recognize me?”

Maria flickers and Ladybug is in her place and later, the Marinette that appeared in her bedroom and back to normal.

“You! How? Why are you here? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Why not? I mean you did take away nearly all my friends, my parents and made my life a living hell. If you think about it, I am just repaying you the same favor. How are the others? Treating you well?”

“What did you do to me, you bitch?”

“I just put a curse on you. The ghosts of your past will haunt you until you stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop Lying, Liar. They all feed and grow in power from your lies. I wonder what would happen in a few years if you kept this up.”

“You think you can get away with this. This is war and I have already beaten you once.”

“Oh Rossi. This isn’t a war. It’s a death sentence.” With that she disappears.

Lila tries to tell her class that MT is actually Marinette. She is met with crazy looks. Some of them look like they want to believe her but don't because they don’t want to look crazy too.

Oh. Adrien wasn’t on the trip because his mother didn’t want him to go to the crime capital of America although the crime rate has gone down a little due to Hellbat curing some of the city’s bad energy..

Right after Lila told the class about MT, Scarecrow came to steal some Wayne tech and the class got caught in the crossfire. So later, it was brushed off as Lila seeing things due to the fear toxins.

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Joker made the mistake of kidnapping her. Once was enough to never try that again.

(It involved the use of nearly all of the Miraculouses, old and new. He was thoroughly humiliated at the end of it and his picture by the time Hellbat was done with him was on the Batfam’s Christmas Card. Like I said she doesn’t kill but making them beg for death was okay.)

It coincided with Jason’s Birthday and the video of the incident was ‘the best birthday present ever.’ The uncensored version was watched at the next undead siblings bonding day. Damian included.

After hearing a few rumours about what happened, most criminals were glad for Hellbat’s rare appearances. (which happens once a month and during really busy time of the year)

There was a time where Penguin was carrying out one of their plans and when Hellbat showed up, all of their thugs surrendered instantly. (No Batman did not pout at the fact that this French girl was more imitating than him.)

Scarecrow used his newest batch of fear toxin on her during the first year after she died.

He was astounded to see her still standing and she later proceeded to beat the crap out of him while being under the toxin’s influences.

He has tried to stay out of her way since then.

She saw Scarecrow as Hawkmoth and said a lot of things in French which scared everyone because she said it with so much hate, anger and in a very menacing tone that everyone is like ‘I am not touching this.’

It took Red Hood and Nightwing to restrain her from further beating Scarecrow up.

He was one of the people who sympathised with the Joker after the Incident.

The next was Riddler being so arrogant in his plans and managed to get Hellbat and Spoiler into a death trap.

“You know I have a few regrets in life. And my final one is that I got captured and am now going to get killed by a walking fashion disaster.”

“Hey! I made this myself. I will have, you know.”

“You have a brilliant mind but no sense of fashion at all. When I get out of here, I am going to burn that thing with you in it, for your crimes against fashion.”

“What is wrong with it?”

Cue a lot of roasting of Riddler’s costume and Spoiler adding more fuel to the fire.

They manage to escape while Riddler is crying on the floor, having an existential crisis.

The thing was no one knows why Riddler was silent the entire week after encountering Hellbat and crying when anyone mentions it.

They now think Hellbat is the scariest one in the Batfamily, second to Batman and tied with Black Bat/Orphan.

The few who find out what really happened in the warehouse that night. Blackmail material on the Riddler.

Three ( four if you count Penguin) of Gotham’s biggest villains of the Rogues Gallery scared of Bats’ newest addition. Hellbat was not someone they wanted to mess with.

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Magic crisis stuff. Like a world ending event thing. Dr. Fate says they need the Miraculous jewels but the last mention of them had been in Paris a few years ago and had vanished since then.

Costantine looked at Batman. “You know who you have to call.”

Batman calls Hellbat. Who hasn’t been introduced yet to the JL.

“Ah. Bats. Not that I question your authority or anything but how can your newest ‘ward’ help us?”

She takes off her helmet and reveals her face and more importantly, her earrings.

Tikki comes out of her hiding place.

“I am the current Guardian of the Miracle Box and wielder of the Ladybug miraculous during Hawkmoth’s reign in Paris a few years ago. Any other Questions?”

“Oh great Guardian. Tikki. It is an honour to meet you.”-Wonder Woman, who else.

“You too, Princess Diana. Pass on my regards to your mother.”-Tikki

A huge face-off and the big evil is defeated.

WW asks abt HM and gives a horrified face at the end of her story. Nearly everyone who eavesdropped on the conversation was.

"Forgive me, Guardian for not aiding you in your hour of need.”

“It’s okay. I understand that there are other crises, world-ending ones that JL have to take care of. I am better now. Mostly.”

“I doubt it with those revenge schemes I found lying around. But she is getting there with her therapist.”-Batman

“I hate you, Dad.”

“Did you just call him Dad?”

“No….”

“Do you see me as a father figure?”

“I see you as a nuisance with how nosy you are with my personal business. So you are more of a bother figure.”

“I see you as part of the family too, Daughter.” (Got that reference anyone?)

“Jason was the one who adopted me.”

“Legally you are adopted by me.”

Maria with Pikachu surprised face because nobody told her that. “My life is a lie.”

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(Part 5)